Bryn Magus's Story

Perhaps if the Reverence II Class of ship wasn't equipped with extremely sophisticated; passive anti-teleportation defenses that were designed to prevent teleportation through technical, and magical means. Kyrian might have been able to board the Reverence II, Reverence II class ships also did not posess a 'Bridge' in the strictest traditional sense, rather it possessed something called a CIC, a Combat Information Center, in the center of the vessel that afforded heavy protection from both attack and enemy boarders.

Though, even if he had succeeded in his efforts to teleport aboard the Esteem; the CIC Security would have opened fire on him almost immediately.

This was however not the case, an active Planck array coupled with an extremely sophisticated Anti-Magic system essentially prevented this teleportation. Preventing the planewalker from reintegrating from whatever means of teleportation anywhere aboard the Aschen vessel.

An attempt to force himself through this quantum stabilization field, or alter it in any means would prove fruitless, as a brute force attempt would likely tear his body to pieces on a subatomic level, thusly the attempt Kyrian made to board the Aschen vessel would likely either end in failure, or his death.

Thusly he would be unable to speak to Admiral Hanley, whom was listening for a response from the Underlundian fleet.

Edited


Kyrian Vox

Kyrian was a little frustrated at the newer age technology of these Aschen ships, and the people inside who were so blinded by duty as to overlook the importance of such an event. He calmed himself down only by a single fact; they were ignorant mortals and had to be taught. He supposed the only real way to reach them was to use their own methods, which in this case was to show as much force as possible and hope the other party was weaker than you. Kyrian had the perfect way to do this but he didn't want to resort to such methods.

In the end he had little choice in the matter and moved to execute something only he could do. The first thing he did was not this, but a simple trick that turned his body into plasma while his soul remained intact and in control of the particles. This streak of plasma looked like lightning as it hit the ground and then shot off into the sky with a loud bang as it broke the sound barrier. Once above the atmosphere Kyrian moved further and further away until he had plenty of distance between him and the surface of the planet.

Normally he wouldn't be anywhere inside the solar system when he summoned his ship but time was of the essence. At the whim of the planeswalker he expelled a giant flash of light the size of a small moon and pushed all dust and debris within that flash outwards with strong force. When the flash dissipated Kyrian was sitting in his pilots chair, and in the place of the bright flash was a large moon sized ship known as Data World: Arkvaes. The gigantic ship was without age, yet ancient. The technology that made up the ship was fueled by it's own planeswalker spark and had a consciousness of it's own. Kyrian had never spoken with this consciousness directly but the A.I. that governed it was rather brash and had bad taste in Kyrian's opinion.

As the giant ship orbited Blackrock, it did not seem to have much gravity for it's size. It was made of a very light material yet strong enough to withstand the pressures of Dark Matter travel. Because of the ship's fuel source it had a natural defense system that needed no activation or control, the Spark in the ship's core taking care of almost all ship commands besides those which Kyrian could command. Inside the ship itself were things that only Kyrian knew of, but it was legend that the dozen or so Data Worlds held vast amounts of hidden knowledge from multiple dimensions, along with other secret things. Currently Kyrian only cared about what a ship of that size would impose onto the mortals below. Awe, fear, or even anger. It did not matter to him as long as it could help save the Dreadians below.

Kyrian switched on his radio signals and hailed all ships below, making himself another cup of coffee before he activated the video screen to chat with them all at once. For Kyrian the entire rounded upper sphere of his piloting room was the screen but he selected an oval portion to show who he was talking with. "It is about time I got a word in, you mortals sure like to threaten first and listen second. Anyway this is Data World Arkvaes, you know that giant new blip on your scanners? I am asking you all to an in person conference aboard my vessel. You can find docking instructions in your ah... what is it called now, email? Yeah, your email. Oh and I should mention that the refugees should not be harmed if you want me to be happy. That comes with perks too, like pastries and sunshine and little furry things." Kyrian sipped his drink and waited for an answer. It seemed to him that was all he did anymore was wait on mortals to speak or die these days.

"Madam, we are being hailed" Said a disembodied voice as a matrics of purple and bronze colaced into a femalelike face. "It is from the Aschen fleet."

"Can it connect to my nural link ?"

"Negative"

"On wall"

The hail came through on the nearby glasslike marbled wall. She listened to the hail carefully. and thought for a long moment before stepping over to the marble wall, her hand went to the surface, a cove faded into view near her hand while replying. "This is Mirana, Its been some time since we had last spoke doubtless some of yours would remember. Underlund received a transmission requesting trade, upon our arrival that transmission was sent once again, this time as a call for aid and help. The people we picked up here we simply wish to take somewhere safe, someplace they may call their own home. We have no intent to fight, merely aid and transport." She sent the reply, it'd be a bit before she got a response, she knew that. Nevertheless, the gellar field protected the fleet against anything thrown at it. She turned from the screen as another hail notice flared to life

"Madam, we are receiving another hail" Mirana halted her movement as she was about to speak to Jacob, but it was the words of the ancillia that made her pause "It is not from the Aschen fleet commander. But from the new ship"

Mirana focused herself, this was a new development indeed. "Ignore it. We got who we came for, lets get them to safety. Ready the fleet for Netherspace transfer."

"By your command madam" The hologram faded away as Mirana turned towards Jacob. A smile once more on her face.

In space the fleet of Underlundian ships seemed to simply sit in their inital formations, floating seemingly unhindered by quite a bit of whatever was going on.

The CIC of the Esteem was what could be described as absolute and utter chaos as the Data world flashed in. The shipboard AI was taking readings, while the CIC Crew were moving from station to station. Through the Chaos, Éclaire Hanley was standing in silence as she contemplated her next move.

The Underlundians finally threw in their response, evacuating the people who had requested aid and refugee status. The Admiral paused a moment.

"Empress Mirana, I know who you are. Respectfully, I request you update your star charts to prevent further diplomatic incidents like this one from occuring." She said, looking to the Data-World on her DRADIS readout.

"I'll allow you to proceed, since it appears you've already taken them aboard your vessel; ensure that any Anti-Aschen guerillas that may have slipped by are handed over to Imperial Custody." Hanley then turned her attention to the Data-World

The Moon sized object was massive, but the tactical scenario moved through her mind. She was confident that Imperial forces in the system could engage whatever it was this thing was that invaded this star system.

"Ma'am, we're receiving a communication from the alien construct." Lieutenant Quinn reported. Hanley offered a slight nod, before she looked up at the large display. "On screen."

She turned her attention to the message, an audio transmission from the large construct. Her mind continuing to consider the tactical scenario as she awaited the reply from the Underlundian fleet. Other things had now taken priority.


"It is about time I got a word in, you mortals sure like to threaten first and listen second. Anyway this is Data World Arkvaes, you know that giant new blip on your scanners? I am asking you all to an in person conference aboard my vessel. You can find docking instructions in your ah... what is it called now, email? Yeah, your email. Oh and I should mention that the refugees should not be harmed if you want me to be happy. That comes with perks too, like pastries and sunshine and little furry things."

The Admiral stared at the screen in consternation, her mind racing before she turned to the shipboard AI.

"Initiate singularity strike, signal the fleet to enter combat formation omega, all ships are to enter combat readiness in five centons." Hanley ordered, while the AI Nodded.

"Acknowledged." She replied, before Hanley turned to the tactical display, speaking another order. "Send my reply." She said aloud, and the Data world would receive a transmission from the Esteem.

At that moment, Hanley replied through an audio channel to the Data World Arkvaes, her tone was stern, and her words carefully chosen.

"I'm not entirely sure who you are; or where you came from. However one thing is for certain, and that fact is you're in the sovereign space of the United Aschen Empire. That means I call the shots; not you." Hanley said flatly, as her AI spoke up.

"Initiating primary Singularity protocols, preparing to deploy the Singularity cannon."

Hanley nodded, before she continued "I don't want a conference, I don't want to talk. I'm going to issue you a very stern order. You are trespassing on sovereign Imperial space. You have exactly ten centons before I construe your presence here as an act of hostility, and your construct is engaged and destroyed by this fleet, and your actions taken as an invasion and subsequent act of war against the Empire."

The message was transmitted on a wide band, and the Esteem, along with the rest of the Imperial Aschen fleet began to move into combat position, taking a wide line several hundred thousand kilometers across. Sagittaron and Gemenon class cruisers taking the front lines, bringing their Turbo-disruptor batteries to bear. While Athena cruisers, with their intense long range Thunderbolt missiles entered coordinates to load and deliver a lethal salvo of Naquadria enhanced fusion warheads that were capable of destroying an entire planet.

The Esteem however was preparing a lethal punch, with a Singularity strike authorized, a solid slug of neutronium, a material forged in the heart of a neutron star was being loaded into a specialized magnetic acceleration cannon. Here the neutronium would be loaded into a specialized graviton chamber; and collapsed into a singularity before being hurled at the Data-world. This weapon was one of the most powerful in the Aschen arsenal, and in the years of it's service no one has ever been able to mount a defense against this impressive piece of engineering.

