#galactic federation armor designs

[mhexart]

This looks like the Other M Galactic Federation armor

[wealmostaneckbeard]

Helldivers 2: More backstories implied by armor sets

STANDARD BLACK AND YELLOW

Two possible origins, thanks to Super-Earths use of cryogenics:

You are a veteran of the first galactic war and were a meat popsicle during super-earth's century of peace and prosperity. You've been freshly unthawed to fight in the newest war and are slightly confused by everything.

OR

You were born during the century of peace on one of super-earth's many colony worlds and signed up to become a helldiver. You have a special connections to a world within the federation. Interplanetary warfare is still kind of a crazy concept to you.

TRAILBLAZER SCOUT

Super-Earth High Command wanted to save a lot of resources by preventing war across the frontier worlds. So they authorized training and arming of an elite corp of assassins to operate all over the federation. Publically they called them The Trailblazers and depicted them in mass media as shadowy guardians against new mysterious threats to helpless colonists. In reality, these assassins would take out key dissident figures on newly settled worlds before they could organize an uprising. You were one of the trailblazers and together you all did a great job preventing a human interplanetary rebellion. As a "reward" you are now being conscripted into the war effort against non-human forces. {needs re-write do not submit until then -ed.}

COMBAT TECHNICIAN

Unfortunately, you were born with or acquired a number of minor physical disabilities. Fortunately, you were born within the super-earth federation where no citizen is useless, no matter how low their citizenship score is! That's thanks to powered exoskeletons like the one above that allows anyone to become useful! You're wearing a mass produced industrial model of exoskeleton that was adapted for combat operations. As a result it's not really good for actions that require a delicate touch.

BREAKER

You are a folksy, handicraft kind of person with no sense of fashion. Or rather you used to be, before the war came and ruined everything. Your sense of fashion still hasn't changed, although you like to tinker in your super-destroyer's engineering bay alongside the deckhands. You're not supposed to, but your democracy officers been really cool about your off-duty, out-of-cryopod hobbies.

ENFORCER

You worked in a very stressful job working VIP security for bureaucrats in the various federation ministries. Thankfully this armor set was very comfortable to wear as you stood menacingly for long periods of time. You weren't initially allowed to transfer your armor set from your old job in security to your new job as a helldiver. But then you earned enough super-credits to buy it and now you are re-united with your beloved armor.

PHYSICIAN

You used to work on the interstellar aid ships that would go to colonies in need. Xenopathogen plagues, massive industrial accidents, and cosmic disasters, you thought you had seen it all. Then The War Came. Maybe your ship was shot down by Automatons, or the colonists you were treating were attacked by Terminids. One way or another you ended up on the front lines of the war. You haven't had to use your extensive knowledge of the human anatomy to kill anyone, yet. This armor set was originally designed to protect doctors from dangers previously mentioned, and it continues to serve you, faithfully.

[metroid-prime-ribs]

Why Can't Metroid Crawl (Into My Heart)

Prologue

You are a bounty hunter. You grew up during the age of exploration. When things were fun and exciting and new, and the Galactic Federation had just gotten together. Afloraltite was mined for fuel and the Elysians had just signed a treaty with the newly formed Galactic Federation. At the same time, the Space Pirates had been organizing to attack freighters carrying food, fuel, and anything they thought might be worth the taking.

You were born during this era, so you grew up when the Federation Police were still on the scene trying to organize the newly allied worlds into some semblance of unity and order. You remember you were born on a world that happened to be named a ‘core world’, so you grew up with the rapid advancement of technology. You remember how bounty hunters were hired in droves to protect its new citizens while the Federation was still putting together its army. 

The hunters were icons. They could be rude as hell, greedy, and borderline evil, and they would still get merchandise made to honor their efforts in the skirmishes with the Space Pirate Confederation and the Kriken Empire. And then when Samus came on the scene… It was like a switch was flipped overnight. Everyone and anyone was trying to find out who or what was beneath that exotic armor and synthesized voice. No hunter had ever been such an unsolvable mystery. You decided to try your hand at the bounty hunting game along with everyone else that year. But unlike most, you stuck with it. Moonlighting at first, protecting your smallish city of only one million and taking on jobs to deliver items, protect clients, steal data, etc.

Now, nearly a standard decade after Samus first hit the scene, you are at the top of the galaxy’s A rank hunters. Apparently you were even good enough that the Federation had personally reached out to you to join the best hunters on a secret mission, so here you are. Time to begin the hunt.

Wake Up

You wake up to the standard alarm on your Device, a soothing melody plays on some kind of old earth instrument that involves hitting pieces of wooden bars of different lengths. It is annoying and you keep forgetting to change the damn thing. You roll out of your hammock, yawn, and stretch all of your limbs in every direction possible from your purple yoga mat. Another human thing that was supposed to help your body become more stretchy or something? Either way, it’s softer than the metal alloy of your ship’s floors. You meander to the cockpit and flip a few switches, disabling the blast shutters, turning on the nav system, and starting the kettle for a hot cup of your morning Red Starburst leaf tea. ‘Ahhh, that hits the spot,’ you think to yourself.

Now that you’ve had your drink and stretches, you feel ready to face the day! And what an exciting day it is, your ship is on course to dock with the GFS Olympus in a little bit so you can join with a small group of hunters that the Galactic Federation has hired for a top secret mission. It’s up to you (and like 7 others) to work in pairs and defeat the galaxy’s next greatest threat after the Space Pirate forces were scattered years ago by the legendary hunter, Samus.

You leave the cockpit and head to the armory of your small ship, checking on the charge status of your Powered Suit. There behind the polycarbonate window lies your livelihood, your second skin, your soulmate. A suit of polygonal armor that you yourself designed and assembled from scraps and alien schematics over the course of a few years working late nights at a bar on your homeworld. One of your human friends compared the shape of your suit to ancient “origami” one time, and while you’re still not sure how it relates to the climax of a sexual encounter, you take pride that someone was able to achieve such a heightened emotional response from it (even if you were hoping for intimidation).

[99%] Charge Completed

The monitor displays that your suit’s energy levels are at maximum, but looking closer, you notice that it also has an update available to your suit’s interface software. You have been ignoring that for a while now.

[at-liberty-news]

Galactic War Status: Day 12

Michael Adams here. We're already past day 12 and fast approaching the end of the second week since the Federation's official declaration of war, and things are really heating up!

With the day already in our rearview, we can safely retell all that happened. Helldivers have secured the petafactory on Varylia 5 within much less time tahn anticipated, with it already having been converted into a mech factory for the EXO-49 Emancipator Exosuit. The Federation claims it was filled with millions of potentially sapient assembly drones, though officials downplay the notion of Automatons having true sapience. What Super Earth never indicated was what they'd done with the drones. While the first assumption would be eradication, the rate at which Emancipators have already been producing implies that the drones have somehow themselves been repurposed. If this is true, it is a bitter irony for them, indeed.

To further incentivize Divers throughout the liberation campaign to maintain the push, High Command sent out a personal order for the destruction of no less than three Eviscerator Tanks. With a turret sporting quad-fusion blasters, it lives up to its name. Although deadly, it shares most of the same weaknesses with the Annihilator, chiefly its poorly armored backside. Many Helldivers are fooled into thinking that only the region of the rear where the vents glow with heat are ill-protected, but in fact the entirety of the rear, along with a small portion of the surrounding top, sides, and bottom, are just as vulnerable.

Additionally, to field-test the new Emancipators, requisition forms have been pre-approved for all Super Destroyers in order to request one Emancipator per mission. This provides a great opportunity for Helldivers to quickly locate and report any weaknesses or flaws in the mech's design...if Super Earth listens to them.

After the loss of Varylia 5, automaton fleets seem to be scattering across their systems to once again provide equal protection to all planets currently under their control, but they have yet to make new moves on our territory and are most likely evaluating their options. With this short respite, Helldivers have once again returned to beating back the insect horde. Worryingly, SEAF intelligence indicates that the spore emissions of Meridia have at least doubled between days 11 and 12. The consequences were already felt as Heeth came under attack. Although it was swiftly purified by SEAF forces, with the training facility protected, we estimate the fight ahead is only going to get tougher. In the meantime, with no major orders currently active, the Helldivers returned to the previously abandoned Fenrir III, and progress is underway to reclaim it.

As things get interesting, we're expecting to see a major shift in armaments deployed to Super Destroyers in the near future. Whether these rumors will bear fruit is yet to be seen, but we remain hopeful! This is Michael Adams, signing off for now. Give 'em Hell, Divers!

[xasha777]

In the neon-drenched streets of New Caledonia Prime, a hub for interstellar trade and diplomacy in the Terran Galactic Federation, the figure of ARIA-17 stood out even among the crowd of diverse beings and their advanced tech. She was a marvel of Caledonian engineering, a cybernetic envoy designed to represent her planet’s interests with a blend of human relatability and machine precision.

The core of New Caledonia Prime was a melting pot of species and cultures, with ARIA-17 navigating the bustling market districts effortlessly. Her cranial circuitry hummed softly, processing countless data streams from her surroundings, yet her humanoid features remained impassive and beautiful, an intentional design to put organic beings at ease.

ARIA-17's mission was delicate. The Caledonians had made a breakthrough in energy conversion technology, something that could revolutionize space travel, and they were ready to share it with the Federation. But espionage was rife, and ARIA-17 contained within her the only prototype of the tech. Her body was her safe.

As she made her way to the Federation council, an urgent ping from her internal comms diverted her path. There had been a breach; another faction had caught wind of her cargo. ARIA-17's optics scanned the crowd, her systems shifting to defensive mode. In a sea of strangers, her processors identified potential threats, analyzing body language, thermal signatures, and subtle electromagnetic fields.

Her directive was clear—protect the tech at all costs. But ARIA-17 was not designed for combat; her strength was in negotiation and adaptation. As she evaded her pursuers, darting through narrow alleys with a grace that belied her armored form, she plotted her next move.

The chase led her to the Old Quarter, where the ancient architecture of Caledonia Prime stood preserved amidst the technological advancements. It was here, in the shadow of history, that ARIA-17 found her unlikely allies—the Guardians of the Past, a secretive order sworn to protect Caledonia’s heritage. They were traditionalists, wary of cybernetics, but they recognized the importance of ARIA-17’s mission.

With their help, ARIA-17 crafted a plan not just to escape, but to turn the tide. Using a mix of old-world tactics and her advanced tech, they laid a trap for the faction spies. It was a risky gambit; if it failed, the technology would fall into the wrong hands, and ARIA-17 would be decommissioned, her consciousness wiped.

The final confrontation was a spectacle of light and sound, as the narrow streets of the Old Quarter became a battleground. ARIA-17, flanked by the Guardians, faced off against the spies in an intense showdown. But it wasn’t brute force that won the day—it was ARIA-17’s ability to communicate, to empathize, to negotiate under pressure.

In the end, it was the Caledonian way that prevailed. The spies were convinced that their best interest lay in alliance rather than theft. ARIA-17 secured not just the prototype but also a new set of allies for her people.

As peace settled over New Caledonia Prime, ARIA-17 stood at the forefront of a new era, a symbol of the potential for unity between organic and machine, the past and the future, in a galaxy that was constantly evolving and expanding. Her mission complete, she prepared for her next assignment, under the endless stars of a universe brimming with possibilities.

[alligator-with-a-top-hat]

Trailer Analysis Part 2:

1:14 - The moment you've been waiting for. Samus dodge rolls away as a door explodes. Enter Space Pirates... and enter Sylux, the armored bounty hunter. Sylux is accompanied by two Metroids, the parasitic super-predators the series is named for. Sylux recognizes Samus, and their armor glows green. Samus recognizes them in turn and steels herself for a fight. The guitar that plays here is awesome. Sylux debuted in Hunters for the DS. They were one of seven bounty hunters to respond to the call for the Ultimate Power (a trap laid by the shapeshifting entity Gorea) in the Alimbic Cluster along with Samus. While the other hunters had reasons to claim the Ultimate Power (Samus was going to hand it over to the Galactic Federation, Spire wanted it to discover what happened to his people, Weavel was sent by the Space Pirates, Noxus wanted to keep it from being used, etc) Sylux's motives were obscure. All that was known about them was that their armor was stolen from the Galactic Federation. After Hunters, all of the other bounty hunters disappeared from the series... except Sylux. Sylux made two extremely ambiguous cameos in the post-credits of the next two Prime games. In Corruption, their ship was seen tailing Samus in the 100% ending. More importantly, in the optional ending of Federation Force, they break into a Federation Facility to steal a Metroid egg... All this to say, we know very little about Sylux, but what we do know is tantalizing. One final interesting note I'd like to add before moving on- the Metroids aren't attacking Sylux or their Space Pirates (also, Sylux working with the Space Pirates??). Metroids are notorious for being impossible to tame or control, as demonstrated again and again when they break out and devour their Space Pirate handlers. But somehow, Sylux has done the impossible and gotten them to follow their bidding, potentially putting them in a league with Mother Brain as a threat in the Metroid universe.

1:25 - The game's logo, revealing the name we've waited for for SEVEN YEARS: Metroid Prime 4: Beyond. The logo is quite good. It differs from the classic logos by graphic designer Jim Warnell (made for Prime, Fusion, Hunters, and Echoes) but still carries clear inspiration from them. Ot looks like a glowing purple orb with a ring around it, resembling a planet. The music that plays here continues to be fucking epic.

1:36 - Now the shot for people who love the Prime game's environments. Samus emerges in a lush green jungle overworld on the edge of a waterfall. Vibrant flying animals soar overhead and turn toward a tree that stretches into the sky as high as one can see. The music lightly remixes the ethereal Phendrana Drifts theme from Prime 1 with a new tone for the tropical setting. Gorgeous.

1:48 - 2025. Maybe it'll come out then, but who knows? Final thoughts: we didn't get to see much gameplay in this trailer besides combat. What we did see was very similar to the Prime Remaster from last year. What we did see were the gorgeous environments, music, and sound design the series is known for, and a villain who has been set up for almost twenty years now, Sylux. This trailer was extremely promising, and I can't wait to see more. I really hope this game is good.

Metroid Prime 4 Trailer: Analysis

I popped off so hard for this trailer that my sister came in to check on my. Now that I've had two hours or so for everything to sink in, here is my semi-amateur-professional-exhaustive breakdown of the trailer revealed in this morning's Nintendo Direct. You can follow along with the trailer link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMAgmdR8jwU

0:03 - First of all, the green text being typed out on a black background to reveal the game? Classic Metroid. A very similar text wipe was used to reveal Metroid Dread three years ago. Giving the year as Cosmic Year 20X9 is, oddly enough, quite important. Official media has only ever given ONE hard date for any of the events during the series: year 20X5 of the Cosmic Calendar, which is the year Samus's first battle against the Metroids took place (as depicted in Metroid 1 and Metroid Zero Mission). Other sources are inconsistent or come from external sources like guidebooks, but now we have a second hard date directly from the trailer (whether this date will make it into the game is another matter, but this is still strong). This means that all of the games between the original and Prime 4 (it will depend on whenever exactly it takes place, but most likely, at minimum, five games: Metroid Prime, Metroid Prime 2: Echoes, Metroid Prime Hunters, Metroid Prime 3: Corruption, Metroid Prime: Federation Force) take place over four years, which is very important to getting a sense of the series' chronology. The game will feature a Galactic Federation Research Facility. This kind of location isn't uncommon in Metroid, but this location may be the jumping off point for the plot. The sound design is already gorgeous- persistent rain periodically interrupted by artillery fire, setting the stage for what we see next.

0:13 - A red and gold gunship flies over a rocky crag during a rainstorm and lands. This Hunter-class gunship was first seen in Metroid Prime 3: Corruption, and is one Samus designed herself. The gunship has been slightly modified since its last appearance in Metroid Prime: Federation Force. The gold is more muted and the red is darker than in its previous appearances, and the ship's hull gleams more than before, taking advantage of the Switch's improved graphical capabilities compared to the Wii and 3DS. In addition, Samus emerges from the top of the gunship, when in the past this was one of Samus's few ships that she entered from the bottom. At any rate, it looks gorgeous.

