Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 16, 2017 19:58:40 GMT
“But with dogs, we do have “bad dog.” Bad dog exists. “Bad dog! Bad dog! Stole a biscuit, bad dog!” The dog is saying, “Who are you to judge me? You human beings who’ve had genocide, war against people of different creeds, colors, religions, and I stole a biscuit?! Is that a crime? People of the world!”
“Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.”
--Eddie Izzard
--oOo--
SOMEWHERE GALACTIC NORTHEAST OF THE GOLDEN EXPANSE
The task force had travelled silently. Ever since their departure, particular attention had been given to masking their presence, and the presence of those they escorted. Radio silence was, of course, obvious. One is not silent when they are talking. Beyond that, the Flux escort group-a combination of Ehm’Behs and the new Zer’Sees classes predominantly, with a trifecta of Chaw’Sah’Vohs moving lurking in the dark as well-had taken exceptional precautions in scouting ahead of the approaching force. This was predominantly though a formality; trade routes through the Golden Expanse were nearly non-existent, and the Flux had travelled deeper into their old hunting grounds than most if not all of the colonial explorers had thus far penetrated.
Their reasoning for this was simple: they were more worried than normal. This was rational on a number of levels.
“Confirmation report?” Prime Shipmaster Wythen inquired politely, as he slipped his hands behind his back, his thin fingers intertwining absentmindedly as he reassured himself and his bridge crew of one solid truth: that they were alone.
“Present tense sensors confirm no shipping activity in this locale,” Eischa answered curtly, as she moved wispy apparitions with flicks of her fingertips. “Near-present sensors validate these reports. This area is at least one month distant from any sapient activity, barring our escort.” Eischa looked up from the display and locked her eyes, adding an important caveat. “I am not presently detecting any indications of temporal jamming, nor am I detecting temporal jamming shadows within the next week. Beyond that though, I cannot assure accuracy. With your blessing prime shipmaster, I will initiate inquiries into potential timeline terminations on our own parties. It will give us advanced notice if we are engaged with any degree of success.”
“Temporal overseer, you may do so at your convenience,” Wythen murmured with a respectful nod, before turning to the comms station. “How are our guests?”
“The Immortal Empire ships are proceeding within normal parameters, prime shipmaster.” Savath answered promptly, “Targeting data have been set, and warheads are prepped for stage three arming. They’re requesting final launch confirmation from the Overlord now.” He shot a brief glance, unnoticed by Wythen, back towards Eischa, who ignored it or seemed to at least.
“Their competency is remarkable,” the prime shipmaster murmured, as he summoned up a map of their target area. “I would be rather nervous dealing with a weapon like this.” He highlighted the weapon’s trajectories though he was already familiar with them, and then carefully studied the anticipated casualty counts. “Emissary Ditheun has notified our—“ He began to ask, before Eischa interrupted.
“Not yet, but they do in precisely seven minutes.”
--oOo—
DEEP SPACE, GALACTIC WEST OF SCIAESTENOS CENTUM TERRITORIES
The Spartan Infinite Empire, in spite of its ancient origins, was not one to move brashly. Thousands of years of growth, change, and evolution had instilled a healthy sense of cautious wisdom into them, and it was this wisdom…along with the wisdom of other parties… that now encouraged them to carefully move their hands and invoke change across the stars. For Field Inspector Alice Leslane, she needed not to know the specifics and particulars of the purposes for O’Mannion’s intents here; he was the Mann, as his loyalists fondly referred to him as and his intents, while sometimes obscure, were unnervingly prophetic as his history had proven. Yet as she revalidated the pre-determined broadcast frequencies, Leslane had a particular inclination towards just what the Old Mann might be up to.
“Final systems diagnostics are concluding, Field Inspector Leslane.” The voice on the screen intoned with an immaculate accent. “We’ll be retaining a small technical contingent to support ironing out the kinks in the system, but we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” The man’s face smiled politely, and Leslane looked back at the monitor with an even face.
“Thank you very much Mr. Yashimota for your assistance in your work here.” Leslane intoned politely, well versed on how these Neo-Orientals took a great appreciation for civil decorum. “Halcyon Dynamics has demonstrated exceptional work in facilitating such a rapid construction for these stations.”
Yashimota’s staticy visage bowed humbly. “It is an honour to be of service to the Supreme Leader.” He replied. “With your blessings, I shall leave you to your work now. Long live the Spartan Infinite Empire.”
