Admiral Haverson looked at his assembled staff, tapping a pen on the table. He had several guests, appearing as holograms, that normally wouldn't be present at a Space Force Naval briefing, just like he and his officers wouldn't be present at any briefing they would normally give. The holograms were still on the middle of the table but it was all mathematics and formula.
Haverson prized his education, he had the equivalent of a Masters in ecological geography, he knew how astrogation and astrophysics worked, he'd been taught hyper-mathematics at the Academy.
None of that helped with those equations and barely helped with the briefing so far.
The pen quit tapping.
"All right. So you've given us the science. Since some of us are vacuum suckers and infantry and tankers and mechanecks, you think you can simplify it for us, Doctors?" Haverson asked.
There was some light laughter at that.
One of the Doctors brightened and solidified their holopresence slightly, a method the academics used to signify who was speaking and who had the floor.
"Thirty-one systems protected from Precursor attacks on the leading edge of the so called 'Outer Rim Systems' bordering the Long Dark are all showing the same events," the speaker, Doctor Scott, stated calmly. He didn't stand, confined to a wheelchair, but his voice was strong and firm.
"Each of those systems had an atomic detonation soon after we refused to turn the systems back over to the Lanaktallan corporations and the Unified Systems Council, correct?" General Nodra'ak asked.
"Precisely. There was a hyperpulse to an unknown destination, tight beam broadcast, from a hidden transmitter array which was subsequently destroyed by atomics right after the broadcast," Doctor Scott said. He lifted up a bottle and took a pull from the straw to wet his throat. "We have been unable to decode the hyperpulse because it is a fairly simple signal. Just a bleat of code in the upper hyperpulse FTL bands. These bands are usually the easiest discovered but use up a lot of energy to reach, as well as having a hyperspace flare that can be seen by any ship with hyperspace detectors."
"The reason we don't use it. Too easily detected, blocked, and intercepted," Admiral Renvelate, a Terran female with her lower jaw replaced by a warsteel cybernetic implant.
"Correct, Admiral," Doctor Scott said.
"Where was the pulse directed to?" Haverson asked.
"That we can't tell. We didn't have hyperspace detector arrays set up around those systems. A problem which I commend your colleagues for addressing in the systems we have a presence," Doctor Scott said. "The pulse was not strong to reach too far before dropping from hyperspace into real space. A half-light year at the most."
"The Precursors have a habit of hanging around outside of systems. Could it have somehow been directed toward one of them?" Admiral Krikov asked, pointing at the sector map with a strip of smoked and dehydrated meat.
"That would assume they, whoever they are, would want to talk to a Precursor. Additionally, examining Precursor wreckage does not suggest they have the ability to detect hyperpulses. The signal would do no good to them," Another scientist said. A Rigellian by the name of Essessel, an expert in Precursor engineering and technology.
"I think we can safely assume 'they' are the Unified Councils," General of the Metal Antilles growled.
"Without proof we cannot confirm that hypothesis," Another scientist, a Treana'ad who went by Jack Hope, said. "Without proof any conjecture would naturally be flawed by gaps in the data matrix. That could lead to Space Force training to fight the wrong enemy which would lead to disaster."
Reluctantly the gathered staff officers nodded. That was always a risk. Too many times a military had trained and perfected weapons and tactics for the previous war they had fought, only to be confounded by a new enemy in a new terrain with different equipment.
"Precursors would not account for the additional evidence we have collected," Essessel stated.
"The solar anomalies," Haverson said.
"Exactly. Now, with standard star photosphere functions you can reasonably use this formula," A Naverok by the name of Vissaga Christie stated, highlighting a set of formula.
"That's where you lose me," Haverson said.
Christie sighed, her neck fronds ruffling. "Very well. What we have observed and gathered evidence of is a sunspot, each time on the upper 45 degree angle on the Z-axis of the star that holds position despite the stellar mass's rotation. Over time it has been shrinking steadily and the other anomaly his increased," Vissaga said. She turned to Malgossa, a DS that took the shape of an attractive Pure Strain Human made out streaming code and wearing a business suit.
Malgossa brightened and highlighted some formula. "As you can see gravitic energy has increased as the sunspot has contracted and darkened. It follows the 45 degree angle from the 'northern' hemisphere of the stellar body. In each case it follows the same degree of sunspot contraction and gravitic increase."
"It's coming from an external force," Krikov guessed.
