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[Spectre]

Chapter 1 : Betrayal

Commander of the Ghost Type 74 "Utopian Guard" David F. Sysam, brother of John; tapped on his chair impatiently, "Final Warning, Unidentified Cythelu Craft. I'm going to say this loud. and. Clear. Who are you. And What are you doing?" the only response was static. David winced, and turned his chair to face a struggling Order Outcast. He stood up, and spat on the Outcast, which grimaced menacingly, he was met by a punch, leaving a red mark across his cheek. "Is this the vessel?" David asked, gripping the outcast's chin "IS IT!?" he yelled. The Outcast nodded, and David turned once again. "Destroy it with a Hydro-Missile, destroy it all." he said in disdain; the pilot turned around and looked in awe "But sir, there are Cythelu on that ship, why?" David gave the pilot a disgusting look and blurted out "They're religious Scumbags. They left their righteous superiors to worship a fool. They should not be left alive, see to it that they have a long, painful death for deceiving us." The pilot gave a slow nod, and shook with regret for what he was about to do.

A blinding light lit the sky, the missile had struck. White light covered the screens and the glass in front of them, once it ended, the only things left were small remains of ship pieces, the crew was vaporized. David laughed with great joy "You see that, fool? Oh yes, the beautiful sight! Please do tell me, freak of nature, are you afraid? Do you believe in that fool religion still?" David stared at the outcast for a response, which was reduced to tears "Yes." was all he could get out.

"Very well then." David pulled out a small hand pistol and put it to the outcast's chin "Say goodbye." bam. The outcast's head hung like it was held only by a string, a frightening amount of blood hit the ceiling followed by bits of brain and skull, a gaping hole in the outcast's head was what the crew saw. The pilot and many other crew either reduced to tears, or stood in shock and awe, in complete denial. David looked around, he looked crazed "What are you all doing? What are you staring at? Get back to work!" the room filled with silence as the crew shook with fear while they performed their normal duties.

The Pilot then broke the silence with a fearful shout, "Sir! We have Chalsdii coming in hot!" nothing happened, everyone stared at the screen as a missile hit the hull of the ship, David let out one last swear, and the ship shook, then everything went black. The ship itself was destroyed almost the same way the Order Ship was.

Dreadnought Type 52 "Death's Redemption" had just exited Hyperspace when the blast took place, the crew didn't notice until the ship was gone. John E. Sysam looked beyond, seeing small chunks of ship all across space and Chalsdii ships heading that direction. John got on his Inter-COM and asked "David, are you there?" no response. "Sir, the Chalsdii ship is heading our direction, and it doesn't look friendly, confirmation to destroy?" a nearby Pilot inquired. John gave a slight nod, and Alert sirens went off indicating all personnel were to be ready for offensive or defensive actions.

[{IRS}Athos]

((OOC: If the Order is involved, do I get some action? ))

[Spectre]

(It was merely a convoy of Order nuts coming to worship you, they were just a small little factor in the war, you'll get a spotlight somewhere else, don't worry. )

[Vortigern]

((But do feel free to join in our little conflict. The more the merrier. ))

The little red light flashed. Rovairn looked at it, surprised, just for a moment before the proximity alert went off. He sighed. Wholesale destruction was becoming such a chore these days. Maybe he would send forth a peaceful message first. He toyed with the idea, looking out of the colossal plexiglass window that supplied the bridge with a good view in all directions but immediately below.

"Admiral Rovairn, sir!" barked an officer, stepping smartly to attention just behind Rovairn's chair. "Unknown craft approaching. Identification has been requested, sir."

"Settle in, then, Captain," drawled Rovairn, not moving from his seat.

"Sir!" came a shout from the communications array. "Identification known. Cythelu Union, broadcasting on sub-ether frequencies. Utopian Guard is the ship's name, sir." Rovairn scanned the empty horizons, his eyes quickly coming to rest on the Cythelu vessel, clearly visible in the dim glow of a nearby sun, maybe four or five parsecs distant.

"Wait, lieutenant," ordered the Admiral suddenly. "Do my eyes deceive me or is there a smaller ship coming alongside the Cythelu vessel?" The lieutenant peered at the scanners, and let out a yelp of surprise.

"Sir, yes, sir, there is. Must have missed it, sir." Rovairn was about to admonish the young Chalsidia, but a bright flash caught his eye. The smaller ship was gone: obliterated.

"Doesn't look like that matters now," murmured Rovairn. "Prepare to engage hostiles!"

"Sir?"

"They have opened fire on a much smaller craft which had offered them no visible threat. We have to assume they are openly hostile and prepare to defend ourselves, pre-emptively if necessary." As he spoke, sirens went off around the Chalsidine ship; battle stations.

"Admiral, we are ready to open fire," came the call. Rovairn was about to issue the order for the complete destruction of the Cythelu vessel when a second ship hove into view.