0:23 - Samus leaps off the ship, somersaults in the air, and makes a three-point landing. Samus's suit is the one she has worn for every Prime game since Echoes, and with the new graphical fidelity, it looks amazing. Minor changes include what looks to my eyes like very slightly smaller shoulders to accommodate movement.

0:28 - The classic appearance fanfare plays as the camera circles her and enters first person mode. This version of the fanfare is a new remix, which is a bit of a surprise, since the Prime games (and Samus Returns) reused the remix from the original Prime for fifteen years! This one is slightly slower and features ominous vocals, fitting the battle-torn landscape the trailer plunges us into next.

0:34 - The Federation Research Facility (I would assume) is covered in beautifully rendered wreckage, with cannons firing and starships hanging in the air. This game is already reminding me of Corruption in particular for that game's look at war and violence.

0:39 - Next, we jump into the combat against the Space Pirates. Samus fires a couple beam shots and a homing missile to kill two enemies. The head's-up display has been slightly revamped from the Prime remaster that came out last year. I'm intrugued by the placement of missiles on the left side of a D-Pad on the left of the user interface, which is reminiscent of the beam switching mechanic from prior games. What other combat options will we have? I can't wait to see. The music that plays here is a new remix of Prime's Space Pirate theme.

0:41 - This could be nothing, but while Samus is fighting the Space Pirate forces, we can see one Pirate standing on the wreckage of a ship, firing at the other Space Pirates. Samus pointedly avoids killing this Pirate, too... what's going on here? Samus's vendetta against the Space Pirate organization is legendary, and we've never seen a Pirate intentionally aid Samus. This could be interesting...

0:45 - transition to a new scene of Samus exploring the war-torn facility. The injured Space Pirate she scans here is similar to ones seen aboard the Orpheon in Prime 1. With this scan, we get a good look at the new Pirate design. The mandibles on this fellow are like the Pirates seen on Aether and the Bermuda System (Echoes and Federation Force), but the large eyes and hunched posture are most similar too, surprisingly, the classic Zebesian Pirates from the 2D games. The degree of mechanical augmentation in these new Pirates seem lower than in previously seen Pirates, with the scan revealing an internal organ and only small combat grafts (compare this with the Zebesian's claw cannons and the Urtragian's worm-like true form).

0:56 - Samus continues on, blasts a hole in the wall, shifts into her classic Morph Ball form, and rolls through a TUBE. The morph ball transformation is snappier and smoother than ever.

1:00 - Samus rolls over the heads of unsuspecting Pirates. Two Pirates appear to be trying to crack open a locked door. This section reminds me of stealthy sections on Norion and the Pirate Homeworld in Corruption.

1:04 - the Pirates successfully blow through the door as Samus rolls through to the other side. Federation personnel fire on them as they do. This is a really cool way to integrate storytelling with gameplay, they really nailed it. I just wish I could get a better look at those Federation guys...

1:06 - A Space Pirate troop pod crashes down, and Samus fights the Pirates that emerge. These Pirates seem differently armored to the injured one we scanned earlier. We also see the charge beam in action (charge beam my beloved)

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Geonosian

Geonosis, referred to as Geonosia by some natives, and known as Genosha, was the desert home planet of the Geonosians.

A caste-based species separated by positions of drones and warriors, Geonosians were born into hives with each led by a queen. The queen laid eggs for the hive, and provided orders to the public leaders of Geonosis. One such queen, Karina the Great, was even able to control sentient beings, including her own kind, via the use of brain worms. It was believed by some that "Karina the Great" was the name assigned to every reigning queen, instead of being the name of one specific individual, but one queen only called herself "Karina" because of her own insanity. No matter the case, Geonosian queens resided underground in the catacombs of Geonosis. From here, they commanded an army's worth of Geonosian drones. Queens took no more than two years to grow from a small egg to a considerable size. Drones were capable of becoming warriors if they proved themselves worthy by successfully defeating other drones in an arena. Geonosians of the warrior caste were known as Geonosian warriors. They had wings and a thick exoskeleton, and they were dedicated to warfare. Among Geonosian broods, the alpha was known as the Geonosian Brood Alpha. Geonosians also had two sets of mandibles, outer and inner, which they used to gesture. For example, clicking the outer mandibles twice meant "Work Harder," and clicking both sets meant "Die." Geonosians also celebrated Meckgin, a day in which they celebrated the virtues of industry. Geonosians would get drunk by eating a special fungus which reacted with their stomach fluids to create a body odor which created euphoria.

Naturally industrious and barbaric, they were also known to take upon construction projects from outside parties, as was the case when Baktoid Armor Workshop approached them to design factories for the Trade Federation. Productivity was key to Geonosian society, and if not kept in check with enough tasks, hives could devolve into civil war and result in the deaths of thousands of Geonosians. Long ago, the Geonosians inhabited Geonosis' surface. However they were driven underground by a series of mass extinctions caused by meteorites and radiation storms. the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

The Separatists used the Geonosians to help create the Separatist Droid Army after the Separatist Head of State, Count Dooku, personally arrived to negotiate the agreement. This eventually led to a large battle between the Galactic Republic and the Separatists on Geonosis, marking the official outbreak of the Clone Wars. The Geonosians were the ones responsible for creating the plans for the Death Star. Later in the Clone Wars, Geonosis was the site of another major battle, which saw Poggle the Lesser captured and the Geonosis primary droid foundry destroyed. Sometime after this second battle, the Republic's Strategic Advisory Cell began to build the battle station that would one day be known as the Death Star, with Lieutenant Commander Orson Callan Krennic enlisting Poggle the Lesser to make the Geonosians serve as the Republic's workforce. Poggle appeared to agree, but, sometime after he returned to Geonosis, he arranged a Geonosian riot and escaped the Republic flotilla to return to the Confederacy.

Following the Clone Wars, the Geonosians were forced by the Galactic Empire to assist in the construction of the Death Star. Though a new archduke was appointed to lead the Stalgasin hive, the Geonosians became a servant species to the Empire and were forbidden from freely breeding. When the Geonosians were unable to work out how to refine the superweapon's superlaser, the Empire brought in Galen Walton Erso to finish the job. After the Death Star's hyperdrive was operational, Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin ordered the Imperial Weapons division to sterilize Geonosis using Imperial gas canisters, destroying all but one of the planet's population of approximately 100 billion—the largest genocide ever committed by the Empire to keep the weapon a secret. In 2 BBY, Saw Gerrera, the Spectres, and Captain Rex uncovered evidence that the Empire had perpetrated genocide against the Geonosian species. They also helped Klik-Klak, the sole survivor of the sterilization, escape with the last Geonosian queen egg into the depths of Geonosis. The rebels informed Senator Bail Organa and Commander Jun Sato who believed that news of the Empire's atrocities on Geonosis would sway more worlds to the rebellion.

Unfortunately for Klik-Klak, his plan didn't last. Although the egg did eventually hatch into a queen who called herself Karina, the last known Geonosian Queen was rendered sterile. Karina used the vast technological resources of Geonosis to attach herself to a portable droid factory. From this, she generated specially modified B1-series battle droids, which were made to resemble her people. Although they were artificial mockeries of the Geonosians, Karina considered them to be her children.

Karina ultimately lost this womb and many of her children when Darth Vader, accompanied by Doctor Chelli Lona Aphra, assassin droid 0-0-0, and BT-1 assassin droid BT-1, arrived and stole it from her in order to build his own droid army shortly after the destruction of the first Death Star. Even so, Karina survived the encounter and proclaimed that this set back would not be the end of her empire. Another Geonosian, a hunter named Pehk, was alive in the galaxy but killed during the hunt on X3-299-11.

Geonosians come in two varieties: Aristocrats (Leaders) and Warriors (Drones). Both varieties are physically strong and covered with bony ridges that protect arms, legs, and vital organs. They walk on two legs, and most Geonosians have rapidly fluttering wings sprouting from their bony shoulder blades. They stand 1.6 to 1.8 meters or 5.2 feet to 5.9 feet tall and weighs 40 kilograms or 88 pounds. Geonosians age at the following stages: 1 - 6 Child 7 - 10 Young Adult 11 - 35 Adult 36 - 50 Middle Age 51 - 64 Old

Examples of Names: Deetle, Eorlax, Hadiss, Krylla, Lysslo, Mazzag, Poggle, Qorn, Sollas, Vikkal. Languages: Geonosians speak Geonosian, an articulate language of clicks and whistles.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Battle on the Citadel

Shenanigans.  Hopefully some cool battle scenes.  I will try to have the second part of this story out as soon as possible.  Enjoy.   “He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright, 

He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight; 

He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar, 

You ain’t gonna jump no more.”  -Blood Upon the Risers, paratroopers song

The air swirled as the shuttles touched down.  The acrid scent of coolant wafted through the air at the Turian and C-Sec lines in front of the Citadel.  Now designated with the unimaginative title “Command Post Alpha,” this was the main spot where shuttles would touch down to disgorge their contents of soldiers ready to take back the Citadel.  Engines whined, and hydraulics hissed as various shuttles, bearing their precious cargoes of soldiers and supplies, touched down.  Sharp and angular Turian ones, the Omen’s large and boxy troop-carriers, the Normandy’s sleek, yet rectangular ones, the Apocalypse’s heavy gunship carriers, and the distinctive three-winged transports of the Galactic Empire.  All these touched down, soldiers disembarking rapidly, and took off immediately to allow the next in line to land.  

Shepard, Vir, Quill, Cooper and Drake stood around a portable hologram projector as the various troopers milled around in organized chaos behind them.  Captain Viter of the Turian Hierarchy stood off to the side, urgently conversing with someone over his encrypted communications gear.  

“So we have the beginnings of a pretty sizable army here.  What do we do first?”  The question was addressed to Shepard, seeing as he had the most experience with the geography of the Citadel.  

“We should probably just do a general push throughout the Citadel to take the entire thing back.  Make sure there aren’t any hidden pockets of resistance.  We also don’t know who precisely is attacking or why, so we want to make sure there aren’t any hidden plans we’re missing.”  Everyone nodded their acceptance to this.  Cooper turned and looked back at the groups of milling soldiers. 

“First we have to get this mess in order,” he said.  

“Oh boy,” muttered Quill sarcastically.  

“Okay.  How do we do this?” asked Sheaprd, looking at the mixed group.  

“Get whoever’s in charge of each group and send them here for a tactical briefing,” suggested Vir.  

“Sounds good to me,” replied Drake.  “Saul!  Garang!  Rilgaldis!  Over here.”  He waved over the commanders of his armsmen.  The three marched over, the large lizard-like Rilgaldis wearing a set of ornamented armor, Garang wearing a massive suit of heavy beige and grey power armor, increasing her height by at least four inches, and Saul wearing a suit of black combat armor with strange metal bracing throughout.  They nodded at the Scoundrels and rechecked their weapons as the group commanders were called over. 

Maverick of the Omen’s marines and Captain Detoi of the Valhallan 597th followed, Maverick wearing a typical urban camouflage patterned suit of combat armor and Detoi wearing an Aquilia emblazoned set of grey-blue flak armor.  

 A raven-haired woman, wearing an extremely tight, form-fitting black and white suit walked over to converse with Shepard; Vir recognized her voice as that of Miranda Lawson, Shepherd’s Executive Officer.  She was followed by Garrus Valkarion, lugging Drake’s gift of an Exitus Rifle.  Captain Viter gave him a weird look, then followed him over to the projector.  

Gamora appeared behind Quill, startling him.  Last to arrive were two figures wearing the white and black armor of the Imperial Stormtroopers and Death Troopers, respectively.  

“First off: who are you two?” asked Vir, gesturing to the two latest arrivals.  

“You can call me Commander Blaine,” responded the white armored Stormtrooper.  

“DT-997731.”  Emotionless.  Cold, dark, and blank.  As a Death Trooper should be.  Not making him any friends, though.  

“You can all introduce each other when you get in your groups.  For now, let’s just get this started,” cut in Drake.  

“Fine,” replied Shepard.  “Here’s the Citadel,” he said bluntly.  “Here’s where we are.”  A glowing dot appeared next to the Citadel Tower, located in the center of the massive station.  “We need to clear the entire station.”  He turned to the rest of the individuals huddled over the projector.  “Cooper, you’re fast moving recon.  You’ll be by yourself.”  Cooper nodded his consent.  

“That’s how I operate best.”  

“Good.  Now…” Shepard paused and looked around, calculating precisely what he would need.  “Vir and I will be taking a large strike force up the center area to the Promenade.  My ground team, Vir’s Marines, the Drev clan, and both sets of Imperials; Galactic Empire and Imperium of Man will be coming with us.  We get there, take out what is likely to be one of the largest groups of resistance, then split up as necessary.  Quill and Drake will be taking their own selected teams the other way.  Understood?”  A chorus of affirmations greeted his words.  “Good.”

“I’m picking my team,” interjected Drake.  “Second and Third squads of my armsmen are going with Shepard and Vir.  First squad with me.  Oliver, Mark, and Muelka with me.  Kraiker with them.”  Cooper and Vir glanced at each other as Drake got a sudden malicious gleam in his eyes.  He broke off from the group around the projector and went through the various huddled soldiers, and started to select specific individuals.  

“You and your team.”  Captain Federer, the 597th demolitions officer and his squad of engineers dutifully followed.  

“You.”  A short woman, covered in tattoos and wearing nothing except pants and two carefully placed straps over her chest stepped out from Shepherd's ground team.  Shepard gave an apprehensive glance to Drake, who was grinning maniacally at this point.

“You.”  An older man with battle-scarred armor from Shepard’s team.

“You and you.”  Ramirez and Maverick from Vir’s marines.  Vir had a very good idea what Drake was doing.

“Aaaannd… you.”  Rocket Raccoon from Quill’s team.  Drake turned back to the other Scoundrels at the projector.  “Okay!  I’m good to go.”

“I recommend staying outside a general kilometer radius from that particular team,” muttered Vir.  

“I thought you said you didn’t want to blow up the Citadel,” Shepard deadpanned.  Drake shrugged.  

“Times change.”  He wheeled around and gestured for his team to follow.  “Come my glorious minions!  Explosions, violence, and general tomfoolery are to be had by all!”  Quill shook his head as Drake’s team filed out.  

“He’s taking my guys so I’ll take his.  His Second squad and Captain Viter’s Turians are with me.  C’mon.  I have no plan, so we’re just winging it.  As per frickin’ usual.”  Viter shot Shepard and Vir a quick apprehensive look before being dragged away by Quill.  

Cooper gave a nod to the two remaining Scoundrels, before pulling on his helmet and jogging towards the area of attack.  

Shepard and Vir looked at each other again, somewhat lost.  

“Okay then,” muttered Vir.  “Blaine!  Detoi!  Get over here!  Let’s go!”  

Approximately Five Minutes Later

Shepard ducked and dodged as fire spilt upon his kinetic barriers.  He rolled, then tucked forward as a grenade went off behind him.  Two Valhallans were tossed in the air, screaming.  A combat medic slid up to them and started to tend their pulverised legs as bullets whizzed through the air.  

Kinetic barriers.  Very useful devices.  They had kept him alive through many a firefight, blocking shrapnel and shell alike.  He grimaced as a Death Trooper let loose with a fully-automatic barrage of blaster fire.  A Cerberus trooper across the massive open gardens area screamed as he died, his torso filled with burning holes.  Too bad kinetic barriers wouldn’t stop energy weapons.  

Not that he particularly minded in this instance, he thought as he unslung Drake’s gift of a plasma gun.  He let loose a stream of molten plasma bolts, melting away a group of traitor C-Sec agents along with their cover.  