"Even if it is coming from some kind of device we cannot detect within the star itself it still must reach another point with the express purpose of allowing that outside object to utilize the gravitic energy," Malgossa answered. "But for what purpose, I don't know."
Admiral Fire Bones, a Cyborg Collective member, suddenly sat up.
"Wait!" he rumbled. He started tapping on his keyboard. "Wait just a moment. I know this," he looked around. "I have a PhD in Technological History, I've seen that gravitic formula before."
Moments passed as the big cyborg, a decorated Admiral and former Marine General kept typing. "OK, it's not in the database. I need you to look at the gravitic ion drive in the archives. It was a theoretical drive of Ancient Terra, per-Diasporia, that was abandoned because the amount of energy it would take was literally astronomical."
The various scientists looked down, all of them accessing library and archive functions they had available.
Christie looked up, making a tossing motion. The formula appeared, using Lost Terra mathematical equations. "I forget how innovative and curious homo-sapiens is. Despite being unable to use it, the formula is suprisingly well documented, researched, and examined despite never being put to practical testing.," the Naverok said. She gave a sigh, vibrating her crests, which had gone orange as they were flushed with blood. "Yes, with those energy readings and gravitic forces you could, theoretically reach FTL speeds."
"Someone's coming," Haverson growled.
"Not necessarily," Dr. Hope stated. "Without further evidence I cannot," he paused. "Wait."
He brought up other formula. The scientists all nodded, muttering quietly to one another.
"There is enough evidence to concur that something is indeed 'coming' as you put it," the Treana'ad stated. "As the sunspot tightens, the energy increases, which, if you account for the gravity well of the stellar mass as well as the orbital bodies, compensates for what would normally cause a slowing effect using that particular method of gravitic FTL."
"Which system has the smallest sunspot and the tightest gravitic beam?" Haverson interrupted.
Doctor Scott consulted a computer display to his left.
"Telkan."
--------------------------
Rear Admiral T'kik'tak O'Malley jerked awake from a pleasant dream of finding a beautiful female dancing in a truck full of many many different flavors of ice cream. His personal com-link was beeping an annoying grating sound and he reached up with one blade-arm to open the link, almost poking himself in the eye.
"O'Malley here, go ahead," the Treana'ad said, forgetting to use him Terran growl.
"Admiral Yamamoto's compliments, Admiral. All Task Force Commanders are to report to a briefing in twenty shipboard minutes," A Comtech answered.
O'Malley could feel the faint vibration of the massive fusion engines of his ship as he threw off his sleeping cloths.
"We are underway, what's our destination?" he snapped, remembering his accent.
"Telkan, at emergency flank speed. They just broadcasted a Case-Omaha," The Comtech said.
That got O'Malley to flail his way out of bed and through the sleeping chamber door. He barely managed to snag his sash and pouch on the way out, rushing down the hallway and pulling them over his head.
Case-Omaha.
"I am being invaded with overwhelming strength including planetary landings and am in need of ALL the assistance."
-------------------------
Vice Admiral Fullcreek stared at his display screen, watching the feed from the probe.
Three things had happened and once. The sunspot had tattered and begun to break up. The gravitic corridor had vanished.
And a dark spot had appeared inside the system, between the outermost planetary orbit and the Oort Cloud.
Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, he thought to himself.
He had ordered a probe launched. High speed burn then run dark until it neared any type of mass. Then it was to jettison its particle cover and use passive systems first until ordered to use full sensors or if it detected energy signatures.
The probe had detected a mass and had used reaction thrusters of compressed xenon gas and faint electrical current.
The probe ejected the debris cover and the cameras oriented.
Fullcreek stared for a long moment, shocked by what had appeared on the viewscreen. His reflexes, driven into muscle memory and his hindbrain by decades of Space Force Naval service, reacted and he transmitted the orders for the entire Task Force to go to Action Stations.
He was staring, he couldn't pull his eyes away, he couldn't really understand what he was seeing as his second set of reflexes kicked in and ordered his Comtech to broadcast and immediate Case-Omaha to all nearby stations and Space Force Sector Command.
At first it looked like a fuzzy expanding multicolored blob.
Then smaller things became identifiable. Like how the cloud was spreading out as the smaller objects spread away from the large solid center. How the medium sized objects ejected smaller objects. How the largest object was miles long. The medium ones approximately a mile. How the smaller ones ranged from a few hundred meters to almost a kilometer.