While this was underway, the Aschen Fleet began preparing it's own defenses, gargantuan hard-light fields capable of repelling an impressive amount of ordinance.

The Esteem was preparing to take out the Data-world in one well placed shot. While her powerful shields and Duralthene armor were capable of shrugging off even the most powerful of blows.

While the Aschen fleet prepared it's attack against Arkvaes, the anomaly on the dark side of Blackrock didn't go unnoticed.

Several subspace transmissions were moved in real time between the Imperial Fleet's battle net, and a Watchtower that was recently established within the Blackrock System. The Watchtower itself was a massive, heavily fortified installation. It was also equipped with extremely sophisticated sensors capable of detecting even the most minute spatial ruptures. Though Golith's ship itself wasn't detected yet, it's entrance into the system was.

At that moment, the Watchtower transmitted a coded bit-stream message to the Esteem.

"Admiral Hanley, this is Watchtower B-6, we've detected unusual spatial acticity on the dark side of the moon, we've signalled the Fleet of Inner Knowledge, and the Fleet of Righteous Vigilance to investigate the anomaly, they will arrive in one Millicenton, We'll activate FTL Inhibition arrays once they've reached the Star System."

Kyrian Vox

When the planeswalker heard the response from the Aschen Fleet he pinched his nose and sighed in frustration, then spoke into the comm link once more but it was more to himself than to Hanley. "Aschens still haven't changed. Alright I will play your game for a while." He really didn't care about the Aschen's at all as long as the refugees got out of the area safely. If he had to distract the Aschen Fleet to do that than so be it. Although from his Dark Web sensors they had quite the payload of firepower in the current age. He would more than likely have to pay them a visit on their capital world and talk with the higher ups. They should at least train their armada to learn how to use the weapons they were given instead of shooting that kind of firepower at something like a Data World.

Kyrian did not even make a flinch to move his ship, and when the barrage from the lesser ships came at Kyrian they met opposition of a subtle design. Data World Arkvaes protected itself in this situation, rapidly "growing" it's consciousnesses out to 3 miles from the surface of the ship's outer hull. It's consciousness became more complex and altered the magnetic field around the Data World to become strong and repellent in nature, it's shape becoming a converse spatial field as well as change the nature of the field to affect both negative and positively charged molecules equally. The magnetic field's shape altered the path of the missiles and energy based weapon attacks to follow the flow of the magnetic lines and literally go around Data World Arkvaes where they flew off into space and would eventually fizzle out. A secondary field was created behind the magnetic one, this field instead becoming particles of Hard Light making a visible mesh field around the ship to take the pressure of anything that might have exploded prematurely.

The Singularity was a lot harder to avoid for Kyrian, but he did have a plan in place for it. He activated the Data Worlds travel applications which immediately made the fields go down to conserve energy. The entire ship began to fade into the Dark Web, it's entire form becoming pure black, and eventually it disappeared completely from view, his comm link no longer showing him but a number of marbling colors in a sea of chaos. The Singularity was still a 3rd Dimensional form and could not touch the 4th dimensional structure that Data World Arkvaes had become by joining the Dark Web. As the singularity passed by the Data World became 3rd dimensional again, fading into existence as Kyrian's comm transmission came back online as normal.

The planeswalker was drinking yet another cup of coffee as he addressed the Aschen again. "Now I will ask you again, do you want to talk this out or shall I put you in the corner to think about what you have done?"

Jacob looked at.....Mirana? She had told off the scary fucking voice that that threaten to murder everyone. Who the fuck threatens a person just because your in there territory? Back on Dread, immigrants were accepted due to..."harshness of there old homes." That's what it said in the codex, or....basically the UCNs constitution. Mirana looked back at him. Her eyes were still the soft pity eyes as before. Her statue hasn't change even due to the... situation at hand. He turn to her, still standing, with full Power armor on. "What in a fever dream was that....." He asked, clearly confused. Everything was weird now. Aschen? Who the hell were those guys, better yet, who the hell was the Underlandians? Jacob needed answers. "I have 3 questions." He said respectfully. She still had an aura of authority that demanded respect. Better not to piss a intergalactic empire that could squish you. "First off, who are you? According to your message, your names Mirana. But want to know the story. Second, Who are the Aschen, and why did they threaten with death? Third. Who exactly are the Underland, and were are you takeing us?" Jacob asked. He looked around waiting for a response. The bridge was a treasure trove of tech. Advanced A.Is, computers, everything. If he were to bring this back to Dread, nothing would stand against the UCN. Not even those Kameron Slavers. He was aw struck, and for once, his face showed it due to his helmet being off. He looked at the empress again. Her skin was pale....and fair. Nothing like anyone on dread. People there had...growths, and highly tanned skin. No one was pale. well, except the "Bunker" Dwellers. Though...most of those guys never saw the light of day.

Back in the cargo bay, the miners and scientist, and of course the soldiers were helping to keep each other comfortable. They had no idea what was in store for them. All they could do is wait, build, and keep each other company. A Ghoul by the name of Gamer, wearing black pants and a white greasy shit, was fiddling with a wide range radio. He was a rank 4 technician in the UCN, one of the best. The radio burst to life, with relaxing, but triumphant music to show for it. He turned to some of his friends, and said in his gruff, strained voice "Lets get this sucker hooked to a few of the speakrs, and party like its our last day.....wait...were not on Dread anymore. Ok, like its our last day alive." Gamer got to work on hooking the radio to UCN speakers. The other miners quickly joined in. Using make shift brewing stands to make alcohol. The soldiers made sure no one was going to hurt anyone. They wernt going to join the miners. The radio played throughout the cargo bay. Nice old school rock music was playing, and alcohol was a prevalent smell. Not a heavy smell, for only a few of the miners were drunk. But it was a lght smell neither the less. The soldiers stood by, ready to end the party on a moments notice. They didn't know if alcohol was illegal or not on the ship. So, they made sure to be ready if they said stop. Funny how they are taking orders from unknown beings.

From the emptiness of space that wasn't too far from the action, a spark in space became visible. The spark was tiny and barely visible by the naked eye. Slowly, surely, the spark was growing in size. Bit by bit, more detail began to show. The outer bright purple ring that seemed to expand faster with every second. The circular shape it took. The vibrantly black center that seemed to move at it's own will. It looked like a sideways black pool was forming.

The spark grew and grew until it was the size of a man. Then it stopped. At first, it appeared that nothing was happening. All was calm. Suddenly, a figure appeared out of the pool, stepping onto the foreign land of Blackrock for the first time. The figure wore...a lot of white. White, close-fitting, but not uncomfortable slacks with a white blazer to match, on top of a surprisingly plain yellow t-shirt. Not a hair was out of place, not a wrinkle was to be found. Even his shoes, as white as the majority of his clothing, gleaming as if they'd been military shined. A flash of sunlight reflecting revealed a gold ring on his right ring finger, though it was anyone's guess on it's significance. Looking up, a young boy-ish looking face would be there to greet them, yet he was nothing of the sort. Blonde hair and electric blue eyes that seemed to vibrate the senses, they merely matched his 6 foot 5 statue and his aura that reflected power and intimidation.

Lance DeBrinn was simply stunning.

The now revealed portal closed behind Lance, leaving him alone with his stature. Lance put away what appeared to be a cell phone device, lifted his arm to his mouth, and pulled back the sleeve, revealing a "wristwatch" of sorts.

"Dr. Burkton, I've made it to...wherever this is..." he spoke calmly and calculatedly with a monotone voice.

Some typing could be heard, then: "Ah, yes. You are in the Multiverse Universe, according to my documents." The voice sounded young and polite, yet a bit scraggy and bright.

"The...Multiverse Universe?" Lance appeared puzzled. "But, aren't we all already in the Multiverse?"

A slight chuckle could be heard. "Oh, no, no...well, I men yes, you are. You are in the Multiverse Dimension within the Multiverse itself."

Lance sighed, "I'm confused. Can you please explain?"

"Gladly. This dimension is what a universe would be like if it was, in itself, a Multiverse. Instead of the universes existing across dimensional barriers that need to be crossed to traverse into other dimensions, this universe is it's own Multiverse, containing all the universes, but putting them in one expansive world. Does that make sense?"

"Well...kind of."

"Don't worry. You'll understand in time." A pause. "Just explore around for a bit. Try not to get yourself killed...but I'm not worried about that. Keep the Dimensional Device safe."

"Got it," Lance went to put his wrist down, but remembered something and brought it back up. "Do you have any gear you want me to test while I'm here?"

"Not quite yet. I'm almost done with something, but I'm still working out kinks. I'll let you know when I'm sending something through the Transicom."

"Kay, thanks," Lance reached for his belt and pulled out what appeared to be two tiny black rods. Twirling them in his hands, he pressed a button on one of them, smiling in satisfaction as the Haven Sword appeared to form out of thin air. In fact, it formed from the Carbon in the air, building a structure of Carbon that made it two levels harder than diamond. Transparent with a gold tint, the blade was double-edged and looked weak since it was rather thin, but it was not a weapon to underestimate as it could probably cut through any material man could make.

