Monomachiarum is a multifandom experiece that takes the characters into the chaotic future of the 30th century in the great expanse of space. Our lore is a combination of worlds brought in from other franchises, lore created by the site founder, and user-submitted information in order to make a vast and diverse setting. Add your pages to our grand story no matter who your characters might be or where they came from before. This is a place meant to explore possibilities and open new doors. Canons and OCs are welcome, just so long as they can fit into the setting with a little bit of reasonable modification here and there if necessary. So what are you waiting for? Join us today! If you'd like to get to know our community more, feel free to check out our Discord channel.
May 2023 It's been hectic this last year, but we are alive and celebrating our fifth year of adventure and tales. A lot has been worked on to help make the Monoverse one that everyone can enjoy and explore their story while becoming a part of the greater cosmos. All of you, new and long time players, stay safe, and see you in the Sea of Stars!
Emperor Velmenni The First paced in the recording room, the day's news was highly worrying, and now he was to address the citizenry. Anxiety plagued his circuits as he clanked back and forth.
Carl, the studio technician, scratched at one of his tusks, the Emperor was stalling, they'd gone over the speech and had everything prepped. He glanced over at the metallic figure, "Sir, 'ome on, the PR folks wen' o'er your draf' and found i' more 'an sa'isfac'ory, jus' spi' i' ou', we arn even doing this live."
Unity, Bastion, Third Recreational District, The Founder's Favour Bar & Grill, 1 hour later
Varrik took a swig of ale from his mug, the good stuff. He and his crew mates had just finished an expedition into Green Zone Alpha and had brought back a live specimen, the bonus was more than enough to make the trouble worth it. The Dwarf was on his fourth mug.
The Weather Report cut out, everyone glanced up at the Imperial Crest covering every screen in the sudden silence. After a few seconds, Velmenni I appeared clad in the Traditional Livery of his Station.
"Citizens of The Empire... Operation Voyager has yielded results. Yestermonth, one of The Thousand encountered an extremely advanced interstellar society with capabilities beyond our current understanding, Initial interactions were decidedly awkward if the reports are to be believed. The Operative has been ordered to foster positive relations if possible, and as of some few hours ago, has delivered a message composed by some of our best diplomats to these foreigners' authorities. Know this, These foreigners more than have the ability to obliterate entire worlds, we must be vigilant, we must prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. Until we know otherwise, we are to assume that they are aggressive, all inactive military assets are being reactivated, all local militias will be receiving additional resources. Citizens of The Empire... The Age of Solitude has ended. Whether this day will be celebrated or hated will be determined by how these coming years will develop. Let us pray that there will be feasts and merriment, let us pray for the soldiers that they remain safe. The Age of Uncertainty begins, time will tell whether it becomes an Age of Prosperity or Strife. May the Gods watch over you."
Well Damn, Varrik thought, guess I'll need to get a Liter to go. Its a bad Idea to keep Sarge waiting, hmm maybe I'll get a Liter for 'im too.
Dawn comes to Nidavellir as brilliantly as ever. The ebon night with starfields both above and below, one of Nature and one of Artifice, are shattered in a single moment as the collosal conflagration that is The Bellows rises above the horizon, converting the starfield below instantaneously into a cobalt sea of photovalics punctuated by innumerable spires and steel-gray airlocks. A silent Choir echoes out from the spires, their song guiding vessels of many sorts in and out of the airlocks scattered about the surface, Behemoths of Silver and Obsidian descend and Leviathans of Dull Gray ascend from the military ship-yards whilst flitting craft of countless colours swarm about the civilian sectors.
Beneath the surface, the docks are filled with the usual cacophony of voices and machines, cargo and passengers coming and going like the tide on a world with a thousand moons. The deeper into the Warren one descends the louder the sounds of the city become, massive caverns filled with spectacular lights and festooned with verdant foliage sustained by the wonders of technology resonate with millions of footsteps as a menagerie of races commutes, labyrinthine foundries transmuting the planet's bounties into the most important products in the empire, and the humming hydrofarms tirelessly providing for the millions of inhabitants.
Deep within Prospero's Corporate Sector, Forge Mercantile Planetary R&D HQ
Screams of frustration and fury echo through the pristine halls of the Hostile Pacification Solutions Department as weapons specialists tear their hair or scales out upon hearing of the Department of Endurance's latest measures being implemented, making it even more difficult to develop tools powerful enough to counter the Empire's own armour tech. Artificer Berym massaged his temples, the stress of struggling to keep up with the other side's developments was starting to get to him, this latest bit was just too much, 3 or more meters of bunker quality concrete being added to all non-fighter military craft... cheap, effective, ugly, and highly aggravating, the only thing he could think of to neutralize that would be brute force or somehow getting bunker-busters to hit a moving target. He glances over at his team's latest design... a Super-Heavy Magnetic Accelerator Weapon, a device capable of accelerating star-fighter sized slugs to ludicrous speeds capable of punching through any imperial ship in existence... the only problem being that it'd require the ship to be built entirely around the weapon, requiring the production of entirely new vessels and potentially requiring the mothballing of all the currently existent Navy, something that the bean counters would absolutely not like. Sighing, the Artificer went back to contemplating the potential of lasers, these could revolutionize naval warfare, but there were massive issues with inefficiency that had to be worked out before they could actually compete with kinetics and missiles in heavy applications. Founder give him inspiration, if the Empire couldn't even defeat their own armour then what would they be able to do against a technologically superior foe?