How all of them were unfolding vast solar sails. Unfurling tentacles. Ejecting bioplasma from their rear sections to use as propellant.
How the objects were pulsating with obscene life.
Admiral Fullcreek turned from his briefing room, heading for the Fleet Bridge, as the ship went to full alert.
-----------------------
Corporal Vuxten, Terran Confederate Space Force Marine Corps, ducked under the laser as it swept overhead, using his datalink to order the two purrbois with him to deploy chaff. The Fido was struggling to its three remaining feet, unlimbering a missile launcher from its back.
"Second squad, rocket pack on that Precursor Gobbler Mech," Vuxten snapped. He was about to give a second order when the simulation suddenly flashed red three times and then dissolved.
Before he could ask what was going on, like his two squads of Telkan Marines were starting to, his datalink trilled and words appeared in his vision.
CASE OMAHA! CASE OMAHA! CASE OMAHA!
He had to consult his datalink and when he saw the meaning he immediately overrode his men's conversations.
VUXTEN - REPORT TO COMPANY COMMANDER
"Everyone to the barracks. Gear up. Full combat kit, extended operations. Squad leaders, take headcount then get them to the armory for full loadup," Vuxten snapped. He didn't bother to double-check, his men had become well trained in the year since the Precursor attack had ended. Instead he hurried out of the simulator and headed down the hallway, moving at fast walk.
Around him others streamed toward their assigned areas.
Vuxten took the time to ping his wife, sending her a quick message that he loved her. He sent it as her message arrived to him.
Telkan was being invaded.
Again.
--------------
Brentili'ik looked up as the words CASE - OMAHA flashed in her vision three times. Colonel Harvey, the local Space Force Liaison and former commander of Refugee Camp Osmium, looked up from his desk.
Brentili'ik was already going through the checklist of her responsibilities. Signal local military command. Colonel Harvey nodded as he got Brentili'ik's ping, knowing that the far away look in her eyes meant that she might not have seen it he pinged an acknowledgement. Unlock all emergency civilian shelters. Alert all Civil Defense Leaders.
Activate the Emergency Broadcast System.
She was already with Colonel Harvey, working on a plan to teach the broodcarriers basic iconography. Initial tests had gone well, the broodcarriers learning and retaining the information.
"What is happening?" Brentili'ik asked the lean Terran.
"We're being invaded."
"Precursors?" Brentili'ik asked, feeling her stomach clench.
Harvey shook his head. "I don't know. They'll be here in hours. Admiral Fullcreek is moving to engage but he wants all civilians in the deep shelters and the military to go full alert," Harvey said.
"Lanaktallans?" Brentili'ik asked.
"We don't know," Harvey said. He looked at her square. "Missus Brentili'ik, you need to go see to your podlings and broodcarriers as well coordinate with Civil Defense."
"My place is here," Brentili'ik said.
"Your husband is Marine Corps, you have no other relatives on planet. Do you want your broodcarriers and podlings too frightened to get to the shelters quickly?" Harvey asked.
"But other people's broodcarriers and podlings rely on me also," Brentili'ik said.
"Fullcreek believes it will be at least eight hours. Get your family into the shelters, Brentili'ik, that's a direct order," Harvey snapped. "Be back in two hours to assume your duties."
Brentili'ik stood straight up, touched her paw to her brow, and hurried away.
Harvey was right. Her family needed her.
But so did others.
The conflicting emotions twisted her stomach as she ran out to her ground car.
Citizenship is a heavy burden.
--------------------
TELKAN GESTALT
Um, what is that? Does anyone know what it is?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
What? What is THAT? Bio, you know anything about that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENT SYSTEMS
HOLY GENE AND CHROMOSOME! What in the nine names of the Holy Genome is that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS---------
TELKAN GESTALT
It's coming my way. It doesn't look friendly. Everyone's getting to shelters.
CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA
Um, what was that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
That was an emergency gestalt alert, dear one.
Case Omaha? Someone get TERRAN CONFEDMIL in here!
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE
But what IS that thing? What are all of they?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DOKI! DOKI DOKI NEKO NEKO NEKO!
WWWWAAARRRRRGGGGGH!!!
DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!
DWELLERSPAWN!
----WE ARE JOAN-------
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Dwellerspawn? What in the name of the sweet cone are dwellerspawn?
Hey, get back here! Someone grab her!
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
SHE BIT ME!