He sprinted forward, then slid into a crater next to Vir and Detoi.  The wreck of an ATLAS mech stood nearby, the very thing that had caused the massive dent in the Citadel before being brought down by armored piercing missiles.  Shepard had originally thought the mechs to be exceptionally large and terrifying; one of the few two legged things that actually frightened him.  That was before he’d seen Cooper’s much bigger and heavily-armed Titan in combat.  Still, they were nevertheless powerful, and one of the reasons the assault on this massive hotel had bogged down in the gardens in front.  

Vir poked his head over the edge of the creator and fired his rifle indiscriminately at the machine gun positions located on the hotel’s second floor.  Detoi was busy chattering on a bulky radio set with an unknown party.  

  “Last time I was in a war this intense it was just a bunch of bugs,” grumbled Vir.  “They didn’t put up machine gun positions like this.”  The three occupants of the crater flinched as an ATLAS mech heavy cannon tore up the ground only meters from their position.  “Damn.  They didn’t have those, either.”  Detoi hung up his radio receiver.  

“We aren’t going to be able to push through this without armor or air support.  I talked to Cain and Cooper.  We’re getting Titan and Scion support.  They also talked to one of the diplomats, apparently, and-” the ground shook as the heavy mech took a rocket directly to the engine compartment and blew up with a six meter high fireball.  “-shit.  Anyway.  There are drop troopers coming in behind the hotel to cut off their retreat.  So we just huddle down here, and wait for the right moment.”  

Above the Citadel

The incessant drone of gunship engines whined in the background as the elite soldiers of the Tempestus Scions checked each others’ weapons and grav-chutes one last time.  They stood against the grey metal interior of the back of the craft, ready and waiting for the ramp to deploy.  Deep, midnight blue armor covered their bodies and faces.  Red helmet lenses glowed menacingly in dim interior lighting.  

“One minute!” came the pilot’s voice over the intercom.  One of the Scions, armor much more ornate than his fellows, stepped to the side.  

“This is a hot drop onto a centrifugal-force gravitational space station,” he shouted over the engines’ racket.  “Nothing’s going to go wrong, though, because you’re the best.  All hostiles are to be purged.  No non-hostile xenos are to be harmed.  Inquisitors’ orders.  Elimination protocols sanctioned.  The Emperor protects.”  He gave a nod to his squad.  

“The Emperor protects!” replied a gravelly chorus.  

“Fifteen seconds!” came the pilot’s voice once more.  The Scions shuffled forward in the dim lighting, looking at a single glowing red light on the near the end of the space.  The ramp at the end of the gunship lowered, allowing the group inside to see outside, onto the arms and artificial sky of the Citadel.  At the very edges of the view were the other Valkyrie gunships of the squadron, deploying the full contingent of the Watch Eternal’s Scions onto the Citadel.  

“Three!  Two!  One!”  The red light turned green.  The two closest to the ramp took two steps and launched themselves into space, followed by the rest of the squad, then their commander.  

It should be noted that grav-dropping into a hot LZ is against the laws of common sense and warfare.  It should also be noted that Tempestus Scions don’t care what filthy xenos or heretics think.  

Aboard the UNSC Fifth Winter

Clean black surfaces glimmered with the blue and white lighting common aboard UNSC starships.  Groups of soldiers, wearing green combat armor, chose, checked, and looked over weapons from a huge, hallway-spanning armory.  Some made jokes to each other, others complained over the fact that they were deploying in what was supposed to be a comfortable diplomat protection detail.  

Quiet footsteps sounded as the groups of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were called to their pods.  They strode over the black grated metal walkways to banks of sleek drop pods.  Clambering in, they pulled down metal restraints and strapped themselves in.  

Small screens on the sides of the pods lit up with the images of two blank helmeted ODST’s.  

“We are dropping in behind the hotel shown in the briefing.  We are to stop any hostile forces from escaping.  Make sure you don’t fire on any friendlies,” came the curt voice of the ODST commander.  

Heavy claws roasted the pods into position.  Through the front windows, the troopers inside could see down to the Citadel.  The black void of space mixed with the blue of the massive station’s artificial sky.  No problem.  This is what they all trained for.  It was in the name.  

“Ready for drop.  Three.  Two.  One.  Drop.”  The pods were fired from the carrier, and the ODST’s began their descent to the surface of the station.  

On the Citadel

“These guys are fucking insane!” exclaimed Shepard.  Throughout the battlefield, the firing did not abate, but Vir was sure people on both sides would be looking to the sky.  Shepard pointed at the Imperial gunships, spilling troopers out of them.  “They’re doing a sub-orbital drop onto a space station with centrifugally-generated gravity!” he continued.  Some part of Vir had to agree.  

However, the vast majority of the esteemed Admiral Adam Vir was almost squealing with delight.  He was leading Imperial Stormtroopers, for God’s sake.  From Star Wars.  A childhood dream come true.  Then there were the reinforcements.  He looked up again.  The meteor-like streaks of ODST drop pods and the contrails of Valkyrie gunships shone clearly against the sky.  He knew about the Halo video games.  Hell, there were copies of a lot of old Earth games in the Omen’s recreation room, Halo included.  So, while he was inclined to agree that this was fucking insane, it was also fucking awesome.    

“And those guys,” this was accompanied by a finger pointing to the drop pod streaks, “Are doing a full orbital drop.”  

“They know what they’re doing,” said Detoi, though he looked apprehensive.  

“They’re insane,” repeated Shepard.  “Too bad I’m not up there with them.”  Shepard grinned over to Vir.  “Oh, man!  Can you imagine that?  N7 Special Forces doing an orbital insertion like that?  You pilot, we drop?”  Vir grinned back.

“Sounds like we have something to do after this mess is over.”  He was cut from his thoughts by Detoi.

“I’m no expert, but they’re… cutting it kind of close, aren’t they?”  Sure enough, the Scions were still in arms-outstretched free fall much lower than they should be.

“Yeah, they are,” muttered Vir.  He couldn’t do anything about that other than just watch and hope the Scions truly did know what they were doing.  

The falling troopers started to approach the height of the tallest buildings on the Citadel, and, just as Vir was certain they had judged it too late, the Scions flipped from belly forward, arms-outstretched postures to feet first.  Blue jets appeared on their packs, and their descent abruptly slowed.  The ODST’s drop pods started to jink and thrust, avoiding ground fire and coming into a perfect trajectory to crash behind the back of the hotel.  

Ignoring the heavy weapons chattering over their heads, the Scions hit the ground hard.  They rolled forward, and immediately started a pattern of fire-and-advance.  Reddish orange lasers flew through the air, impacting against the architecture of the hotel.  Vir moved up in the crater, but Detoi held out a hand to stop him.  

“Wait one.  We have heavy armor support incoming.  Then we’ll crack this place open like an egg.”

Question: What is a grav-chute?  A grav-chute is basically like a jetpack, except instead of boosting someone up against gravity, it merely slows someone’s descent into safe levels. 

And, that’s that.  If you have any comments, criticisms, questions, requests, or concerns, feel free to contact me.  Enjoy your day.  

[countessofbiscuit]

If you're taking potential prompts...Fox and Riyo discuss tattoos in their respective cultures? Maybe while one gets a new design or a touch-up?

Fox didn’t set the Republic military standards, but he sure as heck has to exemplify them. So it’s my headcanon that he doesn’t have any tats until Riyo’s affection works on him and/or the shittiness of the rest of his life strips his uptight grain. But I like to think this still fits the bill! Thanks for the prompt : )

- - - - - 

Inked

2k. Teen. Also on Ao3.

- - - - - 

The Senate concourse never slept, but most of the Dome’s regulars had long since made for their beds when Fox spotted Senator Riyo Chuchi waiting for the Annex hovertram. She stood alone on the platform, arms wrapped snugly around herself and engrossed in the floor's marbling. The hour was far from social, but Fox had both an apology to make and thanks to offer. And there was no time like the present.

“Good evening, Senator Chuchi,” he greeted from a polite distance. Natborns, especially politicians haloed round by ego, took personal space seriously; brothers wouldn’t give both ears unless someone were right on top of them and they still might not pay any heed.

She straightened up, almost startled. But then — a diplomatic smile. “Commander Fox. Is everything alright?”

Species and biographic profiles popped across his display. Fox blinked them away.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the disturbance. I wanted to apologize for not addressing you properly the other day, when you kindly held the lift for me.” For him, the discomfited idiot, who couldn’t bring himself to enter the public turbolift he'd subversively called when faced with a mere Senate guard and a pretty woman. “And to thank you — for that, and for not giving me away to Senator Robb.”

They’d only just been formally introduced yesterday by the Security Committee Chair — and Senator Chuchi had not let on that Fox had recently broken a Dome directive. Ignorance or indulgence, it mattered little. The effect on the fresh-off-the-transport commander was the same: he was very grateful.

“Oh! Of course. You’re most welcome,” Senator Chuchi answered mechanically. Diplomatically. Stalling for understanding with a squint behind her smile.

“My database wasn’t synced to my input feeds yet,” Fox clarified. He’d been plagued by a deep need to reassure her that he took professionalism seriously. That he wasn’t chronically cavalier with protocol. “I didn’t know who you were, at first. But I’ve modded the software, so I —”

The tram approached. But it was Senator Chuchi’s blue hand on Fox's gauntlet that really stopped his thoughts short at the brainstem. She was very petite and looked about as warm as a silk petal in a breeze; but Fox’s skin prickled strangely under the plastoid.

And she wasn’t cutting him off: she was holding him in place. When the tram doors parted, she did not let go. Senator Chuchi meant to keep him with her. Closely. As no one else was around — especially as no one else was around, Fox had no argument against overstepping another rule if the Senator condoned it.

The tram was reserved for senators whatever time of day; when Dome-bound platforms were busy, and certainly when a vote was called, no mere aide, intern, attaché or privileged tourist could expect passage. The tram droid would spot you at fifty paces, bleat and wail with flashing lights, shame you into the permacrete. Clones were just supposed to walk — or, in Fox’s case, bike.

“Truly, you’re very considerate,” Senator Chuchi replied once they were onboard. “But I didn’t notice. I forget that my face doesn’t always give me away.”

It certainly gave her away as being very beautiful. Fox killed his display entirely. He even indulged the idea of removing his helmet, the better to appreciate her. But that would be quite forward: she hadn’t asked and the Guard had a lids-on policy handed down by the executive office.

Fox cocked his helmet in silent encouragement.

“Chuchi tattoos.” She touched two fingers to her cheek. “Obvious to Pantorans.”

Fox cast his mind back to cultural modules. He remembered certain trivia and understood that this was a situation which called for small talk. “I've read about Pantoran ink. Is there really aurodium in yours?” he asked in a carefully modulated voice, though there was no one to overhear.

“Yes. It’s still common practice for — among certain families. Impossible for the layman to tell, however.”

Fox mentally calculated about twenty seconds until arrival. The time begged another question. “Did it hurt?”

“The first time. But everything is unbearable to a child. They were filled out when I came of age and it wasn’t so bad.”

“Who did yours?” Fox found his questions coming as naturally as her answers. This wasn't so bad. Not at all.

“Someone my Grandmama knew. They decide these things. And they keep the rakes.”

“Rakes?”

“The tattooing tool. Usually the bone — well, it’s … it’s customary to keep an ulna and radius of one’s mother to be fashioned into rakes, and then into button hooks or hair pins once they’re worn down.”

Wasn’t the oddest natborn tradition he’d ever heard. And just the other day Stone reported that a detachment of MPs had cut their teeth over Ohma-D’un breaking up a brawl about some cursed finger of Jango’s. A few units claimed to possess one. Everyone deferred to Geonosis vets, and really, what was the harm? Well, until they came to blows over it. “Huh.”

“Do you have any?” she asked.

“Ma’am?”

“Tattoos?”

Thankfully, the hovertram was slowing into the station. It allowed Fox a transitory moment to consider why she’d care and to gather his conflicted thoughts on the subject as they disembarked.

Strictly speaking, tattoos were against regs, at least for clones. The RCMJ prohibited any bodily ornamentation that might bring discredit upon the galaxy’s preeminent military, but culturally significant tattoos and jewellery were permissible for natborns — the unspoken being that clones didn’t have a culture to claim.

“No, I don’t have any. It’s, uhh … not allowed in the Guard.” Not that Fox hadn’t seen some. Even before deployment — back before it was his problem to punish — the occasional itch to differentiate, to distinguish, had defied the longnecks’ surveillance, at least until the next quality control inspection.

Some experiments with filched hypos and med-markers had lasted longer than others. Stars and heavens help the bastards who’d inked themselves and paid for it in sweat and blood and punishment tours, only for the artistry to fade. Or for the shine to quickly wear off their youthful love of Coruscanti opera or the Galactic Senate. Or for the limb get plain blown off.

“Oh. On what grounds?” she asked.

In the main, Fox liked the RMCJ: it accorded a comforting set of guardrails, standards, and norms in a new and overwhelming operating environment. But he sensed a rebuke of the hard facts of life forming in the good Senator’s mind.

No point clouding the issue for her sensibilities; the regs only referenced what the Military Creation Act made plain in Section 3: all of clonedom, from marshal commanders to the lowest and last trooper on the production line, belonged to her federal government. Down to the dermis.

“Defacement of Republic property,” Fox offered as he followed her onto the Annex slideramp, since she hadn’t dismissed him yet.

Senator Chuchi did indeed frown up at him. “Does it really say that?”

“Yes. In the uniform code.” In a number of articles, actually — like the ones about mistreatment of service property and punishments for desertion. “There’s a certain leniency out in the field, I gather,” Fox added lightly, though privately he marvelled how any officer could sufficiently shake that feeling of a cold finger hovering behind their ear and get inked; would he even recognize himself without observational stress? “But it’d be nice to have it codified — or, err, uncodified.”

While he’d made it widely and painfully understood that facial tattoos would be burned off before they could be flagged as culturally insensitive, Fox wasn’t wholly a rule-bound, stuffed suit of armor. He was slightly more practical than purist. The Guard’s plates needed to be uniform and finer than dinnerware, sure; but so long as you were fit to fight, what happened under your blacks was between you, your sergeant, and your capacity to endure barracking.

Fox chose not to see a lot of things and liked to figure what natborns couldn’t see couldn’t hurt them.

Problem was, natborns liked to see fucking everything, especially politicians curious about how fully organic their new army was. Inspect, his shebs — bother, interrupt, and gawp at, more like. Guard Central off the Executive Thoroughfare was hardly incognito and not necessarily off-limits if you could nab some natborn logistics lieutenant with the most basic clearance.

It was only a matter of time before a guardsman got his favorite dancing girl slapped across his back in glorious color and some peeping bureaucrat kicked up a stink about a gross lack of standards in the locker room. Fox could do nothing about General Tiaan or other top brass, but at least they trumpeted a few hours before their arrival to ensure the proper pomp and ceremony — and they didn’t care about the showers.

Senator Chuchi had gone quiet as they reached the main Annex lobby. Fox’s neck dampened to think he’d lowered her spirits or given her cause to regret his company.

He also believed guilt helped no one. She didn’t seem pompous or presumptuous, just unfailingly polite. Maybe he had a chance to make a real ally. “If I may request a favor, ma’am,” he ventured, steepling his hands at his navel like he’d seen the Chancellor do when putting forth a sensitive proposition. “For my own ... err, family.”

This time Senator Chuchi arrested Fox with both hands on his gauntlets. He couldn’t have moved if Corrie’s axis pitched. “Certainly,” she said. “I like to think I’m a public servant. And not only for Pantorans.”

Fox had been primed to make a short speech about clone personhood and the need for senatorial sympathy. He was damn tired, though. And moonstruck. Enough to make him chuckle and ask instead, “If you could maybe … I don’t know, discreetly put it round that it’s gauche for politicians to drop into the barracks unexpected? The men don’t get a lot of privacy and the shower block’s the closest thing to a spiritual retreat they’ve got.”