Lance pushed the same button, letting the Haven Sword return to it's "sheathed" black rod state. He would use them when he needed them. Right now, he needed to figure out what was going on. Lance looked around, trying to find any forms of life.

---

Golith drummed his fingers across the arm of his throne as several other officials mulled about he floor away from his position. Taking note of several lights that popped up and gave warning. They would approach panels on the floor, that beamed a holographic pedestal in front of them. Interacting with this projection, they could affect and adjust things from their perspective and Golith just watched from his seat as they did so. While they spoke among one another and discussed, proper lines of action.

The strange creature had returned to his side once more and was now holding a small silver tray with scattered treats set on its surface. Golith would reach forward and take one, eating in with nary a word between him and the strangely laprinial creature. Though from time to time, he would caress the top of her head and she would swoon as she did before.

The creature was barely the size of a normal human and clad in strange clothes. Thick leather bindings that encased a majority of her head and chest. As well as heavy silver bangles that wrapped both forearms and thighs, causing the dim light to reflect at awkward angles from time to time. Her feet were digigrade, boasting a separate section of lower leg, adding too her look of appearing nearly rabbit like in nature. A single thin strip of cloth covered her sex, shielding what little modesty there could be had in that kind of outfit. As well as a thin buckled collar that held snug around the neck. Both, appearing to be the same color as Golith's own robes.

As he smiled with a small sense of delight at the treat he was offered, several small lights glint across his face and he recognizes this as the navigators dial to contact him. "Yes Navigator, what is it?" The same familiar voice chimes in quickly.

"Master, I am detecting several ships relocating towards our general position. Intercepted subspace contact reveals them to be ships drawn a detection of our gating procedure. Golith smile widened as he heard those words and responded. "Well, its good to see that they have at least advanced that far. What do you have on those ships?" He returns as he shits to lean towards the front of his seat.

Several small chirping beeps of an overhead light, no longer in length then a second pass by and the Navigator returns. "It appears to be two separate fleets master, registered in their archives as both the Inner Knowledge and Righteous Vigilance. Both containing nearly seven thousand ships together, with a mixing of grades from within their sphere of technology." Golith pays attention too his Navigator for long enough, that his strange pet is berating herself of his hand. Mewling as she brushes against it, like a placated cat. "Nothing salvaged from us I take it?"

"No master, I appears they may be at the cusp of seeing us, but not grasping. The only vessel that poses some threat, if any, would be Gaia's child." Golith rolls his eyes for a moment as he wrestles his hand from the grasp of his pet, shushing her as she gives a plaintive reach for it in return. "Prepare for a full sweep of the entire system, search every nook and cranny.. leave nothing unseen, from without and within the void. The Navigator complies, charging up the Obelisk pulse array as it now prepares to fire off a vast, mapping pulse of multi-wave energy.

One official makes his way towards Golith's platform and speaks. "The ships will be rounding the crest of the moon soon, making it possible for them to see us. That is, if one of them is happening to be looking out a port hole at the time." Some of them start to laugh at the thought and another official chimes in. "Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if their ships still run on a fossil fuel, or coal for that matter." The laughter builds for a moment before Golith waves a hand to dismiss their banter and they all shut their mouths collectively.

He sits back in his seat and speaks "Navigator, on my mark. Fire the pulse... and.. Mark." No reply from the Navigator was needed, triggering the ships pulse was called and delivered. From outside, the whole of the ships hull shined a vibrant yellow before the light burst outward. The resulting force was enough to permanently mark the moons surface with a crater, growing several thousand miles in diameter and pushing a wave of debris across its surface.

The wave visually vanished after several kilometers, but its effects could still be felt and the approaching ships inertia dampeners were jostled with a stiff kick. The now visual absent wave carried out through the vast reaches of space, filling and mapping every section of every fiber it touched. Even advanced systems, were jostled for a moment, when their receptors were hit by the pulse in turn and it quickly rummaged through their systems. Grabbing up information like a ravenous fire, set in the midst of a forest of dried kindling.

Golith looked at a holographic console that extended from the arm of his throne and looked as banks of information spilled onto its screen. Diagrams of ships, their names, their crew counts and their crew names all became listed. Even more private data became available on closer inspection as blood type, brain chemistry and physical health were all cataloged. The listing carried over too the planets as well, mapping just as much detailed information as possible and growing as the wave continued.

A pair of ethereal eyes watched Kyrian closely, though whoever was watching could not be perceived, the planeswalker was being studied intently. Aside from the feeling of being watched, nothing else seemed to occur.

----

The defense that the Data world exhibited would have performed admirably against the Singularity Cannon if the weapon had ever actually fired. However there was a charge time between when the charge was initialized and when the weapon would be fired. Hanley had also given Kyrian Vox a ten minute warning to vacate their star system.

In reality she was biding her time, waiting for the elements of the Fleet of Inner Knowledge, and the Fleet of Righteous Vigilance to filter in system before the FTL Inhibition array was initialized. This would prevent the Dataworld from leaving the third dimension, and make it vulnerable to the Aschen when they did decide to open fire.

The final elements of the two new fleets jumped in system, flickers of spatial energy signalling their arrival one by one, Aschen forces nearly fifteen thousand ships strong between the fleets of the Imperial Defense Force, the Fleet of Inner Knowledge, and the Fleet of Righteous Vigilance.

Hanley checked the clock, before the shipboard AI spoke up.

"Unidentified energy surge coming from behind the moon, additionally, the Underlundians have evacuated the Xenos."

The Admiral made a face, before she once again opened a transmission towards the Data World.

"I don't care about the refugees, I care that someone decided to waltz some giant battlestation into Imperial Space. I have to consider the defense of the Aschen People above your wants and needs. I have no desire to board your ship, nor do I have a desire to interact further unless you can get off your high horse and interact with us in a meaningful manner. As of now however, you have demonstrated yourself to be a threat to the Empire. It is my job to ensure that threats to the safety of the Empire are neutralized." Hanley spat before she terminated the communications.

At this moment the Imperial Defense fleet maintained combat readiness, weapons locked onto Arkvaes and poised to fire. However the Aschen fleet did not fire a single shot, at least they won't yet unless Kyrian continues to provoke them further.

---

As the obelisk like vessel fired off it's pulse array, it's crew would find that the wave washed harmlessly over the shields of the approaching Aschen fleet, and as a consequence would be unable to attain information within the shield itself, or intrude on any of the shipboard systems.

Each individual Imperial Aschen ship was protected by a vast swathe of electronic countermeasures, sophisticated AI systems, and skillful defensive coding. Even if the strange pulse somehow managed to get through the shields and interface with the ship's systems, the Obelisk would get minimal information from the Imperial vessels, publicly available information such as ship names, service histories, crew counts, basic schematics and capabilities, command staff, port of origin, and some rudimentary information on the Aschen Empire itself.

Information that revealed the Aschen Empire as powerful, advanced, and extremely ruthless, but diplomatically approachable if a few protocols were followed.

However classified and private information remained obscured from this deep scan by careful AI Protection, Golith was able to see only what the Aschen allowed him to see.

The Tria was a different matter entirely. Reality itself lensed as the wave approached it, and washed harmlessly around the strange ship. Golith would recieve nothing with his scan from this mystery ship. Only visuals could discern roughly what it was, and perhaps lend to who built it.

The energy wave was hardly felt by those on-board, but registered by the shipboard AI's of each vessel. Whom subsequently informed the ship commanders, and the approaching Aschen fleet began to go into combat readiness.

At that moment, 50,000 kilometers away from the strange Obelisk vessel, a ship unlike any of the Aschen vessels flickered in out of nothingness. It's angular, ancient construction contrasting with the sleek, bulbous design of the Reverences, and the robust, intimidating designs of the Iconoclast ships, and other newer ships of the line.

This vessel was the Tria, an Alteran ship constructed nearly a million years ago, and having withstood the test of time to be one of the Aschen Empire's most valuable assets.

Orlin McGregor, seated in the control chair of the Tria along with his crew let his mind consider this vessel before him, before a neural link opened up a communications channel.

"Unidentified vessel, this is Rear Admiral Orlin McGregor of the Tria, I see you attempted to scan our fleet. Please identify yourselves and state your intentions immediately. Orlin stated, as the Tria began it's own scans on the alien vessel before it. Deep penetrating scans that were designed to look for life signs, analyze the power source and drive systems. In addition to comparing it to the vast database the Alterans had kept.

While this was underway, Orlin's mind formulated a tactical scenario, and the ship eagerly began to respond, it's powerful shields raised as it approached the alien vessel at combat speeds. While this was underway, Orlin allowed his mind to wander, as his highly advanced mind considered the very nature of the universe, and reality itself became pliant to his will. Amplified by the Tria's neural systems, the ship appeared to distort the fabric of reality around it.