DOKIDOKIDOKIDOKI
GRAB HER!
---NTHNIONG FOLLWS----
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
OW! SHE KICKED DOKI ME RIGHT IN THE NOSE!
-----NOTHING DOKI DOKI DOKI FOLLOWS----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
HOLY EGG! SHE'S ON FIRE! SHE JUST BURST INTO FLAME!
SOMEONE
>OSIRIS has entered the chat - SOLNET IP OUT OF RANGE
********
THE CRUSADE OF THE EYE
???????????? ???????? ???????????????????? ????????.
????????, ???????? ???????????????????????????? ????????????????????. ℙ???????????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????????? ????????????????. ???????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????????? ???? ???????????????????? ???????? ???????????????? ???????????? ???????????? ???????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????? ???????????? ????????????????????????????.
ℙ???????????????? ???????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????.
???????????????????????? ???????? ???????????? ???????????????????????????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????????????????????? ????????????.
********
DOKI DOKI DOKI
WAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!
NEKO DOKI NEKO DOKI
DWELLERSPAWN! DWELLERSPAWN! DWELLERSPAWN!
BURN! BURN! BURN!
HAMMERTIME HAMMERTIME HAMMERTIME
WAAAAAAARGH!
WE ARE JOAN!
DOKI DOKI DOKI
-----BURN BURN BURN------
>CRUSADE OF THE EYE HAS LEFT THE CHAT (CORRUPT SOLNET IP)
CLONE DIRECTORATE
OSIRIS? I thought he was dead! Nobody seen him in like six thousand years. It's gotta be someone else using that name.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
WHAT THE FUCK IS A DWELLERSPAWN?
(Damn, my hand hurts. The little weirdo bit me)
----NOTHING FOLLOWS----
TELKAN GESTALT
I think these.
CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA
I... I might need everyone.
CASE OMAHA
Uh... please come in and we need assistance.
----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
TERRAN CONFEDERACY MILITARY GESTALT
HOLD THE LINE, BROTHERS! WE ARE COMING!
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
TERRASOL
We hear your cry and we are coming to your aid.
Bound by blood and steel.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS------
MANTID FREE WORLDS
How... how did she break 83.54% of the food processors on the planet?
----NOTHING FOLLOWS------
Admiral Haverson looked at his assembled staff, tapping a pen on the table. He had several guests, appearing as holograms, that normally wouldn't be present at a Space Force Naval briefing, just like he and his officers wouldn't be present at any briefing they would normally give. The holograms were still on the middle of the table but it was all mathematics and formula.
Haverson prized his education, he had the equivalent of a Masters in ecological geography, he knew how astrogation and astrophysics worked, he'd been taught hyper-mathematics at the Academy.
None of that helped with those equations and barely helped with the briefing so far.
The pen quit tapping.
"All right. So you've given us the science. Since some of us are vacuum suckers and infantry and tankers and mechanecks, you think you can simplify it for us, Doctors?" Haverson asked.
There was some light laughter at that.
One of the Doctors brightened and solidified their holopresence slightly, a method the academics used to signify who was speaking and who had the floor.
"Thirty-one systems protected from Precursor attacks on the leading edge of the so called 'Outer Rim Systems' bordering the Long Dark are all showing the same events," the speaker, Doctor Scott, stated calmly. He didn't stand, confined to a wheelchair, but his voice was strong and firm.
"Each of those systems had an atomic detonation soon after we refused to turn the systems back over to the Lanaktallan corporations and the Unified Systems Council, correct?" General Nodra'ak asked.
"Precisely. There was a hyperpulse to an unknown destination, tight beam broadcast, from a hidden transmitter array which was subsequently destroyed by atomics right after the broadcast," Doctor Scott said. He lifted up a bottle and took a pull from the straw to wet his throat. "We have been unable to decode the hyperpulse because it is a fairly simple signal. Just a bleat of code in the upper hyperpulse FTL bands. These bands are usually the easiest discovered but use up a lot of energy to reach, as well as having a hyperspace flare that can be seen by any ship with hyperspace detectors."
"The reason we don't use it. Too easily detected, blocked, and intercepted," Admiral Renvelate, a Terran female with her lower jaw replaced by a warsteel cybernetic implant.
"Correct, Admiral," Doctor Scott said.
"Where was the pulse directed to?" Haverson asked.
