DeviousMe

*clotheslines Dogma*

No harping on the slow storywriters. Be happy you get story from us at all. In Soviet Russia, story reads you!

That said, I am very much looking forward to it. Ess already got permission for characters from all of us, and since there are more people here than last year, I'm quite curious as to what will happen this time.

Ken only stood there for a shot time - considering. After a few seconds, a humanoid in slate-gray powered armor approached the robed figure, face hidden behind the light blue visor of his helmet.

"The probe has been dispatched as ordered." the Lance Corporal reported, of course not carrying the conversation in English, "We should have results shortly. Should I have my fire team assemble to follow the human?"

"No." the veiled saurian retorted, "We've enough to deal with. Are the ATCs at the ready?"

"Of course, Chief." the officer gave a nod, "We've even managed to dig out some assault skiffs. We're just waiting on Arek's signal."

"Excellent." Ken commented with an audible smirk, "I have a feeling he's going to thoroughly enjoy being the monster..."

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"Proceed." Scirocco agreed with Arbiter Walsh, leaving it at that. He knew Jake to be experienced enough to deal with the two escapees in speedy fashion.

"As to you," Malak told the new arrival with uncaring tone, "no. Furthermore, we do not appreciate system incursions."

The mystic then turned to Tamesis to inform the Arbiter further, "A registry database has been compromised. I'd like you to assign someone to find the source."

"Oh, before I forget..." Scirocco stopped once more in the process of departing. He still had his own dealings, after all. The mystic's hand motioned to Cynic, "Kill him..."

((Portal mission? Ya got me. I thought all that was going on right now was a semi-planned poke at the Fortress and/or the ruins of Portal Corp.

On another note, isn't it about time for a certain group of robots to bust through a somewhat un-random wall?

And good luck, Wolffe. Hope ya won't need it. ))

"Technically, we retain the ability to ask Requiem or Arakhn." Scirocco answered with a snort, "However, that would require dealing with those relics of the Council - am interaction I am sure we would all rather avoid."

"Von Grun had likely experimented with them by now." one of the Mu suggested, "That man is more unstable than the red dust tome. I should be surprised if he has not."

"Indeed." Malak allowed himself a sigh. Victor was truly a madman - a danger to himself and all those around him. Still, his results couldn't be denied. Not only had he already begun experimenting with things many other villain groups had considered taboo well over two decades ago, but he'd also crated a great many weapons and innovations for the forces of Arachnos during this time, "But let us belay that option until we have more information. First we should determine if this thing is Kheldian, or something else entirely, not to mention..."

The mystic's words came short without warning, Scirocco's hand at the hilt of his sword long before any eye about could blink. The Mu seemed on edge all of a sudden as well, and when a few seconds later a certain figure popped from a portal, the explanation stood quite clearly in plain sight.

"I am starting to believe today truly is Open House here." Malak growled, though he did remove his fingers from the blade once more, "Someone do take the time to reconstruct the security system. This is becoming bothersome."

He didn't bother to ask the arrival of his identity - at least not yet. The man looked villainous enough, and already one of the Mu mystics channeled to a fellow of his who happened to hover near a network terminal. From there, it was a short matter of checking the registry for the form that matched the sight of the security cameras.

If they found anything at all, what was this...?

--------------------

"Well now, did I strike a nerve?" Ken laughed lightly upon receiving only silence as his answer, "Wasn't intended. Yes, I know. So let's move on. Your enemies will make their move before we can complete repairs. I don't want to bore you with the details of what will happen, but in the end the Dark Rover will become an unholdable position."

A rumble from the second hangar signified the return of the heavy fighter. Without further ado, the craft set down once again, and when the noise had abated, Ken want on, "Therefore, we shall have to move. And in order to move, we will need to establish air superiority..."

--------------------

Oh, this was just perfect. They still wanted to go. Now what? If Groul or Danger protested more fervently, at least one of them was sure to notice something was up. Humans were inexperienced, not stupid. Care was a must now.

The real issue was that they wanted to know something as well. Yet once they had their answer, if the humans were along, they would surely want to know the question. An idea was needed; and now.

"Actually, we could use your help elsewhere." Groul brought up for consideration, "From what we've seen, the next few hours look important. The Dark Dragon has a plan, and it will aid your position. How do you feel about taking an aircraft carrier...?"

((Take your time, just good to know you're back. And speaking of, anyone know where Build got to? Or Wolffe, Dragonistic, and Averick, for that matter?))

"The answer to that question is precisely what I've been trying to find." Malak answered cryptically, as was his nature, "In any case, we should make room for the construction crews. Follow me if you wish."