The remaining two Aschen fleets held back around the moon, their systems locking on the Obelisk one by one. Orlin however had transmitted specific instructions, to hang back and allow the McGregor to attempt to make peaceful contact.

Hanley's fleet continued to monitor the situation, with Claire refusing to answer the transmission from Kyrian, as her shipboard AI was addressing the newer threat on the other side of Blackrock.

The crew of the CIC of the Esteem were still tensely watching DRADIS Scans of the Data-World, while some were watching linked scans from the Tria, and the other two Imperial fleets.

The Planck field was also erected by the Watchtower, which meant that all forms of Dimensional Shifting, Teleportation, and FTL travel would be impossible within the influence of the field, and it would be required to escape at sub-light speeds before teleporting out.

Hanley on the other hand was still quite stressed, the shipboard AI was providing readouts of the large sphere's defense systems, and with the capability it demonstrated to phase in and out dealt with by the Planck packs, perhaps Kyrian would be willing to listen to reasoning.

Kyrian Vox

When the mysterious ship sent out it's scan across space, Kyrian was astonished. It was so similar to the Data Worlds own scanning technology that it was probably alike the rest of the world as well, and could get past the shields. Kyrian didn't mind however, and even unlocked all of the data storage units for recorded data. Inside the data banks of Arkvaes was a near endless supply of information gathered about the entire multiverse, and other dimensions even. The eons of information went back further than most people realized, having existed since before the multiverse was even a figment of some gods imagination. The extreme multitude of information could only be stored even in a ship the size of a small planet through extra-dimensional Dyson-ring storage. Not only was this Data Worlds information stored here, but a quantum connection to the other remaining Data Worlds allows even more information to be accessed.

When the scan hit Arkvaes all this information flooded the ships computer systems all at once. Even if they too had a quantum storage unit to hold all the information there was almost no way they could open up enough bandwidth to take it all in at once. Along with the information was also a section on dormant super-viruses of history and by downloading the file the viruses would be released into the systems at one time. There was even a small chance that the mysterious ship, know having all this information would "grow" it's own consciousness, like Arkvaes itself.

Kyrian however was interrupted by the Aschen sending him a rather rash ultimatum. Kyrian's temper broke and he turned to the transmission, cutting the commander off mid-sentence. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to? How dare you call Arkvaes a "battleship". This is the greatest library in existence, older than this entire dimension! You should be ashamed to have even pondered about shooting at it. Do you even know what would happen if this ship was destroyed? You ignorant humans even called in the entire Aschen Fleet didn't you? And now you are being watched, your nation is defenseless against it."

Be "it" he was of course referring to the mysterious ship which had just scanned them. Kyrian shut down the computer banks so the Aschen scan of his ship wouldn't pick up the same thing that the mysterious ship had from his systems. That is, if the Aschen scan could even get through his ship's consciousness. Their scan of the Spark within Arkvaes would read like a strong living being. Their scan of Kyrian himself would yield his genetic structure was almost human, yet he was immortal and had a strong aura of will around him. They would also note his nerves were degrading from the consumption of large amounts of caffeine.

It was about now that Kyrian felt another magic user entire the area. He entered from another dimension if Kyrian could feel him correctly, and immediately Kyrian wished to meet him. It was rare another planeswalker, artificial or natural, come into contact.

Admiral Whitcomb slowly pulled herself to her feet, the CIC was dark save for the emergency lights which cast the room in a red hue.

"Gods... sitrep?" She called out before she rose up, feeling something warm move down her face, touching her forehead, she looked at her fingers. Blood.

"Damage control is restarting the reactor, temporal flux upon emerging from the Bifrost caused a power surge that overloaded primary systems." The XO, Commander Magus reported, helping the Admiral to her feet. "They're cycling the breakers and trying to restore power." He added.

Whitcomb sighed. "Where are we?"

Magus tapped a console, before handing Whitcomb a paper towel for her head wound. "We're blind, deaf, and dumb for now. At least until they restore power."

Some of the CIC Crew by now had turned on flash lights, and were setting to work using handheld radios to communicate with the team inside main engineering and the engine bay.

Some of the other ships were showing signs of restoring power. One of the Athena class missile cruisers began to come to life, lights flashing along it's hull before it's engines bloomed to life and she quickly oriented herself. However that lone cruiser began to quickly come into combat readiness. The milky white bubble flashed briefly along the vessel's hull as it's shields came to life. It's missile bay doors opened, and the ship began to maneuver closer to the Command Carrier. It's crew was working quickly to get into attack readiness, and respond to any moves against the vulnerable carrier. Even though the Athena class was a dedicated long range missile cruiser.

A Sagittaron II Class came to life next, shields online and weapons hot, it too maneuvered into close defensive formation with the Command carrier. Highly encrypted Aschen Radio chatter on several subspace frequencies could now be detected between the two vessels, as a third came online. One of the Iconoclasts.

This time they sent a direct communication to both the Columbian and Aklarian fleets, which was broadcast on digital, analogue, and subspace frequencies.

"This is Commander Warren of the Aschen Empire's Iconoclast Class Battleship Hrunting, we demand that you identify yourselves immediately and state your purpose or we will take aggressive action."

And now the demands came...

The massive 5km long Iconoclast class was a formidable vessel, shield energies washed over her from bow to stern as several massive gun emplacements swiveled to life, garnering targeting solutions across both the Aklarian and Columbian fleets. It was logical to see this reaction. The Aschen had just been tossed through a spatial wormhole, and considering the paranoid nature of the Aschen people and especially their military types. It fit right in with their MO.


As everything was unfolding, Admiral Whitcomb and the crew of the Command Carrier, as well as the rest of the Aschen fleet remained unaware that Commander Warren was now holding all the cards in this first contact scenario.

"Warning. Aschen Warships are powering combat systems. Incoming transmission." Seraph bellowed, and the control room turned from a warm orange, into a threading red, highlighting screens and the holograph display.

"How many?" The Admiral called out, stepping down from the pedestal, the display orienting itself to follow his person, so he could watch the entire time as the events unfolded.

"Two- Recalculation, three warships have restored systems. Warships are regrouping themselves."

"How long?"

The AI was silent for a moment. "I do not have the information or data required to give a proper estimate, but I would hazard a guess that it won't be too long before enough of the fleet powers back up in numbers that will prove more than hazardous in combat."

"Deck Runner! How's the drives going?" The Admiral called out without so much as a glance, as he brought a hand up to the display, grasping one of the renditions of his flak frigates, bringing it down as if he did indeed hold one, and looking it over. A panel of options came up to his right, and he glanced through them.

"We got about five minutes for a fleet wide escape! Three if we plan an emergency haul!" Called out the deck runner, whom was busy shoving aside an operative to get at his panel.

"Mr. Cur! How ar-" He stopped when the man in question held up a finger, rapidly communicating with his panel, while one of his hands held a headset to his right ear. Vasham smiled. The man worked fast. With the encrypted communication going with command taken care of with Cur's rapid speech, Vasham inclined his head as Seraph spoke again. Vasham himself was vaugley aware that the online Aschen fleet might discern that the flagship was broadcasting on an encrypted channel to somewhere out in space, but he cared little if he was aware of it.

"Commander, the Aschen are attempting communication on multiple forms."

"Let the bridge hear." Vasham commanded, turning on his heel to head back for the pedestal. What came forth put fury into his steps.

"This is Commander Warren of the Aschen Empire's Iconoclast Class Battleship Hrunting, we demand that you identify yourselves immediately and state your purpose or we will take aggressive action."

"The guy waltz right into unclaimed territory, and demands we reveal ourselves? Dumbass." Commented an opperative from his panel, sharp white teeth displayed in disgust.

"That's a man with big guns pointed at our heads, officer To'loth." Vasham shot back, looking over the holographic displays of the Aschen fleet.

"Deck Runner! I want our fleet positions changed, and priorities set!" He called out, glancing to Hark. "I want our ships to adjust for ten Kilometer spacing. We're a giant target this close, with no maneuverability!" "I want Heat-Sink and Bella's Teeth running point defense. If fighting starts, I want every single one of those fucking guns gunning down their missiles like it's Checkorov all over again." That remark brought a grimace, but also elation. The Admiral was getting his fire.

He then pointed to the flak frigates in question. "I want them turned for a broadside, give as many of their guns the view of the ships." He then pointed at his remaining flak frigates. "I want these two bastards to be our brawlers. They launch strike craft, I want them to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the moment they are close enough to realize how fucked they are."

At this point, the fleet was beginning to adjust itself, first they began to space themselves, then the flak frigates began to adjust their positions to accommodate their orders. What became apparent now is that the Aklarian fleet was not only incredibly organized and disciplined, even in the face of a perhaps more powerful combatant, but the ships, even of such classes and size, were capable of great maneuverability. The Frigates both moved to the side, turned on an axis, and raised themselves above, or below their partner ships all in one go. No doubt this was due to an advanced system of engines and counter thrust engines all across the hull. Front, back, below, above, sides, they were there. Either as large as the back engines, or small ports.