"That we can't tell. We didn't have hyperspace detector arrays set up around those systems. A problem which I commend your colleagues for addressing in the systems we have a presence," Doctor Scott said. "The pulse was not strong to reach too far before dropping from hyperspace into real space. A half-light year at the most."
"The Precursors have a habit of hanging around outside of systems. Could it have somehow been directed toward one of them?" Admiral Krikov asked, pointing at the sector map with a strip of smoked and dehydrated meat.
"That would assume they, whoever they are, would want to talk to a Precursor. Additionally, examining Precursor wreckage does not suggest they have the ability to detect hyperpulses. The signal would do no good to them," Another scientist said. A Rigellian by the name of Essessel, an expert in Precursor engineering and technology.
"I think we can safely assume 'they' are the Unified Councils," General of the Metal Antilles growled.
"Without proof we cannot confirm that hypothesis," Another scientist, a Treana'ad who went by Jack Hope, said. "Without proof any conjecture would naturally be flawed by gaps in the data matrix. That could lead to Space Force training to fight the wrong enemy which would lead to disaster."
Reluctantly the gathered staff officers nodded. That was always a risk. Too many times a military had trained and perfected weapons and tactics for the previous war they had fought, only to be confounded by a new enemy in a new terrain with different equipment.
"Precursors would not account for the additional evidence we have collected," Essessel stated.
"The solar anomalies," Haverson said.
"Exactly. Now, with standard star photosphere functions you can reasonably use this formula," A Naverok by the name of Vissaga Christie stated, highlighting a set of formula.
"That's where you lose me," Haverson said.
Christie sighed, her neck fronds ruffling. "Very well. What we have observed and gathered evidence of is a sunspot, each time on the upper 45 degree angle on the Z-axis of the star that holds position despite the stellar mass's rotation. Over time it has been shrinking steadily and the other anomaly his increased," Vissaga said. She turned to Malgossa, a DS that took the shape of an attractive Pure Strain Human made out streaming code and wearing a business suit.
Malgossa brightened and highlighted some formula. "As you can see gravitic energy has increased as the sunspot has contracted and darkened. It follows the 45 degree angle from the 'northern' hemisphere of the stellar body. In each case it follows the same degree of sunspot contraction and gravitic increase."
"It's coming from an external force," Krikov guessed.
"Even if it is coming from some kind of device we cannot detect within the star itself it still must reach another point with the express purpose of allowing that outside object to utilize the gravitic energy," Malgossa answered. "But for what purpose, I don't know."
Admiral Fire Bones, a Cyborg Collective member, suddenly sat up.
"Wait!" he rumbled. He started tapping on his keyboard. "Wait just a moment. I know this," he looked around. "I have a PhD in Technological History, I've seen that gravitic formula before."
Moments passed as the big cyborg, a decorated Admiral and former Marine General kept typing. "OK, it's not in the database. I need you to look at the gravitic ion drive in the archives. It was a theoretical drive of Ancient Terra, per-Diasporia, that was abandoned because the amount of energy it would take was literally astronomical."
The various scientists looked down, all of them accessing library and archive functions they had available.
Christie looked up, making a tossing motion. The formula appeared, using Lost Terra mathematical equations. "I forget how innovative and curious homo-sapiens is. Despite being unable to use it, the formula is suprisingly well documented, researched, and examined despite never being put to practical testing.," the Naverok said. She gave a sigh, vibrating her crests, which had gone orange as they were flushed with blood. "Yes, with those energy readings and gravitic forces you could, theoretically reach FTL speeds."
"Someone's coming," Haverson growled.
"Not necessarily," Dr. Hope stated. "Without further evidence I cannot," he paused. "Wait."
He brought up other formula. The scientists all nodded, muttering quietly to one another.
"There is enough evidence to concur that something is indeed 'coming' as you put it," the Treana'ad stated. "As the sunspot tightens, the energy increases, which, if you account for the gravity well of the stellar mass as well as the orbital bodies, compensates for what would normally cause a slowing effect using that particular method of gravitic FTL."
"Which system has the smallest sunspot and the tightest gravitic beam?" Haverson interrupted.
Doctor Scott consulted a computer display to his left.
"Telkan."
--------------------------
Rear Admiral T'kik'tak O'Malley jerked awake from a pleasant dream of finding a beautiful female dancing in a truck full of many many different flavors of ice cream. His personal com-link was beeping an annoying grating sound and he reached up with one blade-arm to open the link, almost poking himself in the eye.