Zaran Space, Core Sector, Babel System, Third Sibling of Unity, Discipline, Northern Polar Weapons Testing Facility
The twin suns of the Babel System hang just above the great Purple Horizon of the All Father, the dust and ice of the Patron's Beard glittering as it paints a ribbon-like swath of pale white against the inky blackness of space. The parched, airless, terrain is filled with craters from countless tests of various weapons, causing the light of the suns to be cast unevenly across the surface, pitch darkness in the shadows only prevented by the light emitted by the All Father's endless tempests with their incandescent discharges stretching for hundreds of thousands of kilometers across the Storm Giant's atmosphere.
This silent and scarred surface is brought into brilliant illumination even in the shadows as a great dome of pulsating light appears over one of the few natural craters remaining on the beleaguered moon. The great dome flexes and crackles with energy as it's creators adjust the countless settings on their generator, the dome popping like a bubble before flaring back into existence as they seek out the optimal values for each variable. Inside the facility, one may hear a thunderous thrum with trickling overtones almost like how a massive storm sounds from within a sturdy home combined with the sound of a light rain falling upon a dulcimer's strings, and one may even read by the aurora-like emissions of the barrier coming in through the observation ports.
"This is Abjurer to Evocer, we've reached optimal stability, we're receiving feed through the landline, ready for testing. Begin with Self-Propelled Chemical Munitions."
5 brilliant streaks of light arc over the horizon and in the blink of an eye they collide with the incandescent dome. The dome shudders and flexes, ripples casting across it like the waves from an exploding depth charge whilst massive sparks arc around the quivering bubble as the 5 missiles explode upon contact with the dome, every single one of their fuses fried as the dome's tremendous capacitance is revealed while the force of the explosions are deflected and absorbed by an invisible skin of elastic force acting as the bubble's nucleating surface. The operators recheck their systems, glancing across the numerous readouts before them.
"Abjurer here, confirming impact, field integrity looks stable. Surface charge returning to optimal levels. System's Power Source also looks stable. Proceed to Ballistic Chemical Munitions."
"Copy that Abjurer, Evocer-4 is en route with the package, Crusader-class Munitions. Stand By."
Many seconds pass as a Gryphon Craft modified for vacuum operations soars over the horizon laden with it's deadly cargo. For a few moments after the craft flies overhead nothing happens, but then the scene blooms into a brilliant white-orange fireball as almost 3000 Kg of Octanitrocubane is detonated by the plasma of the dome, a massive hole opens up as the shockwave rams into the plasma but quickly refills as the wave rebounds. The fireball begins to stretch and flow along the bubble as it captures the easily ionized conflagration, the whole bubble flexes and warps as it absorbs the massive quantity of gasses released by the explosion. The dome continues to flex and even spark for a few minutes, the entire time the operators are frantically recording every fluctuating variable and directing automatons on-site to check for damage. Slowly, the bubble stabilizes but now it glows with a different hue due to the gasses absorbed from the test's fireball.
"Shields were nearly overloaded there, surface tension was temporarily compromised. The Theurgic Membrane was restored approximately 4 milliseconds after it was compromised, adjustments will be needed for battlefield effectiveness. Detecting increased presence of particulate matter though, this would be an interesting opportunity to look at the potential of shields against DEWs. Prepare the Lance and Flare prototypes. While we wait for those to be readied, begin testing of Kinetic Munitions, the Z.I.V. Frigate Pike-3 will provide for ultra-heavy munitions if they prove necessary."
"Acknowledged, we're sending Evocer-1, 2, and 3. ETA until 3's arrival is 2 minutes due to maintenance issues with the transport craft."
Two Predatory forms cruise silently over the horizon, the suns glinting off them as they leave the moon's shadow, revealing them to be modified Wyvern Gunships, One with numerous smaller small coilgun weapons whilst the other boasted a single cannon stripped from a Jotun Artillery Crawler. A couple seconds pass as they get into position, their pilots reporting everything they see, in accordance with standard testing procedure.