"A few hours ago," Scirocco began to summarize as they walked, "a team of mystics scrying for the location of the Bastion stumbled upon something new in the north in the 'Boomtown' sector, to be precise. It is roughly the size of a city block, resembles a starship with caterpillar treads, and carries a mystic concentration great enough in power to rival the old gods of Mu."

"Strangely enough, it seems purely technological." one of the Mu mystics floating with them added, "Clad in armor of metal science that our spells of sight are unable to penetrate. Hence the Kheldian theory..."

((Stupid writing bug. ))

"Quite correct." Malak gave answer to the Arbiters, "The infant attempted to assassinate Ernesto. No, I not place blame on either of you. Considering the circumstances, you both did your best."

The slight pause the followed, however, was a clear indicator of Scirocco having quite a bit more on his mind. He hadn't even complained about the title of Lord this time - something he usually preferred to not be addressed by. Of course, it was protocol, and only very few actually remembered, which resulted in Malak repeating himself quite often on the subject.

Something had to be bothering the man - and considering Scirocco existed in a nearly constant state of bother, the things capable of upsetting him were either very big, very dangerous, or some combination of both.

The small group of Mu mystics that now arrived certainly offered a clue.

"It is some manner of vehicle." their speaker took the word, "Our scryings fail to peer inside, but our analysis yields it is not of this world; a Kheldian construct, perhaps..."

Taken within the context of the most general, the planet known as Perus could have been considered a rather average world. Smoothly orbiting the warm blue star it called home, this little rock among so many others was often thought of as just that. It was not a world of extremes, nor did its ecosystem hold any manner of the extraordinarily pleasurable or dangerous. Indeed, the world was much like Terra in a great many respects; oceans of liquid water covered a respectable portion of its surface (though the generally warmer climate and slightly higher gravity than that of Perus’ remotely located ‘cousin’ conspired to keep them from more than half), and vegetation that thrived on photosynthesis had become the norm over the planet’s long-standing developmental period. A slight axial tilt created latitudal climates and seasons, and a decent spin rate allowed the terminator to wander with a gradual, yet at the same time speedy enough pace to keep the atmosphere in motion without generating the vicious twilight storms so common on many worlds.

Yet despite this amiable environment, which had brought about a staggeringly diverse collection of flora and fauna, Perus had failed to produce intelligent life. While this was not surprising, it had certainly created an opportunity for those who had settled here a few millennia ago. As with a good many worlds in the galactic northside, Arcon colonists had made this little jewel their home. Soon, others had joined them, and it hadn’t taken long at all for Perus to become a center of cultural – and monetary – exchange, home to more species than the annual census could keep up with. Even now, while war raged in many sectors of the Milkey Way, and the faction known as the Concile of Seven had laid claim to this world, Perus remained largely untouched. Planetary defense forts, satellites, and most of all the feared SVE ships of the Concile, shored up such an amount of firepower and defensive capability in one place that the devil himself might have reconsidered starting something here. Gunnery platforms high above the atmosphere, often kilometers in size, stood linked with an uncountable number of independent sensor satellites, forming a network of detection no ship could penetrate.

Yet this day, all these protections could amount to naught, and Concile forces knew it. A clan patriarch of the Galactic Merchant Nation, or simply Mernas, as their people had become known, would firmly cement the alliance of his kin and the Concile, a gesture of gratitude for the restoration of their trade monopoly. Lost ages ago, there wasn’t a single Merna that had lost sight of their once-almighty mercantile privileges, and didn’t consider just such still the birthright of their people. Competition stood equivalent to sacrilege, and a market not under their firm control was wickedness in its purest form. Too long had they suffered under the oppressive will of so many other people, those that would deny them their divine right. With the advent of the Concile, this all had finally changed, and their gratitude knew no bounds. They would serve loyally forevermore – or at least until a better business proposition arrived. Since this was nowhere in sight of course (the Concile made deftly sure of that), this new ally was all but guaranteed.

At least so long as the traditional ceremonies went well. Assassins would be all about, and Concile forces knew this as well. SVE ships hung about the planet like gargantuan Christmas ornaments of metallic gold, and every scanner, sensor, listener, and telescope available watched the skies with a wary eye. Checkpoints both in orbit and on the surface had to clear anyone within many a kilometer of the ceremonies, and registry of presence was an absolute must. Still, they would try. This was a fact.

The security system was perfect. The people running it were not – and this was the reason that one tiny object, no more than a cubic centimeter in total volume, could enter Perus’ atmosphere completely unheeded. A small speck of stone and metal, a tiny meteor against the vastness of the sky, the same sort that came and went every moment of every day, plummeting toward the surface only to vaporize upon descent.
This one would not.

