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RP: Section 6 What God Farted Over Here?

Jack Pine

Well-Known Member
RP Date
5/04/YE41
RP Location
Star grid 2016
Space between star systems SX-01 and SX-02......

The passenger shuttle offered little space, being one of the few craft that were used to transport passengers this far outside Yamatai space. Setsuya Itatski sat alone, another stigma from the destination the craft was bound towards. The raven haired nekovalkyria with gold highlights and irises of equal splendor sat bored, the hood of her hoodie up due to improper temperature control of the craft's interior. Thanks to the jacket and her own feline fur, no matter how little, helped make it tolerable at least. Goddess did she hate such low class forms of transportation but she wanted to see her mother, and this was the only way.

Checking her personal arm computer, she defaulted to playing a game on the device, not having a immediate SYNCH network connection for anything other then what was already downloaded on to the wrist mounted computer. With a sigh she flung little elysian chibis at green nepleslian chibis sitting amid fortress made of various blocks. Each one she fired had an ability which her astute mind put to effective use to utterly smash the structure and occupants. Peeved Birbs was a rather crass Nepleslian made game, that personified the mutual tension between Elysia and Nepland. Something the cat girl found rather amusing.

["Hey, cat girl! Buckle up, we have strange readings ahead, and we aren't gonna be able du dodge it!"]

With feline ears perked up at the pilot's words, Setsuya looked to the view port next to her row, her synthetically enhanced eyes staring out at the black of space.

Space convulsed and withered, growing weak at the seems from unseen force. The void rippled and flux until a tear in space and time burst forth from some other plane of space. A cascade of glow and particles were spewed into the immediate area of space, strong fluctuations and distortions emitting from the anomaly. Along with it came a fleet of immense ships, their make and class alien and not belonging. A decent sized armada at that, looking as if they had just been exploded into existence amidst a cosmic fart.
 
It had been a long time since Michael’s ship had had a job as large as this one. He was currently standing upon the bridge overlooking the bridge crew going about their duties. His mind however… his mind was far from this place. For the moment Michael stared into space as a bridge officer asked him a question that he did not hear… nor did it register that the man was speaking to him specifically.

“WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO NOW, SIR?!” shouted a much younger man than was standing before him. Michael was once again standing upon a beach where the oceans seemingly filled with blood that mixed with the sands. Plasma flew endlessly and the rain of bullets and artillery shells that returned it were no better than their predecessors.

Corporal Oliver had a rifle in his hands rather than a clipboard. He bore the insignia of a Confederation Marine rather than a civilian Captain. He was a soldier in those days. A warrior. A mercenary. A rat in the mud waiting to die.

“Move up the beach!” he shouted back after what seemed like eternity to the man standing beside him. “You lot! Stay right on my ass, grab your weapons and follow me!”

“Sir, we should wait for the armor to show up so we can breach the sea wall!”

“All the God damned armor is floundering in the channel to the west! We’re on our own!” he called as an artillery shell slammed into the dirt nearby and sent one of his squad flinging into the air end over end… minus his legs. More landing craft were approaching and one of those very craft, delivering fresh troops, crushed the unfortunate artillery victim underneath its treads as it rolled onto the shores of the enemy line.

“But sir! This is all the cover between us and the Almighty God!” another soldier protested. Funnily enough anyone able to peer into his mind would’ve seen not war weary veterans or scarred, heavily experienced soldiers… they would’ve seen that most of these men here were merely children. Most of them had been drafted at the age of sixteen when the war began. Almost all of them were still under the age of eighteen aside from Michael himself. Michael? He was in his early twenties at the time.

“Every God damned inch of this place has been presighted and dialed in on! If you stay here you’re dead men! Now move!” he shouted as he grabbed his rifle a little tighter than he should’ve. They hadn’t even had the chance to see the enemy in close combat… but every last one of them knew the dangers and repercussions of having to do so… and thus came with their bayonets already affixed.

“Sir? What now?” called one of the men that had followed him into battle as they rushed the sea wall and took up positions beneath it. Strangely though… he could not answer. “Sir! What now!?” the other soldier shouted again as Michael heard the shrieking of artillery falling from the skies; likely to bring them to their only release from this Hellscape. “SIR!”

“Sir?” a much older officer spoke up just a little louder than before. He wasn’t shouting but he had noticed that Michael seemed lost in space. “We’re awaiting your orders to launch the starship to catch up with the rest of the fleet.”

Michael rubbed his face and nodded. The tiniest five o’clock shadow was peeking through on his face. It would be gone by the time the starships launched. “Go ahead. I’ll call the order over the PA.” he told the bridge officer as he walked back to his chair and took a seat. “All hands, all hands, this is your Captain speaking. Prepare to jump to lightspeed. All hands, all hands, prepare to jump to lightspeed.” He called out to the ship.

The command had a… mostly desired effect. Some of the more experienced spacers didn’t even need to strap into their seats as they remained standing and barked orders to the lesser experienced ones to get them moving. The least experienced of their passengers were unused to jumps into FTL and thusly threw themselves into seats, strapped on their harnesses and made ready for what they feared was going to be a jump straight into Hell itself.

“U-S-C Savannah this is C-S-V Sojourner. We are casting off moorings and preparing to head to the rendezvous with the main fleet. Over.” Came the call of the Sojourner’s communications officer to the nearby space station.

“C-S-V Sojourner this is Savannah, you are cleared for launch on presubmitted flight plan heading 3-4-2, bearing 1-3-9 lane six. Godspeed Sojourner and may the solar winds be in your favor.”
The commanders in the station’s tower called as the Sojourner’s lines were released which allowed the ship to maneuver back into open space.

“We’re away, Captain. Shall I give the order for celebrations once we’re underway?” his First Officer asked as the ship’s engines fired and moved the hulking beast through space.

“Celebrations are for victories, not travel. We’ll celebrate once the landing craft have touched down on the surface.” Michael said as he gestured to the helm. “Keep us steady. The fleet expects our best and that’s what we’ll give’em.” He commanded before turning to face his Master Gunnery Officer. “Oi, we’re prepared for combat, right? I doubt we’ll need the guns but we should still go in expecting a fight.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“Excellent.” Was all the Captain responded with as he leaned back into the chair. “Godspeed Sojourner…” he whispered as the craft began to fall into formation.

It had been quite a long time since they had a contract this big. Little did Michael know that the contract was merely the beginning of something much larger. They were going to influence the destiny of their fellow man in more ways than he knew… and in more ways than he knew were going to be possible in his lifetime.

The Warp Gate crackled and sparked as they approached. The inner ring began to spin clockwise first just before the center ring spun counterclockwise and the final ring spun clockwise as well. These rings were made of differing metals that caused both the ships' sensors to spike and go off the charts in sheer magnitude of energy, motion and practically every sense the fleet had. As these massive rings spun a center of blue lightning began to form as the gateway prepared to transport them.

Extension rods from the nearby tugships reached out and clamped down over the starship to prevent her from behind sucked into an unstable vortex of pure energy as the tug ships fired full burn just to stay out of the deadly vacuum themselves. Inside the ship the sensors were crying and screaming, begging to be let into the energy vortex as the ship itself seemed to come alive. The glow fluctuated violently then snapped into a transparent film which had stopped its 'suction'. The tugboats released the starship and an extension arm from the station latched onto the ship.

“Station Warp Command, Tug One Four is away. Commence warp entanglement. Over.” One of the tugboats spoke as her Captain led the others away to safety. The tugs got behind the starship then ducked underneath where they were covered as fire from the gate washed over the starship. Energy shields were down which meant the ship was being gently licked by the intense heat waves. It wouldn’t be harmed of course however the internal temperature rose by several dozens of degrees as the station sanitized the ship both inside and out. Soon after they sprayed chemicals over the surface, preventing the spread of further disease and more complicated ones like the Red Death. The area they were going to was home to the Black Death and only the Void thankfully housed the combination of the two that brought unspeakable peril to all races.

“Travelling vessels, sanitation complete. You are authorized to travel to destination; Sector 3-4-7. God speed to you, over.” Station command relayed to the travelling ship as they were maneuvered into position via tug boats. The whole operation had taken over an hour to prepare which wasn’t bad since it took an hour to reach the gate anyways but it took over thirty minutes to secure everything and decontaminate everyone and everything. The HAZMAT team hadn’t been gentle either.

The arms bolted on quickly and began to spin up the FTL drives. Once they were spun up the arms held the ship in place as it tried to FTL before releasing it once the max speed and potential energy was built. The ship slammed into the transparent wall which felt like running into a brick wall while on a bicycle, however it took mere instants before the spatial anomaly ate them.

They should have arrived at their destination… and instead some deity took it upon themselves to swallow the entirety of the fleet and shit it out someplace else. Sensors began to malfunction as they reset themselves and the klaxon of alarms began to ring out across all ships in the fleet.

They had expected to find uncharted and largely uninhabited areas of the Andromeda galaxy. Instead… they had been summoned perhaps by Fate itself to bring about a new era of understanding to a galaxy that seemed so far, far, away from home.

The ship bucked as if it had slammed into something physical and Michael lurched in his seat. “Report!” he commanded the bridge.

“Both of our engines cores have spun to zero. We’re drifting!” a nearby officer reported as he went about tinkering with the screen.

“All navigation is offline. We’re reading no link to the Network or to the typical stars we use for navigation!”

CLANG!

“Uh… and that?” Michael asked as he raised a brow and gripped the seat as the ship bucked again.

“Reporting a hull breach in section four on the aft side!” an engineer called over their ship’s internal radio systems.

“Get Marines out there immediately! X-O, you have the bridge!” Michael commanded as he stood up. It wasn’t going to take him long, running down the hallways, to stop at the armory and gear up like the Marines were. “Engineers! Follow!” he shouted as he threw on the suit and snatched up his rifle from the armorer whom simply nodded. Any impact spelled the potential for a boarding torpedo, a vacuum breathing parasite or any number of far worse conditions that could spell doom not just for their ship but for the entire fleet that they were a part of.

When he was finally ‘dressed’ Michael stood with a group of nearly forty Marines armed to the teeth with varying weapon systems and engineers to follow them into the void of space. They made their way to the airlock and Michael palmed it open. “Stay frosty.” He reminded them as if they needed to be reminded in the first place.

“Sir… over here.” One of the Marines called as he pointed to the nearby hull breach. A small hole the size of a man’s thumb was open… and the damage was thankfully minimal to the point that any idiot could have fixed it. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Scan the room with every sensor we have that’s working and get that hole patched up. This entire area is quarantined until we know what we’re dealing with. This could be a potential disease vector and I’ll be damned if I go down in history as the man that wiped out an entire battle group with a plague.” Michael responded as he gestured towards the hole.