"O'Malley here, go ahead," the Treana'ad said, forgetting to use him Terran growl.
"Admiral Yamamoto's compliments, Admiral. All Task Force Commanders are to report to a briefing in twenty shipboard minutes," A Comtech answered.
O'Malley could feel the faint vibration of the massive fusion engines of his ship as he threw off his sleeping cloths.
"We are underway, what's our destination?" he snapped, remembering his accent.
"Telkan, at emergency flank speed. They just broadcasted a Case-Omaha," The Comtech said.
That got O'Malley to flail his way out of bed and through the sleeping chamber door. He barely managed to snag his sash and pouch on the way out, rushing down the hallway and pulling them over his head.
Case-Omaha.
"I am being invaded with overwhelming strength including planetary landings and am in need of ALL the assistance."
-------------------------
Vice Admiral Fullcreek stared at his display screen, watching the feed from the probe.
Three things had happened and once. The sunspot had tattered and begun to break up. The gravitic corridor had vanished.
And a dark spot had appeared inside the system, between the outermost planetary orbit and the Oort Cloud.
Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action, he thought to himself.
He had ordered a probe launched. High speed burn then run dark until it neared any type of mass. Then it was to jettison its particle cover and use passive systems first until ordered to use full sensors or if it detected energy signatures.
The probe had detected a mass and had used reaction thrusters of compressed xenon gas and faint electrical current.
The probe ejected the debris cover and the cameras oriented.
Fullcreek stared for a long moment, shocked by what had appeared on the viewscreen. His reflexes, driven into muscle memory and his hindbrain by decades of Space Force Naval service, reacted and he transmitted the orders for the entire Task Force to go to Action Stations.
He was staring, he couldn't pull his eyes away, he couldn't really understand what he was seeing as his second set of reflexes kicked in and ordered his Comtech to broadcast and immediate Case-Omaha to all nearby stations and Space Force Sector Command.
At first it looked like a fuzzy expanding multicolored blob.
Then smaller things became identifiable. Like how the cloud was spreading out as the smaller objects spread away from the large solid center. How the medium sized objects ejected smaller objects. How the largest object was miles long. The medium ones approximately a mile. How the smaller ones ranged from a few hundred meters to almost a kilometer.
How all of them were unfolding vast solar sails. Unfurling tentacles. Ejecting bioplasma from their rear sections to use as propellant.
How the objects were pulsating with obscene life.
Admiral Fullcreek turned from his briefing room, heading for the Fleet Bridge, as the ship went to full alert.
-----------------------
Corporal Vuxten, Terran Confederate Space Force Marine Corps, ducked under the laser as it swept overhead, using his datalink to order the two purrbois with him to deploy chaff. The Fido was struggling to its three remaining feet, unlimbering a missile launcher from its back.
"Second squad, rocket pack on that Precursor Gobbler Mech," Vuxten snapped. He was about to give a second order when the simulation suddenly flashed red three times and then dissolved.
Before he could ask what was going on, like his two squads of Telkan Marines were starting to, his datalink trilled and words appeared in his vision.
CASE OMAHA! CASE OMAHA! CASE OMAHA!
He had to consult his datalink and when he saw the meaning he immediately overrode his men's conversations.
VUXTEN - REPORT TO COMPANY COMMANDER
"Everyone to the barracks. Gear up. Full combat kit, extended operations. Squad leaders, take headcount then get them to the armory for full loadup," Vuxten snapped. He didn't bother to double-check, his men had become well trained in the year since the Precursor attack had ended. Instead he hurried out of the simulator and headed down the hallway, moving at fast walk.
Around him others streamed toward their assigned areas.
Vuxten took the time to ping his wife, sending her a quick message that he loved her. He sent it as her message arrived to him.
Telkan was being invaded.
Again.
--------------
Brentili'ik looked up as the words CASE - OMAHA flashed in her vision three times. Colonel Harvey, the local Space Force Liaison and former commander of Refugee Camp Osmium, looked up from his desk.
Brentili'ik was already going through the checklist of her responsibilities. Signal local military command. Colonel Harvey nodded as he got Brentili'ik's ping, knowing that the far away look in her eyes meant that she might not have seen it he pinged an acknowledgement. Unlock all emergency civilian shelters. Alert all Civil Defense Leaders.
Activate the Emergency Broadcast System.