Death by micrometeor. Has to be my best idea yet.

These were the thoughts of an assassin. One of many of course, but probably the oddest of the bunch. Several kilometers from the site of his deed, a cerulean-scaled reptilian lounged comfortably in one of the many seats about the main holodisplay of the hotel’s sky lobby. Even up here, things were crowded and busy, and so many creatures sat, stood, or just generally hung about the live transmission of the ceremony. The assassin didn’t even want to know how things looked in the lobby at ground level. No, this would do just fine. The assassin’s clawed hands fished a rather ordinary datapad from the slate-gray robes that clothed him like the vestments of a monk who’d embraced technology, and as his fingers tapped upon a copy of the daily economic report, the pad’s touchscreen conveyed the signals needed to do his job.

The assassin watched listlessly as another blazing beam lanced into the holographic crowd, the local audience scattering frantically as Concile and Merna security personnel removed the charred corpse of the sixth would-be hitman. This one had apparently carried a rifle of some sort. How uncreative, not to mention stupid. However, the assassin had to admit he’d had skill. Smuggling a weapon that large into such a secure area was a feat to be respected. Too bad he’d moved too early. The clan patriarch – a large, bulky humanoid a little less than two meters in height, yet almost as wide – had just been in the process of stepping to the podium. It would have been smarter to wait until the festively clothed man had reached his final position. For a moment, the assassin admired the intricate twists and turns of the patriarch’s nearly fire-red beard and mane, his aged face looking rather small thanks to the sheer volume of hair that so artistically surrounded his visage.

His hand reached to the scalp of his own head, clawed fingers feeling the spikes that ran from the bridge of his saurian skull to the base of his neck, and on down his back and tail. From a centimeter to half a human finger in length, they were probably the most annoying part of his disguise. Well, next to the scales, at least. He couldn’t stand those – they were heavy, itchy, and they didn’t breathe in the least. He’d be very happy indeed once this whole thing stood done and over with.

“Heed now the words…” the hologram conveyed, the last pieces of traditional presentation being spoken, and this the assassin took as cue to move. With a final tap upon the touchscreen of his datapad, the command raced through an uncountable number of relays, adjusting the synthetic micrometeorite’s course to send it screaming right through the patriarch’s forehead, brain, out the back, and into the recording equipment behind the man. By the time the false space rock impacted the ground, the clan leader had already transcended his mortal coil. Shouts and panic arose all about, here as well as in the hologram, alarm seizing the crowds with clutches of madness before the patriarch’s body had even hit the floor.

Now came the time to move. The assassin knew he could use as many relays as he wished; they’d still track his control signal eventually. Not being one to underestimate his opponent, he gave them about a minute.

“My humble apologies, most respected trader.” he told the Merna he’d literally bumped into at the sky lobby’s eastern entryway, bowing deeply as he spoke.

“Get lost!” the burly man replied with a gruff growl, batting the reptilian away with a forceful swipe of his rather large hand, causing the assassin to tumble to the floor, “And fast. Next time I’ll break you in half.”

“My thanks for your mercy, oh profitable one.” he stammered hastily, taking a few quick bows as he hastily slinked away. With a toothy smile upon his saurian visage, though only for a moment, the assassin made his way to the nearest elevator. Even the jeers of other Mernas just brushed from him coldly, the assassin knowing well he had no time to deal with them now. His only objective at present was to get as great a distance from his datapad as possible.

Thankfully, he’d have some help on that matter.

“There he is!” came a shout as a whole troop of security personnel stormed from the elevator he’d hailed, “Take him down!”

Rifles and sidearms at the ready, the small mob burst from the cabin and nearly trampled the reptilian, throwing themselves upon the Merna he’d collided with. Angered roars and curses most colorful echoed from the lobby as the man’s fellow merchants began a hefty bar brawl almost immediately. The assassin allowed himself another smile, the closing slit of the ornately crafted elevator doors allowing him just the view he’d wished to see – a particular, not to mention very maddened Merna grappling with Concile security while a rather incriminating datapad fell from one of his many large pockets in the struggle...

Well, that's it for General Cosmic Inc. I have to say, I'm rather enjoying translating my old works, as it's forcing me to go over them again, which can be pretty fun.

I do hope at least the people who poked me to do this in the first place are reading this. Haven't received any feedback, so I've no idea. In any case, I hope anyone viewing this has enjoyed reading this at least as much as I have writing it, if not more.

So enough of me blathering on, let's get back to the story.