"I want our Ion frigates to maintain their arrowhead position, and ready to fire at all times. Keep their main guns charged. And our squadrons..." Vasham chewed his lip.

"Yes?"

"Send our squadrons out to flank their right and left... I want each bomber squad to pair up with an interceptor squad, and thrust out. The moment they got the speed they need for a ten minute drift, I want them to go dark."

Going dark, as it was called, was when a ship sealed off it's own engines and all of it's ports. Weapons were powered down, power cores were set to minimum, so as to only show up as if it was background radiation, and there was radio silence.

The result was ghost ships on the sensors... Ships that were there, and then suddenly gone. With no emited heat, radiation, power, or signal, sensors suited to detect such signals came up blank. As a vanguard fleet, the smaller ships also had a 'chamelion skin', which consisted of a surface coating of paint that absorbed radar waves. While outside of dark mode, this paint had no effect, as there were open ports, where the internal parts lacked any paint. However, once sealed, the entire surface of the craft was considered coated. With no radar bouncing off the ship, there was no signal to head back.

This in no way prevented the naked eye from viewing the vessel, Vasham considered grimly, but he smiled either way. They were at a distance where the naked eye could not perceive his smaller strike craft, unless the Aschen had races that can pinpoint what was effectively a very massive cow from over fifty kilometer's away.

"And, the, uh, other squadrons?" He was speaking of the two remaining interceptor squadrons, Hark was... Vasham smiled.

"I want them to do the same, thrust out... Go dark... But randomly. I want their squads seperated, and their individuals all about... If they get uppity, we'll have them flash themselves. I want them to think they're either surrounded by smaller vessels, or we have sensor disruption abilities."

"This is to assume that the Aschen lack the technology to see through our ruse. We have not truely encountered them before. There is no telling exactly what tech they have." Seraph pointed out, but Vasham merely smiled.

"If an object traps all light, my dear Seraph, it appears black, because no light escapes it... If no signal, not even radiation, escapes a craft, then it is as if there is nothing there."

"There is still there demand, commander."

Vasham glanced at Mr. Cur first, however. "We got anything?"

Cur looked up. "Command is attempting to regroup Hailstorm, Commander Alth'ahs fleet, which is currently guarding a nearby Liveship. Barring delays, they will have frame shifted and be here within fifteen minutes. We can expect them to bring with them destroyers and a battle cruiser. They have a Titan, but command is informing me that it will be left behind to keep the Liveship company.

"Hrmg." Vasham Grunted. A Titan would truely be something to bring to a fray, even if he didn't specifically want a fight. Even so, it was better to keep it at the Live ship, which was infinetly more valuable than his small fleet. "Set me on broadcast, signal based."

============================

The fleet had completed it's change in formation by the time Vasham had ordered the squadrons to go dark, and by the time the signal was being broad casted on a broad level, the squadrons were already starting to disappear from sensors.

"This is Admiral Vasham of the Slo'gars Pact vanguard fleet! This system is currently inhabited by my fleet for purposes that are not of your business! Especially one that pops out of no where, unannounced, and brings up their guns the moment they can, in the middle of foreign space! As one commanding officer to another, I would like to kindly suggest that you keep those weapons cool enough that we can sit here comfortably without the threat of one of us trying to annihilate the other after getting these splendid five minutes of pointing weapons of mass destruction at each other, after meeting not six minutes ago!"

===============================

"Splendid, Sir. If they weren't going to fire on us from being confused as fucking hell, they sure as hell now out of indignation."

"If they fire on us just because I gave them lip, officer Brekins, they would be people I'd shoot dead, and then shoot the corpse, for being such a panzy." The Admiral responded in kind.

Commander Warren was carefully eying his readouts as the alien fleet was beginning to move into position. A calloused hand tugged nervously at the collar of his duty uniform while one of the Bridge Officers turned.

"Unidentified Xenos fleet is moving into attack formation." Lieutenant Makerac, from the Hrunting's Tactical station reported. "They're arming weapons and launching strike craft, Wide-Spectrum is detecting several strike craft moving into zero-emissions, The AI is coordinating with the Scylla and the Sword of Avalon for defensive runs for the Command Carrier. Sir; we're not going to be able to defend the Command carrier with one Iconoclast, a Sagittaron and an Athena class, much less the rest of the fleet." Makerac added, while Warren stroked his chin.

"Hrunting to Scylla." Warren ordered, while Commander Kerr replied, her voice echoing through the CIC of the Hrunting. "Hrunting, this is Scylla Actual; go ahead."

Warren looked to the wide spectrum scanner, frowning some more. "Are your weapons systems online? I'm sending you targeting data for a Thunderbolt strike. I want to hit hard and fast if this gets nasty."

There was a brief pause, followed by a reply from Commander Kerr. "I've got shields and weapons, we're working on Astrometrics and Tertiary systems, but my crew reports condition one." She replied.

Warren nodded. "Prep your Tricobalt packages for launch, fourty thousand teracochranes."

Kerr made a face, as she eyed her own combat scanners, she held up her hand and keyed up a reply. "Sir, with respect that would tear a hole into subspace large enough to consume this entire star system, we're talking at least twelve, thirteen missiles each with a high yield warhead. This whole sector of space would be uninhabitable for millions of years."

One of the Deck Lieutenants aboard the Scylla promptly turned. "Sir, I've got targeting data for the Xenos fleet from the Hrunting."

The Sword of Avalon was the smallest of the three ships that were online, a Sagittaron II Class Battlecruiser. It was suited for hit and run skirmishes, as well as escort for larger vessels. While lacking the large anti-capital ship guns or the star ending missiles of the Athena class, the Sagittaron II was no slouch, excelling at mid range engagements against both frigates and cruisers.

With the Athena class holding back, the Iconoclast and the Sagittaron II forming up, the Command Carrier was beginning to show signs of life.

---

Like flipping a switch, the Command Carrier's lights came on section by section. The vessel ceased to drift lifelessly and was slowly orienting.

The lights flickered on, and computer systems came on one by one, including the large holographic interface in the center of the CIC.

It wasn't mere seconds before both fleets were pinged on the Wide-Spectrum systems of the Command Carrier. Admiral Whitcomb and Commander Magus were getting their bearings just as the response was starting to come in.

Magus was staring at the readouts with a perturbed look upon his face. "Admiral." He said, with a slightly concerned look. "We're missing half our strike group and it appears we've fallen into a hornets nest. I've got Tricobalt signatures coming from the Scylla, and the Hrunting, and Sword of Avalon are shields and weapons hot." He reported.

"Whoever they are, they're organized." Magus commented as he eyed the readout. "If I'm reading this correctly they've moved into an attack position. I've got logged chatter from the Hrunting's AI, our AI is going over it and parsing the dialogue."

Whitcomb offered a slight nod. "Transmit to the Hrunting. Tell them to hold position and not engage unless fired upon. I'll handle the talking now."

At that moment, Whitcomb turned to her Tactical commander.

"How are we doing?" She asked, while the Commander nodded. "They've reset the thrown breakers, we've got all systems except the Bifrost drive."

Whitcomb nodded in approval, before she transmitted to the other three vessels.

"This is the Admiral; all ships initiate datalink synchronization and prepare for combat maneuvers." She said, before turning to Tactical once more.

"Initiate the Planck Field, whoever these Xenos are, I don't want them escaping or bringing in Reinforcements on top of us."

She looked up to the large feed, while the alarms sounded in her own vessel. It would take some time to bring the Command Carrier to full combat readiness.

"I want everyone to their fighters, I want Prowlers out and making reconnaissance runs, get me nice and close to those Xeno ships." Whitcomb ordered. She was confident in the sophisticated stealth capabilities of the Prowler, it's ability to evade scanners by moving slightly out of phase from reality, and it's sophisticated reconnaissance and cloaking systems. Though confused, Whitcomb was confident her fleet would enter combat preparations the moment they came online. It was this efficiency and discipline that the Imperial Aschen navy was known for. They would figure out what the hell happened once the threat had passed.

"I've got a reply to Commander Warren's Hostile challenge, Admiral." Magus reported. "I've got operations and Astrometrics recalibrating sensors to try and find the whispers on our wide-spectrum. We'll have to adjust our sensors for Partial-to-zero emissions. If there's so much as a beating heart on these alien ships we'll pick it up."

Whitcomb offered a slight nod. "Get me weapons and defense analysis as well. And gods damnit I asked for shields a centon ago!"

"This is Admiral Vasham of the Slo'gars Pact vanguard fleet! This system is currently inhabited by my fleet for purposes that are not of your business! Especially one that pops out of no where, unannounced, and brings up their guns the moment they can, in the middle of foreign space! As one commanding officer to another, I would like to kindly suggest that you keep those weapons cool enough that we can sit here comfortably without the threat of one of us trying to annihilate the other after getting these splendid five minutes of pointing weapons of mass destruction at each other, after meeting not six minutes ago!"