"Sir, this one's broadcasting that it is a Dreadnought class called Death's Redemption."

"It'll take too long to switch targets, sir," muttered the Captain in Rovairn's ear. "I suggest we simply target the smaller vessel."

"Works for me," said Rovairn casually, shrugging. "Fire!"

Outside the bridge Rovairn caught sight of the missiles blitzing through space towards the smaller ship while the photon cannon powered up. It took no more than ten seconds to reach maximum power, at which point the twelve connecting photon ionisers shifted focus, sending a powerful flurry of concentrated energy, brighter and hotter than the core of most suns, straight through the armour which protected the small ship. A small amount dissipated around the ship's low-powered energy shield, but not nearly enough to prevent the ship's total destruction.

"Target destroyed, Admiral," called the lieutenant. "What shall we do about the dreadnought?"

"Prepare the men to board. A new kind of dreadnought would not go amiss in our fleet." The alarms stopped sounding just for a moment, before switching back on in a different rhythm and pitch. The soldiers would know what it meant.

[Spectre]

(You destroyed the smaller Utopian Guard one, right? Because that Dreadnought isn't intended to blow up so quickly, not with my favored Ofycer in it. Prepare for alot of dialogue.)

Ofycer John E. Sysam got onto the Inter-COM and halted the battle-stations for a minor second "We need to chat this over, maybe our ships opened fire first." The Pilot hesitated, then nodded his head in agreement.

A button flashed, and an up-link with the commander of the Chalsdii ship came into view. "Chalsdii Vessel, please identify yourself, your reason for trespassing Cythelu Space without Authorization, and why you opened fire on Utopian's Guard. We do not mean to destroy you unless such conclusion is necessary, but I'd hate it to come to such." his attitude was calm and steady, if any terms of peace were to be gathered, let it be here. swarmed his mind, he began to think of possible situations.

Edited by Durandel, 30 April 2009 - 11:00 PM.

[Vortigern]

"Death's Redemption, this is Admiral Rovairn aboard the Fulcari. We witnessed an apparently unprovoked attack by your compatriots on a smaller vessel, and felt the necessary precautions had to be taken." Rovairn paused, moving closer to the monitor. Sue for peace and break it when you're close enough to dock. "We did not come with warlike intentions. Permission to come aboard for negotiations?"

[Spectre]

"My compadre's reports stated he was after an Order ship, both ships were in the wrong. David had no authorization to destroy the vessel, and the men on the other ship had no right to steal a Cythelu Vessel without compliance from the Komyzar. Now that we probably have an idea we both wish no harm, then I'd think it'd be fine for negotiations." He cut off the feed and prepared for a board, he scampered to a nearby Inter-COM Panel and ringed up the Troops Stations "Be on your toes, we do not know if they're here to kill or here for peace, take a few hundred men and hide them around the bay if violence needed, get a few sniper teams up high, and I want some guards around me if the time comes." he then got off, and made his way to the door "I want all Ship defenses ready, make them look preoccupied, I don't want a full scale invasion of the ship. If the Chalsdii attempt to kill anyone on board, open fire on their ship." he then clambered outside to the hall.

Once he made his way down an elevator to one of the hangar bays, he prepared all the troops. Once all were placed, he took it upon himself to alarm the fleet of fighters awaiting commands "If anything goes wrong and we are attacked, I want three fourths of the fleet launched, once you get to the Chalsdii ship, do not hesitate to open fire." with everyone on high alert, he mustered up all his courage and stood in the front of the hangar, a few co-commanders behind him and some guards armed with Rifles to his rear and sides.

While preparations in the Hangar were being made, the pilots of the ship took their time arming all defenses, but one pilot went to extreme measures and called for more Cythelu "This is Cythelu Vessel Death's Redemption, we are coming in contact with Chalsdii who have entered Cythelu Space unauthorized, if the ship is attacked, Commander John E. Sysam would like it that a declaration of war are to be called on the Chalsdii for unprovoked assault, can you contact a few Cythelu Vessels and ask them to change route to Sector 39352 N 10648 S 2055 E and 2945 W Sub-Quadrant Delta IV?" a storm of static and a scratchy "Yes Sir, but the Komyzar has denied the request for war." was the reply, the Pilot nodded and turned off the COM Panel.

Edited by Durandel, 02 May 2009 - 10:25 PM.

[Vortigern]

Rovairn stared at the com-link, astounded. The Cythelu had done everything exactly as he would have done, even to the extent of calling for backup. The one mistake was that they hadn't checked which frequencies the Chalsidii used to communicate. Rovairn's personal transmitter seemed to be on exactly the same frequency as the one the Cythelu ship had used to call home. He pressed the button which allowed him to speak through the ether.