With that, Yashimota’s face disappeared. It was an attribute that was ironically common in his history. Leslane had reviewed the man’s file, and suspected, much as others perhaps did, that Yashimota’s history was far from flawless. But he was effective, and as best as she or her superiors could ascertain, he had not been in any noteworthy conflict with the Spartan authorities. As she mused over this, she looked back at the wall on this particular station, showing a vast map of space north of the Spartan Infinite Empire’s official territory. Above them hung quite ponderously the territory of the Drakenhoth Republic and the Sciastenos Centum; and around these two territories at a considerable distance stretched two parallel stripes of red dots.
Gradually, they were turning green.
--oOo—
Elsewhere in the galaxy, a well dressed man sat alone. On his lap, his briefcase rested patiently. Its contents were, as yet, unknown; being built with Flux components around Immortal Empire items with the added benefit of a third party’s strange capacities, it waited as patiently as any briefcase would; to sensors, it was, indeed, just like any briefcase. Perhaps it was even simply a briefcase, even when opened; after all, is a briefcase but a container, a vessel for papers? And papers could indeed be more dangerous than any box.
He was reading the news feeds now. News was one of those few omnipresents it seemed; no matter who lived and died, as long as there were three people, one of them would be reporting on the doings of the other two. He let his finger wander over the digital frame, dragging it from one story to another.
HD INVESTIGATION GIVES NO ANSWERS, RAISES QUESTIONS one went, and he didn’t care at all. He didn’t work for them, after all.
Then there was the war news. The stalemate appeared to be being slowly won over, but he knew this wasn’t the case. For much as news was omnipresent, so was propaganda; as long as there were two people to report on and one person to do the reporting, someone would be lying to someone else. So a finger falls upon a story, and a brief audio clip plays.
“Sparta today announces the activation of the "Celestial Eye" scanning system, activated in light of the increasing rebel threat that is affecting countless worlds.” The speaker states the words calmly before an official looking podium. "This system is designed to intercept transmissions between the Rebel forces on Tau Volaris and their other facilities and groups across the Galaxy. This is to either jam or trace these communications, ferreting out rebel facilities and preventing organization outside single systems."
He plays the story again, before switching to the weather forecast. Ironically, no storms were anticipated, yet now the ship was beginning to shudder slightly as it began atmospheric reentry. He quietly leans back in his seat as a waiter retrieves his glass.
Exceion was waiting.
--oOo—
“With the Celestial Eye system activated,” Eischa explained later that day to Savath as they slipped into bed, “the Sciastos Centum’s R.U.S.E system will be effectively countered. Officially, this will be an unfortunate side effect of the Celestial Eye’s active broadcast systems, but as with most things…”
She faded out into silence, leaving unspoken the true motivations for the Spartan Infinite Empire’s development of the Celestial Eye with such providentially coincidental frequencies. It was, of course, the Flux; they whispered in ears across the cosmos, offering tantalizing visions of the future and means to attain them, all for simple costs.
“Do you think what we’re doing is right?” Savath asked softly, causing Eischa to roll over in bed towards him.
“Right? Whatever do you mean by that, Savath?” She looked puzzled, as if the word was alien to her. Given the context, it was. “They threatened our annihilation, and declared war on those in our command. They fired without provocation on our ships when we were attempting to be surgical about it. They command temporal capabilities that we have sworn to prevent from existing in this galaxy, and they rejected our attempts at diplomatic relations.” She paused, then reached out and ruffled his hair gently.
“We’re doing it for the children we’ll have, Savath.” She answered softly. “Do we want them to have to be told stories of what we once were, or do we want them to thrive in the galaxy we have crafted for them?”
“What we started today is ugly, Eischa.” Savath murmured pensively. “We launched the first strikes against an enemy who only knows our name—“
“They are monsters!” Eischa retorted softly, her fingers tightening slightly on Savath’s hair. “They aide the Tenebraens, and you’ve seen what they do to the Immortal Empire. Have you not seen how eagerly they sacrifice their own in their efforts to achieve retribution?” And then Eischa abruptly released Savath’s scalp, surprised by her own vehemence, and surprised by the ideas festering within Savath’s mind.
“You really think they are innocent?” She asked incredulously. “They want to kill us, Savath. They want to kill me. They want to prevent the birth of our children. They abhore our very existence just as strongly as we are mortified of the notion of our existence being known. The Immortal Empire will claim responsibility for the Aberration attacks, and the Centum will be scattered, and our children,” she whispers gently into his ear, “will live.”