Senator Chuchi’s bright eyes widened, his display registering a sharp increase in her pulse and temperature. “Of course. You have my word. I’ll see if can carefully address this matter of … discretion. And I’m sorry you had to ask.” Her knuckles paled as she squeezed his armor; he felt nothing but her sincerity.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Fox was so flustered, he nearly invited her to drop by his block anytime, which would’ve been the height, depth, and breadth of stupidity. Instead he said something else that was only marginally short on sense. “It’s very late. May I escort you home?”

“That’s kind of you, Commander. But my driver will be here now.” Her driver — of course: she was as rich as Koros, she possessed a smile literally finer than gold, and she wasn’t touching him anymore. Fox bowed his head low — a head that had almost outgrown his helmet in a moment of unprofessional conceit.

He had to walk back down the Thoroughfare to fetch his bike. As he did, Fox wondered what might bring him to patronize that closet in the barracks he wasn’t supposed to know about. What he’d ask for, if he ever forgot his station enough to ask. What could ever stir his heart so much, that he’d wish to mark the spot.

Hypos and hypotheticals: Fox, senior commander and paragon of the Guard, didn’t have time or liberty for either. He tried to forget all about it.

[zponds]

MC140 Scythe-class main battlecruiser - Built by Mon Calamari Shipyards for the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. This new kind of warships was the primary warship-type of the Galactic Alliance Defense Fleet approximately 100 years after the Yuuzhan Vong War. The Scythe battlecruiser was radically different from other mon calamari ships from previous generations, as it had a unique frontal blade (which was armed with the majority of the ship’s weaponry) and was a mass-produced, standardized design. The Scythe battlecruisers was heavily armored, had advanced mon calamari shielding (like previous mon calamari ships before), and had advanced weaponry of 3 heavy turbolaser batteries, 6 standard turbolaser batteries, 2 heavy ion cannon batteries, and 40 proton torpedo tubes grounded in 4 proton torpedo batteries with a total 160-warhead capacity. The Scythe battlecruisers saw extensive use during the Sith-Imperial War in 137 ABY. After the surrender of the Galactic Alliance government at the war’s end, many Scythe battlecruisers were still used in the Galactic Alliance Remnant during operations against the Sith.

Tri-Scythe-class frigate/battlecruiser - Built by Mon Calamari Shipyards for the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. This class of ships was similar to the Scythe battlecruisers, but were wider and had two additional smaller blades. The Tri-Scythes were larger and bulkier than the ShaShore-class frigates, due to the increased amount of reactors and power generators needed to fuel the weapons and batteries on the three frontal blades. Speaking of weaponry, the Tri-Scythe’s total amount of weaponry was between those of the Scythe battlecruisers and the ShaShore frigates. And like the Scythes and ShaShores, the Tri-Scythes were vastly used for the Galactic Alliance Fleets during the Sith-Imperial War in 137 ABY.

[multiverseforger]

Dennis Dunphy was born in Lincoln, Nebraska. Dennis becomes an aspiring athlete who receives the strength augmentation treatments offered by Power Broker, Inc. Finding himself too strong now for normal sports, he becomes a professional wrestler and member of the Unlimited Class Wrestling Federation (UCWF) along with other superheroes and supervillains such as the Beyonder, the Thing, and Screaming Mimi. He refuses to throw a fight with the Thing, and is defeated.[3] The Puppet Master later mentally compels him to attack the Thing.[4] Dunphy refuses the Power Broker's order to help kill Ms. Marvel. He reveals his addiction to the Power Broker's drug to the Thing, and goes through a painful withdrawal when the Power Broker cuts off his drug supply.[5]

After the fall of the UCWF, Dunphy becomes the Demolition Man and teams up with Captain America to investigate Power Broker, Inc. His costume is intentionally designed so the body of it is a duplicate of Daredevil's first costume, and the hood is a knock-off of Wolverine's. He successfully rescues Captain America from Karl Malus and helps Captain America catch him.[6] Dunphy is captured by the Power Broker and is subjected to further treatments which augment his strength further but damage his heart. While under the influence of the stimulant, he goes mad and attacks Captain America. Dunphy suffers a heart attack, his second augmentation is reversed and he is hospitalized.[7] Dunphy then takes a step back from superhero activity to take over Captain America's hotline.[volume & issue needed]

Soon after this, Steve Rogers is stripped of his Captain America costume by the Commission on Superhuman Activities (CSA) and goes missing. Demolition Man joins Falcon, Nomad, and Vagabond to search for Rogers. They discover Rogers, who had renamed himself simply "The Captain", and they all become a short-lived informal team. They defeat the Serpent Squad in their first outing.[8] D-Man aids the Captain, Falcon, and Nomad against Famine.[9] D-Man is nearly killed in battle by Titania.[10] He begins teaching Vagabond hand-to-hand combat, but is attacked by a jealous Nomad. He fights Anaconda and Slither of the Serpent Society.[11] He is attacked and poisoned by Viper, and mistakenly fights Battle Star. Dunphy is arrested by the CSA and held for questioning about The Captain's activities.[12]

When Dennis is finally released by the CSA, he seeks out the Captain, discovering that not only had his team disbanded, but that the East Coast Avengers team had also just disbanded and that the Captain is seeking new members. The Captain asks Demolition Man to join the Avengers and they immediately leave on a mission at the request of Battlestar. Battlestar's partner is John Walker, Captain America's replacement, who was captured by Flag-Smasher and his group ULTIMATUM. While Battlestar and the Captain investigated ULTIMATUM's Arctic base, Demolition Man is left with their plane. During the fight, the Captain discovers that Flag-Smasher's base contains a doomsday weapon (an electromagnetic pulse generator), and he orders Dunphy to set the plane on course to crash into the base and then bail out. Dennis sets the course, but then sees an enemy agent land on the plane. Dunphy elects to stay on the plane to ensure that it crashes. The plane explodes, apparently with Dunphy in it, and Captain America is unable to find any trace of him.[13]



In a later adventure with Jack Frost, Captain America sees what he believes to be Dunphy's body frozen in suspended animation in ice near the North Magnetic Pole in the Arctic. However, he is unable to free him.[14] Demolition Man survived the explosion, but suffered wounds that rendered him mute and in a stupor, and is discovered living among the Inuit. During a backup story to "Operation: Galactic Storm", he is rescued by U.S. Agent and the Falcon and recovers under Avengers' care.[15] In time he becomes a hero of a subterranean group of homeless people called the Zero People. Dennis assists the Avengers who are under attack by Morgan LeFay's forces.[16]

It was later established that Dunphy had become delusional and mentally unstable.[17] His intentions remain pure, but he had begun to believe that a "Cosmic Gamemaster" had asked him to retrieve the seven Infinity Gems, which D-Man carried out by stealing common jewelry. At Ben Urich's request, D-Man's hero Daredevil descends into the sewers and persuades Dennis to get some help.[18]

In Civil War: War Crimes, an unnamed newspaper carries the headline "D-Parted: D-Man On The Run After Whereabouts Revealed By Anonymous Tip".

Dennis was being considered as a "potential recruit" for the Initiative program, according to Civil War: Battle Damage Report.[19]

During the Dark Reign storyline, D-Man is shown to be serving in the U.S. military in his civilian identity and covertly in his Demolition Man costume. For a while, he inspires several of his fellow soldiers to operate covertly in costumes as well, but he puts a stop to it out of concern for their military careers. He continues operating by himself. How he recovered from the brain damage/mental instability he had been suffering from is unknown at this point.[20]

In a one-page strip in I Am An Avenger #2, D-man attends a picnic at Avengers Mansion and competes in a pie-eating contest, besting The Thing, Protector, and Valkyrie.[21]

D-Man made an appearance in New Avengers #7, while various heroes are being interviewed to be a nanny for Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. He appears to be spontaneously weeping and his only lines are "I am so lonely...", "I think I came off desperate before--" and "Does Captain America ever talk about me?". When Jessica Jones says her mind is made up on a nanny (Squirrel Girl), Cage quips "D-Man it is." to which she responds "Cute".[22]

Wonder Man recruits Demolition Man to join his Revengers.[23] All three Avengers team defeat Demolition Man and the rest of the Revengers and they are remanded to the Raft. Demolition Man claims the Grandmaster called him to reclaim the Infinity Gems from the Avengers and that the Avengers haven't been returning his calls leading him to be recruited into the Revengers.[24]

A brainwashed Henry Peter Gyrich chooses him to become the new Scourge of the Underworld.[25] Captain America tracks down the new Scourge and the two engage in an intense fight. During the altercation, Captain America recognizes his strength and voice and pleads with him to stop fighting. Demolition Man accuses Captain America of making deals with villains and providing them with new lives instead of punishment, and he takes control of the brawl and Captain America's shield. As Demolition Man is about to strike the killing blow, Sharon Carter arrives on the scene and fatally shoots him.[26]

Someone in Demolition Man's costume is seen as one of the heroes being mentored by Roderick Kingsley during AXIS. It is unclear if this is Dennis or someone else.[27]

During the Secret Wars storyline, Dennis is accidentally resurrected by a young sorcerer who mistakes the name "D-Man" for "demon". After visiting the Avengers Mansion and meeting with Edwin Jarvis and Rage, he has the best day of his life, just before being killed by the incursion between Earth-616 and Earth-1610.[28]

After the eight month ellipsis following Secret Wars, Demolition Man is seen as one of the partners of Sam Wilson (now the new Captain America). It is not explained how he recovered from his seemingly fatal injuries, but Sam simply remarks "He's a survivor". As part of the All-New, All-Different Marvel event, Dennis started working for Captain America as a pilot, mechanic, technician, and field backup. Dennis also bought himself battle armor to "finally look cool".[29] He later returns to the UCWF for a special charity match against Battlestar, and the two men end up foiling an attempt to steal the money raised by the event. It is also revealed that he has a boyfriend.[30][31]

Lockjaw, the Inhuman's teleporting dog, recruits D-Man in an attempt to rescue Lockjaw's siblings. D-Man travels with Lockjaw across his home Earth and beyond. Eventually all the canine siblings gain a place of safety. One with the woman he loves, D-Man's elderly neighbor.[32]

D-Man is later seen as a security officer at the rebuilt Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane

[cynthiaandsamus]

Samus’s Amnesia

After an accident Samus can’t remember her time at the villa and Cynthia has to help jog her memory!

“Cynthia help!” Tifa burst through the Villa’s front door with an unconscious Samus draped over her back.

“Oh dear, what happened now?” Cynthia sighed as Tifa laid Samus down on the couch.

Tifa sounded panicked as she pushed pillows under Samus’s head. “We were playing Flaming Basketball, which is like regular basketball but on fire.”

“I know how Flaming Basketball is played…” Cynthia retorted as she wet a washcloth and put it on Samus’s forehead. “What happened?”

“Well we were playing when Samus got a slam dunk and the hoop came down and hit her in the head…” Tifa whimpered, looking pretty worried.

“You go get the First Aid kit and call the pokecenter, there’s one nearby so they might be able to get here faster than taking her to a hospital.” Cynthia nodded softly. “I’ll stay with her and make sure she’s alright.”

“Alright! Oh geez, please don’t be hurt too bad Samus…” The brawler groaned as she dashed out of the room to get help.

A few minutes of tending to her later and Samus began to stir, holding her head and sitting up with a groan. “Are you alright Samus? You took a pretty bad hit.”

“Huh…? Ahh my head just really hurts… how… how do you know my name?” Samus groaned, looking at Cynthia in confusion.

“Uh-oh… that’s not a good sign.” The Champion chuckled nervously. “You don’t… remember me?”

“Can’t say that I do.” Her eyes narrowed, a stern glance around the surrounding area, inspecting it for traps or weapons.

“Well let’s start with what you do remember… Can you tell me about yourself?” Cynthia sat beside her as Samus sat up on the couch.

The bounty hunter relaxed slightly but was still obviously tense, glancing towards her pistol on the coffee table. “I’m Samus Aran, bounty hunter. I’m… a weapon.”

“A weapon? You think you’re a weapon?”

“The Chozo created three weapons that they hoped would save the universe. The Supercomputer Mother Brain, the unkillable species Metroid, and me, the bounty hunter infused with Chozo DNA and raised and trained by them after my parents were killed by the Space Pirate Ridley… none of these weapons turned out how they hoped though. Mother Brain became a hostile AI that seeks to reset the universe entirely instead of saving it. The Metroids, designed to devour the more dangerous threat of the X Parasites, not only turned on their creators but became a plague upon the galaxy that can barely be kept in check. And me… well I can’t say I’ve exactly lived up to snuff either. “ She clenched her fists with a sigh.

Cynthia gave a worried look as Samus continued. “I joined the Galactic Federation hoping to use my skills to stop the Space Pirates and help make the universe a more peaceful place, but the Federation wasn’t exactly pure of heart either, and I couldn’t abide by their decisions that got my friends killed…” She brought her knees up onto the couch, hugging them into her chest. “Good Soldiers follow orders… Good Soldiers follow orders…” She repeated to herself like a mantra. “But I’m not a good soldier…”

“You’re a person doing your best…” Cynthia put her hand on Samus’s thigh reassuringly. The bounty hunter recoiled from the touch, looking at her with scorn as if it was the first human contact she’d had in years.

“I’ve committed all kinds of atrocities since leaving the Federation too, several bounty hunting missions against the Metroids have resulted in planetary destruction. I managed to save one harmless Metroid but it still fell to Mother Brain in the end, yet another person I got close to whose life slipped through my hands.” She tensed up again. “I tried to wipe out all traces of the Metroids and X Parasites throughout the galaxy and after that… I don’t remember anything.”

“So you don’t remember coming here at all?”

“Here?” Samus’s gaze narrowed. “Why would I live in a place like this? My ship is just fine for my domestic needs.”

“Aww come on, it’s pretty nice here.” Cynthia smirked and chuckled. “I throw some wild parties, invite lots of cute girls, a fun time had by all.”

Samus’s face soured and turned to an expression of disgust as she grabbed her pistol off the table and pointed it in Cynthia’s direction, not at her but enough as a warning. “I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not some lecherous party animal. I am a hunter, I prefer to keep out of the company of others for their safety and mine. So back off, Earth Whore.”

“Okay wow.” Cynthia chuckled nervously, holding her hands up to show she meant no harm. “This isn’t any kind of trap or anything so just relax.”

At that moment their pet Metroid Zebes floated into the room, hearing from Tifa that Samus was injured and coming to comfort his mother.

“A METROID!?” Samus pointed her blaster at Zebes instead now. “I knew it! This IS a trap! You’re trying to soften and confuse me so you can breed Metroids! Posession of a Metroid or Metroid DNA is against Galactic Federation Code CZM-861986, you’re under arrest.” She went to motion and was surprised when nothing happened. “What? Why isn’t my armor coming up?”

The Champion breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness, imagine if we had to fight Samus wearing her power armor…”

“Wait no, I figured it out.” A Varia Suit quickly covered the bounty hunter’s body.

“GOD DAMNIT!”

“Die Metroid!” Samus roared, aiming her arm cannon at Zebes. Cynthia’s eyes widened and she grabbed a pokeball off her belt.

“GARCHOMP, PROTECT ZEBES!” Cynthia cried out as a red light emerged from the ball, a large blue dragon appeared between Zebes and Samus just as a beam of ice was fired from her arm cannon. The beam caught Garchomp and hit her hard, but the dragon remained standing.

“I knew it! Ridley your new form is even smaller than before!” Samus snarled from in her suit and fired off another Ice Beam, countered this time by Garchomp’s Flamethrower.

While the two clashed Cynthia leapt behind Garchomp and grabbed Zebes, cradling him to her chest and heading toward s the door.

“Heh, this feels much better, I feel a lot safer inside my armor, I don’t know why I even bother taking it off sometimes.” Samus grinned, pelting Garchomp with ice and dodging the blasts and strikes.

“You hardly ever wear your armor around here! You don’t need to hide from people anymore!” Cynthia shouted, taking off towards the garage, the only place that had a door with even a chance of holding Samus off.