"Commander John E. Sysam, perhaps you should take more care with your secure frequencies," he said. He heard a muffled gasp of surprise and anger from the other end. "Do not worry, Commander. We will do you no harm. Your precautions were almost exactly the same as those I would have undertaken in your position. The request for war was unnecessary." There were a few moment's silence on the other end.

"Very well, Admiral. You and your men have permission to come aboard."

"Thank you, Commander," added Rovairn, shutting off the link. He opened another one immediately. "All troops stand down for the moment. We will not be boarding the Cythelu vessel. The Admiral and his personal bodyguard will go aboard the vessel, while the Fulcari will remain on high alert. That is all." Rovairn took a deep breath: the last time he had gone on board an alien ship before it had been properly cleared, he had fought his way through scores of aliens and somehow brought the ship to land back on Talkala; he still had no idea how. He had also been considerably younger and much less out of practice. This had potential to go wrong in so many ways.

"The seven hells take it all, let's move!" He fair shouted the last two words, and his entourage began to roll on out of the bridge. En route to the transfer cells several black-clad Chalsithron joined them, armoured in glimmering dark materials, laser-proof and with decent enough padding to stop a heavy projectile at anything other than point-blank range. Their weapons were subtly placed so as not to alert the enemy, or in this case the potential diplomatic partners. The transfer cells hissed away from the ship, tumbling through space ever so briefly before coming to lock against the portals on the exterior of the Cythelu vessel.

"Eyes wide open, Chalsidii," ordered Rovairn. "Let's do this right." The door clicked open.

[Spectre]

When the Chalsdii buzzed in stating he asked to declare War, he gritted his teeth furiously. Once he calmed himself, he got on a secure link with the Pilot who had called in for a war and began to unleash is rage "Declaration for war?! We'll discuss later, Jask, but for now your have been demoted for disobeying orders." he cut off the link before the Pilot could reply.

When the doors linking the two ships opened, we made a pleasant grin and bowed "It is an honor to meet you, Rovairn." John said, looking quite glad.

[Vortigern]

"And the same of you, Ofycer," said Rovairn, bowing his substantial frame down into a low homage, a sign of respect. Or, to Rovairn, a little detail designed to cultivate the sense of safety and friendship between the two parties. Rovairn was not going to get himself killed like this.

"Shall we go somewhere more private to discuss matters?"



((What are we discussing? I can't remember what the plan was, or even if there was one. Was there?))

[Spectre]

( I don't quite remember what we are going to discuss, instead of making everything all ordered out, limiting ourselves, how about we just go with the flow? What I mean is, instead of following some dreaded storyline we discussed, lets try to throw in our own little affairs so it turns out as a mystery what we do next. Or we could just make SWG's Faction the bad guys we have to fight. But that doesn't sound as fun.)

[Spectre]

The old Ofycer took time to consider the offer, and finally agreed to allow a more safe environment for them both, "Come, I have a room so that we may discuss. Please, leave your guards behind although, it shall be fine without them."

The Captain waved for his guards to stand-by at the doors between the Hangar and a Elevator leading to the Upper Deck. He stepped inside the elevator, and signaled Rovairn to do the same.

[Vortigern]

((After a short break to use the toilet, the Chalsidii diplomatic posse return!))

Rovairn's oddly silvery skin shone in the light which emanated mysteriously from the ceiling of the vaulted chamber. The Cythelu did not look particularly unnerved by this, as some of them were indeed covered with reddish fur. Apparently bizarre outer appearances were a given for these people. He sat down, and the chair creaked under his mighty mercury-based weight, but fortunately it held. The Cythelu representative gave him a worried look and flashed a glance at the chair.

"So," said Rovairn, by way of an ice-breaker. "What part of space are you fellows from?"

[Spectre]

"Well," the Commander took a seat himself, worried the commander's seat would crumble. "Delta Quadrant, Sycrian System. And you?"

The small talk worried him of something bigger being planned here, but he took safety in his conference room, if the commander tried to assassinate him toxic air will intoxicate him, but since they got this far, allying would probably be the outcome. It was almost Lunch break, if he could convince the Captain to join them for food, the generosity would no doubt improve relations.

[Vortigern]

"Delta Quadrant too, though I suspect in a different sector to you. We refer to our system as the Homeworld, but the Caenophite database logs us as being in the Tel'Calar System. Our home planet is called Talkala, no doubt a descendant of that name." Rovairn could sense that the Cythelu was a little uncomfortable, even though he had never encountered the language patterns or non-verbal communicative methods of this race before: it was simply plain to see.

"Perhaps some food would not go amiss? Though I must request something solid and heavy. We burn through about six thousand calories an hour by general Galactic standards. Comes with having a two-tonne body, I suppose," added Rovairn, with a little laugh. He hoped that would be enough to relax his Cythelu counterpart; diplomacy could not begin until both parties enjoyed a certain level of comfort.