“Sir! Outside, there’s a ship! There’s a ship!” called an engineer that had gotten close to one of the airlocks and now looked outside. Michael joined him soon after and saw the damage that their starship had done to a relatively small passenger vessel. They were thankful, internally, that their ship was not only very solidly built but was double hulled. If it hadn’t been the damage would have been catastrophic.

The passenger ship had been smashed to say the least. The hull had buckled inwards dramatically and although she thankfully remained sealed against the harsh, unforgiving bitch of space she would never fly again. “Let’s get a squad in there.” Michael commanded as he palmed the airlock controls. “Get a medical team on standby!” he commanded another nearby Marine as he cycled the airlock to allow himself and nine others to pass into the void where they would, undoubtedly, be faced with a brand new situation and a brand new potential Hell.

When the airlock opened they had no need to fire a cable across. The starship was close enough that boarding action was easily done by hand. Michael kicked off the steel deck and felt himself drop for a fraction of a second before he was out of the influence of their ship’s artificial gravity. Ninety minutes remaining. Secondary oxygen system not detected. User warning; seek atmosphere. His HUD displayed as he ignored the warning and instead floated over to the opposite ship.

Many people found the sensation of floating near aimlessly through space quite unsettling; especially in a situation where debris and death were so nearby. For Michael however… he found it oddly peaceful. It was… serene. And innocent. Space had no ill intentions. It did not bother to claim territory or maliciously seek out lives to destroy. Space was unforgiving… but it was at least fair. It didn’t sneak up on you or bash you over the back of the head if you dropped your guard.

And then once more… Michael was far away as he drifted.

Point defense systems crackled noiselessly to life in the distance and beams of light and tracer rounds filled the air as they floated across towards their destination. “One thousand meters.” A nearby member of his fireteam called. He was a Sergeant this time. “Eight hundred… seven hundred…”

“Engage retrothrusters. Prepare to match intercept velocity to dock with the ship. Fast and hard to the bridge, shoot to kill.” He preemptively commanded the team as they began to rapidly close on their target. Boarding torpedoes were unavailable. Assault shuttles would’ve been shot down by the extreme amounts of flak that this enemy ship could produce. So? They floated through space… in the darkness… and the cold… and the vast nothingness that surrounded them.

“Two hundred… one hundred. Fifty. Thirty. Twenty. Retard. Retard. Retard! Retard! JENKINS! RETARD YOUR RETURN! YOU’RE COMING IN TOO HOT!” shouted the assistant squad leader right before Jenkins slammed into the hull with a sickening wet thud… the last one that he would ever make as it ended with his neck snapped so badly that bone stuck out through the nanomolecular mesh that kept his insides inside him.

“Leave’m! He’s dead!” he commanded a nearby squadmate that attempted to retrieve the body. “We aren’t! We’ll come back for him!” he spat as they pried open an airlock and made their way inside.

They never did retrieve the body of Private Jenkins… there hadn’t been any time…

But now Michael, a small group of Marines, a pair of medics and whoever the Hell else had decided to accompany them were stepping through the airlock. Their armor covered them head to toe… and there were no visors for which to see their faces. To an outsider with no knowledge of them they may as well have appeared as machines. Unthinking… unfeeling… machines of war. “Is anyone out there?” Michael called as they began to sweep the area deck by deck and left no stone, physical or metaphorical, unturned.
 
Mere Moments From K.O.
The distortions outside made the neko crinkle her well designed brow. "What in hell could possibly be.....," Setsuya began before a ship brow that was massive shot past the view port, "OH SHIT!!?" What came next was a brief sensation of fear, as well as utter surprised, the prospect of such an unexpected death a very terrifying idea. However, it was a thought short lived as she was violently thrown hard against the opposite was as the front of the craft shunted in by something large. Her super soldier designed body being the only reason she wasn't killed on impact, but it would leave one hell of a bruise.

Aftermath
Power was gone, leaving air recycling and artificial gravity as offline permanently. The neko floated limp inside the compartment, having been thrown and slammed into the wall. She was out cold, the young woman seeming as if drifting underwater from the way her clothes moved. The pneumatic sliding door to the cockpit was crumpled out, the cockpit having crumbled in almost entirely. Both pilots were more then assuredly dead. Luggage also floated around, a couple lockers having busted open, their contents drifting about. The comfort station was much the same, food items having been tossed free as the water dispenser leaked globules of the liquid.

When the marines approached, her hoodie would hide most features due to the face down position Setsuya was oriented in, a tail being the main outstanding feature. It hung behind her, hanging from a specially cut and fitted hole for the appendage to fit through. The computer on her arm was still active, the game still running without command. Music and sound effects emanated from the device, as if no terrible accident had ever occurred.
 
The Marines acted swiftly and without commands. They knew their jobs. They knew exactly where each man was supposed to be and exactly what they were supposed to do. There was no need to shout ‘advance’ or ‘take position there’. After all they functioned like a well-oiled machine of death; sweeping the ship without incident and without need for such vocalizations.

“Search for survivors elsewhere.” Michael commanded the other Marines whom immediately began to tear open lockers, compartments and anything else that might have hidden a hidden foe or friend to either vanquish or provide for their salvation. “Away team to Sojourner. Found one subject, female, Anubian, comatose. No others have been found. Prepare medical facilities for urgent, possible urgent surgical, and send over a medical team for transport. Markings are IR strobe and flares.” He called over the radio as the team marked the exterior of the ship so that the medical team knew exactly where their point of entry into the craft was.

It didn’t take them long to bring a sealed retrieval stretcher; much like the ones the Corps used to bring back wounded soldiers from a boarding action gone wrong. They put Setsuya, whom they believed to be an Anubian, into it and sealed it up. Oxygen filled the canister she resided in and they did nothing to open it until she was safely across the void and back within the halls of the Sojourner.

“Will she survive?” one of the medics whispered as they carted her away.

“How did she get here…?” another whispered as Michael walked beside them.

“Her fur isn’t quite right to be an Anubian…”

“She’s very cute. I wonder if she’s single.”

“Shut up, Carl!” one of the medics barked as they wheeled her down a hallway until eventually she arrived in the medical ward.

They had been cutting away her clothing as she was carted along. Michael saw no sense of duty to see her through until she awakened but he did feel a measure of curiosity. They were supposed to be in the Andromeda galaxy which probes had revealed was almost entirely lifeless. Where this woman had come from and her resemblance to a species that they were familiar with was a enigma. Nevertheless her clothing was practically shredded and tossed away as they opened up a NanoGel bath.

Well, ‘nanogel’ being the layman’s term. Nanoscopic reconstructive restorative gelatinous substance didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Nevertheless, the NanoGel seemed to work wonders even if it required full skin contact in order to seal wounds or repair tissue. Luckily it was also breathable and could be both inhaled and eaten even if it tasted vaguely similar to a bowl of snot mixed with overly cooked chicken.

New clothing was laid outside the vat that Setsuya had been placed in and Michael waited just outside the door. Aside from a few minor bumps, the ship was fine. Thusly there was scantly a reason to be bothered with running the vessel. Whenever she woke up, he would know. There were many systems monitoring her brain activity, vital signs and much more after all.
 
Most signs would seem normal about the woman, with the exception of her brain activity. I read off, the signature not quiet right for a normal organic mind. Those who watched over her would also find her wounds healed rather quickly, the hemosynth in her blood doing a rather similar job to that of what she was now submerged in. As her body healed, she began to stir once most of the damage had been undone, at first only starting with a flicker behind closed eye lids.

With a startled awakening, seeming to her like time skipped. A shuttering impact, then suddenly here in this strange material. Eyes flashed open with a start as golden irises searched her surroundings, something hard to do through the goop she was submerged in. At first the neko feared she would drown, however after a moment of having her mind open, she found she could breathe. Curiously as the adrenaline settled down, and her heart began to slow to a normal beat, searching hands reached up before finding the lip of the vat. Pulling her athletic body up, eyes rose above the muck to scan the room.

The first item to grab Setsuya's attention was a stack of clothes, something that prompted her to realize she was in the nude. Wrapping an arm around her bare chest, she pulled herself further up. Only rising as high as the covering arm, Setsuya called softly for a response, "Hello? Konichiwa? Is there anyone here?" Surely there had to be..... The light caught a uniform she hadn't noticed before, her breathe catching as she noticed the armored figure in the hall. There was no indication of species, or gender, and that left her mind questioning what to do.
 
Michael stood up as she began to call out and stir. Although she was nude he seemed apathetic to the situation. Truth be told, due to the nature of his armor, he was technically nude underneath it. Michael was a towering and imposing figure in his armor standing just shy of six foot four and looked like a mountain of a man within it. If only she had some way of knowing the truth that the figure underneath was a full inch shorter in his armor and rather lanky and thin.

Konichiwa.

The sound of her calling out in a language she knew reminded him of many things from his own place and time.

Konichiwa

The voice mingled with the sounds of planes screaming through the air… but thankfully he managed to mentally shrug off the effects of PTSD. For now, at least, he would not be reminded of the bayonet charges that had decimated his lines so long ago.

Instead Michael simply waited for her to get dressed before he began to speak. It was, however, not in the same languages she was using. To her it might have sounded like German, English, Russian, Spanish and a few other minor languages had all come together to have a baby. The result? The result was a very smooth, flowing and beautiful language punctuated by hard consonants but very eloquent vowels. It was still based in Latin however… and judging by the marks upon the walls the English language had definitely been at the forefront of creating this language.

Medical Restoration Room Four Charlie the writing on the wall read. The decks beneath her feet were not steel gray… but instead a vibrant green like the eyes of the soldier underneath the helmet. The roof was a sky blue and if she was logical enough she could probably extrapolate that the color scheme was used to denote the floor and ceiling respectively so that in the loss of gravity people could orient themselves.

“You were struck by our vessel.” Michael said simply; his voice coming through very synthesized and almost machine-like in tone. “Your ship was destroyed and you were the sole survivor. Can you tell me your name?” he requested although due to the armor it sounded more like a demand. By now there were a myriad of other races in the hallways passing back and forth. Most of them were unaware of the situation… at least the details. It was hard to miss a spatial anomaly like they had created.

Michael reached up and grabbed a small safety lever underneath his chin, hidden by a panel of armor. After a bit of fiddling it came free and the audible sound of air hissing into the helmet filled her ears. A series of hoses were disconnected one by one then finally the nanomesh between his chest piece and his helmet was severed and the helmet came away to reveal his face. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked, his voice finally in all its glory as his face was revealed.
 
Cautiously the accentuated and generous figure of the neko was dragged out from the vat, using a hand to steady herself against it once out. She was disoriented, her head reeling ever slightly from the crash still. Seeing the figure clearly waiting on her, she took the clothes, and with out any ounce of shame of being nude in front of some strange person. Sliding on the skin tight black skin suit, she was appreciative at least that it had a hole for her tail.