Whitcomb pondered a reply, quickly shooting off a message in the Datalink for Warren not to reply, this was in her court now. She pondered for a moment, the exact nature of the reply. However, the words spoken through the universal translate, which had been parsed through the shipboard AI system were clear.

It managed to garner several chuckles from the CIC, a few snickers, and mutterings of 'disgusting Xenos' from the crew, until Whitcomb shouted.

"Enough! We're professionals here. If anyone's going to initiate a pogrom of filthy aliens, it's going to be me. I need to play this carefully until the Prowlers can get out."

"Open a channel." Whitcomb ordered.

"Xenos Fleet, this is Admiral Elisha Whitcomb, of the Pride of Langara; Flagship of the Classis I, Sector Langara, Starfleet of the United Aschen Empire." She hailed. "I see you are in attack formation and have deployed strike craft to attack my vessels. I will warn you that any attack will be construed as an act of war against the United Aschen Empire, this may not mean anything to you. However if my scans of your vessels are reflective of the technology level and development of your people; it would be a war your civilization would be unlikely to survive in any meaningful fashion. I also noticed, by the tone of your response to my Commander's hail. Either you're ignorant as to the nature of exactly who we are, and and what we're capable of; in which case I wouldn't fault a Xeno for it's ignorance. Or you have a deathwish." She said calmly. "To that end you have us outnumbered, my men were preparing defenses in the event of an attack, if you stand down, I will order my men to respond in kind." She said firmly.

A moment later Whitcomb turned to Magus. "I want our relative position and the location of the nearest fleet."

Magus nodded, and eyed the charts for a moment. "Interesting... if this is correct we're not far from Isiria, I can signal The Third Fleet of Glorious Consequence, and Admiral Torres, they're in the Blackrock System, and I could get them here within the Centar." Magus said, which brought a sigh of relief to Whitcomb.

"Then our Bifrost screw-up didn't totally send us to some uncharted realm... good, then we'll have the upper hand here." Whitcomb said, as she awaited a reply.

Vasham brought his arms to a cross, watching the Aschen fleet scramble about to reorganize themselves. He was impressed, and infact, started to hold some kind of respect for their commanding officer. They were turning what could have easily been a disorganized firework show, into something truly menacing...

Unfortunately, those guns were pointed at him. The message that they received didn't help.

Xenos Fleet, this is Admiral Elisha Whitcomb, of the Pride of Langara; Flagship of the Classis I, Sector Langara, Starfleet of the United Aschen Empire." I see you are in attack formation and have deployed strike craft to attack my vessels. I will warn you that any attack will be construed as an act of war against the United Aschen Empire, this may not mean anything to you. However if my scans of your vessels are reflective of the technology level and development of your people; it would be a war your civilization would be unlikely to survive in any meaningful fashion. I also noticed, by the tone of your response to my Commander's hail. Either you're ignorant as to the nature of exactly who we are, and and what we're capable of; in which case I wouldn't fault a Xeno for it's ignorance. Or you have a deathwish." "To that end you have us outnumbered, my men were preparing defenses in the event of an attack, if you stand down, I will order my men to respond in kind."

Some of that respect died easily enough with that message, but he soothed himself over. "Tell our fighters to return to our side of our sandbox here... Slowly. Let's not panic our friends here." Vasham grunted... It wasn't questioned, which Vasham found surprising, as Seraph broadcast the order, and the swarms of fighters that had gone dark, slowly began to twinkle back onto sensors, dancing their way back into reverse. The Interceptors produced brilliant blue streaks of light in their wake, making the scene almost look like a blooming flower, with the Aklarian fleet at it's center.

Then he sat in silence... Thinking.

"I could see us getting into a slugging match with them... But I'm not inclined to start an imperial war over what appears to be a misunderstanding." Seraph replied gruffly through his hidden speakers, bringing up the display of the Aschen Empire to make his point.

"Neither do I... Not inclined to give these Aschen the satisfaction of us tucking our tail between our legs though. 'Lower technology', pah. What the hell do they expect from a Vanguard fleet. Vanguard! We're glorified scouts." The Admiral huffed, leaning on the pedestal.

"Commander... Our Frame Shift drives have just began a recalculation."

This brought a hush to the crew. The drives don't recalculate their solution, unless something larger than the ship approached to close range, as it required time to calibrate to compensate jumping away from the mass... Yet the Aschen ship was still comfortably Fifty Km away.

"By the children's blood..." Came the helmsman's curse, as he quickly began flipping through screens. Like it was just now occurring to Vasham, something was affecting the drives... And as it slowly washed over the deck, everyone took a guess at what, or in this case, who, was responsible.

"Seraph." Vasham leaned up. "Give me a five second burn of the fleet's reverse thrusters, set us into a drift backwards." Vasham called out, looking back down to the display to resume his silence. Upon his command, the carrier, and it's subordinate frigates, fired off the large engines positioned at their front, for a good five seconds, before going dark again, setting the entire fleet to drift.

Now about message... They would notice them returning their interceptors and strike craft to their fleet, so he'd hope they take that in good faith... Now he wondered how to respond.

"Command relayed a message sir, Hailstorm are charging their Phase Shift drives... They request coordinates." Cur called out, looking up from his panel.

"Have them drop off out system, here." He let the holographic map zoom out, and pointed to a pocket of space just beyond the gas Giant. "I want them to wait here, just beyond the gas, where they can be here in a moments notice if our friends here get fisty..." He glanced back at the Aschen ships. "Otherwise, I'd rather they simply know we aren't as technologically inferior as they want to think."

"Drives are charging sir, they'll be here within the next eight minutes."

"Would you like to relay a message commander?" Seraph queryed.

The Admiral cleared his throat. "Broadcast."
'
==========================================
As the ship began it's drift backwards, the carrier began broadcasting yet again.

"Greetings, Admiral Elisha Whitcomb. I will agree that I am not inclined to start a war over what, from what we here have gathered, appears to be a mishap on your part. Surely, however, you can agree that when what appears to be a full assault fleet pops out of no where, that one reacts with the most extreme forms of caution." There was a pause here, as if the man was organizing his thoughts. "Simply put, I organized my fleet to prepare for what could have been a serious threat, and kept that formation when I was told to identify myself, or be attacked. As it is, I have retracted my strike craft, as you can most surely see, in good faith. I am not entirely convinced however, to have my fleet stand down, in the face of someone threatening a declaration of war almost right off the port, with a species they have not yet encountered." Vasham almost instead said 'In the face of someone cutting off our escape routes', but figured he'd keep that to himself. If the Aschen didn't already know it was being successful, even after he ordered his fleet to begin a back drift, he'd rather they didn't know.

"I would instead invite you to have a most civil conversation over more private channels, so that we may talk peacefully."

"Planck Fields are up and holding, additionally the 'Pyxis, Cebrus, and the Emperor's Wrath have come online, synchronized with the Datalink, and have taken up formation." Magus said, reading off the incoming readings.

Whitcomb was watching the readout as the whispers once again turned into icons on the large holographic tank in front of her.

"They're drifting back." She said calmly, moving her hands to zoom in on the opposing icons, and then she brought the whole view out, to show the extension of the Planck Field, which was one Solar-Unit or 150 Million Kilometrons in every direction.

She took stock of the layout of the star system, the sun, the planets, everything as she keyed up the Point-and-click plotting interface. She was calculating paths to keep her fleet covered, with six vessels instead of three.

"It's going to be awhile until everyone comes back online." Magus added.

At that moment the other officer's reply came up, echoing loudly through the CIC. Everyone was silent for the most part, except Whitcomb. She was considering the words the man said.

What struck her as odd was that he called the 32 ship task force, or what was left of one a full blown assault fleet. Magus' comment however served to break the silence as he spoke up.

"If he thinks we're an assault fleet, they're going to shit bricks when Glorious Consequence arrives." Magus commented matter of factly.

"We could play nice." Whitcomb replied. "Or we could seize the ships, and interrogate the crew. Regardless, Commander, Nothing's coming or going so long as we have the Planck Field up. And it pretty much eliminates the use of Prowlers. So we'll have to do this the old fashioned way." She said, before keying up another icon, disseminating point and click orders for the fleet to go to condition two, and spread out in a more staggered formation.

In a well coordinated effort, the Command Carrier sent out several bursts of data, and the other vessels moved into a relaxed formation, their weapons while still hot, were no longer targeted at the opposing fleet.

"Comms, bring me up." Whitcomb ordered.

A moment later, Whitcomb's reply keyed up on the comms, this time it was an encrypted channel with the decryption keys piggybacked on the subspace frequency. A Private channel that carried a video signal, the large airy CIC that was the Pride of Langara, and Admiral Whitcomb standing center, aside a large console. The Holographic tank was of course not visible from this angle, but the efficiency and technology of the Aschen's CIC Crew was much more evident. Holographic screens flickered, and everyone moved with purpose and discipline.