((Um, he hasn't moved anything aside from his head and legs. ))

"No offense, but it very much is." Ken stated in a rather matter-of-fact fashion, then added with a good-natured sigh, "This will likely sound arrogant to you, but be thankful your problems tend to have such basic solutions. There will come a day you'll wish you had that sort of simplicity back."

Internally, however, the saurian berated himself. He shouldn't have been so forthcoming. Of course he couldn't expect this creature here to understand the scope of what he spoke of, at least not right away. After all, how could he? Humans just didn't think cosmically; like some sort of switch that sat in the 'off' position by default.

Indeed, Ken had his doubts that some people he'd spoken to weren't on a fool's errand. They'd said humans had the capability, but hadn't seen enough to recognize that their localized way of thinking stood inadequate in the larger view - and the more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling became that they simply couldn't be right.

After all, he'd just told Energon their sense of scale differed greatly - yet here the man kept on assuming as if this was some sort of standard terrestrial skirmish. He didn't even ask for details, not to mention clarification, and this Ken found most appalling and illogical of all.

Apparently, Groul and Danger were right about these guys living in their own little world. He hadn't expected this sort of severity, though. Was this guy even listening to him? He could've sworn clearly stating the Concile to be a routinely galaxy-conquering force - yet to Energon, they were a recently emerged group because he'd never heard of them? It was as if less than half of what Ken had said was actually reaching the man's mind.

Either that, or said mind couldn't properly deal with something this large...the saurian had to admit such as a possibility. To him, it was a foreign concept, but he'd heard humans could fall victim there. He'd have to play it safe, at least for now. No sense in taking the risk of driving the guy insane.

"In any case, I'd say more immediate matters take precedence." Ken tried to change the subject, "Once your enemies activate their naval and heavy weapons divisions, we'll need to relocate to somewhere less specialized..."

Several hours later, all had been said and done. The three former government agents knew what they needed to. Now the decisions lay soundly in their hands. Vern could only hope for the best. Come what may, however, General Cosmic had gained hold in yet another system, so at least there now existed a third party with the intent and capability to ensure humanity’s continued survival. If diplomacy and manipulation failed, the Krayten’s new ‘employees’ could still resort to means capable of affecting their entire world – in covert fashion, needless to say. The most important was likely the field that bound free neutrons. No free neutrons, no nuclear fission. The ramifications of this stood self-evident.

“Target altitude reached.” the cold, synthetic voice of the autopilot dispersed the quadruped’s musings, “Requesting new course.”

Vern shifted about uneasily in his seat. It may have been a form-fitting model, but the cockpit of the fighter-class starship had still been designed for bipeds. For one such as him, there wasn’t much room, even in a two-seater. Still, everything was within reach, the touchscreens representing everything from flight instruments to sophisticated navigation interfaces glowing dimly and steadily against the starfield visible through the mostly transparent canopy. Below stretched the sphere of blue that was Terra, and though it couldn’t compare to his homeworld, the Krayten couldn’t help but marvel at this small and fragile world’s own brand of beauty. Humans were a lucky bunch. He truly hoped they stayed lucky.

He let the claws of one foreleg tap gently against the monitors, making sure to steady himself with the other as he set the new course. It didn’t take long for the starfield to shift, the planet below falling away within mere moments as the craft accelerated into the cold and lonely reaches of space. Vern didn’t like to be alone. His people didn’t either. This was one reason he’d arrived with a colleague. The second had been to introduce said associate to a Terran environment. The Krayten had to admit, the latter had provided him with a great deal of entertainment. Everything had been too cold (well, except the equatorial regions), gravity had been wonky, as had atmospheric pressure, and liquid water was just too plain weird a substance – for pity’s sake, its solid phase floated within the stuff! No thermal convection to blame, no differentiating material properties to look to for help. Water just didn’t conform any way one chose to twist it.

Nonetheless, Vern’s colleague had eventually adapted, and even found some fun in it all. The Chief issuing his recall couldn’t have come at a worse time. But as the Krayten had told the human trio, the galaxy was at war. The guy simply happened to hold the skills of a natural assassin, and therefore that had been his assignment. Another target had been identified, and so out went the call. It was simply the way things worked right now, whether the quadruped liked it or not.

And he very much didn’t.

There had to be another way. If things went on as they did at present, there wouldn’t be much left of the galaxy, even if they won by some incredible chance. They stood outnumbered and outgunned, and even the Chief’s tremendous organizational skill couldn’t bridge that gap for much longer. Something had to change, and it had to do so soon. General Cosmic was a start. But it wasn’t enough, and Vern knew this well. Future allies did little good if the future came to pass as nothing but a barren waste. One way or another, an alteration was a necessity. Of course, first it would come different, and second than one would expect. But then, these things always did...