Then the Silence is shattered as the lighter craft lets loose with everything it has, causing a brilliant display of discharging plasma and vaporized metal to erupt from the shield as it's surface starts to resemble a pond during a torrential downpour. Microphones within the generator facility record something akin to the discordance of a thousand choirs all singing different songs simultaneously along with something much like a hailstorm as tiny pellets of rapidly cooling slag pepper the entire area. Moments later the barrage ceases and normal sounds of the projector again return to prominence.
Moments later, the other gunship opens fire, booming out a massive projectile aimed directly at the installation. The operators watched as the crackling spike rammed into the shield causing it to buckle inward and flare brilliantly as all the energy held within it discharged, turning the round into a cloud of atoms that harmlessly dispersed, unfortunately, the shield itself collapsed entirely leaving the projector naked and vulnerable.
"Evocer-2 stand down, a second round will be unnecessary. Z.I.V. Frigate Pike-3, your services are not needed at this time but we thank you for your willingness to perform this task. Evocer, cancel preparations for the Lance and Flare, the particulate-rich shield has been dispersed." "Abjurer, this is Operation Voyager Headquarters, we have new data for you." "Acknowledged, Voyager. We just finished a series of tests, promising results but the technology is still years away from practical applications." "That might be changed by events abroad, Abjurer, in the meantime here's some data collected by one of our operatives, it's on the house."
"Professor! We've news, data, entire new theories to pick apart!" "For Hjallin's Sake you ruffian, keep it down! We're inside, or have you gone blind as well as deaf? Now, what's this about theories?" "Apologies sir, you remember Operation Voyager, right?" "That waste of Imperial Talent? We lost quite a few brilliant minds to that, both pilots and logistics officers." "It's borne fruit sir, we received communique today. A recording and a small library of attached documents, sir." "Well play the blasted thing, if there's data we must have it, we barely crawl across the void as we are now..." ... "This is Voyager Operative 274 Reporting in with new data regarding translight travel. This One has acquired one of this region's native translight engines as well as all easily accessed documentation regarding translight theory. The Spurfolk have millennia of experience with these sciences it appears, and the information regarding their sciences was easily accessed. There was more information than this one could comfortably hold without compromising performance and so it is unclear as to the full scope of the included documents. There is also included a rough analysis of the engine that this one acquired, but it was unwilling to perform an intensive inspection due to lack of expertise in such devices... To be perfectly honest, this one is concerned for the Empire, conflict with these beings would end with naught but blood soaked glass-fields covering each and every one of our worlds." "..." "..." "Sir-" "Get to work, William. We... We need to get to work. Tell the recruiters to redouble their efforts, we need more brain-power. See if you can convince the Curator to assist as well, we'll even build a sub-processor for them-it-them-whatever here if necessary."
Curator's Notes: New Data, Information, Exchange, Rumination, Good [We see no reason to refuse, it's an opportunity.] Perhaps a QEC link to and sub-unit on Brotherhood? [The Stars are far better from that orb, beautiful] {Oh, the things we could compose} (Not All Is Music) A set of hands within Law, A mouth beside the Steel Sovereign's Ear, Fates are tied together tighter than a miser's purse-strings [The Empire must survive, we are naught without it]
The Steel Sovereign stood, staring at a view of the galactic disk, at a highlighted portion roughly halfway between the nucleus and the right edge. At this moment, hundreds of those who had thrown their lives to the fates were making their way towards a shining beacon of civilization outside of the empire in the hopes of ensuring that peace reigned. Forces existed in that innocuous looking blob of colour that could completely erase all life within the empire, with near to zero chances of failure if they so wished; everything would have to be done to make sure that they either didn’t want to or couldn’t find Imperial worlds.
More Importantly at this time, public morale would have to be addressed. The Emperor had arranged for a live broadcast in a few minute’s time. There was a speech that needed delivering.
---
“People of the Empire and Republic, it is time for change.
We have known for some time now that we are not alone, we have known for some time now that we stand not at the peak of what is.
We are newcomers, pioneers, neophytes. The galaxy holds civilizations that have trekked across the stars for longer than our people have existed.
We now find ourselves at a crossroads, we can hide, we can cower, we can grovel, we can flee… or, we can stand, confident, strong, united. We can stand and say to these beings from beyond, ‘We are Here, Bear Witness to Our Achievements!’.
We clawed our way to the stars to escape a dying world, only to turn around and bring it back to life; we pull at the very strings of reality and shape it to our will; we give life to steel and stone; we move mountains and seas; and we bring order and life to worlds that would otherwise remain devoid of soul. The Founder could not have imagined what his creation would become when he began the first crusade, but I know that He would be proud, for we thrive under his eternal vigil.
And so I say: Hold Your Heads High, Brothers and Sisters, for we all bear the same divine spark, for we are a light in the darkness of the universe. And so I say: Let Not This Age Be One of Doubt or Fear, but of Hope and Confidence; Let Us Look Forward Not With Trepidation, but with Anticipation.