When the figure approached, she held her arm close to her side, having no idea where she was, or who's ship she was aboard. Their voice spoke a language she had never heard, only able one word out of five which sounded like a distorted dialect of the Trade language. Setsuya remained quiet as he spoke, even as he removed his helm. Her expression remained wary, feline gold eyes regarding him curiously. Survivor? Was he trying tell her something about the crash? She could not tell, but his expression said he wasn't hostile at least. Maybe he was trying to help her.

"Survivor? I..can't understand you. I'm sorry, but your language is not known to me," She attempted to explain, but figured he was much in the same position on the language barrier. She placed a hand on her chest before saying her name, "I am Setsuya Itatski, a soldier of the Star Army of Yamatai. Who are you?" She pointed to him as she posed her last question.
 
Her language wasn’t entirely alien to him. At least not as much as it should have been. She seemed to understand at least portions of what he was saying and he seemed capable of at least doing the same. Although the language wasn’t exact, the things that were most apparent was when she used fairly universal body language to indicate herself. He could understand a name… and he heard something about an army.

“Sir!” a young, inexperienced Marine spoke as he entered the room and immediately snapped to attention, threw up a crisp and well-disciplined salute, and waited until Michael shot him a curious glance to lower it. It didn’t seem like Michael was an inexperienced commander at the very least… and despite neither of them having ranks upon their armor it was clear that there was at least some kind of command structure present. “No other survivors were found. All passengers are deceased. The bodies of the pilots have been recovered and are in cold storage, awaiting transportation back to their home systems and families.”

“Make it expedient.” Was all that Michael responded with as he turned back to the nekovalkyria at hand. He put his hand against his chest and spoke in a similar manner she had done. “Captain Michael Oliver of the Sojourner; Good Company.” He said indicating a nearby company logo that marked his ship as a civilian owned and operated vessel.

Judging by the way the people in the hallways were carrying themselves there was a bit of pride working on this ship. Perhaps she would’ve noticed the decks were nigh spotless, nothing was disheveled or disorganized… he seemed to run a very tightly coordinated operation.

Michael made a ‘follow me’ gesture and walked down hallways that seemed very complicated and confusing to an outsider. Judging by how easily he navigated them and how he was moving with a purpose however, he either knew this place exceptionally well or their starships were designed a specific way to be easily navigated once the system was understood. Regardless…

He brought her to a window… or at least it appeared to be one. Sharper eyes would’ve noticed the tiniest flicker as the screen refreshed but apparently there was some kind of camera outside the ship transmitting to a television that was designed and framed to exactly mimic a window to the casual observer. Perhaps more frighteningly though… her ship she had rode in on was outside and had been smashed quite violently. She could, from here, see the hole that it had made in the Sojourner. The damage was mostly superficial. Their vessel hadn’t even pierced the inner hull by much. It would be repaired by even the most incompetent engineer in a matter of hours… and they had almost completed the project.

But perhaps even more terrifying and foreboding was the size and scale of not only this ship… but the dozens of others easily within view in a tightly packed formation. Colony ships, judging by their design, that were over a dozen kilometers long, warships armed to the teeth that were almost all a kilometer long themselves were very real… and the swarm of fighters moved like a cloud rather than singular entities. If they had wanted her dead they could’ve very clearly just filled the space with whatever the hell those weapons were for and they would have obliterated the shuttle without a trace.

Such trivial information… but it at least told her a few things.

First, they hadn’t come with the intention of war. Or at least not war against her.

Second, they were looking for a place to call their own.

Third, they were easily capable of violence if provoked.

Fourth, they had the compassion to not just let her live… but to make sure that she did.

And the fifth and final point that could’ve been gleaned… was that they were a force to be reckoned with.

“Fleet.” Michael spoke as he gestured to the cluster of ships which appeared to be… waiting. For what they were waiting on was a bit of a mystery but it definitely seemed like they were waiting to do something rather than doing it. “Sojourner.” Michael said, repeating a word as he gestured to the deck beneath his feet. “Arkansas.” He said as he indicated another vessel before indicating the largest in the fleet. “Morningstar.”

The names went on for a while. Mostly, people didn’t pay them any mind. But perhaps more suspiciously there were not one or two species of beings here… but dozens of different species working together and seemingly in perfect harmony.
 
Setsuya had seen fleets of legions of vessels, but never this large. Her eyes widened slightly at the sheer size of each one however. "By the Goddess Chiharu, they're massive. This fleet is of vessels twice the size of any of the empire's." she said in awe, even as her mind took in the details so far. They had minimal weapons, civilian based crews, but clearly enough firepower to even go toe to toe with one Yamatai battle group. These people, where could they have come from, why hadn't they been known of. A fleet this size, and this far from the Empire's boarders couldn't just go unseen. Something was up, and a feeling began to sink in that it may have had something to do with their anomalous appearance.

In her hand was the personal computer bracelet she had been wearing when the accident happened. They had been kind enough to return it to her, meaning they didn't see one woman as a threat, or they new fully well what it was and what it could do. Meaning they knew how to monitor and block it.

Something crossed her digital mind, the foreign nature of these people was nothing seen in the Kikyo Sector thus far. Their language, technology, weapons, and even the people were all out of place. Something must have happened to justify their sudden appearance, but it brought a question that needed an answer. Putting the device back on, she flipped it on once again. The game popped up in a paused state which she simply swiped aside before searching files for what she was looking for. Tapping an icon, a holographic map was projected from the display.

A holo of the Kagami galaxy was shown, then a red arrow pointed to the 8th arm of the spiral. The image zoomed until it displayed the Kikyo sector as a whole. With a second arrow pointed to a area in the northeaster corner, a second window rose from that point to show the immediate region. With one final arrow, their location was shown to be between two local systems, and another further northeast. "We are here, Kagami galaxy, Kikyo Sector, our current location." She said pointing to each in turn, hoping he would understand.
 
Michael looked over the computer as she offered it up. The galaxy looked nothing like the Milky Way. He tilted his head as a measure of curiosity and reached out, ran his fingers across the display without activating anything (thankfully) and raised a brow in thought. She was… showing him where they were? Or showing him a destination? Without the context of language that they could both speak it could have been either one. Regardless, Michael at least knew that they were far, far from home.

“Come with me.” He beckoned as he made that familiar ‘follow me’ motion and began to lead her through the corridors yet again. It didn’t take them long to go from the viewport to navigation. Technicians all around were bustling about, mucking with equipment and trying to get it working. Some of them were swearing or even throwing pieces of machinery in their desperate attempt to get the vessel tracking a correct course rather than having to jump blindly… which could have easily landed them in the middle of a star, a black hole, far off in deep space where no one could even see stars or any number of potentially terrible consequences. In short…? The fleet’s next move could very well be its last.

“Not here…” Michael grumbled as he reached out and took her by the hand to tug her along behind him as he looked for something specific in the ship’s interior. Down the corridors they went yet again, swirling through like ants through the colony. And eventually… they arrived.

Michael beckoned her to a nearby chair. “Have a seat. Have a seat.” He repeated until she was sitting down. Anyone watching might’ve thought that Michael was reenacting a scene from Starwars as a Jawa. He made his way away from her once she’d taken a seat and though he did not leave the room he did leave her side to instead look through a shelf which contained various small book-like computers. He picked one of them up… and he placed it into a nearby machine which began to hum as its gears wound and a small puff of dust arose from it. Clearly, no one had used it in a very long time.

What she saw was… different. To say the least. There were a few highlights though but what could be extrapolated from the video that played was certain; they weren’t from here and they had a very long history… perhaps even longer than Yamatai if time worked the same where they came from.

Their history was brutal… especially since it began with their home world being bombarded into oblivion while they were still a relatively helpless species. They’d fought. They had fought hard. But it took less than a day for their forces, back then, so small and helpless to be overrun. They fought still though for generations until finally they were able to overthrow their alien overlords and push them back into space. It didn’t take long for them to go back to fighting one another… until yet another alien menace threatened them. And another… and another. And each time it seemed as if they were just about to be beaten. Extrapolation?

Whomever she was dealing with (the people) were clearly a very determined and very steadfast culture that didn’t know the meaning of surrender or retreat. They were free peoples that knew shackles only enough to have a hatred of them. They were based around the ideology of a free commercial market that had no taint of government influence in the forms of welfare and yet… there seemed to be a semblance of not just companionship from them as individuals but brotherhood. Each of them on this ship that were capable of fighting and volunteered for it would most certainly die to protect this fleet:

To the last man if necessary.

Michael, meanwhile, looked like he was far away. Judging by the helmet that hung at his hip which was splaying light onto the nearby wall he was probably remembering something.

Konichiwa.

Engines roared above his head as he found himself back on the beaches of a faraway planet somewhere that this universe would never know nor care about. They’d breached the sea wall and Allied reinforcements were spilling through the gaps. Michael himself was covered in gore from head to toe and the blood had filled the trenches that they waded into up to their ankles. Machineguns had been emplaced at either side of the trenches that they were entering and their troops were being mowed down by not just one but two lines of extreme levels of fortifications.

“They’re fucking killing us! They’re killing the shit out of us and it ain’t fair!” cried another man from someplace nearby as Michael entered the trench. Machineguns pelted his position as he ducked behind the only available cover; a pile of dead bodies. He was immediately returning fire just as another trooper entered the trench behind him and leveled a weapon that resounded with a ‘woosh’ rather than a snapping of a bullet.

The screaming that arose was reminiscent only of the damage a microwave gun could do as it boiled the machinegunner’s insides. The gunner fell from his perch and Michael stood up the moment the gun stopped firing above his head. “FORWARDS! ADVANCE!” he called as he and many other Marines took the remainder of the trenches by storm until there were scant few left and the gunfire died down to a dull roar.

They weren’t there long. They were hunting their enemies and pushing the line with the momentum they still possessed. But a deep fog had set in over the landscape and threatened to choke anyone that entered it. But there they went anyways…

“Halt!” Michael called as they entered a clearing in the woods and a single figure appeared directly ahead of them. Due to the dense fog they couldn’t tell who it was. “Konichiwa! Teishi!” he shouted. Michael didn’t speak the language… but he had learned enough over the years to get a point across when he had the assistance of his rifle. Unfortunately his foe simply kept walking towards him.

And then… one by one they began to appear in the fog as they got closer and closer. They were coming from all sides… and they were stopping as they reached the edge of the clearing. More and more simply began to appear out of that damned fog that obscured their vision. The Marines stopped… Michael in the front and a near platoon in the back as they encircled to face their foes.