Energon was quite mistaken on the saurian's perceived assumptions. It wasn't that he believed the hero incapable of interpreting his body language, but the fact there wasn't any to be observed. The vestments hid every part of his form - only the movements of his head stood visible.

"Considering you're all the way out here, I'd say it's likely." Ken acknowledged with a good amount of indifference, "Not to mention your planet's other versions tend to all have something like that - at least the ones I know of. And I'm not sure I'd consider the Kheldians a major empire. More the remains of one, but never very extensive. Now the guys who hunt them as fuel...maybe. Nah, rather small too. Our sense of scale differs though, I know that much, so I can see where you're coming from there."

Behind the two, the heavy fighters vertical thrusters ignited, slowly sending the craft through the open hangar gates. Not wasting any time, the ship's main engines roared to life, accelerating their charge away at values low enough to mimic a jet aircraft. Only once the fighter had reached a good altitude did it break for high orbit with no more regard for the atmosphere around it. Within two minutes, the craft would return.

"And I didn't say that." Ken reminded Energon with a chuckle, "Why do you think I've got everyone sweeping? But assuming no Shade hitched a ride initially, then they certainly won't be following. As for taking free will, generally means capture, discipline, then selling off to the highest bidder. It's a little more complicated than that, but you get the idea. Still, I'm afraid you lost me. What does any of this have to do with Shades and tech? Or the pending attack...?"

Essex was quite right, though of course first it came different, and second than one would expect. While the crystals looked quite solid to the touch, upon contact they'd once more break down into a cloud of formless green iridescence. This in itself wasn't a great cause for concern, but like the energies that had spawned it, a vicious caustic aura accompanied this stuff, and it would try to attack anything it could get a hold of.

Some things could of course set in place a barrier for the purpose of containment, such as Essex's nanite and Toy's force field generators, but the result wouldn't be more than a stalemate - if not a losing battle in the first place.

Whatever this gunk was, it seemed unwilling to relinquish its prey, and quite adamantly so. Still, even it seemed to be fighting to stay against the defenses of the Khelari's body, as evidenced by the shallow breaths that passed through Acid's clenched teeth...

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"I'm a teleporter, Mr. Wallace." Acid gave retort to the quirk of Sheldon's head, a toothy grin on his visage. He was rather relieved when the inventor arrived at the same conclusion he had not long ago.

"I just need someone who knows what he's doing in case I pass out." the Khelari elaborated, a clawed hand reaching toward Sheldon. No sooner had Acid made contact than he jumped, Wallace finding himself aboard the discus vessel's second Drop Ship, "The autopilot can handle the rest."

"Oh, and don't worry about that." the reptilian went on, quickly throwing himself into the pilot seat and starting ship operations, "This thing's got a good compensator. Not the best, but it'll keep ya steady."

That was the end of the matter for him. Acid had interpreted Sheldon's concerns as motion sickness when in flight, coming to the conclusion that it wouldn't even be relevant thanks to the Rikti craft's g-force compensator. Unless its tolerance was exceeded, the mechanism kept the vessel's passengers from feeling any sort of acceleration (aside from the nominal 'down' that kept their feet on the floor), and said tolerance exceeded the Drop Ship's maximum acceleration capability by a fair amount.

Acid wasted no time depressurizing the hangar and opening the bay doors, and out they were already, the gate frame shooting by without even the slightest sensation of motion. The star field swept sideways a few moments later, the reptilian setting course for the planet, and already the gleaming sphere that was the Rikti homeworld shot into the center of the panoramascreen.

The journey wouldn't take long...

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With cacophonous thunder, the assault bot's detonator went ballistic, the machine coming apart in a large fireball less than three milliseconds later. Apparently, Mini Bot's actions had been enough for the mechanoid's processor to classify itself as 'disabled', and therefore initiate its self-destruction.

Unlike its larger cousin, the battle drone stood firm, however. The smaller mechanoid managed to evade Small Toy's fire, the impulse delivered to its head having tilted the blast stream up just enough to allow for evasion.

Still, neither this nor the other drone made a motion to leave the corridor. If Solid intended to do what was thought, chances are they'd be blown away, ending their mechanical existence in the blazing explosions of their internal detonators...

--------------------

The location stood without opposition. While some of the rather tall statues that lined the walls could certainly frighten a human - one didn't see Rikti the size of five men surrounding one every day, after all - the dozen or less sculptures carried no open threat about them. Their eyes were of cold stone; unmoving and uncaring. Still, they were kind of creepy.