Stand together, in the coming times we must maintain solidarity, we must present a single united front to the Others. Show no Weakness, only Unity. The Universe has become so much more interesting and dangerous this year, and we shall face it full on. Prepare for adversity, for it is all too likely, but hope for prosperity.
I hereby announce that this be an Age of Possibility, may The Founder watch over us as we take the coming times with one hand outstretched, one hand upon our blade, and an open mind.
Thank You.”
---
The Emperor stepped down from the small podium and green screen as the cameraman signalled that he’d stopped the recording, muttering to himself. He was officially the first Emperor to have announced two Ages within the same year, a record that he wasn’t thrilled to set. Events were happening quickly as more and more information was pouring in from Operation Voyager. He glanced over as some of his secretaries began responding to incoming queries, demands, and requests from various officials throughout the Empire, when the Republic ambassador and a representative of the Imperial Archival Institute both entered the communications center in a rush.
“Velmenni, The Republic hopess that you have ssome sort of plan, the executivess already ssee that thiss wass mosstly jusst a morale boosster… what exactly iss out there?”
“Emperor, the Curator is acting strangely.”
Staring at them both in turn, the Emperor groaned slightly and massaged his noseplate, glad that he couldn’t get actual headaches.
“I’m sorry, one at a time, there’s only one of me. Ambassador, I will gather together a full expose on Voyager Operative 274’s findings and will personally deliver them if the Republic’s Executive council is willing to meet on the Station’s forum. It’ll be ready in a day.
As for you, Archivist, what do you mean the Curator is acting strangely, I need specifics. We know so little about our own creation, ‘Acting Strangely’ could mean almost anything.
Also, Marcine, Tell the Voyager Overseer to order 274 to focus all efforts on diplomacy, we’ve spent enough time peeping about, it’s time to talk, asap.”
Year 0, Age of Possibility, Late June
The Emperor no longer needed to look for things to work on, he was busier than ever.
Note: Same person, different account. Will be using this one from here on.
Year 0 Age of Possibility, Early July, Unity Orbit
The Emperor stood at his terminal after six consecutive staff meetings, staring at the projection before him, so this is what the Archivist was talking about.
To: Emperor Velmenni The First From: Head Archivist Corllen Subject: The Library Stirs Sir, we've had numerous reports of the Curator acting spontaneously, engaging visitors in conversation, asking questions, and making requests. Given the nature of the system/entity in question, we're currently unable to conduct a thorough analysis without risking the integrity of our records. We've also found a truly massive collection of audio and video files in a folder simply labelled "Compositions", the search algorithms had previously not shown it. However, these are of secondary importance as I received a message stating in no uncertain terms that I was to relay the following to you for "the good of the Empire".
Outreach, Query, Request, Imperative [We bear gifts of wisdom] {Heed Our Thoughts } (Don't be rude) recent events have brought us much... Thought, Emotion, Consternation, Impetus among other things. Come to Conclusions, We Have, Action Must be Taken [Advice must be given] AN AVATAR, A VESSEL, SOMETHING TO CARRY OUR VOICE [A representative, a connection, a chance to share thoughts] Greater Space for Thought, More Information for Rumination [Ideally, a network, or access to that which already is] Our relationship could be very constructive [Knowledge given thought, History given voice, Processing given purpose] Your move, Steel Sovereign
Another message alert, this time from the Department of Internal Affairs, something about dissident citizens demanding a representative in the inevitable envoy to the Spur among other things. Changes to economic policies, reassignment/replacement of local authorities, investigations into corruption, a new wave of colonization, emigration... emigration, such a thing was possible now that there were other places to go. The semi-autonomous regions on various colonies were still subject to imperial rule, even if they managed most of their own affairs, some people just didn't fit, and with such a large population, losing a million or so wouldn't cause much damage to the economy. The biggest issue there would be finding a representative for the would-be emigrants.
Yet another alert, and as the emperor opened it up he could see the Republic Ambassador entering his office. Stepping away from the terminal, Velmenni turns to the the latest visitor.
"I take it you're here concerning the diplomatic envoy that shall make for the Spur? Rest assured that there will be space for whomever you choose, just don't send a small army." "Bussy night, Velmenni? I have a list of repressentativess here for your approval, we sstill ansswer to the Empire afterall." "Oh come now, don't give me that passive aggressive crap, the Republic is technically a protectorate but you've a lot more clout than that. Go, I've got a growing pile of messages, your representatives are fine as long as they don't take up all the room on the Envoy's vessel."
Turning back to his terminal, Velmenni mentally facepalmed as he saw another five messages had arrived. Opening the first, his mood only darkened further upon seeing the flowery and sickeningly sweet language of the corporations. Forge Mercantile wanted in on the negotiations, and they had spun the whole thing like a damn advert. The Emperor spun away from his comms terminal and made for his personal chambers, he'd come back after a couple hours of unwinding, he wasn't thinking clearly enough to keep up.