So they've got us surrounded, good! Now we can fire in any direction, those bastards won't get away this time! – Chesty Puller

“To me! Sons of liberty! For Argon! For the Confederacy!” Michael shouted as he raised his rifle above his head rather than aimed it at the enemy. Apparently the lot of the Marines understood the idea… seeing as most of them were out of ammunition.

“Tennoheika banzai!” came the first cry as the man directly in front of Michael began to charge. It was shortly after followed by the echoing; “BANZAI!” as the bayonets of their enemies flashed in the gleaming sunlight.

“Do you understand any of this? This should be history for you…” Michael asked her when he snapped back into reality.
 
The imagery on the wall worried Setsuya, seeming to be connected to something deeply important to the man. Memories perhaps? For now, that was a question with no answer, and likely so for a long time.

However, that had only distracted her for a few moments before she turned back to what only seemed like some strange war documentary. It was odd to say the least, nothing of familiarity, or even likeness to what she knew. When spoke again, he seemed to be referring to the footage. The only word she understood was "history", so was he suggesting it was the history of these people?

"Not my history. Um, let's see, hmmm. I guess I better just show you.", Setsuya said before bringing up the watch again. This time she played what was a war documentary on the first mishuu war. Images of large fleets clashing, ship designs beyond what were in this fleet fighting organic appearing vessels. It switched to nekos like her in trenches firing energy weapons at floating creatures that looked like crosses between a crab and a tentacle monster.

She switched events and showed footage of the nepleslian war for independence, humans fighting each other for secession from each other. Bullets and energy zipping across fields into opposing armies. With yet another flip, such clips as Empress Yui's coronation, the fall of the OSO, and recent events like that of Kuvexian war were shown. Constant warring with opposing forces, enemies home and abroad, the empire fought them all. There was clearly a number of other groups in this area of space, of varying races and technology. But only so much could be communicated between the language barricaded two.
 
“No, not mine.” Michael spoke as he watched the history and shook his head; hoping the sign translated across the vastness of space. Then he showed a new image. This one was… historical for certain but it was far from a war.

“ I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.” Someone spoke. They were some sort of alien although their species matched nothing present in this universe. They were tall, lanky and had a massive head compared to their body. Their skin was grey and their almond shaped eyes took up a large portion of their head. Their limbs were gangly and thin as if they were rarely used for the species over eons of evolution. “Five hundred years ago, a great Confederate, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Confederate Constitution. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity from the aliens that once sought to enslave us; whom now walk among us as equals.” The figure spoke before a large crowd of all peoples gathered.

“But one hundred years later, the alien is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the alien is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination! One hundred years later, the alien lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity! One hundred years later, the alien is still languished in the corners of this Confederacy’s society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition!” the figure spoke as the crowd cheered. There were police everywhere keeping back protestors; primarily humans although some aliens were still in their crowd. “In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our Confederacy wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution they were signing a promissory note to which every Confederate was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all beings, yes, aliens as well as humanity, would be guaranteed the ‘unalienable rights’ of ‘Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.’ It is obvious today that the Confederation has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of extraterrestrial origins are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, we have given the alien people a bad check, a check which has come back marked ‘insufficient funds.’!” The speaker continued as the trashing in the crowd beyond became more violent with man trying to stop the speech outright and others keeping them back; civilians, police and even the Marine Corps itself.

“But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this great nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice!” he called as the crowd clamored, clearly loving a very prominent historical figure.

“We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind the Confederation of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children!”

“But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with the force of our willpower and united stance!” the alien spoke.

“The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the community must not lead us to a distrust of all people, for many of our human allies, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back!”

“There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the alien is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of segregation and injustice! We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the alien’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: ‘For Humans Only.’ We cannot be satisfied as long as an alien in the fortress world Somme cannot vote and in York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until ‘justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream!’” the speaker concluded, leaving the crowd near speechless.

They were quickly spurred to action however as they moved as one mind with singular purpose to a nearby wall guarded by Marines, police officers and local planetary forces. The wall was tall and imposing and though some staunch defenders stayed the majority of those defending the wall moved away. Those that did not were met with protestors hugging them into immobility, blocking their path to relieve them of their duties of infringing upon the rights of others in their number… and every member of the crowd seemed to have a sledgehammer.

In one momentous moment all doubts that societies would remain segregated were lost as the first hammer crashed into the wall with a fervor unmatched that sent splinters of concrete and rebar flying away. More and more hammers fell, devastating the defenseless structure bit by bit until finally a hole was made and aliens streamed through to join humans upon the opposite side of the wall.

Unification Day.

“Unification day.” Michael said as he placed his palm upon the screen. “Uni-fic-a-tion day.” He sounded out the word, hoping she’d catch on to the idea of picking up bits and pieces of the language as time passed.
 
And that her digital mind did, photo memory filing away information for later. Taking in the similarities with Trade, she pieced what she could gather. Certain nuances helped, but the alien influences still proved to be barriers that for now were impassable. Setsuya couldn't help, but feel no attachment to the display, finding a culture lesson pointless if not capable of being understood. Clearing her throat, she tried to imitate the nuances and tilt to their similar if alineized version of Trade.

"This was not here, but there. Different empires, different struggles, does not pertain to my people. Language, hard. Must learn to understand. What are you to do with me now?" She said, trying her best to apply what she had learned with the aid of adding sign language.
 
Though she had learned quite a bit her accent was… well, definitely going to mark her as a foreigner. The surprise seemed lost on Michael though. “I see your species is hyper intelligent.” He spoke as he examined her face with his eyes. “Strange given your anatomy but I suppose we’ve encountered similar species.” He said as he inclined his head slightly to one side.

“What are we going to do with you? I’m not sure. We’re not from here so I wouldn’t know how to get you home even if I could. I suppose you could immigrate to join us but I don’t think that’s what you want either.” He continued as he made that familiar ‘come here’ gesture with his hand and began to walk. “Just stick with me for a moment. There’s a lot to be done.”

“U-C-S Morningstar to all fleet personnel, our engines are back up and running again. We’re capable of going underway. Does anyone know where we are, over?”

The call was from the flagship of the fleet. He’d pointed it out to her earlier. That fifteen kilometer monster that looked terrifying to the unknowing but to anyone that knew the technical details of the ship they would’ve found it relatively harmless compared to even the smallest ships in the fleet. Mostly, she was communications and logistics and resource management. Aside from that her defenses were mostly point defense not even made for war but to shoot down encroaching asteroids and missiles.

Michael lifted his wrist close to his mouth, his left one specifically, and spoke; “U-S-C Morningstar this is C-S-V Sojourner. Our engines are still currently inoperabl-“ Michael began just as the whine of engines spooling back up thundered through the entire ship. If she was familiar with the sound she was going to know that these engines were… powerful… especially if they ran the entire length of the ship. “Retard. Retard. Our engines are now fully operational. We have maneuverability. Does anyone have access to local starmaps, over?”

“No existing pulsars or black holes match any readings of the Milky Way and do not match anything near predicted positions in the Andromeda galaxy. We’re blind out here. Contingency plan Lost Sparrow is now in effect. Say again; Lost Sparrow. Over.”

“Oh boy.” Michael grumbled to himself as he lowered his wrist and moved a little bit faster than before. He wasn’t running… but his long legs might have caused others to do exactly that to keep up.

“As for what we’ll do with you, it’s like I said before. We have no idea. If you can point us the right direction we can start moving and see about taking you home or to your original destination. It might not happen instantly though unless you can hitch a ride from someone else.” Michael explained as they walked. “Lost Sparrow basically means that all of our ships are rationing everything immediately. Water, food, fuel, ammunition… these are all about to be very scarce for us. Luckily your species seems to at least be open to talking although I can’t say that’ll be the case for everyone we meet. Do you have a way of calling home?” he asked as he stopped outside a door to await her answer.

The door was… obviously important. There were six Marines standing outside and judging by the way the panels on the walls caved in on themselves at times this place was of paramount importance to the vessel. All the soldiers there saluted as Michael had walked up and their salutes drew attention to the smallest crevices in the ceiling where automated gun turrets were ready to deploy in front of the heavily reinforced door.

Michael opened the door and walked in. As she undoubtedly tried to follow however two of the Marines got in the way and immediately lowered a rifle and a shotgun; both leveled for her chest. “Relax. Let’er in.” was all Michael said… and they moved aside to do exactly that.

“Sir, engines are spooled and we’re ready to get moving.” One of the bridge officers spoke as they entered. He regarded Setsuya carefully but given Michael’s presence he didn’t question it.

“Good. Get us underway and tell command we’ll be moving into position to protect the colony ships. I know we hold absolutely zero command power here but that’s fine. That just means they don’t command us either.” Michael ordered to which the crewman merely nodded and relayed the order to the helm in order to get the ship moving.

“Sir! Tachyon sensors are picking up readings across our bow! Looks like another fleet is about to arrive!” called another officer.

“Get weapons online.” Michael responded coldly as he gestured to a nearby chair. “You, have a seat.” He commanded Setsuya as he picked up a hand microphone and spoke into it to throw his voice across the entire ship. “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battlestations.”

The Sojourner was most definitely a fast ship even compared to the ships of the rest of the fleet. She could keep up with one of their corvettes… and was nearly just as maneuverable. The other, larger, ships lacked this maneuverability but this ship was Michael’s baby. She received some special care.

The rest of the fleet seemed to have the same idea. Dozens of ships ignited their engines and began to move between the incoming fleet and their colony ships; preparing to fight to the death to defend them. “Lights. Gravity. Serenity, come online.” Michael commanded as the crew began to carry out their assigned tasks. The sickening feeling of gravity suddenly ‘stopping’ passed over everyone. Newer crew members found themselves floating but the experienced ones either simply stuck their foot underneath something nearby that was bolted down or grabbed onto a handrail to keep from floating. Those in chairs had simply strapped themselves in as the lights all over the ship winked off one by one in order to both conserve power as well as reduce their silhouette on certain sensors.

“Captain. It’s been a while.” A female voice spoke, seemingly both everywhere at once and nowhere at the same time. “Business as usual Captain? I see you’ve made a new friend.”

“Not quite. I’ll fill you in later Serenity. Get our targeting computers up to speed and start loading torpedoes. I want us ready for anything that might come our way. Master Gun, target the tachyon readings but do not fire until I give the order or unless shot first.”

“Aye, aye sir!”

And with that, Michael picked up the hand mic again… and when the ships arrived he began to speak. “Unidentified vessels, this is C-S-V Sojourner. Do not attempt to approach or you will be fired upon. How copy, over?” Michael spoke before looking to Setsuya and holding out the microphone for her to speak instead since she spoke the native language.
 
A series of wormholes opened, ships sliding from their spacial orifices as the new comers arrived. With hulls of solid black, the only outstanding markings overall being crimson markings, white letters reading as ship registries, and the emblem of a crimson sword with a set of black wings.