The towering scriptures surely didn't present any threat, and this was a fact. They were but words. The central pillar, upon closer inspection, would reveal its purpose to be a hologram projector - and a rather large one, to be sure. What it had once projected, however, remained a mystery for now. Age had caused several critical systems to fail, and even if the Arachnos troopers were skilled in today's Rikti technology, the pillar's 'mechanisms' were but unfeeling stone...

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Forgotten Sanctuary
Command and Control

With a series of soft clacks, a pair of ornate doors of stone and metal ground open and closed, releasing an Operations Officer into the darkened C&C chamber, laptop monitors and mobile servers the primary sources of illumination of the Malta Operatives' nerve center.

All about sat and stood black ops personnel clad in midnight blue uniforms, performing their duties with speed, but not haste. Alarm had been given, and this situation demanded handling, not panic - and Malta had become very good at handling.

"Well, what'd he say?" the first of a gathered group inquired of the Operations Officer, "What do we sic on 'em? Tac squads? A dreadnaught? C'mon man, spill it."

"The Commander said only one thing." the officer chuckled underneath his balaclava, and then balled a fist, "Crush them..."

((From what I know, only at T- and T+, i.e. the limit convergences before and immediately after. String theory is erroneous anyway, but this works in the most general case as well. As for 'magic', I think I'll stick with the traditional explanation - what you've got there sounds too much regular old mental stuff. ))

"A certain someone not performing to expectations." Malak growled an answer to Tamesis with his nowadays-characteristic tone; practically the essence of grouch. Of course, the sentence was also quite transparent, showing plainly that Recluse's stand-in did not blame the Arbiters for this fiasco.

"I see you're ahead of me already." he added with commendation to Jake, "Good to know duty is not lax with all here..."

--------------------

Once again, Ken's gratitude for his hood knew no bounds, the upper partition of his vestments neatly hiding rolling reptilian eyes beneath its folds. He had no doubt Energon would've been rather insulted had hood been absent.

Nevertheless, the saurian hadn't a clue how to proceed for a moment. What was this guy's deal? Was he just a really bad listener, or did he trail down such assume-a-thons on a regular basis?

Voy...I'm starting to get what they meant with these guys being arrogant. How can someone think the universe revolves around them like this?

Needless to say, Ken was also quite glad that his thoughts were his own. Even if Energon had been a telepath, the saurian's internal monologue would've been beyond him.

"Yes, your world is doubtlessly in catastrophic danger." he couldn't help but remark with sarcasm, "I do apologize for bringing about the inevitable doom of your species."

Still, unlike Danger back at the Bastion, this being's good mood seemed here to stay. A satisfied nod accompanied a glance toward the starboard fuselage of the trimaran-like heavy fighter, where a crew presently loaded some machine that looked like a cross of chain gun and TBM. The work continued as they spoke, and it appeared the ship was slated to take off quite soon.

"We should vacate the hangar." Ken recommended, turning his steps toward the currently open blast door that led to the other, "And you'll need to be more specific. They possessed anything capable of being a host. But do tell. If your idea ties in with what will happen in the next few hours, I'd certainly like to hear it..."

--------------------

Groul gave a rather vocal snort at this snide comment, but he knew where the reckoning came from.

To Danger, however, it offered quite the opportunity, and he quickly shot his towering comrade a fierce look to keep still. With any luck, he could confirm his theory without anyone so much as noticing the slightest thing...

Malak did not seem pleased with the escape attempt, hurling a ball of crimson lightning that packed enough punch to seriously harm even a being of pure electricity after the fleeing heroes.

Then again, appearances could be deceiving...

((Or both. Or neither. Holidays rock!))

((Eeeeexcellent. Now all we need is Sovs' reaction. Oh, and Ess - we're sort of being attacked by a giant War Golem or something. ))

Scirocco could have facepalmed. What was today, 'Open House at the Fortress Day'?! Why hadn't the damn turrets...?!

Of course. Big duh moment: Sky Raiders. It figured. Where had the days gone when someone with enough IT experience couldn’t disable the defenses of your ultimate fortress of doom and darkness? One would think mad science had come far enough to prevent just such happenings.

He'd have to talk to Grillo sometime. Maybe if he managed to get him really going, the man could come up with something brilliant, groundbreaking, and decidedly lethal. Malak would see.

Scirocco took a moment to analyze the situation. The force of Crab Spider troopers didn't seem to be doing much, and even the specially trained snipers weren't achieving results. Considering they formed the equivalent of SWAT teams within Arachnos, generally able to deal with threats that ranged from the mundane to the super-powered, this was frustrating to say the least.