And Eischa moves her fingers gently, pulling visions out of thin air, and she shows Savath the future they will have together.
“Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.”
--Eddie Izzard
--oOo--
SOMEWHERE GALACTIC NORTHEAST OF THE GOLDEN EXPANSE
The task force had travelled silently. Ever since their departure, particular attention had been given to masking their presence, and the presence of those they escorted. Radio silence was, of course, obvious. One is not silent when they are talking. Beyond that, the Flux escort group-a combination of Ehm’Behs and the new Zer’Sees classes predominantly, with a trifecta of Chaw’Sah’Vohs moving lurking in the dark as well-had taken exceptional precautions in scouting ahead of the approaching force. This was predominantly though a formality; trade routes through the Golden Expanse were nearly non-existent, and the Flux had travelled deeper into their old hunting grounds than most if not all of the colonial explorers had thus far penetrated.
Their reasoning for this was simple: they were more worried than normal. This was rational on a number of levels.
“Confirmation report?” Prime Shipmaster Wythen inquired politely, as he slipped his hands behind his back, his thin fingers intertwining absentmindedly as he reassured himself and his bridge crew of one solid truth: that they were alone.
“Present tense sensors confirm no shipping activity in this locale,” Eischa answered curtly, as she moved wispy apparitions with flicks of her fingertips. “Near-present sensors validate these reports. This area is at least one month distant from any sapient activity, barring our escort.” Eischa looked up from the display and locked her eyes, adding an important caveat. “I am not presently detecting any indications of temporal jamming, nor am I detecting temporal jamming shadows within the next week. Beyond that though, I cannot assure accuracy. With your blessing prime shipmaster, I will initiate inquiries into potential timeline terminations on our own parties. It will give us advanced notice if we are engaged with any degree of success.”
“Temporal overseer, you may do so at your convenience,” Wythen murmured with a respectful nod, before turning to the comms station. “How are our guests?”
“The Immortal Empire ships are proceeding within normal parameters, prime shipmaster.” Savath answered promptly, “Targeting data have been set, and warheads are prepped for stage three arming. They’re requesting final launch confirmation from the Overlord now.” He shot a brief glance, unnoticed by Wythen, back towards Eischa, who ignored it or seemed to at least.
“Their competency is remarkable,” the prime shipmaster murmured, as he summoned up a map of their target area. “I would be rather nervous dealing with a weapon like this.” He highlighted the weapon’s trajectories though he was already familiar with them, and then carefully studied the anticipated casualty counts. “Emissary Ditheun has notified our—“ He began to ask, before Eischa interrupted.
“Not yet, but they do in precisely seven minutes.”
--oOo—
DEEP SPACE, GALACTIC WEST OF SCIAESTENOS CENTUM TERRITORIES
The Spartan Infinite Empire, in spite of its ancient origins, was not one to move brashly. Thousands of years of growth, change, and evolution had instilled a healthy sense of cautious wisdom into them, and it was this wisdom…along with the wisdom of other parties… that now encouraged them to carefully move their hands and invoke change across the stars. For Field Inspector Alice Leslane, she needed not to know the specifics and particulars of the purposes for O’Mannion’s intents here; he was the Mann, as his loyalists fondly referred to him as and his intents, while sometimes obscure, were unnervingly prophetic as his history had proven. Yet as she revalidated the pre-determined broadcast frequencies, Leslane had a particular inclination towards just what the Old Mann might be up to.
“Final systems diagnostics are concluding, Field Inspector Leslane.” The voice on the screen intoned with an immaculate accent. “We’ll be retaining a small technical contingent to support ironing out the kinks in the system, but we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” The man’s face smiled politely, and Leslane looked back at the monitor with an even face.
“Thank you very much Mr. Yashimota for your assistance in your work here.” Leslane intoned politely, well versed on how these Neo-Orientals took a great appreciation for civil decorum. “Halcyon Dynamics has demonstrated exceptional work in facilitating such a rapid construction for these stations.”
Yashimota’s staticy visage bowed humbly. “It is an honour to be of service to the Supreme Leader.” He replied. “With your blessings, I shall leave you to your work now. Long live the Spartan Infinite Empire.”