A carrier that was similar in size to the majority of the anomalous fleet Setsuya found herself on, was the focal of the exiting battle group. It was the shape of a blocky horizontal number 8, the barrel of a main gun in the pros and numerous capital weapon turrets spread across its hull. Along with it were 5 cruisers that looked like arrow heads rife with various weapons. Finally the fleet was escorted by 20 heavy frigates, and an escort of more of the cruisers with different markings. None reacted as if expecting to find a fleet of such size here at all.

There was also one ship in the colors of Yamtai, setting it apart from the rest of the ships of the NDC. It was a small ship, only a couple of hundred meters long, and scans would quickly reveal that it was weaponless. The IFF identified it as the YSS Imperturbable, a tranquility class diplomacy ship.

Setsuya instantly recognised the fleet, "And the NDC has popped in." She said before taking the Mic and repeating the message word for word in Trade.


WITHIN THE NOW REALLY CAUGHT OFF GUARD FLEET.......
Casdan had been ordered to investigate the anomaly with a small fleet, only taking a basic battle group. But, what she found, was far from what any of them had been expecting. A huge ass fleet this close to the Yamatai boarder, and a mere jump from Sanctum. The 40 year old veteran was now rather tense, her instant thought being a Crimson ambush, or was until they were hailed. An eyebrow raised as the foreign tongue reached her Geshrin ears, then the other one as whatever was said was repeated in Trade.

Her silver eyes gave a scowl at the situation that her ships had been landed in, with a very tight rope path of options open to her. "All hands to stations! Full shields, set weapons to defense mode, and launch escort craft from the hangars. Vivian, get the battle net up and connected across all ships, now open the comms to the broadcasting ship. Make it a video call at that." Alice commanded with a voice of absolute authority forged through years of hard fought experience, and the need to take action immediately.

A hail was sent before a window came up on the main view screen that wrapped around the bridge interior. "I am Admiral Casdan of Section 6 Fleet Force, a military entity of the New Dusk Conclave. You are approaching our borders with a large fleet of ships, state your intentions. We will not fire upon you unless given reason to."

“Good to hear, Admiral. I’m Michael Oliver, the Captain of this vessel. Her name is Sojourner. Now I don’t exactly speak for the rest of the fleet here but my intentions are to fuck hot alien babes, raise a little hell, get in a bar fight or two and subsequently engage in a rap battle with someone that gets a little too heated down in Funky Town.” Michael joked before shaking his head. All this stress was going to give a guy a heart attack and he already had some touches of gray in his hair already. “But in all seriousness? I wish I knew what our intentions were. This fleet was on its way to a colonization mission in the Andromeda galaxy when all the sudden our sensors went completely haywire. We have no idea where the hell we are, we’ve just had our supply lines effectively severed and we have absolutely no way home. From what I can tell, we managed to somehow do the scientifically impossible and hop the bridge between two dimensions. Now we’ve got one of your people onboard and two corpses due to a collision with a ship upon our arrival. No worries, we don’t have hostile intentions but we aren’t afraid to defend ourselves. The best I can say? Come aboard and see for yourself if you’d like. The fleet won’t open the more critical ships but I’m not in the military anymore. My ship is a civilian ship. Shocking, I know, given the hellacious arsenal it carries… but she’s my baby after all. Over.” He informed her a bit more seriously as he ran a hand over his head.

“Gravity back on. Half power to it though.” He commanded a nearby officer once it seemed at least like the initial reaction wasn’t blowing each other to bits.

A few minutes after the NDC ships flew in, a single Scyth Cruiser appeared from a wormhole, the DSS-Xuno. After a minute another one opened up, and another, until the the entire Dovanian Zalto Fleet had appeared. A total of 35 Scyth Cruisers, the escort fleet for the NDC fleet that they accompanied. Aboard the DSS-Xuno were the heads of the Dovanian fleet, Violet Forman, Faris Hodžić, and a lone Regiment 001 Soldier, Corporal Azazel Ironhart-Titan, and Kyro-vek Draguun, However he had not made an appearance to anyone, bing within the DSS-Fahen.

Violet looked at the grand fleet that was before them and instantly slammed the “Red Button”. Placing all ships on alert and in battlestations as they had just encountered a massive fleet. Ginormous ships that dwarfed the Cruisers that the Dovanian Fleet had. “Holy Suljo! What in the name of oblivion is that!!!” She shouted with a mix of glittery excitement and shock.

Lieutenant Colonel Faris Hodžić Stood amazed by the size of the fleet. He couldn’t imagine anything like that in his entire life, far larger than the ships that he knew of back home on Xuno. “By the Gods, I never knew this is what our enemy wielded.” He stated as he started to bark orders at all of the Sailors to have all of their shit in gear.

Azazel on the otherhand was rather unfazed and just looked on. He had no comment for what they were looking at and remained silent. As it would be hard to understand him anyway with the muzzle over his mouth, wearing a customized version of Dovanian MP armor. Looking down at the ring on his hand, he cocked his head befor standing back at attention.

Spark Pine had been placed on the S6S Sword to keep her out of trouble. Jack Pine's orders, she'd been told. This battle alert had been an annoyance for her, forcing her to clamber into power armor whilst covered in sweat from her workout. She would need the Revenant undersuit cleaned after this. Still, she loaded her power armor with ordnance, opting for light boarder repellance and high lethality over sheer damage output. And thus, she sat, loaded with flashbang grenades and plasma shells, her trusty knife and pistol on her hip. She fell asleep, there, out of every naval troop's way in the armory, just hoping to go home and see her sisters. Perhaps this one girl she met what seemed a lifetime ago.

Setsuya gave a sigh at the opening to the captain's introduction, finding it to be the nepleslian brand of crassness. She rolled her eyes despite the sarcasm in his tone, before relaying the translation to the admiral. "Miss Casdan, if I may, how is my mother doing? Ichika Itatski? I was on my way to visit her while on leave. She wouldn't happen to be aboard would she?"

The admiral mulled the words over, but stopped to listen as the neko asked her question, "Yes she is actually, she can accompany us if we decide to accept the offer to board peacefully." Alice said this with a nod to the neko, the raven haired cat girl turning and translating all that had been said.

Tensions were beginning to mount within the fleet already at the arrival of the NDC. When Dovania showed up, many of the top brass were
debating on the actions of a preemptive strike. “God damn it all…” Michael swore under his breathe before turning to face the Combat Air Controller (CAC). “Launch fighters!” he barked as he turned his attention back to the tactical displays before him. “Serenity, start probing their electronics and see if you can’t find a back door. Do it quietly and please, try not to bring attention to it, yeah? I’m sure they’re just as on edge as we are but if things work anything like they do back home, this might get ugly without a show of serious force and the will to potentially use it.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“And stop calling me sir already damn it!”

“Yes sir. I will not refer to you as sir anymore.”

“God damn it Serenity…”

“Apologies sir. It’s my programming.”

Michael, if he said something, merely grumbled it unintelligibly as he shifted tactical displays to get a better view of the field, took scans of potential enemies, started to locate which targets were the softest and which ones were the worst to worry about… and much more.

Meanwhile, down in the fighter bays, the ships were being prepared for launch. “MOVE IT YOU DICKS! GET IN YOUR FUCKING CRAFT AND GET MOVING! RIGHT NOW! SCRAMBLE ALL FIGHTERS!” a local deck chief barked as the pressure in the hangar began to drop while the atmosphere vented. A normal combat launch took about ten minutes to launch a squadron of fighters. When scrambled the teams could cut that time almost in half per squadron; for a whopping total of about an hour to fully launch all fighter aircraft.

“Ogre one alpha, ready for deployment.” A pilot radioed to the tower. His plane was pulled along the strip through the interior of the aircraft. What some scanners might have mistaken for cannons were actually launch chutes. When the aircraft was in position a deck hand came and hooked a cable around its landing gear, removed the wheel chocks that kept it from rolling and finally hooked up the mandatory cables that would later lead it through the chute.

“Roger that. Ogre one alpha is cleared for launch. Godspeed.” The tower responded as the pilot spun up their engines, turned fuel into fire and the monsters in the hangar began to roar. Once the ship had its throttle fully open it turned on its afterburners and the cable began to drag it forwards. The gelatin filled cockpit kept the pilot from feeling the impressive nearly two hundred Gs that the craft underwent as it was practically thrown down the shaft rather than pulled. When they came out of the tubes they didn’t simply drift out… they were moving at several hundreds of kilometers per second and they seemed capable of maneuvering just fine with it all. Before they had even completely exited the tubes… more fighters were being launched. And then? That swarm set up a defensive perimeter around the fleet… waiting for trouble. Some of the pilots even dared to make passes just outside of the comfort zone… testing the waters.

"In all fairness, we won't open fire without a good reason but more militarized vessels popping up is probably a bad sign especially given the timing of it all. What'cha say you put down your guns and we'll put down ours for a moment?" Michael suggested as he looked towards the Master Gun and gave a small hand signal. One by one their main cannons began to power down their targetting systems. While it was true they could still fire without them they would be wildly inaccurate although 'powering down' a weapon that had a combustion component in the works was a bit... well, impossible. "I've powered down my own guns as a show of faith. We'll be approaching your fleet bearing three-four-two, heading three-three-one. Our hangar doors will open once we are approximately three kilometers from your vessels. Please send only one shuttle. You may bring guards if you wish but keep in mind that many people in my fleet are on edge." Michael spoke, having Setsuya translate.

He turned to her after she was done and placed a hand on top of hers. "I'd like to avoid a blood bath. Your people nor mine deserve that. I can trust that this isn't a ploy to get aboard? You've been patient with us so far. Just be patient a little longer, eh?" he assured her before clapping her on the shoulder in the friendliest manner possible and standing up straighter. "Get it underway." he commanded the helmsman as he gestured for Setsuya to follow him to the hangar. "Come along. I'll need you to translate back and forth and I'm sure your friends would like to see you alive and in one piece."

As Kyro was finishing up a Diplomatic meeting with the other Royal Representatives, He was given an alert of a situation going on outside. When he finished his work, he stepped out of his chamber and entered into the bridge, donning his Royal garbs. Upon seeing the enormous fleet, and hearing the message over comms. Kyro turned to the ship’s Captain and said, “Open our communications, I wish to respond.” Only after the Captain nodded and they opened up the voice only communications relay, Kyro gave the message in Opšti, “I do believe I shall take you on that offer, assuming you hold your end of this bargain.” Then turning to his Captain, “Fetch me an escourt and a shuttle, I do believe I will depart for a shirt Enclave with this fleet.”

After Kyro had sent out the message, the Dovanian Zalto Fleet had formed an escort for the departing High King, heading over to the DSS-Xuno, “Violet, prepare for departure, have a small escort of Royal Guardsmen with you upon my arrival to fetch you.” Kyro told her as the shuttle and escourt of 10 Sparrows followed after.