For a split second, Malak considered calling upon the various divisions, but that would probably only escalate this conflict. No, they needed a quick and sensible solution here, and Scirocco had just the right thing in mind. Sadly, it also meant he'd have to toss out the hopes of getting one of them alive for interrogation purposes, but then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

Blasting a swath of crimson lightning at Anthius in hopes of shocking the swordsman off his projected course with the Arbiter, Malak called to his Mu mystics to relay his orders, bypassing the downed intercoms of this sector.

The arcane forces acted swiftly, and it didn't take long at all for the entryway to Cry's former chamber to divulge a duo of Arbiter Drones, their many eyes focusing on all opponents in the area with vicious sapphire gleam.

The first disintegrator bolt caught a Sky Raider right in the back, scattering his molecules to the winds. The second went wide because its target had managed to dodge. Thankfully, Arachnos' disintegration technology wasn't that advanced, and so the drones could only fire bolts of disbanding force, rather than continuous beams, and their chamber capacitors took a few seconds to recharge. The intruders still had a chance to flee.

Scirocco knew this well, but he couldn't command the Arbiter Drones personally. Only an Arbiter could. True, Recluse had given him the override for emergencies, but that Malak did not carry on his person. It was up to Tamesis and Walsh to make the right call now...

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"Precisely what lancers are for." Ken chuckled under his hood, "And other world-killing creatures, of course. Okay, so maybe 'power-hungry tyrants' fits more closely. As you may know, we're at war. Our enemy calls itself the Concile of Seven, and is your fairly standard galaxy-conquering force. Promises of peace, happiness, yadda yadda, but if you don't relinquish your free will, they'll just take it and be done with it."

"Generally, you'd think this wouldn’t be a problem," the saurian let out a sigh, "Plenty of those around. Only these guys have the muscle and the brains to back up their threats. There was this thing called the Arcon Empire. Reasonable place - not perfect, but decent enough - and ruled a good bit of the westside and northside for about 20 millennia. Concile took 'em out in three days. Made slaves of those they could, killed anyone they couldn't, and called it a day."

"Again, you'd think this wouldn't be a problem." probably threw Energon for a loop as it came over Ken's lips, "Happened before, will happen again. Only the Concile guys were smart. Had sleeper agents. They figured out just what a lot of people wanted, and basically bought their loyalty. So suddenly it's not galactics against external force, but bloody civil war plus pan galactic invasion. All in all, not the best of situations..."

((I don't think they'd need to. As far as I know, the Arbiters have the same authority as Recluse when it comes to these things.))

Scirocco took Acanous' stiff resistance with stoic indifference. Without warning, a gust of desert wind whipped the air about the hero into a frenzy, attempting to bowl him right into the barrel of the Arbiter's waiting plasma cannon.

That the howling gale would not affect anything but its intended target, its mystic nature completely under Malak's control, which also meant none of the shots loosed upon Acanous would be deflected by the winds...

"Well, as you wish." Ken gave a shrug of his shoulders, "But I'm going to have to recommend agains...oh, you meant that plate. Well sure, go ahead. Won't tell you much past the first layer, though."

It was quite true. As the saurian had already stated, the hull was an assembly. The terconium plate there, on the other hand, was decidedly not. While it could still stand up to temperatures around 30 kilo Kelvin, not to mention several million tons of pressure, it was in essence still just a metalplastic; in other words, normal matter.

"And it sounds like you're not very familiar with the workings of time travel." Ken went on to elaborate, "It's not a stream one can just change. At least not with the intent of changing it. It's a rather complex formula. In this case it boils down to 'it happened because it happened'. I really don't know of a better way to explain a causality loop of zero."

If there was one, he certainly didn't want to know. A cause being its own effect and vice versa could do a number on any attempt to rationalize it. People who worked with such things tended to agree only on one thing: that it should be left alone.

"Not to mention one can't travel freely within the 4th dimension without invoking a fold through the 6th." the saurian summed up. It was a simplified statement, of course - one certainly could, but one's actions would have no effect on one's own present. Instead, they'd branch off into an alternate version of thus, which already existed to begin with, "Trust me, they've got no idea dakkarspace even exists. They relied solely on dark gates to get across the multiverse..."

--------------------

((Groul's the only draconic guy - Danger's built like a human, just no larger than your hand. ))

"Oh, that's not necessary." the red-scaled being attempted to dismiss the topic with the wave of a hand. It didn't stand obvious, but someone with keen insight - and maybe a tone analyzer - could likely have deduced the draconian had something to hide, "We'll just send a probe out later."

Danger agreed with a silent nod, his mind working behind his tiny forehead. No communications tower, hm? Or at least not one that had been found. That meant it could still be there. In either case, they had to be sure. The site would need to be picked apart, and without anyone knowing.

Now he just had to figure out how to do so without arousing suspicion.