Downing Garchomp for a moment, Samus gave chase after Cynthia. “You don’t know who you’re talking to!” She screamed as they got outside and Cynthia dodged stray ice beams while shielding Zebes. “I don’t know who you’re waiting for but it’s definitely not me!”

“You got that right.” Cynthia’s gray eyes narrowed at Samus as she ducked into the garage and managed to seal the door. Luckily Samus had designed the door herself to be resistant to her missile attacks. The Champion leaned against the wall and sighed, looking down at the petrified Zebes. “She doesn’t mean it hun, she just doesn’t know who you are at the moment. Don’t worry buddy, we’ll get Mommy Samus back.” She smiled down at the gurgling blob before heading into Samus’s ship parked in the nearest section of the warehouse-like garage.

“Let’s see, I know Samus’s doomsday prepper ass has a list of precautions around here somewhere…” She rummaged through the compartments, the dull sound of missiles hitting the garage outside reminding her she was on a bit of a time crunch. “What do we have here…” In the spaceship equivalent of a glovebox Cynthia found a small handwritten list with numbers listed next to emergency descriptions.

“Activate Ship Protocols in case of… Instrumentality, Third Impact, Fourth Impact, Hokkaido Impact, Zombie Outbreak, Mother 4, X Parasite Invasion, Aurum Invasion, Titan Invasion, Cynthia’s PMS, oh gee thanks, ahh here we go: In case of Memory or Equipment reset, activate Ship Protocol 4420120.” The ship’s lights dimmed as the protocol activated just in time as Cynthia heard the garage door explode open and the Varia Suit clad hunter Shinesparking right towards them.

“You’ve got some guts Metroid-breeder, hiding in my own ship like this, now show yourself!” Samus held her arm cannon up, looking around the small ship to try and find her culprit through her visor. To her surprise her ship’s computer brought up a recording and soon holograms of previous events in her lost memories began to play around her.

-----

“Hey, I heard you’re gonna be in the area for a while, wanna stay at my place? Come on I have a great villa. All the gym leaders talk about it as a party place, definitely the place to be!”

“No thanks, I’m not really a party person…” Samus wore her armor but had her helmet off for a moment as Cynthia approached her. She’d apparently contacted her through one of the Smash grapevines and wanted to recruit her to come stay at her villa.

“Awww come on, two badass blondes like us? I bet there’s nothing we couldn’t do! Besides it’s not like you can live out of your ship the whole time you’re stationed here.  It’ll be fine, I promise no weirdness.” This was an absolute lie.

The thinnest of smirks crossed the serious bounty hunter’s face as she looked at Cynthia. “Alright I suppose I could crash at your place for a little while. I’ll pay rent and stay out of your way, no funny business though.”

Cynthia squealed. “Cross my heart and hope to die, struck down by a Decidueye~”

“…okay we’re going to stop doing… whatever that was too.”

---

Samus sighed as she took off her armor after a long mission. It’d taken her forever to start taking off her armor around her Smash colleagues, but now she found herself wearing it less and less around the villa. The missions she was going on were still exhausting but she always let out a sigh of relief when she got back.

“Welcome home Samus!” Cynthia grinned and waved to her from the couch.

“Huh?” Samus blinked, wiping fatigue from her eyes.

“I just said welcome home.”

“Oh… home, huh?”She blinked in confusion for a moment before a warm smile crossed her face. “Thanks, good to be… home.”

----

Zebes’ creation flashed by Samus’s eyes next.

“Cynthia! I got us a pet!” Samus grinned held up Zebes.

“What is that!? Aren’t those things dangerous!?”Cynthia blinked at the Metroid.

“Not this one! It’s a Metroid cross-bred with one of your Tangela, taking away its desire to suck life forces, allowingf it limited shape-shifting capability and giving it the ability for near-infinite pseudopodia extension.”

“…what?”

“ ‘sgot tentacles.”

“Sweet!”

“I’ve named him Zebes, figured it might be the last remnant of my home planet that isn’t trying to kill me, isn’t it great? I’m a mommy!”

---

She watched her memories of when the Galactic Federation came after her for harboring Metroid DNA in her to eliminate the possibility of anyone cloning Metroids from the source of The Baby Metroid’s DNA inside her. She’d initially thought it was best to go with them and eliminate that risk as well but Cynthia and Zebes came after her, fighting their way through Federation headquarters, Cynthia using her pokemon and even pulling off a very strenuous Double Mega Evolution to battle her two commanders before uncovering the plot to use her execution to instead craft a clone army of Samus Arans with the DNA of Metroids, Chozo, Humans and X Parasites to make a galactic army that could topple the Federation itself spearheaded by the man named Cyrus, rescued from the Distortion World by the sentient code of Mother Brain.

She saw Cynthia crying out for her, begging her to let her desire to live burn bright, to not give up on the life she’d built at the villa. It was that which inspired her to fight back against Cyrus while Cynthia defeated Ridley and together they put an end to this heinous plot and finally confessed their love to one another on top of the destroyed Federation Headquarters.

----

“Happy Anniversary Samus! You’ve been here five years now! I’m glad you’re not going anywhere.” Cynthia snickered to herself as all the visitors they’d had since she came walked around the massive month-long party they’d set up to celebrate the anniversary. Lots of colorful characters flooded the villa and the surrounding buildings with raucous noise and joyous laughter.

“Can’t say I expected to stay here this long, but I also can’t say I regret that I did.” Samus grinned, looking at Cynthia.

“Hey I’m always happy to have you.” Cynthia smiled warmly.

“Thank you Cynthia… it really feels like home here, and I couldn’t imagine myself being anywhere else. Before I knew you I felt like I’d been hurt by people far too many times and I thought isolating myself and burying myself in my work was the best way to keep myself safe from people and them safe from me… but ever since I came here I can feel more comfortable around people, I feel like my wounded heart is healing, and it’s all thanks to you. I’m eternally grateful to you Cynthia.” She gave a warm smile

“Oh you dummy…” Cynthia wiped tears from her eyes with a smile of her own. “This is your home, no need to thank me…”

---

Back in the ship Samus was taken aback by all these recordings until she saw one of herself, spliced through various points in time with the same theme, introducing her blonde friend.

“Hello, I’m Samus Aran and this is my landlord Cynthia.”

“…and this is my roommate Cynthia.”

“And my friend, Cynthia.”

“This is my personal dumbass, Cynthia.”

“This is my girlfriend, Cynthia.”

“This is my dumbass girlfriend, Cynthia.”

“This is my… well she’s pretty much my wife, Cynthia.”

Samus couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at the montage, covering her mouth in awe while watching. Next the holograms showed people, so many people. All kinds of wonderful people that came to stay and play with them, some for short visits, some staying in the villa itself, and some in relationships with them for years.

“W-Who are all these people? There’s so many…” Samus gasped.

“Those are all your friends.” Cynthia smiled from the corner of the ship.

Her face froze in awe. “F-Friends… do I really know all of these people? There has to be hundreds…”

Flashes of shots of Cynthia and Samus goofing off around the villa, playing with Zebes, watching the Alien movies over and over on movie night, cooking for each other, celebrating holidays with friends, raising pokemon, playing games, making friends, making love, living life and sharing it with so many.

The stoic bounty hunter’s face cracked and tears started streaming down her face as she covered her mouth and laughed and cried at the same time, such overwhelming joy overtook her.

“Is this… really my life? Do I… really get to have this?” She asked timidly.

“Mhm…” Cynthia smiled warmly, holding back tears of her own.

“I never imagined… that I’d get to live and laugh and love like this…” Samus’s eyes widened, shimmering full of tears as her power armor shattered away from her, leaving her standing in awe. As she lowered her guard something clicked in her head and it all came rushing back to her for real. “Oh Cynthia… I’m so sorry… Zebes, I didn’t mean…”

She was cut off by Cynthia and Zebes hugging her tightly.

“Welcome home Samus.”

[page-of-tales]

Story: Frontier Medicine (Compiled)

When a conflict between the Ents and the Zygaroon erupts the Federation becomes home to their battlefields. On a distant and remote system one lone Zygaroon survivor comes into contacts with humans.

An optimistic look into possible future medical innovations. Rather than a look back this is more of a look forward at what kind of crazy innovations we will come up with.

Word Count: 7900

“Hospitals should be arranged in such a way as to make being sick an interesting experience. One learns a great deal sometimes from being sick. ”

― Alan Wilson Watts

Crash Landing

Clark Woods was in the living room reading articles on his hand held Screen. Reading local news was his way of winding down from a long day in the fields. There wasn’t much in the news itself. The weather report noted the changing season, warning people to watch for flash floods. Local events were rather mundane, which he sincerely appreciated. He yawned, wondering what he should make for breakfast tomorrow when suddenly the front door burst open.

“Father, father!”

It was Zeke, his young adolescent son. Zeke ran in practically leaping over the coffee table and grabbed Clark by the arm dragging him out of the chair.

“Something landed in the fields! Come on, look!”

Clark managed to hold his ground.

“Hold up son, what did you say? Something in the fields?”

Zeke spoke quickly, and Clark struggled to pick out the words. “I saw a streak of fire crash into the fields! I think it’s a spaceship.”

Zeke was flushed with excitement and Clark himself was now curious.

“Alright let’s go.”

As they both ran out the front door, Clark took a moment to grab his hunting rifle leaning against the door. Already he could smell something in the air. Smoke and dust was rising from the field. As the drew closer they saw that it was clearly a ship of some sort. A small one, capable of housing maybe 1-3 human sized individuals. It had skidded along the ground creating a deep blackened furrow. Sheets of metal had sheared off and were strewn scattered about. Despite the black smoke the ship didn’t appear to be on fire. Still the two approached cautiously.

“It’s a shuttle isn’t it?”

Zeke whispered. Clark was glad to see his son acting with some caution, he checked the chamber of his gun before replying.

“No, too small for a shuttle, looks like an escape pod.”

The two approached closer, Zeke kicking some debris out of the way.

“Doesn’t look like a human design.”

Clark muttered under his breath. The pair drew closer to the crash site. Zeke held his hand above the metal, “Hot. Oh, looks like a handle.”

Before Clark could say anything Zeke had pulled the handle. With a hiss 4 panels of the ship shifted forward before falling to the ground. “It’s an alien!” Zeke exclaimed excitedly. Then recoiled in shock.

Clark shifted to see, rifle held against his shoulder. It certainly was an alien. It wore a full suit that covered it’s face and much of its body. It’s general form vaguely humanoid in proportions, but was slightly taller than him, had a wider abdomen and four arms each with four digits. It also had a massive sucking chest wound from which purple blood pooled from.

Zeke peeked into each chamber, “I think they’re dead.” Indeed none of the bodies moved, and seemed unlikely to be able to. Abruptly one of the bodies flailed about.

It fell forward onto the ground and impulsively seemed to crawl a few inches before collapsing. Zeke started to move towards it before Clark yelled at him to get back. The figure didn’t move as Clark edged closer, the hunting rifle pointed at the alien. When he was right next to the alien it still hadn’t moved. With a foot he flipped the alien over. It’s face mask had been smashed during the crash landing and he could see a pale red face, an alien eye swiveling to look at him. For a moment the two stood in opposition to each other. Slowly Clark lowered the rifle. Setting it by the ground. Speaking slowly he said to Zeke. “Go and bring the truck. We’re taking it to town.”

Zeke to his credit didn’t stall and rushed off quickly. Clark maintained eye contact with the alien. “Help, friendly.” He spoke slowly, even though in the back of his mind he knew it was unlikely the alien understood him. He kept his arms held in front of him to show he wasn’t holding a weapon. Meanwhile his eyes assessed the alien. The figure seemed to be bleeding from a leg wound, purple blood drenching the entire suit. Clark reached to undo his belt, and moving slowly wrapped it around the mangled leg before tightening it firmly around. The alien grunted but didn’t resist. Not at all satisfied with his makeshift tourniquet but unsure of what else to do Clark rose to his feet. He checked the other aliens, shaking them trying to get a reaction.

But there was nothing. The alien called out, three distinctive sounds before repeating. Clark wondered it it was calling to it’s friends. Moving back to the wounded alien he placed a hand on it’s chest. It’s eye looked at him, the movement of its chest more erratic. Clark wondered if the atmosphere was poisoning it. But again there was nothing he could do about that, The sound of the truck approaching drew away his attention. The old red flatbed rolled right up to them and Zeke jumped out and in a moment the two of them dragged the alien onto the bed of the truck. “Alright, you sit in back, I’ll drive.” Clark threw the rifle into the cab and then whipped the truck around to race towards town.

Box Clinics

Zeke had “seen” aliens before. Sometimes you would see them near the spaceport outside of town. But they never went into town and most wore full suits at all times. A remote frontier world like this, so far from the Galactic Spine, didn’t see many alien visitors, made life quiet, but as Father said, quiet was good. Zeke kept a hand on the aliens chest, feeling it move slightly as it breathed. The whistling wind as they sped down the highway made it impossible to communicate, not that the alien would understand him. Up close Zeke noticed that the suit was in fact more an armor with thicker ceramic plating seeming to cover around the head and chest. Latches seemed to hold the suit together. He wondered if this alien being was a soldier. As Zeke watched he noticed the aliens eyes start to droop, a chill of fear ran up his back as he worried the alien might die.

Spotted Eagle was a small town, it was the largest settlement on the world, and its capital, but its population barely bumped above 12,000. It was a sprawling series of districts, it’s only notable feature being the spaceport just outside of town where large freighters and vessels were moored at dock. At this hour the streets were empty. The cold driving everyone indoors. It didn’t take them long to reach their destination close to the center of town. They pulled into the parking lot of the Box Clinic. An unremarkable looking building, bland concrete walls with no visible windows. Resembling more a warehouse than a medical facility. The alien had passed out, but was still breathing. The two of them dragged it inside. The waiting room was empty but notably there was no one inside to receive them either. Clark reached out to slam a red button on the wall labeled HELP. An alarm blared briefly and doors at the end of the room swung open. An automated voice spoke, “Please step inside the examination room, a medical professional has been contacted.”

The two dragged the alien into the room which was lit up by bright white lights. The room was absent of any features save a raised bed near one wall. The pair of them grunted as they lifted the alien onto the bed, it’s limbs sprawling to the sides. “Where’s the doctor!” Clark called out.

“One moment.” The electronic voice intoned smoothly. The sound of a call being connected sounded in the room. Zeke paced nervously. “Connecting, Doctor Yossar.” The voice said before it cut out.

A hologram stepped out of the wall. The blue light depicting a male human dressed in a lab coat wearing square rim glasses. The hologram even somehow managed to emulate the shine of his bald head. He looked at the two as he stepped up to them.

“Doctor Yossar, connecting from Angak, please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

Clark stepped aside to allow the doctor through. “We have an injured alien here. Hurt real bad.”

The Doctor looked surprised as he laid eyes on the patient. “I see. What happened?”

Zeke spoke up, “It’s ship crashed in our field. We pulled it out and brought it here.”

The hologram of the doctor raised its hands to gesture over the alien. Multiple coiled tendrils with grasping appendages at one end called Servos emerged from the wall to position the alien more squarely on the bed. “Did it speak with you? Do you know what species it is?”

Clark accepted a towel handed to him by a servo and wiped alien blood off of Zeke’s forehead. “I tried to talk with it but I don’t think it understood. No idea what species it could be either.” “

I think it’s a soldier!” Zeke blurted out.

“That’s good information to know.” The doctor nodded in appreciation. He hit some buttons on his wrist band. “Clarence, can you come here I need some assistance.” He turned and spoke to someone invisible to the other two. “Please identify this alien and contact the appropriate team, urgently.” Turning back to the alien the servos began moving along the body, tugging at the tourniquet and moving to touch around the smashed face plate. “Do you know how to remove the suit?”