With a quick nod, Violet turned around and pointed at two Royal Guardsmen, Faris, and Azazel, “You four are now my escort, please keep me safe!” She have a Wink as she hopped out of her chair and headed down to the rendezvous point to be picked up by Kyro. On the way, her long green and golden trimmed dress flowed behind her.

Without question, the Lt Colonel nodded and followed after her with the others who she designated as her escort. Turning around to the idle Azazel, “Anytime today Corporal, now preferably.” As he had heard only rumors of the man, having been a bioweapon from Crimson. Now turned supposedly into a Dovanian Soldier. While Faris did trust his King’s judgement, he was skeptical of the Black winged man.

Suddenly realliding that he was called on to go, he turned and nodded, following after them as he instructed to. “Apologies Lieutenant Colonel, I was... spacing out.” Not knowing another term to call it.

"Corporal Pine!" Spark's comm buzzed with the voice of some Navy operator, and she mumbled something along the lines of an acknowledgement. "Switch armor, you're on an away team. Nonpower combat armor, carbine, guard load."

"Roger that, operations. Inputting parameters, now." With a few flicks of her fingers behind the glove, she directed the machine supporting her previously sleeping form. Mechanical arms whined and maneuvered, unlocking catches and pulling away layers of armor until she stood yawning in the Revenant undersuit, idly stretching as the lighter, more appropriate armor was placed on her. A helmet was placed on a table near her as she pulled a carbine off the rack, considering taking her pistol and thigh holster, despite the carbines only rule of the guard loadout. She never followed it strictly, anyway, always keeping her knife on her hip.

Still, it wasn't long before she left the armory, weapon slung on her back and a helmet tucked under her arm, ready to load up into the waiting shuttle and get herself a coffee. She disagreed with the idea of not going in with her armor; her main power armor. But orders were orders.

With a thoughtful moment, Casdan nodded to her weapons officers, "Return all weapons to standby, and order all fighters to standby at yellow status. Orders will come as needed, now prepare a shuttle for egress, we have a meeting to arrive on time for."

The trio from the NDC fleet boarded a Bolt rapid deployment shuttle which was escorted by two others, the escort peeling off at the invisible line that divided the two groups. The shuttle wasn't very large, only a bit larger then the shuttle Setsuya had been pulled from. It was armed, but all its weapons remained fixed and not to operational status, the party sitting within the troop compartment of the small vessel. With the finesse of a brick, and the maneuverability of a VTOL style craft, the shuttle drifted into the designated hangar and touched down.

With a slight hiss, the ramp lowered to reveal the amazonian like woman in a highly decorated dress uniform, flanked by her escort in basic armor and light small arms. They were a rather minimal threat compared to that of the away team of the MoD party. In her mind, Alice shook her head that it didn't come off as very tactful. As a veteran of numerous wars, and a woman of years despite her still rather youthful appearance, she had a vast experience to draw from.

The boarding procedures were relatively simple and yet at the same time robust. The hangar opened as the atmosphere had already been vented from it and once the diplomatic ships had set down within it they closed the doors and began to cycle the atmosphere back into the hangar. The area was rather expansive and the moment that they were capable of entering the ship on their own two feet they would’ve noticed that the fighter bays here were… not standard. Rather than park fighters on a deck and leave them they actually lifted the fighters off the ground once the pilots were out of them, hoisted them up into the roof of the hangar and put them into neat, secure storage areas. While a fighter bay this size might have normally held ten or so fighters conventionally they were capable of storing almost forty in the same space.

Nevertheless, despite their clever ideas about engineering they were far from infallible as noticeable by the scorch marks upon the deck where an unlucky ground controller had stepped into the way of the exhaust at some point in the past. Then again… there were safety lines on the ground for a reason; and it wasn’t just to look pretty.

Michael stood before the incoming shuttles without a rifle though he did have a pistol upon his hip and he still wore his armor. There were other Marines nearby; clad in full armor and armed to the teeth. Needless to say when the Dovanians began to march out of their ship with power armor
most of them began to grip their rifles just a little bit tighter. Some uninformed observers might have thought them to be looking for a fight. Anyone
with half a brain and the ability to do research would have easily figured out that these people were likely to fire the first shots if they were startled enough. Though then again that would have defeated the entire point of the meeting now wouldn’t it? Nevertheless, the hangar was definitely a massive killzone if trouble started; since Marines were not only on the ground floor with them but the catwalks and many turrets had been hastily erected in the time that it took to travel to the starship.

Perhaps the most apparent thing would have been the number of different species here. There seemed to be eleven or so ‘main species’ though humans were easily the most numerous. Strangely enough… they actually appeared to have a species very similar to the Nekovalkyra although they did not appear to possess the same level of intellect; aside from their ingenious understanding of machinery.

“Greetings from one country to another. I am Michael Oliver of the United Confederation of Systems. You are standing about the C-V-S Sojourner; my home. I will not ask you to disarm here. That wouldn’t be particularly welcoming of me. However, I will note that many people here are on edge due to the unforeseen circumstances that I will fill you in on later. Most of the civilians here are actually better armed than my Marines. Any aggression would be unwise and would likely lead to a blood bath on all sides. Let’s try to avoid that, yeah?” he started as he crossed the distance between his line of Marines and made his way towards their diplomats.

“I’m just a simple mercenary among my people. Well, bounty hunter is perhaps a lot more accurate although I’m not certain it carries the same meaning here. In short? I hunt down fugitives from justice, capture or kill them depending on the mission, get paid for it and go back to do it again. I’m not a diplomat, an admiral, king or Senator or anything similar… but the short version is that I’m at least willing to extend an offer of peace and hopefully lead by example.” He concluded as he extended his hand towards whoever happened to be closest.

“Ancient warriors from my homeworld used to to this to signify they were unarmed. Now, the handshake has become a measure of trust in the modern era since we rarely travel unarmed.”

The Dovanians held their ground and their weapons; only Violet and Kyro stepped forward to greet this Micheal.

"Violet Forman, Royal Representative of the Monarchy of Dovania and Head of the Honourable Ichiko Household. It's an honour to meet you." She introduced herself by giving traditional Xunok female bow. Meanwhile at the same time, holding in her want to ask a million questions, as these were the first people outside of Dovania or the New Dusk Conclave that she has meet. A completely new faction of people for her to know. Her notible long platinum hair and deep violet eyes reflected her name; Along with her distinct young appearance, only being 17. Another unique feature would be her having 6 fingers on each hand.

It was only after Violet had introduced herself that Kyro took Michael's hand, "High King Kyro-vek Draguun of the Draguun House. It is an interesting predicament to encounter someone with some humility. I will say, from what information I have of the Kikyo Sector, I've never heard of your faction, the United Confederation of Systems. I would be most intreaged to learn more." Kyro towered over the man, being 6'11" and being muscles on muscles. His large auburn beard and short and spikey hair stood out as two dominate figures, along with a very thick Osman (Welsh-English) accent.

The four Sky Tanks that stood behind with Faris and Azazel were wearing Revinant Mark I power armor, with gold plating over it. Each of them weilding a Heavy Assault rifle and HMG. Besides them, the Royal Guardsmen were equipped also with heavy assault rifles and on their hips were Traditional Longswords.

Faris stood silently along side with the rest of the Dovanian escorts, silently adding, "They don't speak Trade or Opšti, they're relying on that cat woman for their translations." Not informing them, however just stating the obvious to any of them that didn't see what was going on. Since he was not doing much else, other than watch a child-diplomat use her charm.

Standing besides Faris, Azazel stood there glaring at the UCS men weilding weapons. If not for him having had woken up from that Crimson brainwashing, he would be having a field day in this hanger. However, he did tap Faris on the shoulder and pointed at the Neko, "I will wage 10 Tekk that she is apart of Yamatai." Looking up to wait for an acknowledgement on the wager, only to see a slight nod before turning back to eyeing up the NDC and UCS.

"Alice, ma'am." Spark whispered over her comms, knowing her armor looked as though there were a man under it. She relished the surprise she was about to give. "I'm removing my helmet."

The gesture was a show of trust, from her as military personnel to the other peoples', that their air was her air, and that she held no wish for combat. After all, she was human. Just like them, and humans had this thing about protecting their heads in combat. And so her left hand found its way off her rifle, to the helmet release on her chin. Right rested easily on the thumb brace and pistol grip of her carbine. A gentle movement of her fingers let her neck seals separate with a hiss, and she pulled the helmet up and back, free of her short, choppy hair, eyes closed. The white frump was shaken free as a hand absently hung her helmet on her hip. Then scarlet eyes surveyed the groups, and she offered a shy smile, tilting her head.

Alice gave a sigh, "I wish you would wait for orders for once Spark, then you wouldn't get demoted so damn much. Miss Itatski, seeing as the corporal can't sit still for more then a few minutes at a time. Feel free to go see your daughter. I swear I get the worst personnel for diplomatic situations, such FNGs."

Ichika ignored the indirect jab at her security, knowing it was more towards Spark. With a giggle she removed her own helm, reveaing the youthful face of the short neko before she handed her weapon to the admiral. With a even and calm stride, the neko walked up to Setsuya and hugged her. "Hey Set, how's my baby doing, have they treated you well, did the man get you laid, are you eating well, why are you wearing such tacky clothes?"

"Mom, calm down," Setsuya said embarassed as she gladly hugged her mother back, "Good, yes, no, yes, and I'll fix it later with volumetrics."

A myriad of faces greeted him for… what ends? “Right…” Michael breathed as he gazed upon those nearby. He couldn’t understand any of
them yet but he could understand that these people seemed… friendly enough. “Serenity. Set a course to bring us back to the fleet while we deal with the guests.” Michael spoke to seemingly the ceiling before Serenity answered. “Of course Captain. I have taken the liberty of beginning
the translations of their language. While I cannot give the technical details of their society or tell you everything that they speak of, I can at least hold a conversation.” The unseen AI responded over the speakers.

“Anything else I should know about that?” he returned as he looked skywards as if looking for her.

“I cannot seem to ask their people for a bowl of soup. The phrases to do so simply elude me.” Serenity replied as she undoubtedly began to do some cyber fuckery with the ship’s computers.

“Splendid. Tell them to follow me. I will be leading them into the mess hall. Also inform them that I believe state rooms are highly overrated, so we’ll be eating side by side with the rest of the crew.”

“Of course, Captain.” Serenity replied. However, she did not say exactly what Michael had said; being far more diplomatic. “Captain Oliver would like to inform you all that he does not possess a stateroom for which to dine in. He does, however, extend an invitation of dinner to you all. He would also like to inform you that he does not possess a stateroom due to his leadership style; preferring to eat alongside those he employs as is his leadership style. I would like to personally inform you, as this ship’s serving artificial intelligence, that you should make no efforts to communicate with any of the large reptilian species you encounter in the mess hall as they are quite… hands on with their communications. Please follow him.” She translated. Funny how there was a small feeling of what might have been satisfaction in her tone especially when one of the sensors looked very pointedly at Setsuya.