With that, Yashimota’s face disappeared. It was an attribute that was ironically common in his history. Leslane had reviewed the man’s file, and suspected, much as others perhaps did, that Yashimota’s history was far from flawless. But he was effective, and as best as she or her superiors could ascertain, he had not been in any noteworthy conflict with the Spartan authorities. As she mused over this, she looked back at the wall on this particular station, showing a vast map of space north of the Spartan Infinite Empire’s official territory. Above them hung quite ponderously the territory of the Drakenhoth Republic and the Sciastenos Centum; and around these two territories at a considerable distance stretched two parallel stripes of red dots.
Gradually, they were turning green.
--oOo—
Elsewhere in the galaxy, a well dressed man sat alone. On his lap, his briefcase rested patiently. Its contents were, as yet, unknown; being built with Flux components around Immortal Empire items with the added benefit of a third party’s strange capacities, it waited as patiently as any briefcase would; to sensors, it was, indeed, just like any briefcase. Perhaps it was even simply a briefcase, even when opened; after all, is a briefcase but a container, a vessel for papers? And papers could indeed be more dangerous than any box.
He was reading the news feeds now. News was one of those few omnipresents it seemed; no matter who lived and died, as long as there were three people, one of them would be reporting on the doings of the other two. He let his finger wander over the digital frame, dragging it from one story to another.
HD INVESTIGATION GIVES NO ANSWERS, RAISES QUESTIONS one went, and he didn’t care at all. He didn’t work for them, after all.
Then there was the war news. The stalemate appeared to be being slowly won over, but he knew this wasn’t the case. For much as news was omnipresent, so was propaganda; as long as there were two people to report on and one person to do the reporting, someone would be lying to someone else. So a finger falls upon a story, and a brief audio clip plays.
“Sparta today announces the activation of the "Celestial Eye" scanning system, activated in light of the increasing rebel threat that is affecting countless worlds.” The speaker states the words calmly before an official looking podium. "This system is designed to intercept transmissions between the Rebel forces on Tau Volaris and their other facilities and groups across the Galaxy. This is to either jam or trace these communications, ferreting out rebel facilities and preventing organization outside single systems."
He plays the story again, before switching to the weather forecast. Ironically, no storms were anticipated, yet now the ship was beginning to shudder slightly as it began atmospheric reentry. He quietly leans back in his seat as a waiter retrieves his glass.
Exceion was waiting.
--oOo—
“With the Celestial Eye system activated,” Eischa explained later that day to Savath as they slipped into bed, “the Sciastos Centum’s R.U.S.E system will be effectively countered. Officially, this will be an unfortunate side effect of the Celestial Eye’s active broadcast systems, but as with most things…”
She faded out into silence, leaving unspoken the true motivations for the Spartan Infinite Empire’s development of the Celestial Eye with such providentially coincidental frequencies. It was, of course, the Flux; they whispered in ears across the cosmos, offering tantalizing visions of the future and means to attain them, all for simple costs.
“Do you think what we’re doing is right?” Savath asked softly, causing Eischa to roll over in bed towards him.
“Right? Whatever do you mean by that, Savath?” She looked puzzled, as if the word was alien to her. Given the context, it was. “They threatened our annihilation, and declared war on those in our command. They fired without provocation on our ships when we were attempting to be surgical about it. They command temporal capabilities that we have sworn to prevent from existing in this galaxy, and they rejected our attempts at diplomatic relations.” She paused, then reached out and ruffled his hair gently.
“We’re doing it for the children we’ll have, Savath.” She answered softly. “Do we want them to have to be told stories of what we once were, or do we want them to thrive in the galaxy we have crafted for them?”
“What we started today is ugly, Eischa.” Savath murmured pensively. “We launched the first strikes against an enemy who only knows our name—“
“They are monsters!” Eischa retorted softly, her fingers tightening slightly on Savath’s hair. “They aide the Tenebraens, and you’ve seen what they do to the Immortal Empire. Have you not seen how eagerly they sacrifice their own in their efforts to achieve retribution?” And then Eischa abruptly released Savath’s scalp, surprised by her own vehemence, and surprised by the ideas festering within Savath’s mind.
“You really think they are innocent?” She asked incredulously. “They want to kill us, Savath. They want to kill me. They want to prevent the birth of our children. They abhore our very existence just as strongly as we are mortified of the notion of our existence being known. The Immortal Empire will claim responsibility for the Aberration attacks, and the Centum will be scattered, and our children,” she whispers gently into his ear, “will live.”
And Eischa moves her fingers gently, pulling visions out of thin air, and she shows Savath the future they will have together.