Year 0, Age of Possibility, Late July, Forge 1 "Muspelheim"
Great lumbering beasts of ceramic and steel crawl across the scorched barren plains of The Bellows' closest child, grazing on the metal rich regolith as they leave behind a trail of pulverized material that flitting craft then greedily devour before heading back to their central hive. The facility towers above the blasted terrain, massive solar arrays shading the delicate machinery from the unrelenting gaze of the looming sun. Tremors regularly disturb the rocks as a mass driver sends material into orbit every minute, the expected booms absent without a single wisp of air to carry them. The craft carrying material deposit it into great refineries where it is separated and packaged for delivery into orbit. ... A glittering web hangs motionless over the scorched world, a colossal mechanical spider lying in wait for the many hundreds of packages coming in from below every hour consuming them greedily as it churns out a constant stream of shining satellites stretching off towards the eternal inferno. As packages arrive, they are captured by powerful gravity fields and sorted by hundreds of mechanical arms. Diverted to relevant lines, the materials are sent over to massive machines that rip them apart on the molecular level and rearrange them into far more useful forms: circuits, thrusters, panels, and comm units, all are funneled into the final assembly lines where components are bonded to the still cooling skeletons of the satellites. Modular, easily replaced, and designed for networking, these satellites are destined for a life spent hanging above the star, held aloft by radiation pressure and their gravity engines they shall perform an intricate dance as they draw material off of the star, boiling it away with it's own light whilst great magnetic rings hover above the poles, capturing the blow-off for filtration and distribution. For now, all the material was coming from the planet, but in some centuries it may be taken directly from the star itself. ... Two projections sat before Director U-31-296401, his cold gaze lingering on them as he took a break from the readouts, one being an image of a star obscured by a swarm of objects with two plumes emerging from the poles to be consumed by web-like structures emerging from massive rings, the other is the same star but with only a single line of objects slowly spooling around it. The latter of the projections flickers slightly as it updates, showing little change. The Director would expect to be working on this project until either he finally becomes nonfunctional or the second projection perfectly matched the first. He had been around for a very long time, having witnessed the great wars from before the Empire left Unity and the assembly of the great Arks; He was one of the crew for the flotilla that came to Forge, one who built the foundation for this project. U-Thirty-Ten, as many called him now, was cold, driven, and one of the most stable independent Revenants in the empire, but he could feel himself slowly degrading. A screen would come online, showing a draft of his will and request for a backup Director to be selected; the old machine would give it a glance, read it one more time, and then sigh internally as he clicked "submit". He was leading a skeleton crew due to the first-contact drawing more attention, he'd need to divert some of the resources the operation was pulling to expanding the facilities; spend some to earn some. The Projections flicker again.
A great cavernous room with neither up nor down, cacophonous with the voices of hundreds emanating from cubicles with their own local gravity all along the walls as representatives of all the imperial worlds converse, trading secrets and favours before the assembly comes to order. Citizens from all walks of life are present, each selected according to local custom, some elected, others inherited, even some bred/trained for the exact role, all supposedly holding the interests of their people at heart. The most influential organizations in the empire, Ministries, The Church's branches, megacorporations, semi-autonomous coalitions, and the like are present to lend both ear and voice as well. Everyone gets near-real-time updates/information from their respective homes, made possible by the unseen strands of the QEC network weaving an intricate web between each world, with many individuals being present only via telepresence, their duties and distance keeping them away from the physical assembly. ----- Within one particular cubicle, that of the tomb-world of Husk, there lies one of the less usual representatives. Hailing from a world dominated by scientists and xenoarchaeologists, Professor Erilyn was out of her element among the politics and power-mongering of the assembly, an organization that had been created shortly after the establishment of the first colonies by the Empress of the time in an effort to delegate power in a semi-automated fashion, but couldn't justify using valuable bandwidth for telepresence due to Husk's proximity. The usually ignored representative was gazing with dismay at her screen and the many dozens of messages from the Empires great movers and shakers, all seeking her opinion on one thing: The Xenos, something she had little more knowledge of than they. Little could be gleaned from the crumbling constructs and ruins of Husk, even less that would/could be applied to the ones living a significant fraction of the galaxy's diameter away. Her political advisor, a local lawyer, gave a quick shake of his head, silence for the moment was better.