And with that, Michael began to lead them through the complicated ship corridors and through the winding hallways that were very quickly becoming familiar to Setsuya. Judging by the patterns, it appeared that they were actually made to be easier to navigate for terrestrial species rather than being made like ships of old where causeways and ladders might have made navigation a bit hectic.

They were still walking when they passed a natural wonder of the modern world; a park within a ship. There were actual trees being grown in this location with real grass from wherever these people hailed from. Children, adults and aliens alike frolicked and flourished here in this naturalist habitat as small animals dotted the plains. The scale of the creation was massive and one could've easily gotten lost in the woods. They had even created small ruins for children and adventurers alike to explore with staff of the ship changing out the layout and composition of the ruins to keep things interesting.

But then the technological wonders began to appear one by one. Shipboard hydroponics made up a supplement of the diet of this crew with freshly grown fruits and vegetables. Autonomous robots tended to the daily lives; ironing clothing and cooking and cleaning to make the crew both happier as well as far more efficient. It seemed as though most of the atonomous systems here were made to be convienient rather than world changing.

And then this asshole walked in; the VR room. There were dozens of mercenaries and soldiers alike sitting within small chairs. Attached to them were various electrodes and sensors that allowed them to interact with a virtual world... where even death was a very real potential reality. "I can't go back! I can't go back! I can't go back!" a soldier nearby sobbed over and over again as he hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth while other staff members assured him repeatedly that the world he had been in, the pain he had felt and the deaths he had seen were not reality. The viewing screens showed a number of soldiers, hundreds of thousands of them, screaming across a vast landscape that stretched so far that the eye simply could not see the end of it. There were tanks, planes, soldiers and everything in between on this virutal hellscape. The Marines here were dying without dying and they were experiencing it over and over again. It made them very hardened soldiers and very well versed in the training they recieved.

At the moment it appeared that three officers were gathered around a large view screen, pointing at small formations as a camera flew about and looked across the battlefield. These officers seemed like armchair commanders rather than natural born leaders. And perhaps worse, most of them looked like they had never seen a trench in their entire lives. Still, the calculated approaches that they took were efficient and effective. They didn't have to bother with the idea that the little triangles that they sent were people dying against the red squares that were also people that were dying. They were never going to have to know the faces of the soldiers they commanded nor their names. A simple form would come across their desk to be stamped and signed when a soldier lost their lives... and that was all that mattered to them.

For now, however, it appeared that these soldiers were fighting a computer generated enemy. "The unwinnable scenario." Serenity commented idly as undoubtedly a few eyes were drawn. "It was designed with the idea that no commander could ever win and instead is typically played for time. Modeled after the Battle for Bunker Hill, the scenario presents a battalion surrounded on all sides by a seemingly endless horde. The idea is that the longer a commander can prevail against these odds, the better their chances. Captain Oliver disagrees however and notes that the Battle for Bunker Hill was far more than a simple game on a screen and instead was one of the most brutal battles in the UCS history."

It certainly seemed so. The large reptilian aliens that assaulted the trapped battalion gave little in the way of mercy. They smashed heads together with super human strength, ripped arms free of their sockets as if they were made of tissue paper, tore out throats with their teeth and wielded plasma weapons so powerful that each shot tore their opponent in half... even if they were wearing armor. In the simulation, the rain was pounding and artillery joined it like machinegun fire. The stacatto of weaponry echoed through the room and dozens of soldiers fell at a time before the chaos subsided and the Marines managed to regain their lines. But... it seemed like it was never simply 'one soldier here and there'. Instead, the enemy appeared to constantly harass the Marines until they simply lost entire squads or platoons to them at a time.

Michael Oliver visibly swallowed when he saw the room. "That's not quite how that happened. But it's pretty close. Close enough to give me nightmares." he spoke. Serenity did the job of translating quite well; giving Setsuya a run for her money. For now, however, she chose NOT to translate... as if she seemed to understand some need for the Captain's intellectual privacy. "It was... well, the only word that mortal men can use to describe Bunker Hill is Hell." he continued as he watched the view screen. His features didn't show interest. Instead they showed nothing but the nearly forgotten memories yanked up from the subconcious; horror.

Nevertheless, he turned back to those looking and gestured with his arm towards the remainder of the hallway. "The mess hall is that way but I'm sure the rest of you have questions. Ask away. Serenity or Setsuya can translate... enough."

Setsuya who was standing off beside Michael, decided to tap him on the shoulder when he spaced out yet again. "Hey uh, you okay, you've been spacing out here and there." Setsuya asked quietly, hoping to not draw too much attention on it. She hadn't thought much of anything on the VR simulation room, except the similarities betweent the shell shocked soldier and Michael. Alice remained silent, but the PTSD fest in the room they had been shown, was a rather uncomfortable sight to see, having fought through enough wars to seen too many trauamatized soldiers. "Perhaps it's best we move on."

Seeing Kyro glance inside then turn back with a straight face, he gave off a sense of disappointment. This made Faris give a critical comment, “No wonder they have no military, they basically train them to be scared of combat and to have no way of winning. If there is no incentive then people will refuse to fight. This type of training DETERS new recruits and long term soldiers. It doesn’t train them to be soldiers.” Speaking in a heavy Xunok accent, pointing out the flaws of their training system, being a Lieutenant Colonel in the largest Military is the Kraljevski Sector/Western Sector.

Meanwhile, Violet would agree if this was the time to, however, she would just silently nod and look over to her escorts to compare them to the UCS soldiers, seeing if there were any distinct differences that could be visible between the two. Wanting to see if Faris’ claim held water.

Azazel didn’t bother pitching in, as he was probably the most dangerous thing on that ship. He decided that these people, while large in number, were a very minuscule threat towards the Monarchy of Dovania, however a possible threat for the New Dusk Conclave. Therefore, tension is natural, when you have a mutual defense pact with someone and you don’t want them to be harmed, especially when they’re a historical friend.

"Ma'am." Spark calmly spoke up, watching the screens as she slipped into an easy parade rest. "I would like to partake in the virtual reality training, show what NDC power armor and the Storm Rifle II project can do. Do we have the technical data necessary? I feel that the training method they have could be really helpful in combat experience training for garrisoned troops. Major problem we have is that garrison lets the skills slip. Without sharp skills, the troops lose their lives in actual combat. Live fire drills can only do so much and are dangerous, besides. I feel myself and your other guard would be able to highlight NDC combat training."

Serenity translated everything that was said and in quick order though naturally she could only translate one person at a time. First, it began with Dovania’s ambassadors. “It also sorts those whom are too mentally weak to endure the stress of combat, provides the most realistic training available, provides a method of fixing the details of combat in a confined space such as a ship and certainly not least provides a method for Marines to continue training for land engagements while underway in space. I feel as though the potential benefits outweigh the drawbacks. We’ve never needed a large army. Ours is built upon the ideology of ‘less is more’.” Michael explained to the big guy in a dress uniform. There seemed to be a lot of big people here.

Perhaps the most noticeable thing about the soldiers that quickly became apparent was their devotion to their cause. One man on the screen was shot in the arm, leg, then subsequently his stomach and each wound amputated the limb or carved a baseball sized hole in his gut. Despite his injuries, he continued to crawl forward with one arm and stopped only to keep firing his rifle in the general direction of the enemy.

Say what could be said but these soldiers, despite their low numbers, were incredibly tough. They feared neither pain nor death once their training was completed. There seemed to be other applications to the VR room however. In the next section of it there were soldiers, newer ones, which were practicing EVA techniques; learning to put their armor on properly before stepping into the vacuum of space. Others, civilians, were using the VR rooms to simulate other experiences.

The experiences varied person to person but it appeared most of them were turning off the pain sensors or dulling them in favor of action or adventure games set in fantasy worlds or even science fiction worlds. Others took part in more… carnal… simulations. And yet still a select few merely sat in never ending fields of green serenity where they meditated and reflected. Ship doctors used their simulations to practice surgery under the most chaotic circumstances; including boarding action that was taking place directly in the surgery rooms.

Michael had resolved himself back into steel once Setsuya approached. Whatever demons he was dealing with were on the verge of breaking through a very dangerous door. Yet he seemed to have a willpower enough to keep them at bay; for now. “I’ll be fine.” He responded simply. His voice showed little more than determination even his eyes betrayed a great deal of hurt beneath the surface. For now, Serenity had not translated what Spark had said given that it was not directed at Michael.

Kyro glances back at Faris, keeping his face cold and calculating when staring at his subordinate. “They have obviously never heard of Kuvexia or Yamatai Lieutenant Colonel. It is only natural to adapt to one’s own environment. However, they will learn that they’re methods will not be as effective as they once were. That is if their claims are correct.” He spoke to him in Opšti, as he believed that the comment was best left to those whom understood what he stated.

“Whilst that may be effective in creating weapons, it doesn’t produce soldiers. These ‘Marines’ that you place through-“ Faris cut himself off. Not wanting to create an argument over military forces to someone who could kill them right there and then.

Azazel gave a slight chuckle under his breath, “Glupo.” He stated simply as he dripped his toes into the argument, turning around to wink at the girls from the NDC, taking off his muzzle as it was starting to get sweaty. Revealing his elongated canines and facial scars.

Ichika and Alice only gave Azzazel a raised eyebrow for a moment after only given the untranslateable argument a brief glance. "Why does it not surprise me that VR porn is universal. A rather inappropriate use of such technology in my opinion, but not my culture to judge. I do however see the merits of your training system, but I also see numerous drawbacks. Most of which would be negligible to a smaller armed force who is not concerned with any major growth. Something you should be concerned with now." Alice stated as they continued on, so far not impressed, but also aware and noting the kind of technology witnessed.

"I'll trust you for now, but I'm not convinced. How about we get away from this room and on with the tour if that's okay, that shocked trooper is...disconcerting." Setsuya asked as she only gave him a sympathetic frown, withdrawing her hand as he was back in the present.

Spark's hand twitched towards her weapon, giving Azazel a glare. She remembered him from a KOS list a while back, one that had since been updated to clear him. It irked her that the Monarchy of Dovania had an iteration of that thing, but she couldn't legally do anything about it. Even if it was legal, she couldn't do anything without starting a war. "Again, I would like to use these to demonstrate NDC weapons at some point. Though a simulation would not do for a hands on demo, unless you are willing to put a fireteam up against me."