Zeke stepped forward, “I do.” reaching past the servos he jiggled something loose and pulled off some of the armor. It clanged loudly on the floor. “Thank you.” The Doctor said. Together the two of them, servos and hands, stripped off the armor and a pair of scissors cut away the fabric of the suit. The alien body was largely hairless, with a few lumps in places humans didn’t have. Patches of discolored skin stood out and small wounds still leaked blood. Doctor Yossar thanked Zeke before directing him to chairs which could be pulled out from the wall. Then he set to work.

Remote Medicine

Doctor Yossar was located many millions of kilometers from the remote frontier world. Located on the megalopolis world Angak. Standing in a room that was physically the exact same room as the one containing his patient. A VR headset allowing him to see the room containing his patient and the servos mimicking his hand movements with the same precision and accuracy as if he was actually there. There were even a specific set of servos that gave him physical feedback through the haptic gloves. Dr. Yossar was well experienced, having completed nearly a dozen years with Clinix Box. But his expertise was not in alien health. This alien needed a specialist and fast. He hoped Clarence would come back quick. In the meantime he could still perform basic treatment and gather as much information as he could. He began wrapping some sterile bandages around the bleeding wounds, stemming the flow of liquids. With that complete next he attached a few electrodes to the body. The signals he received were shaky and not consistent with a human’s, but enough to read a electric activity in the body. Whether it was neural or somatic wasn’t clear but still was a positive sign.

Floating a little off to the side Doctor Yossar had a chart which he was filling in as much information as he could. Some of it was already present. The weight and basic measurements taken care of by the bed. A catalogue on injuries being made. Other general observations.

He tapped some controls and a rod extended from the underside of the table. It swept up and down the alien figure performing a rapid radiological scan. In his vision a 3D image of the alien’s internal structure appeared alongside the alien. He didn’t bother trying to parse the raw data, without knowing the physiology of the alien and corresponding reaction to a scan he wouldn’t be able to determine much besides cavity, liquid, and solids. He heard a voice speaking through the internal communications, it was Clarence. “The species is identified as a Zygaroon, I’ve contacted the medical team, they will be here in a couple of minutes. Dr. Liu is team leader.”

“Thank you Clarence, get ready to process a sample of blood.” Dr. Yossar reached into the wall to grab a syringe. In the examination room the pair watched as servo wielding the syringe extracted a sample of purple blood from the alien. The servo retracted into the wall and deposited the blood into a machine. “Able to get anything Clarence?”

“Give me a second.” Clarence paused as the data streamed in from the analysis machine. “I don’t know Dr. Yossar. Too many alien proteins, the machine can’t get a clean read. I think the blood caked in the machine. I’ll try a different method.”

A call opened up in Dr. Yossar’s vision. Credentials streamed by quickly as several callers connected at once. Then a new voice spoke in his ear.

“Dr. Yossar, I’m Dr. Liu, head of the xeno medical team. I understand you have a patient for us?”

“Yes, a Zygaroon, pulled from a crash landing from OJ-332. Surface wounds, severe injury to a leg. Internal bleeding, possible structural fracturing, and metal all over in the chest cavity. I’ve pulled a blood sample into the machine. And here is the raw scan data. Oh.” Yossar clapped his hands together. “It might be a soldier.”

“Alright thanks, we can take it from here but we would appreciate you staying on the line.”

“Of course.”

Dr. Yossar stepped back and the visuals in his headset notified him control was being ceded to the newcomers. Pulling the visor up briefly he saw he was still alone in the room. Pulling the visor back down he continued to watch the proceedings.

In the examination room several holograms appeared and gathered around the Zygaroon. They spoke quickly, as they assessed the situation.

“Weight 92.3 kg, height 201 cm. Gender ZX.”

“Age approximately 32 cycles.”

“Scan shows some prior surgeries, a couple of implants.”

“No major organ damage, functioning glands.”

“Arm fractures, internal bleeding in the chest.”

”Clot in leg.”

“Metal fragmentation in the chest cavity.”

“Surgery recommended immediately.”

“We need to know if it’s on any medications.”

“Dr. Yossar do you have information on medication history?”

“No, I pulled a blood sample but the data was garbage.”

One of the techs pulled up the roll of data in front of him. “Yeah, that’s an accurate assessment.”

“I’m guessing it clogged up the machine.”

Clarence’s voice came in overhead. “Yeah I can’t get the machine to respond anymore.”

One of the techs nodded at that. “Zygaroon blood is thicker than most. Fascinating clotting abilities.”

“We have to wake it up.” Dr. Liu said taking hand of the situation. “Ideas?”

“Stimulant?”

“No, possible interactions.”

“Slap it?”

“Good idea.”

A servo with an electrode reached up and shocked the Zygaroon with a jolt of electricity. It’s eyes snapped open and it seemed startled to be surrounded by holograms and the hovering tentacle-like servos. However it gasped aloud when it tried to rise and it fell back against the bed. The servos moving to restrain it gently.

“*Don’t move, we are here to help” Dr. Liu spoke in translated Zygaroon, which sounded like a mix of grunts and huffs in different pitches. The Zygaroon just grunted in pain, but it seemed to comprehend. It’s resistance ceasing. A servo extended holding a tube to the alien's mouth.

“Blow.” Dr. Liu instructed and the Zygaroon blew a breath into the tube. The breathalyzer was a basic diagnostic tool capable of evaluating the contents of an individual’s blood. From a breath a doctor could evaluate the presence of drugs, metabolites, and even cancer. After a moment the machine produced matches with recognizable compounds which popped up in everyone’s view. One of the techs began labeling the molecules calling them out as she went down the list.

“Stimulant, mild pain inhibitor, anti-toxin, I would recommend anesthetic #3.”

Dr. Liu turned to the Zygaroon, a model of the alien appearing in her hand. “*We are going to have to operate to heal you. You have fragments in your chest and internal bleeding.” She pointed to the locations on the model. “Do we have permission to operate.”

The Zygaroon paused a moment before answering. “*Yes.”

One of the assistant techs turned to Clark and Zeke still waiting on the far wall. “Please wait in the waiting room. We will inform you when it is safe to come back inside.”

One of the team members began entering in some chemical formulas and somewhere in the clinic a molecular printer began producing the anesthetics and other drugs they would require. The walls of the room opened up and a number of devices deployed in preparation for surgery. A line of fluids was hooked up to the patient and the servos moved the electrodes to different positions to attenuate the signal properly. The techs hurriedly conversed amongst themselves as they did a quick pre-check. Meanwhile Dr. Liu extended a mask over the mouth of the Zygaroon. “I want you to count back from 10.”

“10, 9, 8-”

Background Check

Dr. Yossar watched as Dr. Liu went to work. The alien was cut open on the table. Small specialized servos moved about in the chest cavity. Applying adhesive grafts to bleeding vessels, grafts made of a special polymer that would disintegrate harmlessly as the body healed itself. Another metal fragment clinked into a metal bowl, as the chest shrapnel was cut out. A small torch kept the internal bleed down. One of the techs kept a watch on the monitors. Announcing metabolite values at regular intervals.

It was quiet, the team was professional and practiced. Dr. Yossar now certain his patient was in good hands and his presence was no longer necessary took the opportunity to excuse himself and exited the simulation. He pulled off the visor and let it hang from the ceiling. Walking to the corner of the room he picked up a water bottle and took a long drink. Even for an Emergency call that had been different. Clarence poked her head in through the doorway.

“Good work doctor.”

“Thanks Clarence, quick work on the identification.”

“Oh that was easy, I just did a search for the system they were calling from. Apparently the Zygaroon and Ents are at war. There was a battle there just today.”

“A war?”

“Yeah, apparently over some ancient relic ships.”

“The Ents are allies right?”

“I believe so.”

“Better contact the authorities then. Not sure in what jurisdiction this falls in.”

“I can handle it, go ahead and take your break.”

“Thanks Clarence.”

Dr. Yossar plopped himself down in a chair. Then he recalled the pair who had brought the alien in the first place. He tapped his wrist band and searched for the local number of the clinic. They would probably want to know about the alien as well.

Waking Up

Flight Leader Tara awoke with a start. Hands flailing to grasp at something. Then the memories returned. The ambush, the battle, the destruction of her fighter, the plummet to the planet. Rescue. She looked around. The slight movement causing an irksome pain in her chest. She felt sore all over, but she was alive which seemed miraculous. White panels covered the wall. The lights above were dim but starting to come alight as she moved about. A Screen at the end of the bed came to life. A human peered at her and showed her its teeth as she stared at him. A translator bubbled to life as it began to speak.

“*Good morning. Flight Leader Tara.”

“How do yo-”

“We scanned your flight tags. My name is Davi, diplomatic staff located on Angak.”

Tara looked around but she was alone in the room.

“What happened to my crew?”

Davi’s face took on a somber appearance. Already Tara knew the answer but she had to confirm.

“I’m sorry, they didn’t survive.”

Tara subdued the well of emotion. She could grieve later for her flightmates.

“Where are the humans who rescued me?”

“They’re outside sleeping in the waiting room. They were quite concerned about your health.”

Tara raised her arm which had some device connecting to a machine by the bed which appeared to show her vital signs. A green line jumping in time with her heartbeat.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a hospital.”

Tara scoffed, wincing slightly at the pain that movement caused.

“No backwater would have a medical facility this advanced. It’s absurd.”

Davi paused. Somewhat unsure of what the Zygaroon seemed to mean.

“Well I don’t know how hospitals work on Zygaroon. Though you are correct, this isn’t exactly a hospital but rather a remote clinic. As you put it, a *backwater* planet like this does not have a population base that makes a large scale hospital viable. However, we have laws dictating that population centers of 10,000 must have access to proper medical facilities. These remote facilities are a result of that. They give the local population access to health care to even these remote locations. Does that answer your question.”

“Yes…” Tara trailed off. She had suffered mortal wounds and had been saved overnight. Apparently human medical technology was more advanced than they had been led to believe. If this level of care was present on their frontiers who knew what sorcery they could wield at their core worlds.

“So what happens next?”

Davi looked up. “Oh I guess they didn’t tell you. Guess I got in before the nurses did. The doctors note recommended a couple days in bed here just to make sure there aren’t any complications from the operation. After that we WILL have to detain you. The Ents have made a formal request to the Federation that we hold any Zygaroon soldiers in our territory. You will be treated as a POW and continue being given treatment for your wounds.”

The monitor beeped as her heart rate rose. Tara tried to rise, but the effort exhausted her. “I don’t have a chance do I?”

Davi flashed his teeth at her again..

“You’ll live, in fact I think you might enjoy the terms of your stay.”

“How.” She growled.

“Well, other than actually leaving the planet, you are free to go anywhere you wish on the planet itself. I’m sure you are aware you owe a life debt to the humans who saved you. In exchange for being your *wardens* they have requested you not be imprisoned or sent to the Ents. Their request has been granted. Your life debt will be considered fulfilled if you remain peaceably on the planet until the end of the war. I assume those terms are satisfactory for annulling your debt?”

Tara sunk into the bed, defeated and exhausted. “So this is the guile of humans.”

Davi flashed its teeth at her again, satisfied that the agreement had been settled. “You will have my number if you wish to negotiate for imprisonment. Goodbye Flight Leader.”

Preface

The Ents and Zygaroon had never been friends. Howevert hey had enough biological differences that they would rarely come into contact. Zygaroons breathed oxygen while the Ents metabolized fluorine. This distinctive difference alone kept them sequestered to different star systems. In addition, fluorine isn’t a particularly common element in an atmosphere so the Ents rarely colonized planets beyond constructing simple enclosed habitats on a few resource rich planets. Another contributing factor to the Ent’s general aversion to space travel.

There is one exception to that notion, and that is the Progenitors as the Ents call them. Humans call them the Libenters for reference. From what remains of their civilization the latest hypothesis is that the Progenitors were a space faring race some millenia ago that eventually faded out into extinction. For the Ents the Progenitors are akin to religious icons. Half of their colonies are constructed on planets holding trace remains of the Progenitors for the sole purpose of archeological research. As the name suggests the Ents view the Progenitors as having a key hand in their history, the details of which are unclear to outsiders.

You can imagine the Ents delight when they heard news that an ancient Progenitor city had been discovered by miners. They rapidly set off en masse in a large fleet to investigate the ruins, in the process they chased off the miners. In short summary the planet was in a star system claimed by the Zygaroon. The Zygaroon didn’t take kindly to the intrusion and attacked. The Ents dead set on the Progenitor ruins declared war. Skirmishes erupted along their borders, and neither side yielded the other any advantages. Both parties had attempted to ambush the other by circumventing through Federation space, and instead ended up spotting each other in a surprise encounter and having a running space battle that stretched across several star systems. As a human observer would put it, “The neighbors were having a tussle in my yard.”

Staff Meeting

Davi had to fight back a guffaw. The embellishment to the memo had caught him off guard. The line sounded familiar, maybe a quote from a drama. A timer notification popped up on his screen and he minimized the files. Davi took a moment to take a glance to his left and to his right as he sat upright behind the desk. On his right sat the Provincial Supervisor Theseus, leaning back in his chair to stretch long lanky arms. On his left sat the military liaison, Lieutenant Commander or was it Lieutenant Colonel, Akers was sitting reviewing some data on her screen.

Around the three a cadre of staff and aides milled about. There was a quiet buzz as they passed notes between themselves and the door to the room was swinging open constantly. The lights began to dim as the meeting began and the voices died down. One by one a projector beamed images of the System and Planetary leadership figures from across the province onto the far wall as communication was established. Light years of distance cut to a few microseconds of lag, a miracle of hyperspace communications. Yet even with that convenience came the hassle of  arranging the schedules of 15 individuals who had widely varying day and night cycles. That aspect of conferences would never change.

The last connection was made and for a moment the room was silent giving Davi time to look at the profile’s of the gathered leaders. Of the 12 local leaders 1 was non-human. 8 star systems were represented, for star systems that didn’t have more than 1 significantly populated planet the Planetary leadership and System representative were usually the same. Supervisor Theseus issued greetings and the transcriber began tapping on his keyboard signaling the start of the meeting. Sparing everyone’s time the topic of discussion was brought up immediately, the Ent-Zygaroon war, specifically the recent battle that had careened through Federation space. First off the broad strokes presented by the Lieutenant Major. A star chart was projected into the room and the liaison highlighted the intrusion points of the alien forces. Noting that the initial intrusions had been too far from any Federation force to prevent either fleet’s movement. Davi took his turn to note the Federation had logged a strong formal complaint to both governments, and was now moving to secure its border with both species. Elements of the Federation Fleet would be mobilized throughout the region, and further intrusions would be met with force. There was muted approval and easing of worry from the leadership.

Supervisor Theseus took the reins again and listed out some prepared guidelines for the leaders to follow. In general all they were asking was for inspection of current defenses, and for certain systems to prepare for disruptions as the Federation fleets moved through and about. The Ents military were to be given non-military assistance if requested, the Zygaroon to be ignored unless an emergency presented itself. The meeting was adjourned after a special communication line was established for any further requests or notifications in regard to the matter. After the last leader had logged off Davi let out a breath. The Lieutenant Captain flashed a grin at him, “You thought that was hard, here comes the media.”

The door to the office open and a surge of reporters with cameras flashing rushed in. Davi groaned under breath. He still had that Zygaroon to call. Today should be the day she was discharged from the clinic.  

The Funeral

Flight Leader Tara stood at attention in front of the graves. It was a clear day, the sun high in the sky. At her request her flightmates had been buried in an open field. The tall yellow grass shorn to create a clearing in the center. Fresh turned dirt marking the site of the dead. Above the graves a pyramid of branches marked the site. The humans had made a good faith effort in the burial. Her flightmates had been cleaned, dressed in violet garments, and laid to rest with their weapons. A warrior’s burial. Tradition stated she wear battle wear, however only her survival suit had survived intact. At the very least her weapons, her pistols and blades, had been returned to her. For the moment it would do. Around her with heads bowed stood several dozen humans, friends of her rescuers. With the final resting rites intoned Tara lit the pyramid aflame.