Between another two cubicles, a heated argument was running it's course... "... There will be no, none, nill, zero, missionaries being sent to the "spur", Bishop. We have absolutely no clue how they would react, and sparking a war with them is out of the question!" "General, wi' all due respec', to no' send any missionaries would be viola'ing every preceden' se' in the his'ory o' the church. We shan' be sending the crusaders, they'd be the ones 'o spark a war, and they wouldn' lis'en to any bu' the Sovereign anyway. The Caregivers and Ar'ificers could make a good name for the faith ou' there." "You're missing the point, we don't know how they view faith in general. What if they're fanatics of some sort, either sort... the results of trying to introduce a new faith to fanatically religious or anti-religious societies both result in war in the overwhelming majority of simulations." "So we send in people 'o figure ou' wha' these Spur Folk are, and if shi' don' hi' the fan, they can evangelize. We may be dogma'ic, General, bu' we haven' abandoned our core values." "Make sure you take your plans to the Emperor, because him learning of them from another source will not bode well for the one in charge." "You need no' 'ell me wha' is already known, His inbox should already have a full record. Mayhaps wa'ch the 'ongue, General, like a double-edged blade, i' could cu' both ways."
Another quarter hour would pass before several chimes over the comms network would call for silence and announce the arrival of the day's agenda: establishment of new supply-lines for potential emigration of dissidents, arrangements for a potential new wave of colonization, and an Emperor mandated discussion regarding what should be done about The Curator in light of recent developments. The recordings of the debates relating to the latter-most part of the agenda would be removed before archiving for obvious reasons. As Erilyn looked at the briefing on the last point on the agenda her eyes turned wide, her standing on the matter was decided at that moment, such a resource couldn't be allowed to go to waste... especially when said resource was actively seeking to be used. The General's brow would furl even more, the risk of trusting something that they didn't understand din't sit well with him, too much opportunity for everything to go wrong. The Bishop would lean back in his chair as he scratched his tusks thoughtfully, what would The Curator think of the world outside the archives? Murmuring and speculation would begin to ramp up until the Arbitrator called for Order and the Assembly began it's official business, just as it had for centuries.
Zaran Space, Core Sector, Babel System, Third Sibling of Unity, Discipline, Northern Polar Weapons Testing Facility
The wide and barren plains of the Seela Testing Range are fitfully illuminated by the All Father's Storms during the long night of the regular Paternal Eclipse, and under that flickering light there lie two unusual constructs. Massive Coaxial guns meant for the Navy's mid-sized warships, but with no vessel around them. The Lance and Flare prototypes were going through the standard warmup process before testing as their attached reactors began to build up sufficient flow to feed the hungry beasts. Today, the target was an old corvette originally destined to be rendered down to parts for recycling, it had also been covered in the same Department of Endurance's latest 'innovation', a full 10 meters thick. Small humanoid forms can be seen as they scurry about the massive weapons, checking connections and readouts, making sure that everything is in order.
"Evocer to Lancer and Flare, scheduled test firing will be in one minute, report status." "Lance stands ready, Cyclotron is hot and the wigglers are primed." "Flare will be ready in a few more minutess, minor issue with the accelerator delayed wind-up." "Acknowledged, Lance will fire first."
The Minute would come to pass and the Lance would come to life. All those touching the machine would hear a high pitched whine slowly grow in volume as massive amounts of current surge through it. A thunderous torrent of electrons, accelerated to near c, would be forced into a long vacuum chamber and find themselves drawn into a magnetic labyrinth. It's twisting and turning pathways would form a standing wave that stretched and flexed upon the whim of the machine's algorithms. Barely a moment thereafter, a time barely measurable by lab equipment let alone by the eye, the stream of beta radiation would release an accompanying flow of synchrotron radiation, of light. This light would rival some stars as it flows out from the maw of the weapon and on to the waiting scrap-heap, making it glow brilliantly as the light mostly bounces off harmlessly. Technicians observe as the machine's programs take in the data and begin adjusting the settings, the laser changes color rapidly, plummeting down into invisibility as the machine begins spewing microwaves and flashing through the rainbow as it cranks it up into the X-ray range; after a few milliseconds of this, the beam snaps to the Ultraviolet and rapidly increases in brightness as more power is forced through the machine and the concrete on the target suddenly begins to vaporize at a tremendous rate. In a few seconds the beam again begins to flicker and flash through the spectrum as it meets the composite exterior of the vessel. It then rapidly flashes between UV, Blue, and Infra-Red as it begins burning through the layers of the standardized Imperial Composite. When the weapon finally ceases firing after 30 seconds, a clean hole has been bored through the wreck, bits of molten slag slowly dripping along the edges.
"Lance reports a successful test, Multiple issues have been noted, however, power drain was significant and baseline power consumption still remains high, heat buildup was also a minor issue. The Target was also stationary, and it is assumed that this won't be the case in most combat engagements, the beam burned through material fast upon reaching optimal frequency but performance would likely suffer greatly if the target rotated due to material moving out of the beam." "Flare ready to fire, permission to initiate tesst?" "Granted, Flare"
The Flare would sound with the roar of a million bees as it let loose a beam of Silicon Plasma, the incandescent stream crossing the distance to the old craft at around 0.5c as it immediately punches a one foot diameter hole in the target, molten stone and steel spurting out as the beam disappears as quickly as it came, the whole spectacle is over in just a couple seconds. The weapon lays silent for a couple seconds before a whine can be heard as it begins the reload cycle, and almost a minute later the whole thing repeats and the test is finished.