"You understand, attacking someone who emerges from Slipspace with no power isn't looked upon kindly in any cultures we've come across." She replied. Her right hand was resting on the console beside her, as there was no 'Captain's chair' anywhere. "In a hostile galaxy you can never be too careful. But since this is first contact between our two people, I'll extend an apology for our hostile actions. We are not a people to leave anything to chance, our safety is absolute, that often entails we must treat those we meet with suspicion. So long as you do not act with the intent to harm us, likewise we mean you no harm."

"If this goes according to plan, Commander. We won't need the fleet." Whitcomb said, this time in Anquietas, the native language of the Aschen.

"Call us an old fashioned people, but I would like to propose a more personal exchange, aboard either of our vessels or a neutral location of your choosing, from there I can put you in contact with our diplomatic staff, and more formal arrangements can be made." She hailed once more.

The Aklarians maintained their formation strictly, and the channel was left silent for a while. The two flak frigates whom had turned to reveal a broadside of guns did relax themselves, turning to face forwards at the Aschen fleet, but it was otherwise erriely silent.

=================================

"The Posability of friendly exchange with one of the more powerful space fairing empires could be to the benefit of the Aklarian people." Seraph said, but was met with a retort from Deck Runner Hark.

"Blood thirsty, planet rutting apes, you blasted piece of Circutrty!" Came Hark's outcry. "Contact with surface dwellers has never brought us anything but ruin! We prosper now, our people living amongst the stars! And you would suggest we /submit/ to these people!?"

"The suggestion I made was not to submit, Mr. Hark, but rather to cooperate. This is a race, whom while they delve into planets, has the numbers and the technology. Perhaps we might hold our heads high in our unique form of logistics, and to be able to match many forms of space fairing technology and combat-"

"You damn right we do, you damn chi-"

Hark was silenced by a wave of the Admiral's hand, a stern gaze held over him. A look from the raw anger bestowed upon him from the officers face forced the Deck runner into silence. For a time, the Bridge was silent, all eyes upon the Admiral.

"It is not a doubt within my mind, that the Aschen do in fact have the capability to bestow havoc. My family, the Vasham Line, does not have the capacity to take on any form of conflict with Aschen. They have armada's..."

He straightened up, letting that last bit hang in the air. "We know nothing except they are powerful, they are numerous, and they are subject to prejudicial caution. That is not unlike our race as a whole, if you think about it. We hold no real planets to our name, but we hold armada's to it, and we have not always been so kind to races that have wounded us. In the end, however, our people are new to this Galaxy. I have no intention of jeopardizing my family, my race, by refusing audience with their officer, and insulting them."

He then turned his gaze upon the Aschen display. "I am, however... Very aware of the dangers... Mr. Cur. I would like our support Fleet to delay itself for a time... Inform command we are making first contant with a forgien power... Send for the Judicator." Mentions of the Judicator brought about winces from most faces aboard the bridge... For good reason, Vasham figured. "Seraph, give me communications."

==============================
After a long dead silence, the Aklarian Formation's com's flickered back up, and wired over their message via the same encrypted channel.

"It is of my opinion, then, that for the purpose of the now, I might dispatch my frigate 'Desmond' to the in between of our two fleets, where it might act as a hub for you and me to meet in person. I would request that you board our frigate by shuttle, and bring no more than six honor guards, whom may be equipped as they see fit, save for heavy armor or explosives."

Vasham, as he made this message, resigned himself to a rejection for this offer. He would rather however he opened up with this, instead of waiting for the Aschen to suggest something else.

"I don't like this, one but." Magus protested, considering the proposition. "They want us to meet them aboard one of their ships." He said, turning to face his Admiral, who slowly nodded in response.

"The whole thing stinks." She said, slowly shaking her head as her eyes moved up to the large holographic display. "Much of the fleet is back online and are regrouping in defensive formation. We can coordinate an attack from here using the datalink system." Whitcomb said, nodding to the point and click interface in front of her.

"Why don't we send the Android?" A Deck officer inquired.

Whitcomb paused and nodded. "Problem is there's no telling what kind of information they could gain by compromising the android, I won't risk it." She protested, before her eyes settled on Commander Magus.

"That's why I'm going to send you; and a Marine strike team to accompany you." Whitcomb said, causing the Commander to frown in protest.

"Sir." He said, nodding abruptly as he offered a salute. "I'll report to Hangar one." He said, before suddenly turning to leave.

As Magus started towards the Hangar Deck, Whitcomb turned to her tactical officer. "Get me three Marine strike teams and an Adept team in condors and launched in five minutes. I want to extract the Commander the moment things turn south."

The Tactical officer nodded, and picked up the intercom to relay the message.

---

Whitcomb waited a moment, keying up one of the Athena class missile carriers forming the rear of the fleet, obstructed by the sheer size of the Command Carrier.

"Scylla, prep your weapons package, Tricobalt Multiple warhead. Staggered targeting pattern, with decoys." She said. "Launch only on my order."

With acknowledgement, a single missile silo slid open to form a hole in the armored hull of the Athena class missile carrier. There were no other outward signs, even as the targeting package for a high yield multiple delivery missile system was being loaded.

Finally, Whitcomb keyed up the alien fleet.

"This is Admiral Whitcomb, I'm sending one of my officers over to the designated coordinates; standby."

Moments later, a single Condor transport emerged from one of the multiple hangar decks of the Command Carrier, escorted by a quintet of Raptor Talon assault fighters. The Raptor Talons maintained a close knit delta formation around the Condor, while approaching the Frigate from the Aschen fleet.

Several moments later, three more Condors emerged, with an escort of several dozen Raptor Talons fluttering about the darkness of space, they held back however, keeping a distant orbit around the Command Carrier, moving in an elliptical pattern, each Condor was packed with assault marines ready to move should the Commander's Life be in danger, or should he face imminent capture.

The group of Aschen Ships moved quickly through the darkness of space.

"We've received coordinates, one of their officers is en route." Came one of the operatives voices, who flicked up a display of the message to the holographic center. Vasham grunted in a nod. However, in dismay, he noted that the time that had been spent trying to keep each other firing upon each other, had now given the Aschen a very clear advantage, as more of their fleet came online.

"Send Desmond to their coordinates... Weapons cool. Order the fleet to cease it's drifting." Vasham grunted. He didn't feel it, but the fleet moments later countered it's drift with a five second forward thrust, bringing it to a halt.

"Will you be going sir?" Came Hark's grunt, and the color beneath the visor drained into a white at his nod.

"Seraph, you have the fleet. If conflict starts, prioritize escape of the majority." Vasham muttered, turning to walk away from the command pedestal. His eyes centered on the cool blue blast door, that sealed the command deck from the rest of the ship. Two marines in M22 Power armor stood their, the massive vacuum sealed suits, easily towering a few feet among any who passed them. One had three golden strikes across their right arm... The other had a crimson emblem on the same arm, a simple dash. He nodded to them, and the lower ranked individual nodded... The door seemed to open of his own will, though he was certain one of the two triggered it. "Mr. Cur, please infrom the Desmond that I will be boarding their ship mid transit via shuttle. I will expect them to be ready to meet our guests."

"If conflict starts, and we are unable to retrieve you?" The AI asked, and one could accuse it of being somewhat nervous. Infact, the question caused the Admiral himself to pause.

"Then I expect, that if given the chance, that if I can not be retrieved, there is nothing left for them to retrieve."

With that, he fled down the corridor.

===========================================

The Formation itself halted, as the Desmond departed from the group... A frigate measuring in Six kilometers, the front of it's craft was dedicated to two massive ion cannons, mounted on a gimbal that allowed them to pivot on an X and Y axis to track targets. The guns were placed to stack atop each other, to keep the ship thin in terms of width. Two rail guns were mounted on the upper, and lower portions of the ship, great, five barreled guns that could target anything within one hundred eighty degrees above them.

The hull itself was spearlike at the front, emphasis on the point where it's main guns rested, and then suddenly turned into a large block at the rear, as if one glued the arrow onto a giant cube. A rear hatch, measuring atleast a fourth of a kilometer, atleast two fifty meters, opened up, revealing a brilliant blue glow from within...

To receive the Admiral's shuttle, which in turn was escorted by ten interceptors. They streaked up to the craft's starboard side, holding in a delta formation, before the fighters suddenly broke off to take up positions at the frigates aft, where as the shuttle flew into what was assumed to be the dock.

The Frigate itself continued on for the time it took to reach the coordinates, before countering it's inertia, and holding position. It's weapons were cool, but it's shields were constantly up, and the interceptors kept their engines flared.

It then began broadcasting docking procedures to the Aschen Escort.

Whitcomb silently watched the holographic interface as Magus' shuttle cleared the field of influence. This was the designated safe zone with which Imperial forces could quickly and readily retrieve the Commander in the event that he was compromised.

Magus kept his cool, checking the life support systems of the T-65 Combat skin he was wearing. The T-65 was an extremely advanced piece of equipment, typically reserved for special forces and operatives of the Imperial Intelligence Agency. The T-65 Consisted of a form fitting undergarment that interfaced with the nerves of the body, which fed impulses into the suits neuromuscular enhancement systems. This allowed the wearer to enjoy strength many times that of a normal human.