She was already with Colonel Harvey, working on a plan to teach the broodcarriers basic iconography. Initial tests had gone well, the broodcarriers learning and retaining the information.
"What is happening?" Brentili'ik asked the lean Terran.
"We're being invaded."
"Precursors?" Brentili'ik asked, feeling her stomach clench.
Harvey shook his head. "I don't know. They'll be here in hours. Admiral Fullcreek is moving to engage but he wants all civilians in the deep shelters and the military to go full alert," Harvey said.
"Lanaktallans?" Brentili'ik asked.
"We don't know," Harvey said. He looked at her square. "Missus Brentili'ik, you need to go see to your podlings and broodcarriers as well coordinate with Civil Defense."
"My place is here," Brentili'ik said.
"Your husband is Marine Corps, you have no other relatives on planet. Do you want your broodcarriers and podlings too frightened to get to the shelters quickly?" Harvey asked.
"But other people's broodcarriers and podlings rely on me also," Brentili'ik said.
"Fullcreek believes it will be at least eight hours. Get your family into the shelters, Brentili'ik, that's a direct order," Harvey snapped. "Be back in two hours to assume your duties."
Brentili'ik stood straight up, touched her paw to her brow, and hurried away.
Harvey was right. Her family needed her.
But so did others.
The conflicting emotions twisted her stomach as she ran out to her ground car.
Citizenship is a heavy burden.
--------------------
TELKAN GESTALT
Um, what is that? Does anyone know what it is?
---NOTHING FOLLOWS------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
What? What is THAT? Bio, you know anything about that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENT SYSTEMS
HOLY GENE AND CHROMOSOME! What in the nine names of the Holy Genome is that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS---------
TELKAN GESTALT
It's coming my way. It doesn't look friendly. Everyone's getting to shelters.
CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA
Um, what was that?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
That was an emergency gestalt alert, dear one.
Case Omaha? Someone get TERRAN CONFEDMIL in here!
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE
But what IS that thing? What are all of they?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DOKI! DOKI DOKI NEKO NEKO NEKO!
WWWWAAARRRRRGGGGGH!!!
DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!
DWELLERSPAWN!
----WE ARE JOAN-------
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Dwellerspawn? What in the name of the sweet cone are dwellerspawn?
Hey, get back here! Someone grab her!
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DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
SHE BIT ME!
DOKIDOKIDOKIDOKI
GRAB HER!
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RIGELLIAN COMPACT
OW! SHE KICKED DOKI ME RIGHT IN THE NOSE!
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
HOLY EGG! SHE'S ON FIRE! SHE JUST BURST INTO FLAME!
SOMEONE
>OSIRIS has entered the chat - SOLNET IP OUT OF RANGE
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THE CRUSADE OF THE EYE
???????????? ???????? ???????????????????? ????????.
????????, ???????? ???????????????????????????? ????????????????????. ℙ???????????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????????? ????????????????. ???????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????????? ???? ???????????????????? ???????? ???????????????? ???????????? ???????????? ???????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????? ???????????? ???????????? ????????????????????????????.
ℙ???????????????? ???????????? ????????????????????????????????????????????????.
???????????????????????? ???????? ???????????? ???????????????????????????????? ???????????????????? ???????????????????????????????? ????????????.
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DOKI DOKI DOKI
WAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!
NEKO DOKI NEKO DOKI
DWELLERSPAWN! DWELLERSPAWN! DWELLERSPAWN!
BURN! BURN! BURN!
HAMMERTIME HAMMERTIME HAMMERTIME
WAAAAAAARGH!
WE ARE JOAN!
DOKI DOKI DOKI
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>CRUSADE OF THE EYE HAS LEFT THE CHAT (CORRUPT SOLNET IP)
CLONE DIRECTORATE
OSIRIS? I thought he was dead! Nobody seen him in like six thousand years. It's gotta be someone else using that name.
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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
WHAT THE FUCK IS A DWELLERSPAWN?
(Damn, my hand hurts. The little weirdo bit me)
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TELKAN GESTALT
I think these.
CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA CASE OMAHA
I... I might need everyone.
CASE OMAHA
Uh... please come in and we need assistance.
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TERRAN CONFEDERACY MILITARY GESTALT
HOLD THE LINE, BROTHERS! WE ARE COMING!
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TERRASOL
We hear your cry and we are coming to your aid.
Bound by blood and steel.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
How... how did she break 83.54% of the food processors on the planet?
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