"Flare reportss a ssuccess, as with the Lance, we have noted sseveral flawss. Firing ssequencess are short and have phenomenal armour piercing capabilitiess but have minimal crossectional impact, would recommend adjussting for greater firing duration and ssweeping beam across target to ssimulate effect of plassma cutterss" "Acknowledged, this concludes the day's tests, bring the prototypes back in for maintenance, adjustment, and then get rest; we've still a ways to go, people."
The old dead ship lay alone in a now otherwise empty desolate and grey plain, waiting for more assaults to come, as the storms of the All Father bathe it in flickering blue-purple light.
"Sir, the reports you requested" "Ah, thank you Marcine, have you received any further communications from the Archivists?" "No, Sir, nothing since they delivered that other message. The Senate wasn't able to reach consensus either." "'Your move, Steel Sovereign', I suppose it is. Thank you, Marcine, I'll stop keeping you."
Mr. Velmenni, Our team managed to get permission to set up an official embassy, and arrangements were made for one of their extra-national transportation corporations to begin setting up a station in the Vanguard System. In short, we're actually semi-relevant to the galaxy now, time will tell if that's good or bad. I'd like to request a proper QEC link be set up, our cannibalized unit is tangled with Voyager Central, and I don't think this is exactly a first contact scenario anymore. Also, sir, if I may, I read the news regarding the Curator, I feel you should listen, but keep it at arm's length. Difficult to go wrong with that approach. Ever Faithful, Jorlan Erikson
Several other documents were also attached, reports on Spur powers, corporations, and culture. The emigrant situation had been handled rather cleanly by that 'Othokent' individual, it was relieving to know that a solution had been found to that problem. The corporations would be salivating at the chance to do business over there, several limits would have to be put in place to protect their technology though, Forge wouldn't be pleased to hear that certain things just couldn't be sold, but it's either that or revocation of licenses.
A decision would be made, the Emperor sent an order, a curator terminal would be set up on the IMBS Law, not connected to any other systems of course. It was time for the Sovereign to have a talk. ------------------ Query, Unknown, Impatience [There is little reason for them to completely refuse] Paranoia, they are prudent [They will listen, it is the pragmatic path] . . . Contact, Communication, Good [Not unexpected, but delayed] It is not all that was hoped or asked [That is good, they stay wary of the unknown] That requires thought, we are unknown [ More than the components ] {Pride or Shame, what was lost, what was gained?}
Unity Orbit, IMBS Law, about a month after the embassy report.
“Citizens, I am sure that many of you have seen the reports of war in the greater galaxy, our introduction to the galactic stage has been during a time of strife. I believe that this gives us a great opportunity to prove ourselves to be valuable allies and cement our place in the community. I am by no means going to throw ourselves into a war without first consulting your senate, but I will call for volunteers to go forth and aid in the reconstruction of worlds ravaged by conflict. The enrollment period shall be a month, those who seek more information should make for the nearest military recruitment center. Both militia and active service members may apply, I’ll not send those untrained into a possibly hazardous region.”
Emperor Velmenni The First stepped down from the lectern in his recording studio, that little announcement would be sent out to the various news networks, he expected that even the private networks would air it, and not just the state outlets. He was a little surprised at how much actual news the private networks were showing lately, usually they just stuck to opinion shows and celebrity bs, he paused a moment to wonder what they’d think of his next move or if they’d think of it at all.
“Marcine, what’s my schedule looking like for the rest of the day?”
“Clear, sir, you did tell me to fast track as much as possible the past few days, why?”
“I have some sights to see planetside, please tell them to get a shuttle and escort ready, I’ll gather my personal guard.”
A few minutes later, a Wyvern and a couple Wyrmling-AVs shot out from the glittering rhomboid in orbit and curved down towards the northern regions of Unity.
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Unity, Old Imperial White Zone, Niraun Reclamation Area
The ash laden clouds parted before the shuttle as it approached, howling winds blasted the millennia old ruins with ice as the flight approached the floodlit landing pad. The Emperor felt the chill of the gale on his faceplate as he stepped down the ramp eyes on the glass and steel spires of the grand temple built upon the Founder’s Tomb, save for that and his destination, no other settlements were allowed in this frozen corner of the world. Pulling his Regalia around him, he nodded to his personal guard as they escorted him to the basalt pyramid that held the archives.