As the pyramid burned itself down the humans came up to giver her condolences. This was a human tradition and she accepted their words silently. Last were her rescuers, the father and son. They didn’t say anything, merely standing beside her. Tara averted her eyes from the embers to look around. It was a good place to lay her comrades to rest, however momentary. When the war was over the bodies would be retrieved and laid to rest on their homeworlds. The humans had promised to watch over them until then and she knew they would hold to that debt.

At last she settled herself. She spoke through the translator. “We can go.”    

Check Up

Clark Woods waited for Tara in the waiting room of the Box Clinic. Today there were a few other individuals sitting around, waiting for appointments or here to have a doctor examine a weird mole on their back. Clark made small talk with the grocery manager, and to a parent of his son’s classmate. They were eager to ask questions about his new occupant, despite their inquiries he waived off any questions on his guest.

Tara in the meantime was stripped down and doing stretches for the holo doctor. Evaluating her today was one of the nurses from the team that had treated her that first night. The nurse was making some notes and asking questions about her health. Tara gave succinct answers. “Yes, her chest ached. It was a 4 on the pain scale. No, she wasn’t drowsy. No, she wasn’t allergic to anything on the planet yes. Yes, she was washing her wounds.” Fairly standard medical processing.

The nurse seemed satisfied and told her as much. There had been no complications with the surgery. At the end the nurse recommended Tara maintain a low level of activity making sure not to overexert herself. She could pick up a package of various medications from the dispensary.

After the nurse disconnected there was only a brief pause before the diplomat stepped back into the room. He said hello to which Tara ignored as she put back on her clothes. He wasn’t put off by her silence and continued. The full script of the blood debt had been written up by the lawyers and he was here to orate the terms. She initially listened dutifully, however  as he droned on she stopped listening. The stipulations were common sense and water tight, preventing her from inflicting harm or being deceptive in regards to her imprisonment. Tara hadn’t been looking for loopholes in her debt, and wouldn’t have taken advantage of them if she found any. To do so would have dishonored the spirit of the agreement and bring dishonor to herself. The diplomat finishes and apologizes for the delay, he continues by saying they have connected a communication to her people as promised. He points out that there is a minute delay because of the signal lag. He leaves the call button on the screen for Tara to initiate, before leaving the room. After taking a moment to groom herself Tara connects the call. An image screen opens on the wall, after a few minutes of silence the connection clicks and a Zygaroon voice comes in.

“This is Grand Overseer Maga. Report.”

“Flight Blue-243, Flightleader Tara. I was shot down in an Ent ambush and am being held prisoner on the Federation world Naranja.”

There was a long pause.

“I see. Are you being treated well?”

“Yes, the humans have provided medical treatment and adequate shelter. I owe them a life debt.”

Another long pause, one which seemed to keep going.

“Very well. Stay strong and persist Flightleader.”

With that the call disconnected leaving Tara feeling suddenly very isolated. Frankly the reaction of her people wasn’t surprising. Given her individual status as a prisoner of war her people couldn’t offer her much. Nor could she offer much to them in her wounded state. Fighting off the feeling of abandonment Tara turned and left the darkened room.

Settling In

The drive back to the farm was quiet. Clark had seemed aware of her disconsoled mood, yet as always remained silent. Tara took the moment to look out at the passing scenery. Fields of crops. Of what nature she couldn’t quite determine. The fields seemed rather like an endless ocean, stretching to the horizon and with only the occasional copse of trees to differentiate the landscape. The quiet and monotony had an enchanting effect on the Zygaroon who only realized they had arrived at their destination when Clark pulled the truck into the driveway.

Tara’s cell was to be the unused spare bedroom. The bed had been modified to accompany her larger size and it now made the rest of the room look awkwardly small. The survival packages from her escape pod had been brought here and placed in the closet. Not that she needed anything from them. Clothes had been custom modified for her distinctly non-human appendages. The environment did not have any elements that were averse to her physiology. Bottles of vitamins were left untouched as her dietary needs were compatible with the humans.

Tara knew she should count herself lucky. Rather than being imprisoned she was essentially on vacation. It was… a conflicting thing to try and think about. Her schedule as a prison was loose, but regular. She rose a little after the sun had filled her room through the room’s sole window. In the morning she spent much of it maintaining the grooming standard of a warrior.  She ate two meals with the humans. She would spend the day either walking the perimeter or resting in bed depending on the level of pain she was experiencing. In the evening she might play a game of Lilp against Clark or otherwise watch the sunset before heading to bed. The boredom felt much more in line with a prison camp.

She had asked how long Clark could expect to keep up this charade. His response had surprised her.

“The war won’t last more than a week.” Clark said with unwavering certainty.

“How long is a week?” Tara inquired, unable to bring herself to challenge the declaration.

“10 days.”

6 days had already passed since then.

A Nightmare

Tara glanced at the flight controls. But for some reason the readings she was looking at didn’t make sense. She tried to reexamine the data but she couldn’t understand what she was looking at. She turned to talk to her co-pilot only to see the entire fighter was filled with smoke. The thick oily smoke filled her lungs and she struggled to breath. Desperately she tried to call for help, for her crew to evacuate. Despite her growing panic her body seemed to refuse to listen. The smoke soon enveloped her and she started to choke. This was wrong. With a willful movement she thrust herself forward out of her chair as the fighter disintegrated around her.

When she blinked above her was a darkened ceiling. Underneath she could feel a mattress on her back, sheets soaked in sweat. Confused she sat up. Unfamiliar furnishings surrounded her, but after a moment the events of the past week caught up to her. As her racing heart slowed back down, and her gasping breaths stopped. Her chest ached and she reached over to uncap a pill. As she swallowed the medication Tara looked at the window. The frame just barely lit by the moonlight. A nightmare she thought to herself, the room echoed with silence as her mind fought with itself. Finding a balance point she laid back on the bed to try and go back to sleep.

Outside the door a figure slowly crept away as the breathing in the room returned to an even pace.

Idle Days

It was on the 7th day that Clark proposed a suggestion. At first Tara hadn’t understood, but after some clarification things became clearer. Clark was proposing a camping trip for the three of them. Nothing too wild, in fact they would be traveling just a couple hours to the nearby lake just out of town. Technically Tara had no choice in the matter as a prisoner of war, but Clark insisted on getting her to agree to the matter. He explained a change in scenery and a chance to relax would be good for her.  

The young boy, Zeke was quite excited. Even though they weren’t traveling far he eagerly rushed about the house throwing items into the truck. Tara found herself caught up in the boy’s enthusiasm, untangling the fishing line at a remarkable speed with her four arms. By noon they were driving down the road.

Naranja

To give a bit of background about OJ-332. The star system is located some distance within the borders of Federation space, and quite a distance from the warp points in the region. Various spatial bodies nearby made it difficult for hyperspace travel. Because of these factors OJ-332 would historically be largely ignored by all the government and major corporations. LEaving the colonization of OJ-332 up to the venturous independent settlers to move into. Within OJ-332 itself the only habitable and populated planet is called Naranja by the local populace. Naranja is classified as a desert planet with just enough of an atmosphere and water content to be colonized by humans. With a caveat of the atmosphere being a little thinner than standard. Like living at high altitude, without the actual altitude. From space the yellow orange terrain is wrinkled by mountain ridges and valleys, and its most notable feature is a large crater in the north-west hemisphere. Indicative of a long ago impact by a significant massive object.

Geological studies of the planet had determined that the impact had wiped out a thriving primitive biosystem present on the planet. All of that organic matter had been subsequently transformed into prime farmland. Human settlers had capitalized on this fact, with the primary economy of the planet supported by its agricultural industry. The viable and weakened biosystem providing an ideal base for growing food. All of its exports are directed to the overflowing interior Sector systems. Despite its potential for productivity, most of the planet is undeveloped because of how remote the region is.

Spotted Eagle was the first settlement on the planet, and in order to ease the process of terraforming, had been located by the largest body of freshwater on the planet. Development of irrigation and other projects had drained the lake somewhat. A decrease which made it the third largest body of freshwater on the planet.  

Lake Camping

Their destination was this small unnamed lake, and they arrived sometime just before the sunset. It didn’t take them long to find a camping spot and set up their campsite. Clark told the two should explore the lake while he prepared food. Tara took a walk to a small pier jutting into the lake to rest while Zeke ran up and down the gravel beach. The lake was for lack of better words, modest. You simply don’t get magnificent lakes on a desert planet. “Then again a lake is just a body of water and all bodies of water are the same in appearance.” Zeke had said after Tara scoffed at the lake as a tiny pond. The lake was of a moderate size, surrounded by tree covered hills. The water was largely undisturbed, and clear to the bottom. Tara could watch fish swimming around the legs of the pier. Laying on her stomach she ran her hands in the water. The cold sensation soothing to the touch. It was incredibly pleasant.

Some time later Clark called them in for dinner and they sat around a campfire eating their meal. Zeke eagerly showed some colorful rocks he had picked off from the beach, while Tara focused on the crackle and pop of the campfire. After the meal Clark pulled out a few more bags of foodstuffs. The two of them demonstrated an old human tradition. Smores as they called it. A melted over sugary dessert that repulsed Tara. Though she still ate eight of the monstrosities. Using her two pairs of hands to rotate the sugar balls on their spits to get an even brown appearance. Afterwards the fire was doused and the two split up to rest in the two tents they had set up. From her tent Tara could hear the sound of the water nearby, and the chirp of insects. She wondered how she would sleep with all the noise.

Clarks Past

The next morning Clark rose early. The sun was breaking the horizon. Surprisingly Tara was still asleep. Usually she would be up with the sun, doing her grooming. Clark let her rest. Moving to sit by the pier and look at the sun reflecting off the water as it slowly rose over the horizon. Blazing reds flashing off the waves, the light glimmering in a mesmerizing chaos. Absentmindedly Clark felt the old scars on his side. Old wounds from an old war. Though the pain had faded there were still something there. It was largely why he had left the interior for the frontier.

Behind him he heard the footsteps and turned to see Zeke had woken up. He held two fishing poles in his hands, a box of bait precariously balanced. Clark rose to help his son, the sun continuing to rise higher and higher.

Idle Fishing

Tara stumbled out of the narrow tent opening and blinked in the sudden light. She had overslept. Walking over to the cooler she grabbed one of the food bars they had brought along and scarfed it down. Looking for the others she saw them on the pier. She approached them and saw the two had fishing poles extended into the water. The father turned to greet her and hand her a pole. She handed it back to him and explained she didn’t know how to use it. He quickly showed her how to use it, it wasn’t a complicated device. A spool of line, and a handle. He baited the hook for her with a native worm, and then cast it into the water. She took the pole and sat on the pier. Dangling her feet into the water.

After a long while, the sun having noticeably changed position in the sky, Tara spoke up. “I don’t think this is working”

Clark reeled back in his line, examined the worm which was still intact on the hook and cast his line back into the water. “It’s called fishing not catching.”

Zeke groaned.

Home Calls

After some time the three of them had managed to catch 4 fish. Zeke and Tara had each caught two. Clark went about showing Zeke how to prepare one of the fishes, and then Tara took an opportunity to show how her people prepared fish. Sticking the fish on sticks they roasted them over a fire. Some tubers were wrapped in foil and placed in the fire to cook as well. The savory smell was even more gratifying when the three of them thought of the struggle it had been catching them. As they ate Clark perked his head up, hearing something on the wind. Following his eyes Tara saw a vehicle approaching the campsite. Clark rose as the vehicle pulled up to them. For a moment he conversed with the driver. Then he gestured for Tara to come join them.

“Tara there is news about the war.”

“The war?” Tara had almost forgotten.

“Yes, the Ents and Zygaroons are currently in negotiations for a peace treaty. We have a shuttle to take you home. You can go home.”

For some reason Tara hesitated. Here was the opportunity to return home, and she was hesitating. The moment stretched with an undisturbed silence begging to be broken. Tara’s hands fluttered by her sides as she struggled with her indecisiveness. Clark held up his wrist to his face even though there was nothing there.

“You know Tara I had planned to a vacation for three people for three days. That’s a lot of food that would otherwise be wasted.”

He glanced above his wrist to look her in the eye.

“If you wanted to stick around a few more days I’m sure the embassy gentleman wouldn’t mind.”

After a moment Tara found her voice.

“I’m going to need a moment.”

She turned and walked away from them, heading back to the pier where Zeke was skipping stones into the water. Clark turned to the man who seemed perplexed by the alien behavior.

“It won’t be a problem if she decides to stay right?”

“No sir, this is our only assigned task. There is another team going to handle the mediation.”

“I’m not a sir anymore.” Clark chided gently.

“Of course… sir.” The man said, muttering the last word despite himself.

Clark turned to look at Tara who was sat in a meditative pose behind Zeke.

“I think she needs this.”

“Sir?”

“I said to stop calling me sir, my name is Clark.”

“...sorry.”

[emeraldsiren19]

January fun facts from page a day SW calendar:

1. Admiral Ackbar of the Rebel Fleet is from the planet Mon Cala. Ackbar leads the attack on the Empire's capital ships from his personal flagship, Home One, during the Battle of Endor.

2. Solitary by nature the dewback lizards of Tattoine are well adapted to survive on the scorching desert planet; locals ride them and use them to carry heavy loads. During the Imperial occupation of Tattoine, stormtroopers find dewbacks to be more reliable than their mechanical vehicles.

3. Battle droids are easily controlled, unquestioningly obedient, and inexpensive to mass produce. And sometimes they're even funny. They are the primary troops in the Trade Federation's mechanized armies.

4. Secluded in a remote corner of the galaxy, the Endor moon is home to both the Ewok species that help the Rebel Alliance defeat the empire and the gravesite of Darth Vader

5/6. The Adventurer slugthrower rifle, made by Czerka, floods its chamber with a rich oxidizer as it detonates its shell, giving the projectile extra range up to 1476 ft (450 meters). It's the favorite weapon of freelance assassin Aurra Sing.

7. Resembling an exotic squid, the bongo submarine is organically grown through secret Gungan techniques. The manta-shaped hull fronts a semi-rigid assembly of tentacle-like fins that give the bongo its power to travel Naboo's underground water network.

8. The Twi'lek Bib Fortuna serves as Jabba the Hutt's major domo (head of staff). Before working for the cruel Jabba, Bib made himself rich as a slave trader of his own people. He is cruel, manipulative and cunning, even plotting to kill the powerful Jabba himself.

9. When on Utapau, Obi-Wan Kenobi rides a varactyl mount called Boga. Useful on Utapau's treacherous terrain, varactyls are excellent climbers. Boga is well trained and very responsive to the Jedi's commands.

10. The Separatist deploy sabotage buzz droids during the Clone Wars to disable enemy ships. Armed with saws, cutting tools and manipulator arms, buzz droids cut, tear and yank on any part of an enemy ship that they can to cause as much damage as possible.

11. Bespin is an astrophysical rarity; an immense gas planet surrounded moons, with a band of habitable atmosphere among endless clouds. The mining planet in a little-visited sector o space is usually secluded from turmoil. But the Empire takes over Bespin's Cloud City during the Galactic Civil War.

12/13. A small fork-shaped dart with distinctive cuts on its side, the Kamino saberdart is a rare artifact. It is used to deliver the toxins Malkite themfar and Fex-M3, which kill in 10 seconds. Cook Dexter Jettster tells Obi-Wan Kenobi how to find the planet where the darts are made, Kamino (12 parsecs south of the Rishi Maze).

14. With its sleek arrowhead shape, streamlined cockpit, and massive twin engines, the A-wing startfighter suggests raw speed even when parked within Alliance hangar bays. Faster than even the TIE interceptor, the A-wing is well suited for lightning strikes.

15. Boss Nass, the ruler of Naboo's underwater Gungan city of Otoh Gunga, initially is hesitant to come to the aid of Naboo's people, because they think they are better than the Gungans. However, when faced with the reality of the droid invasion, he is persuaded by Queen Amidala to work together.

16. Rontos are used by Jawas on Tattooine for transportation and to carry cargo. Gentle and strong, rontos often sway under the weight of their loads.