"Perhaps in the future that could be arranged." he responded to Spark. Michael reached up and patted Setsuya atop her head as he continued his way down the halls and back to less memorable moments. He chose to ignore most of what was said. "VR porn does entertain I suppose. And it would appear that some customs, culture and language are universal between us."

Ranga quietly entered the room with her two Star Army escorts. It was a formality, but they were very good at their jobs. "I'm sorry I'm late. I'm Ranga Havard, the Ambassador for Yamatai." She said, introducing herself with a smile.

Setsuya was about to reprimand the captain for patting her head like some damn house cat, her expression already showing annoyance as she lifted a finger to speak. But luckily for him, the ambassador entered which caught the young woman off guard. As was drilled into her, she immediately stood with a crisp salute, volumetrics built into her body displaying her uniform with name and rank. "Santo Hei, Setsuya Itatski reporting ma'am! These people rescued me from a shuttle accident caused by their ships appearing here." she said confidently in yamataigo.

Ranga wasn't sure what to make of Setsuya. She returned the salute crisply and glanced the Neko up and down. She looked good enough. "Good, fall in and acompany me on this tour." She said casually as if it was every day that a wayward Star Army enlisted happened to randomly appear, and then initiated a direct encrypted telepathic link with Setsuya. The initial key was sent over the wireless, but after that Ranga used the line of sight telepathy that couldn't be intercepted unless one stepped inbetween the two and Ranga was good enough to pause if that happened. <Report, Santo Hei.> She said over the link, while the message was somewhat brusk, the undertones were that Ranga wanted to know what was happening, not that she was displeased with Setsuya.

The cat girl lowered her salute as she moved to join the yamatai group, <I was in transit to the NDC to visit my mother who is currently present of the NDC security detail. A massive spacial anomaly was detected a mere minute before this foreign fleet appeared. This vessel struck the shuttle on FTL exit, where the pilot was instantly killed, and I was knocked unconscious. I was treated by their medical personnel with some strange nano based gel. I've been shown historical footage and learned their language to an extent. I've only shown them where they are presently, as well as news clips of publicily known historical events ma'am.>

Ranga didn't nod or even visually acknolage the conversation. However, it was clear that she was thinking for a moment. Ranga correlated Setsuya's story and information with her own link to the Imperturbable. There was a slight glance at the NDC security chief. <Good, my medical officer will take a look at you when we get back to the Imperturbable. Until then, you are my expert on this new fleet. To do that you need to be a bit higher rank, I'm field promoting you to Jôtô Hei.> Ranga was satisfied with the situation and with the explanation. The field promotion was quick, but it was what Ranga needed at the moment and was appropriate to her new station as an expert advisor and the combat experiance that Ranga read in her file.

Kyro gazed back, as soon as he spotted the Yamataian Star Army enlisted, he motioned his people to leave, “It would appear that our envoy is no longer needed. We shall be taking our leave.” The tall King stated as his escorts as well as Violet and her’s turned to leave. “I refuse to speak to those who engage in the act of genocide multiple times over.” He stated in Opšti towards Ranga.
 
Michael raised a brow as Serenity translated some of what the Dovanian ambassador said. He could understand all of it even with the AI’s help but… he could understand enough to know the two groups weren’t friendly to each other. For now, he chose to stay out of it. He didn’t have enough understanding to make a decision and he wasn’t a higher up anyways. He was just a civilian captain looking to make sure that his people made it home or to their destination. He noticed the salute that Setsuya gave to the other woman and offered her a handshake. Regardless of if she took it or not, he spoke anyways. “I gander you don’t have too much of my language yet but my name is Michael Oliver, captain of this vessel.” He informed her.

Shaking hands and what not was nice but there were other situations to be dealt with. For starters, Michael still had no idea where they were or if they were even capable of going back home. He was sure going to miss Earth… to say the least.

He had at least some indication of how things would go whenever the ambassadors eventually showed up. The woman from the shuttle, Setsuya, was likely going to be granted a temporary status as a UCS citizen… or at least she’d be able to gain anything that citizens were entitled to as a courtesy of being an intermediary between her nation and his own. Those new people that arrived with people in power armor didn’t seem like they were too interested in interacting; the UCS were likely to keep their distance until relations improved. But the others that had arrived… these ‘NDC’… they were likely to make a fine ally for the time being.

“Given the differences between our people, I’m not sure that hiring myself out to anyone is the best idea yet.” Michael began as he addressed everyone present including the people that were attempting to leave. “And I’m afraid that my people will likely be unwilling to accept more than a working relationship with yours… for now. However, my people are also founded in reality. Our reality is this; we survived because we made friends with each other, banded together against common threats and beat back the darkness that threatened to swallow us whole. I have little doubt we will need allies…” he continued.

“But first we will need a home. A star system where we can settle down and start unpacking people that are more than anxious to get out of their vessels. Our ships were only supposed to go for a six month tour on this colonization mission. We are equipped with supplies to run the fleet for twelve months. Given the situation, unless you want very desperate and very hungry people that are willing to kill or raid in order to survive… I’d suggest we start there and put all the nonsense behind us. I have no clue what happened here before our arrival in your history but I know this; desperate and starving people often make stupid decisions that cost others their lives.” Michael explained.

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promising and sober reality that people, in the worst of times, were going to throw compassion out the window in order to survive. With the amount of firepower the UCS had as well as the number of ships; that was an extremely terrible idea. “Therefore what I propose is this: I propose that one emissary from every faction is left with our fleet at least. Two or three if you’d like. They can stay aboard my vessel if need be. They’ll live among our people and share the responsibilities and strife that come with it as well as any potential rewards. Then and only then will my people know that yours understand their way of life… and only then can I say with absolute certainty that we will understand yours in due time. We’re a trusting people… but trust can’t be eaten and that’s our main priority right now; food. Water. Air. Shelter.” Michael spoke as he leaned against the wall in a rather casual manner.
 
Despite the calls for food and aid, the mere fact that Yamatai was there, was enough for the Dovanians to leave without another word. The presents of Yamatai alone made their judgement swift and definite. Kyro turned back for a last time and stated now in Trade, "I hear your calls, however I do not have the resources to aid you. Sadly I must take my leave, as it appears that Yamatai has joined this encounter. I 'trust' that they are better more sparing with humanitarian aid compared to the government I am affiliated with." Wording his sentence very carefully as to not place out any information that Yamatai can use to identify the Dovanians.

"Apologies, however we must now return to our duties, we hope you find aid elsewhere." The young Violet stated as they now left the room to converse on a form of action to take, as their original task was to escort the Duskian fleet.
 
Ranga ignored the barb, she had been fully briefed by intelligence on all of the players in the region and their histories. Yamatai hadn't always been a good galactic neighbor. It was her job to change that. Ranga focused on the one variable that she didn't know about, this new UCS fleet. "Captain Oliver, my name is Ranga Havard Ambassador-At-Large Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary. You have already met my new attache, Setsuya. My escorts are Skoll and Hati. It's a pleasure to meet you."

As she spoke, she telepathically contacted Setsuya. <It looks like I'm going to need an Emissary. You know them the best, how would you feel about the assignment?> She asked, Ranga didn't know the other Neko well enough to assign her without giving her a choice in the matter.

Despite this, Ranga didn't miss a beat as she continued, not apparently even bothered by carrying out two conversations at once. She was very efficent "As to your concerns for food, water, air, and shelter. Yamatai has the resources to take your whole fleet and provide whatever protection and assistance you require. Regardless, it is not in our interest to see you become Pirates. With regards to food, we do have a supply of rations that we would be willing to provide you with, no strings attached, to ensure that you do not starve. With regards to air and water, we may be able to replicate your filters or create new ones. Shelter is a more difficult matter, but there are many colonizable planets in Yamatai's space. We could also provide construction support if you wish to create your own station. While we would need to work out the details, I'm certain that we would be able to reach an agreement before things became desperate." Ranga explained, briefly outlining the concerns and how Yamatai might be able to help the UCS fleet."
 
<Hai! I believe I can perform the job to acceptable standards. I have experience with these people, thank you for the offer ma'am. Will I be allocated any equipment for this position?> Setsuya transmitted back to Ranga. She kept her stance stiff and militarily trained, as if their conversations wasn't happening as she waited for a reply.

"I for one can say we in the NDC would be more then pleased to have a diplomatic figure stay with your people for now. We will discuss with the council on which person to send. LIke Yamatai, we can offer you resources, however we will not require you to be in our territory to receive them. However we will gladly extent the offer for temporary land to settle until you can find a world of your own. We are currently in the process of surveying nearby systems for viable colonies. We can offer one of such locations to you if you wish." Alice answered after clearing her throat, giving the kind of offer she knew the lords would.
 
“We have little need of resources… yet. Perhaps I should be more clear; what we need is a map. Our colony ships come equipped to be broken down and used for parts to build colonies themselves. They store buildings and people alike as well as equipment. What we need… is to know where to send them rather than who will take us in. We need a planet. For now, our resources can hold and I will dare to say that my people are fiercely invested in remaining independent.” Michael began as he leaned against the nearby wall.

“I myself am an independent person. I own this ship. I captain her as I please. I run it to the grave if need be. No UCS governor commands it. No Admiral. Nothing. But… I can say with certainty that no captain will ever yield their ship to another empire in this fleet.” He elaborated to the Yamataian ambassador as he stood there. “Mind you, that isn’t refusing help. We’re not too proud for that. It’s a refusal to join another nation as refugees.”

“But… a map. Now that’s something else. It points us to where we should and should not go. Our starships are equipped with slave cables to transfer data from one ship to another. It’s merely a matter of putting the cord into the right spots on the ship computers and initiating a download. In exchange for a map uploaded to my starship I’d be willing to compensate the captain that does it of course. I don’t have a lot of money myself; it mostly goes into running the ship. What I do have, however, is cargo. Tactical insight. Manpower. Oh… and experience as one of the top bounty hunters in my sector back home. A small feat, sure. But a feat nonetheless. Allow me to elaborate…” he continued as he paused to breathe. “I can track a ship that has left system over a month ago. I can track down people straight into hell and few bounties have escaped my sight… with Serenity’s help of course. I’m decent in combat and my Marines are well enough equipped. Surely there are pirates in this sector? Surely there’s someone that somebody somewhere has an issue with and wants them brought to justice?”

"As for you..." he addressed Casdan. "I like the idea of working together to find a world to settle. As for building a city upon one of your worlds, that will be hard to sell to the other admirals and captains here. Our resources are relatively limited. Though we're doing well right now that is likely to change in the future. However, it's not impossible to sell. I'm not an ambassador... so I can't promise any treaties or the like. However what I can promise is that the admiralty will look favorably on that course of action. We won't accept anything for free though. Perhaps we can exchange technological concepts, mutual military support, law enforcement assistance and perhaps a few trade deals in the near future?"
 
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