Why did these things always sound easier than they were...?

((Oh, this is getting good. Do I see a rogue Arachnos Lieutenant in the making there? ))

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Never dissapointed with your work Juggy, never at all.

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Hell yeah!

((Why does your script greet people? But that's cool, I'm still waiting for Averick and Wolffe anyway. You know, I would've expected the Big Bad to show up by now...or did I miss something and we should dangle a major plot into here somewhere?))

Eh, ya got me. I already stated both conclusions were right, so I'm not sure where to go from there anymore. But then, such is life.

As for chess, there I of course play to win. And trust me, many of those 'masters' aren't what they're made out to be. I can beat them, others can beat me, so by extension others can beat them. Just takes some practice.

((*Pokes thread* Hello? ))

Um, o-kay...you're forgiven? Don't worry about me bud, I'm not one to claw people for knowing stuff better than me.

I can't say I'd agree with being classified as a nihilist, though. Yeah, I had to look up all of those terms, and you may not have meant them by their textbook definitions, but I certainly do think there's purpose and value to humanity - and just life in general.

My logic: nature does not waste, at least from what I've seen. Stuff's just too linked not to have a purpose. Everything comes from somewhere, everything goes somewhere. Best picture of that is probably the Interconnected Flow Theorem...then again, I'd probably just bore you with that. But yes, I do think everything is connected with both itself and to some purpose. What exactly? Got me.

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People within society like the reliance upon others. FIrst they find they rely upon their parents for everything. Slowly they move and grow to rely on others to teach them and to learn from their peers. Once you're an adult however you are told to think for yourself and stuck in an odd situation of "What am I gonna do?".

That seems reaffirmed in the way many things are worded as guiding, individuals being lost or found, discovering purpose, how to lead a good life. It's all an appeal to a new "parent" figure that we feel we may have somehow lost.

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You know, now that you mention it, I've never noticed that. I mean, seen it all around sure, but never actually taken note of it in any other context than "it's there." This explains so much!

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I'm somewhat inclined towards the biological approach that morals is kinda like chaos, a human term to something that doesn't actually exist, but at face vaue stands consistent with the idea. We will tend to do things that is prone to our survival and our communities survival. We will also tend to try and understand our surroundings as much as possible so that we can be aware of threats or changes. This is easily noticable with people who are self contained or gossip alot. Things that fall outside or contratictory to our understandings we tend to react kinda harshly to at least at first.

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Heh, only too true. Happens every time someone figures out that something works completely different to what was formerly believed - especially if the church is involved.

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On a somewhat related note it actually is a fact that the most easily recognizable face is an angry one. We seem to be genetically hardcoded to pick up and focus on things that most clearly benefit our chances of survival. Kinda an off topic of mine, but I kinda think society is still pretty stuck on the things most prone to our survival and not our communal evolution/ascenion...won't really babble about this unless someone wants to bring it up more...might just start a different thread for it...

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Well, maybe not a whole new thread, but I don't see why we can't open up a quick subsection here. I have to say I disagree quite a bit with this - in my opinion, if the benefit to survival was this engrained into human society, there wouldn't be all this self-destructive behavior around.

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How hard is it to say that Evolution is God's process, and the concept of Creation is simply a symbolic method of explaining it? [...] Evolution doesn't say God doesn't exist. It doesn't even say that He/She/It didn't do anything.

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The reasoning of general logic. And yet it seems to upset a great deal of the human populace - and I can say from experience that this perfectly logical deduction is not the only one.

To me, it seems that in humans logic, instinct, emotion, and intelligence have been stirred together into some manner of greatly confusing mixture. Any way I look at it, I can't make heads or tails of things. Sometimes, they'll follow logic, other times kick and scream from instinct, and so on and so forth. Frankly, it confounds me a great deal.

Whoa man, that's nice and all, but I'm not that kind of guy.

And thankfully, the flow is also restored quite easily, just like falling lava. You can stop it for a while, but it'll weasel its way around sooner or later.

So I think I'll toss out my take on the subject. We know belief is a powerful, powerful force, right? Especially in humans. I mean, we've seen this time and again - when belief takes over, you can get anything from paradise to an absolute nightmare becoming manifest.

But of course, people would rather not face this. Hence comes along the reasoning that some entity controls it all, and that if you worship said entity, it'll keep you safe. Things can be interpreted any which way, depending on your point of view, so it's quite easy to find a logical trail of evidence for said entity - as seen earlier in this thread. And it's certainly not the only trail I've seen. Some make more sense than others, of course.

From my stance, it looks like something deeply engrained in the human psyche, but it could always be an external influence. Not sure. What do you guys think?