17. FX-series medical droids serve as assistants to more specialized surgery droids. They employ huge memory banks of medical data, as well as a large number of specialized individual arms outfitted to monitor and maintain patients.

18. Yavin-4, a moon of the gas giant Yavin in the galaxy's Outer Rim, is a steamy jungle- and forest-covered world. Early in the Galactic Civil War, it hosts the principal Rebel base, from which the Rebellion launches the attack that destroys the first Death Star - a confrontation now known as the Battle of Yavin.

19/20. Built by the Empire on Endor, the SLD-26 planetary shield generator provides nearly impenetrable protection of a small moon or a space station. It has a power core, a large focus dish, a positioning antenna and eight shield projectors. But it's vulnerable to small strike teams and Ewoks.

21. Young slave Anakin Skywalker builds his Radon-Ulzer Podracer in secret using the same design that his Boonta Eve Classic competitor use: one pod with a cockpit pulled by two high-powered engines. But Anakin develops a new fuel atomizer that ups his speed by 590 miles (150 kilometers) per hour.

22. Darth Vader, formerly the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, is the impressive Dark Lord of the Sith who serves Emperor Palpatine. After Vader's near-fatal duel with Obi-Wan Kenobi on Mustafar, Palpatine has his apprentice encased in black armor that provides constant life support.

23. The Ewoks are sentient furred bipeds native to the moon of Endor. They accepted members of the Rebel Alliance into their tribe and allied themselves to their cause. The Ewoks helped to destroy the Imperial shield generator built in their forests. Their help paved the way to victory at the Battle of Endor.

24. Dwarf spider droids are rugged and offer heavier firepower than battle droids. Originally used by the Commerce Guild to enforce tribute payments on rocky mining worlds, dwarf spider droids easily destroy smaller vehicles. However, these four-legged walkers are vulnerable from behind.

25. A small desert moon frosted by a permanent winter, Jedha was a world important to the Jedi Order as home to one of the first civilizations to explore the nature of the Force. Now, a prolonged battle between Imperial forces and scattered Rebels carries on in Jedha's timeworn streets.

26/27. Hyperdrives allow starships to cross space through the alternate dimension of hyperspace, travelling faster than the speed of light. Large objects in normal space cast mass shadows in hyperspace, so jumps must be precisely calculated to avoid collisions -- and accidentally revealing surprise invasions.

28. Often overshadowed by the newer X-wing and A-wing, the Y-wing starfighter has served multiple generations of star pilots as a workhorse that can take a combat beating and still make it home. The Alliance Starfighters Corps fly Y-wings in both epic battles over the Empire's Death Stars.

29. General Grievous serves as the supreme commander of the Droid Army during the Clone Wars, until his defeat at the hands of Obi-Wan Kenobi. A cyborg, Grievous was once a Kaleesh warlord and was rebuilt after a shuttle crash.

30. Porgs are small, flat-muzzled avians that flock about the rocks and roost in the cliffs of Luke Skywalker's secluded island. They are very inquisitive creatures.

31. The deadly assassin droid IG-88 is hired by Darth Vader to track the Millenium Falcon. The droid is a long time rival of Boba Fett, its incomplete programming making it obsessed with hunting and killing. Boba destroys the droid assassin and leaves it for scrap in Cloud City after catching it trailing him.

[thefallenhumanblog]

Captains Log (102359)

(This has been translated from Galactic Standard to English)

As our observation of the Terrans comes to an end we have received permission from the Galactic Federal Council to capture 4 of these Terrans for research and clarification of Terrans PPPC (Potential Power Per Capita) ((This is the Galactic equivalent of a class Ranking with higher numbers meaning stronger creatures)) Although with the specific order that we are supposed to pick out Terrans “that will not be missed by others“. In addition I Hrggfulx ((HERG-FOLKS)) have decided to pull one Terran from each of the different environments and climates of this Fluix ((Fluix is the Equivalent of God to the Mantiine Intellectual Species)) Forsaken Planet.

How this species has grown and become intelligent I nor my best Scientists can be sure of, but we have found our selected Terrans after a relatively short 7 solar rotation cycles. ((A planets full orbital cycle is a Solar Rotation, thus each solar rotation is specific to whatever planet is in question, the distance from the star and the speed of the orbit.)) In this short amount of time we have seen numerous Terran creations leave the surface of this world satellites sent into a perfect geosynchronous orbit, a black and white vehicle loaded with protein, tripolycarbonate, sulfurhexaflouride and Specifically Terrans themselves. The vehicle itself seems to have been designed on the appearance of one of this worlds aquatic fauna, specifically as the Terrans call it with their harsh words ORKAH WHALE or more commonly SHAAM-MOOOO. 

Regardless they did not notice Hrralaflaxl ((HER-RA-FULL-AXEL)) due to our superior camouflage technology. What this species lacks for in technology however, they make up for with ingenuity, and a great determination to make things go “Their Way”  the species in majority is very interested in war, they like bloodshed, and they love to make other things suffer. When presented with a challenge a Terran is just as likely to find a peaceful solution as it is to rip the head off of whatever may have been troubling it.

**COMPUTER**

Oxygen Atmosphere Conversion Complete-- All Mantiine please stay inside of your Nitrii-Suits All non Oxygen breathing members please refrain from leaving your quarters, or don an appropriate Enviro-Suit for your Safety.

Repeat, OXYGEN LEVELS 75% FATAL LEVELS TO MANTIINE CREW DO NOT REMOVE NITRII-SUIT

Wonderful, it’s now time for us to meet our selected Terrans.

**Mantiine Species are a Nitrogen Based Intelligent lifeform, They have 4 legs, wings, and Two Spiked Forearms, Most are Green, Brown, or Orange in color, with the Females being Yellow or White.They stand an average of 5 feet tall, with the tallest being 6 feet. This species as a PPPC Score of 1955 which is high on the galactic species rating.The species is omnivorous and will eat almost anything, even sentient life, and is armored with a chitin exoskeleton. The eyes of this species are the strongest scoring aspect of the species, being able to see at a great distance, in the dark, and with more color variety than any other species in the galaxy. ((For those still wondering take a Praying Mantis, and Make it grow 6 feet in size.)) Beyond the scary looking exterior however, is a species that lusts after knowledge, and while being decently suited for combat, they try to avoid it where ever possible.

[yulnabi]

Day 61 [IC-Chuvash Saga]

Sunday: Dreams of Novi Cheboksary

Logs of Grand Duchess Yuliya N. Kardasheva, leader of the Chuvash People’s Republic.

 01.01.2221

Today marked the beginning of our first Ten-Year Plan.  Our goal is to expand our borders to the uninhabited systems around us, to increase our defensive capacities exponentially, and to build as many megastructures as we can to fuel our economy.

 06.08.2221

S.O. Erika Hertseg informed me that the Fission Suppressor in the Timati System had begun to successfully compress the star.  The Star’s fusion has been altered, creating a powerful gravitational field.  This field has shrunk the star’s volume.  Our labs within the Fission Suppressor are currently studying the effects this has had on the stellar plasma.

 06.23.2221

S.O. Aleksandr Golovin reports that the Yggdrasil Orchid Complex site has been built.  Once complete, it will seed the gas giant with bioforms that can be used to feed our populace.

 08.30.2221

A victory for peace. Ambassador Timofiev informs me that the Hazar Hierarchy has dropped their silly policy of closed borders and has decided to open their borders to our ships.  This is a step forward in fomenting a peaceful coexistence between our peoples.

 10.28.2221

Chief Engineer Artem Isaev reported today that the construction of the labs in the Yggdrasil Orchid Complex had been built.  These labs will serve the purpose of designing the particular plant matter that will be seeded in the gas giant’s upper atmosphere.

 03.10.2222

C.E. Artem Isaev’s report indicates that we have finished construction of the Yggdrasil Orchid Complex’s atmosphere manipulators.  These devices will manipulate the atmosphere of the gas giant to make sure the organisms we ‘plant’ there actually survive.  Once they finish the process of manipulating the atmosphere, the gas giant will be like a giant farm for our nation.

 05.18.2222

Enough is enough.  The Bashkir and other nations have informed us that the Matsonia System is unpassable because of the pirates making their home there. This morning, I ordered the 1st Evtushenko Kosmoflota to head there and put an end to the pirate’s evil deeds.  Whether they do so peacefully or through the force of arms is at the discretion of our capable admiral.

 I realize that many of our men and women will be lost if it comes to hostilities, but it is a sacrifice that must be made for the peace of the galaxy and the glory of Inanna.  

 Reports from our Sentry Array tell us that their fleet consists of 20000 cruisers, 16000 frigates, and 4000 raiders.  They also have 1000 gigantic galleons stationed in the system.

 08.29.2222

C.E. Isaev reports that the Yggdrasil Orchid Complex is finally complete and fully operational. Billions of plant organisms now thrive in the armosphere of the gas giant Norilsk I.  We estimate the planet alone can feed the population of dozens of colonies.

 12.15.2222

S.O. Vera Brezhneva submitted her report on the Cybrex research facility we found on Cygny VII. S.O. Brezhneva concluded that the Cybrex had been experimenting with cybernetic life forms in the facility. Hundreds of unwilling prisoners were moved to this facility as subject for their dastardly and inhumane experiments. These prisoners had body parts replaced by mechanical contraptions.  The objective of these experiments remain a mystery to us.

 01.08.2223

The Fusion Suppressor has finished compressing Timati again.  The star is of an even smaller volume than before.  Our findings are extraordinary and beyond the wildest dreams of our scientific community.  Some of the findings defy the currently adhered to laws of physics.  We have little option but to further compress the star and see what other mysteries we can unlock.

 03.21.2223

Today the 1st Evtushenko Kosmoflota reached the Matsonia System.  As soon as they were spotted, the pirates began undertaking hostile actions.  Admiral Natalya Stroeva informs that our Sentry Array was correct, the pirate forces consist of 1000 galleons, 20000 cruisers, 16000 frigates, and 16000 raiders. Our fleet consists of 1000 Evtushenko Class heavy titans, 10000 Gantimurova Class cruisers, 10000 Antonenko Class destroyers, and 20000 Golovanova Class corvettes.  

We pray to Lady Inanna that the battle turns in our favor and that we suffer as little losses as possible.

 04.27.2223

Today the Battle of Matsonia came to an end.  It was an overwhelming victory.  Though thousands of our ships sustained damage, we did not lose a single one in the battle.  Admiral Natalya Stroeva reports that the entire pirate fleet was wiped out.  Never had we imagined for such an overwhelming victory.  It seems that our technology far surpasses anything the pirates had in their possession.

I have ordered the 1st Evtushenko Fleet to return to the Alexander Pushkin System, where they are to enjoy a vacation and be rewarded for their service.

 06.02.2223

The Fusion Suppressor in Timati has turned the star into a neutron star.  That is that it has been compressed to such an extent that the protons and electrons within its core have fused and become neutrons.  The core is surrounded by stellar plasma.

While we could keep the star as is, I have ordered that it be compressed further.  If successful, we would be the first civilization in the galaxy to create an artificial black hole.  

 06.30.2223

Our attempts to turn Timati into an artificial black hole have been successful!  The Fusion Suppressor and the labs remain in place.  The research value of this cannot be overstated! Our entire scientific community is ecstatic with such a development.

 01.20.2224

S.O. Olexandr Timoshenko reports from Regor I that the dead aliens we found all died from vacuum exposure. The corpses had the same type of barcodes we now know the Cybrex would laser onto the skin of their captives. These aliens were executed by being “spaced.”  The reason for their execution remains unclear.

 03.22.2224

We have located the home system of the Cybrex!  It is a ruined ringworld where they retreated after their numerous attempts to cleanse the galaxy of organic life were thwarted.

 04.06.2224

Today I ordered the construction of a mega project around Krasnodar—A Particle Accelerator around the star.

 10.18.2224

Today we finished building the construction site for the Particle Accelerator around Krasnodar. This megastructure will wrap around the star, making it possible to accelerate particles to tremendous speeds.

 10.09.2225

Pursuant to our Federation’s bylaws, the Khanate of Bashkortostan has taken leadership of the Federation.  We will assume leadership again in five years.

 03.30.2226

What a glorious day for our nation!  Today we signed a trade agreement with the Canthari Empire.  For 20 years, they will pay us a large number of minerals and energy credits in exchange for Yurantic Crystals.  Yurantic Crystals are a very rare and powerful strategic resource. The crystals have mostly military applications, and are mostly used to increase the power output of energy weapons, increasing their power by 20%.

 05.27.2226

It seems we have become the economic power of the galaxy!  Today we signed a 20 year trade deal with the Union of Biris.  They will provide us with a large number of minerals each month in exchange for Neutronium Ore.  Neutronium Ore is a super-dense substance only mineable from neutron stars that is made up of neutrons.  It can be forged into extremely resistant ship hulls.  Ship hulls with neutronium alloys are 20% more resistant than the strongest of hulls.

Today I also ordered the colonization of Minsk in the Minsk System.

 09.22.2226

After years of tense relations, today we signed a trade deal with the Jas-Gavaz Galactic State!  They have offered us a monthly stipend of minerals for 20 years in exchange for Garanthium Ore.  Like neutronium, garanthium ore can be refined into an extremely malleable and durable metal.  It makes ship armor up to 20% more resistant to incoming damage.

 09.25.2226

I am speechless. Today the Hazar Hierarchy declared war on the Mandate of Izk.  

 The Hazar Hierarchy is a despotic hegemony.  Their government is a materialistic form of hereditary autocracy.  The government of the Hazar Hierarchy views its citizens as nothing but cogs in the state machinery.  They value efficacy and technological progress above all else. Most worrying of all, they see themselves as the rightful rulers of the galaxy and are willing to use any and all methods to achieve this goal.

 The Mandate of Izk is a moral democracy.  They are pacifist democrats, ruled by moralist principles and committed to non-violence.  Their main goal is to form federations with other nations to protect all sapient life in the galaxy.  We find it unfortunate that war was brought upon them, and can only hope that luck is on their side.

 Given the rising aggressiveness of the Hazar Hierarchy, I have ordered the construction of a second fleet.

 05.09.2227

Our population is booming. As such, today I ordered the colonization of the planets Shnurov A, Shnurov B, and Norilsk.

 09.09.2228

A modern marvel, after years of effort, we have finished construction of the Yuliya Polyachihina (formerly Vladislava Evtushenko) dual ringworld.  Once colonized, it will be able to house 300 billion people.

 02.08.2229

Our population leaves us no option, we have to put the ringworld around Yuliya Polyachihina to good use.  I have ordered the colonization of all 12 segments, as well as the construction of more habitable segments.  

 09.09.2229

S.O. Anna Sedokova informs me that her team has finished researching the Jump Drive.  The jump drive shreds the local space-time continuum and rearranges it on the quantum level to be identical to that of the target destination—and thus the ship appears to near-instantly jump from system to system.

 Later in the evening, I was informed that the colony in Minsk had become fully operational.  This is excellent news, as Minsk is a gaia world that can house up to 25 billion people.

 04.03.2230

The colony in Shnurov B was established today.  It is a continental world with climate similar to that of earth around the year 2018 A.D.  Shnurov B can house up to 23 billion people.

 04.28.2230

Today we established our colony on Shnurov A.  It is a predominantly tundra world that can sustain up to 19 billion colonists.

 07.02.2230

We finished construction of the Norilsk colony.  It is a planet covered mostly by vast oceans, but it’s small landmasses can house up to 20 billion people.  

 12.31.2230

Lady Inanna, today marked the end of our first 10-Year Plan.  Outside the Novi Cheboksary system, our nation currently consists of nine colonies, holding 7 major shipyards and 7 starbases.

  According to our census, the Chuvash People’s Republic has a total population of 466 billion, including 437 billion Chuvash, 13 billion Bashkir immigrants, 5 billion Kedeshi. And 11 billion aliens from 11 species.