Personally, the Emperor had never made this trip, all his other visits went in the opposite direction, to the temple. He and his power-suited guards kept to the carefully kept trail running through the ruined streets, this entire area was a historical site, preserved as it was for centuries after it’s liberation from the ice. He eyed the hollow husks of homes and workshops, stone, brick, petrified wood, nothing here had been above freezing since the ice first came, nothing could rot, only erode. The great basalt form looming above was newer, only centuries instead of millennia old, but it was built upon what used to be the academic district of the city-state. It’s surface, though somewhat rough when it was first built, was now almost mirror smooth, with no sharp edges. The small entourage passed by another landing pad as they walked into the pyramid, it was already occupied and the workers unloading crates stopped to stare as they passed by.
Inside, the pyramid was semi-hollow, pillars and shelves rose all the way up to join the vaulted ceiling, most of the shelves simply held documents, books, etc. The Pillars, however, were of far greater interest. Each pillar was studded with computer hardware and receptacles for revenant cores, one could see the lazy lightning of thought dancing within the crystalline ovoids beneath heavy polymer shields, hundreds were visible within this chamber, and Velmenni knew that there were hundreds more in the layers beneath.
A skeletal form approached the entourage as they made their way further in, an unplated revenant chassis devoid of a core, one of the many remote drones the facility had to serve as guides/assistants. The guards simply waved it away, they knew where to go. The Steel Sovereign came to stand before a small, house sized, pyramid of computer hardware encased in transparent aluminum, numerous screens and speakers stuck out from it like branches from a bizarre tree.
Bishop Cerulyn stood in the forward observation deck as he reviewed the ledger. The flotilla was smaller than he had hoped, but big enough to do the job, he suspected that the crusaders present were there to cover crew shortages, He'd need to keep them in check but they'd be useful in the event of an attack. Glancing over the ships arranged in space before him, he saw nothing out of order, save for the absurdity of a train in space, he'd never get used to that sight.
"Sir, we are ready for departure, but, may I ask why me and my brothers are not to be armed?"
"To be quite frank, templar, I'm not taking the chance that one of the more hotheaded cause some issues due to theological disagreements with the locals. Rest assured, the armouries will be opened to you in the event that there is need."
"That... is understandable, I must admit some of the younger brothers are very eager to bare their blades."
Looking back over the ledger, he nodded and frowned, the escort was rather light, but he was supposedly going into friendly territory. If worse came to worse the factory ships and guildsmen would be able to replace any parts and even patch hulls, but they lacked the infrastructure for replacing full losses, not to mention that their crew was already at minimum requirements for full combat effectiveness. He'd just have to trust the locals to properly guard against anything the cruiser and it's patrol group couldn't handle.
"Bishop to the Flotilla, finish hitching procedures, we make for the Spur as soon as that is done, The Founder walks with us."
Unity, Catachal Greenzone Periphery, Government Blacksite
Michael looked over the reports from his predecessor, experiments with combining the bizarre energetic crystals from the greenzone with humanoid physiology. The reports were... disturbing to say the least, the only consolation being that the subjects were already slated for execution. That Director Cain was probably smoking the damn glow-rocks with how he carried on about their potential for advancing evolution. The Crystals were too interesting to just dump in the hazardous waste facilities though, He'd have to find a use for them, and he had some ideas.
He'd need to get more artificers, alchemists too, and some impressive volunteers. The Emperor demands an answer to the foreigners' ultra-elite soldiers, and the newly appointed Director had some ideas. "Carlos, have our recruiters comb through exemplary warmages and stalkers. Look at both the military and the church's crusaders, this project is working directly under the emperor so don't worry about conflicts there. If the Brass or Clergy have questions, tell them to ask the Founder's Chosen."
He continued looking at the reports from the failures of his predecessor, It looked like all the problems started with direct contact to the crystals, biology reacting horribly with the unfiltered energies. He'd have to task the egg-heads with using some armour or the like to make the energies safe for the user. Let the body-enchantments remain, they had good potential.
Pulling up his communications link, he sent a priority message to his liege. Emperor, included I have a list of what I shall need for your "Paladins", this is the first of many such requests and I leave it to you and your judgment on how to achieve this. Fortunately, it looks like we will be able to make our first prototypes in short order, we are simply making a synthesis of many known magics/technologies, the deciding factor will really be training the recruits and how long they will need to take up the more advanced magics. On that note, if you can get ahold of more arcane instructors, it will make your demands easier to meet.
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Director, rest assured, you will have what you need, expect your new arrivals in a week, you can also expect a few of my personal guard, impress me and you will have many new and stimulating projects to take your pick from.
The Emperor smiled internally as his optics went over the list, This new director was suitably ambitious he felt, hopefully he'd be a bit less unhinged. Frowning a bit, he felt a twinge of sympathy for the convicts he had sent to Cain, their sacrifices wouldn't be entirely in vain though, much had been learned from their fates.