The Combat skin was further augmented by several internal power systems, including a sealed life support and NBC System. A Nanomesh outer layer provided excellent protection against projectiles and energy weapons, this was further augmented by the suit's portable aegis wrist mounted hard-light shield system, and overall frequency oscillation shield systems.

Everything was topped off by a breastplate, gauntlets, and greaves made from a special material called Kanvium. This alloy was a highly synthesized material that dissipated energy by becoming a liquid like state, returning to a solid once the energy was dissipated.

The Marines wore something different, a completely self enclosed CUIRASS Combat System. The Cuirass was a hybrid power armor system that afforded a hermetically sealed environment, which allowed Imperial Marines to operate in a variety of alien environments, including zero g and within a vacuum. Their faces were completely obscured by a self contained augmented reality Heads-up display, allowing them to see in infrared, ultraviolet, and even X-ray and Wide-Spectrum if the situation required it. This enhanced sight rendered most conventional methods of obfuscation useless.

They carried the Type 03 Disruptor PDW, which was a fast firing close quarters disruptor weapon that was capable of unleashing devastating ordinance downrange and up close. Their backup was a simple Type 23 disruptor pistol, they also carried an assortment of grenades, and various other equipment. Each marine silently checked their weapon, checking the fusion cells and the calibration of their weapons. Some kept their gaze fixed on the holographic screen that served as the weapon's sights. Calibrating and checking their weapons for errors.

Magus swallowed hard, as he gazed out the small porthole to the Raptor Talon that flew alongside them, and then he looked back to the formation of Aschen vessels.

"We're approaching the Xenos vessel." The Pilot of the Condor reported. "Receiving docking information, initializing final approach."

The Pilot moved to get on comms with the Desmond, chiming in on a wide-band frequency.

"Condor 867 to Xenos Frigate, I'm beginning final approach now, I'm calling the ball."

The squadron of Raptor Talons banked off, splitting into several different directions before forming back up several kilometers away from the Frigate. The Raptor Talons held their position however, waiting for any sort of signal from the Command Carrier.

The Raptor Talons were working a second mission. Highly encrypted subspace transmissions moving back and fourth from the Command Carrier and the Raptor Talons. This was hashed in with normal datalink transmissions. The Raptor Talons were acting as spotters for the Athena class carrier's missile package.

Inside the dock, the lone Condor made it's approach, following docking instructions until given final clearance to land. Once touchdown was achieved, Magus gave a silent nod to his Marines, and then tugged at the combat skin's collar.

"Alright, time to impress upon these Xenos why it's a bad idea to challenge the might of the Empire." Magus said, as the visor for the Combat skin slammed shut over his face, a small hiss could then be heard as the suit pressurized, the Marines checked theirs one last time as well, and then gave a thumbs up once the Condor made final touchdown.

There was another hiss as the seal to the Condor's troop bay was broken, the atmospher of the frigate if there was one, and the atmosphere of the condor allowed to comingle. Magus stood up as the back ramp began to open up. He stood as an imposing black clad figure, with a reflective faceless visor among his team of eight marines. To the layman, the Commander didn't appear to be wearing heavy armor, but the Combat Skin was none the less a formidable combat system.

When the back ramp opened up, the Commander would be the first to step down, and the first to set eyes on these strange aliens.

The Sight within the frigate was that of a massive storage and utility center. The Condor had been directed to one of the many pads usually reserved for incoming cargo, or equipment. The entire 'dock' itself was dedicated to both landing pads, one of Which the Condor was currently nestled on, to small docking rigs, great metal arms that were capable of locking onto larger craft to keep them in place. Currently, three of these were home to large, rectangular like ships, where several arms combed over their surface... Apparently repairing some sort of physical damage that they had endured.

The entire 'dock' was a long line of this, with the occasional hover craft moving from one 'landing pad' to another, gripping some crate or another underneath it's belly with small, pincer like claws that connected to small hoops on the crates sides.

The main concern for these marines, however, was the military before them.

The most visible was the six M22 Combat Armor suits before them. Hulking piles of metal in the form of a man, stretching easily into nine feet, added further onto their size because of their seemingly bulky nature. The suit was large enough that the helmet ended up almost nestled into the suit's chest frame, it's brilliant orange, reflective visor giving the Aschen a good look at themselves, if they cared to stare at the visors.

The suits were comprised of adamantium, a material, produced in Aklarian refineries that had to be specially configured for it's production, that for it's durability and strength, was considerably high. Small arms fire upon these hulking machines was like rock against steel plating. Very loud. Little effect. Even worse was the adamantium's considerably high melting point, as well as a layering of shock absorbing foam beneath the massive armor, which made to give the armor a considerable defense against energy based weapons.

To add to it's already considerable defenses, the suits contained a defense matrix pack. These matrix's were refresh shields, shields that constantly dispersed and recharged at an incredible rate, it's purpose was to deflect, or considerably slow down, energy or physical rounds fired at the armor, aimed primarily towards larger calibair, or high energy weapons. The method of the shield's refresh did mean it had little effect on weapons with a higher rate of fire, however.

The suits were powered by a rear power pack, a generator that operated on Thollium, an element used often by the Aklarian's for it's massive power output in it's stable form, as well as for it's explosive potential when reduced into an unstable form. Two massive ports on the pack, which protruded just enough from the armor plating of the pack to be visible, let loose a torrent of heat into the air, cooling both the generator, and the suit.

The suit's themselves carried various pieces of equipment. The chest had four floodlights embedded into itself, which the wearer could turn on when desired. The Helmets contained a HUD, that gave the wearer tactical information regarding his current surroundings. People. Weapons. Explosive contents. Objectives. Operator Vitals, were just a few of the things available to these men and woman. These suits could read out the battle field in infrared and heat, and night vision, if required, and the suit itself contained medical packs that could be injected into the operator in an emergency. A mix of stimulants, blood coagulants, as well as medical nanites for the higher grades of armor, thankfully those were not present here.

A majority of the suits carried their MK2 Standard Visceral Puncture rifle. "The Punisher". Massive rifles built specifically to be wielded by these giants. The upper barrel was capable of firing bursts of focused plasma at a rate of three shots a second, or one hundred eighty in a minute. The rifle was powered by a fuel cell, or an over glorified battery, that was slide into the rear compartment of the stock. The gun also carried an under barrel of a rather large diameter. It's contents were more serious, Rockets, with a shaped charge of thollium in them, their sole purpose to disable, or assault enemy armor.

None of this compared to the rear Combat suit... It was similar to all the others, but it's arms had been replaced with massive cannons. The suit could lift these cannons up, as if he was jutting fists out for a friend to bump, and unleash a storm of energy bursts. It's legs had traded off a little bit of armor, for larger servos to accommodate this weight, yet it was a formidable craft none the less.

To add to all this, a team of no less then eight marines were scattered about, wielding smaller, assorted weapons, many of them appeared to be nothing more than energy based rifles. They were, however, in Wolfhelm's armor, a vacuum sealed suit meant for 'light' infantry, that appeared to be essentially mini figures of the combat suits. It was safe to assume that they shared similar capabilities in terms of utility.

However, two figures stood out from this group, the only ones who's faces were visible. One was a rather large, bulky male, who's features were hard to discern, thanks to that overwhelmingly pitch skin. He was definitely hominoid, that much was certain, to the point where it wouldn't be too far a hazard to assume that they held common ancestry with humans, if one wanted to delve into that sort of question. Yet his skin made him appear as if he was a black shadow, and as the Condor's doors open, the red, illuminated eyes of the man fell onto the officer. The man himself was in his uniform, a very bright white, to contrast his pitch features, and held a variety of emblems scattered on his upper right chest. The cuffs of the uniform's arms were somewhat golden, and the pants themselves were a darkish, navy blue. He did have some sort of small, slim pack mounted on his back and shoulders, but he didn't pay it much mind.

That aside, the male, upon closer examination, was quite stocky. He had an enormous jaw, almost boxy in shape, and his eyes were cold and hard. His shoulders were a boxy square, and if one looked closely, there appeared to be very small protrusions upon them. At first, they might appear to be decorative emblems, but any scrutiny revealed that they were in infact small metal rods, with a slight oval shape at the top, implanted into the flesh itself.

The other was definitely female, a slim body with curves to be sure, yet that build also held tension and strength in it, as brilliant yellow eyes fell onto the Condor's hatch. Brown hair was tied into a neat ponytail, which was thrown down her back. She herself had a grey uniform, with a smaller amount of emblems on her upper right chest, yet the way one of the closest marines regarded her with a certain wariness indicated she was certainly important. Like the male, she had a certain amount of professionalism about her, but her eyes carried more youth and curiosity than her counterpart, and were certainly quite warmer.

The male spoke first. "I am Vasham Van'dune, Admiral, and currently in command of Slo'gars Pact." The man introduced himself, sliding his arms to rest just above his rear waist, while he inclined his head upward just a bit. He was silent after that, observing how his guests would occur from this distance.