First Contact

Chapter 175

The Forceful Submission made the transfer from jumpspace to realspace with a nauseating jerk that left most of the bridge crew retching. Rather than the slow transfer back down to realspace the ship had dropped as close to the resonance zone as possible, as fast as possible. Immediately after the Submission had made the transfer more and more ships arrived. Nearly a dozen broke apart, too close to the resonance zone or each other, but for every one that broke apart nearly a hundred made the drop safely.

The Fleet Most High stood on the bridge, waiting for the monitors to clear, swishing flavored water in his mouth to clear the taste of bile that had come up all the way from his second stomach. His suit faceplate had cleaned itself automatically, leaving behind the stench of scorched stomach fluids.

"Any transmissions?" he asked the Sensor Tech Ninth Class.

"No, Most High, my screens are still clearing. Over half the ship's VI's are scrambled by the drop," the Sensor Tech asked.

Only Lanaktallan crewed the bridge of the Unified Executor Council Military Fleet ship. The Near-Civilized and the Neo-Sapients could no longer be trusted. The damnable Terrans had begun to peel away Lanaktallan allies and servant species somehow.

"Gravatics clearing now," Sensor Class Fifth Class called out. He put it on the main screen.

The system should have been readily visible. Four gas giants, three planets with one in the Green Zone, an asteroid belt, a yellow dwarf star. The system was a manufacturing and training base for the Executor Council. Because of that, the system itself wasn't mined, instead supplies and raw materials flowed in from all over Council Space, supplying the massive shipyards and factories. Billions of beings over the centuries, over the millennia, had trained at the extensive, elaborate, and sprawling training areas.

Instead there was only the gravity signature of the sun and the gas giants. The Fleet Most High frowned. The signature for the gas giants looked strange. There was a mass where the asteroid ring should have been, but no signatures of large asteroids like there should have been.

"Compare that to the last scan taken of the system," he ordered. He looked at the Engineering Tech as the lights on the bridge flickered and the gravity fluttered. "How long until the ship's systems are stable?"

The Intelligence Officer Sixth Class nodded, throwing up a detailed gravitic map of the system that was only a few hundred years old. The Engineering Technician Fourth Class rebooted his computer system and looked up at the Most High.

"It was a hard translation, Most High. Most ship VI's are down, I'm not getting data from 2/3 of the ship and most of the remainder are under local control," the Engineering Technician stated.

"Hmm," the Most High said, staring at the gravitic comparison.

Previously: Four gas giants, three planets, asteroid belt, stellar mass. Currently: Four gas giant signatures, a heavy gravity mass at the asteroid belt, and only the star. The gas giants had different gravitic signatures than they had possessed only four hundred years ago. More mass, oddly enough.

"Explanation?" the Fleet Most High requested.

The Intelligence Officer Sixth Class shook his head. "None that I can come up with. Perhaps we jumped into the wrong system?"

The Navigation Tech Second Class shook his head. "No. Stellar cartography shows that this is the correct system."

"Visuals clearing," the Sensor Tech Ninth Class called out. "Visuals on all stellar bodies and orbiting masses coming in now."

Everyone turned to look.

Shock rippled out across the bridge.

The gas giants were burning. Not like a star, but like they had literally been set on fire, surrounded by a thick ring of what could only be ash and cinders.

The sun was a white dwarf. Highly energetic, spewing out radiation and harsh white light.

None of the four planets were obvious.

Everyone turned to look at the Navigation Officer, who doublechecked his panel and put up the comparison.

"We are in the right spot," he protested against the unspoken accusations.

"Sir, the Oort Cloud!" the Sensor Tech called out. He put it up on the visuals.

The entire globe of refuse from the star's formation was burning. Lightning crackled between angry purple and red clouds, the bolts minutes long and light seconds thick. The bridge crew could actually watch the lightning bolt slowly spread through the clouds.

The Scan Tech jerked back from his instruments. "Singularity detected!" he called out. He threw it up on the screen.

A black hole was sweeping through the orbit where the asteroid belt had once been, the accretion disc throwing off harsh radiation and white visible light.

"Sir, we are receiving a transmission!" the Communications Tech Fourth Class called out.

The Fleet Most High frowned. "Let's hear it."

The voice was growling, full of static, and the voice made everyone on the bridge draw back.

"Eat eat eat eat eat eat" the growl repeated over and over.

"Where is that coming from?" the Fleet Most High demanded. The lights on the bridge flickered again, the Engineering Officer swearing as he rebooted his panel. This time is stayed clear.

The Communications Tech swallowed thickly and ordered up a fresh cud to chew on. "The singularity, sir."

"What happened here?" the Fleet Most High asked, looking around. "Where are the planets? Where did the singularity come from?" he looked at the scan tech. "Could it have come in from beyond the stellar system?"

The Sensor Tech and the Scan Tech both bent over their consoles, racing to get the answer.

"No," The single word came from the Fifth Science Officer, who was staring at the screens. His tendrils were tight against his jowls, his crests inflated out of fear. "No, it did not."

The Fleet Most High turned to the Science Officer. "Then where did it come from?"

"It's artificial. It's in a decaying orbit, in fifteen revolutions it will start dropping toward the star," the Science Officer said, trembling slightly. "Based on the readings for the singularity, once it absorbs the star it will be unable to maintain gravity pressure and will explode."

"Artificial? From..." The Fleet High Most turned and looked at the Communications Officer Twelfth Class. "Replay the message."

"Yes, sir," the lowly Communications Officer stated. He cleared one of the viewscreens and put up the transmission that had broken away the Sixty-Eighth Strike Force from the Second Wave of Pacification.

A Lanaktallan stood on the bridge of a ship. The entire bridge was full of smoke. Most of the Lanaktallan crew were dead. Computer consoles were throwing sparks. The Lanaktallan was identified as the System Defense Most High.

"Terrans. They dropped inside the resonance zone and started their attack. Most of my forces are dead, they're wiping us out. We can't hold," the Lanaktallan coughed. "Stay away. Get out while you can. All ships go to local command and gallop for the stars. Gallop far."

He coughed again. "I only outnumbered them ten thousand to one. These aren't the ones we've seen before. These ones are different."

"Sir, they're coming around for another attack, they know we're still able to transmit," a wounded Lanaktallan called out.

"Prepare yourselves, our death comes to..." the message ended.

The Fleet Most High looked around, able to feel the dread from his crew. Most of the Lanaktallan, who had been part of the Executor Military Fleet for decades, stared at their panels, even the ones who had nothing but static showing.

The Fleet Most High turned and looked at the Science Officer.

"Could the Terrans have done this?" he asked, feeling his own tendrils tighten.

The Science Officer shook his head. "They've never shown this capability before," he waved at the image of the single super-massive gas giant in the system, which was burning brightly, wreathed in flames beneath the ring of ash and cinders. "I wouldn't even know where to start to explain to you how what you're seeing in impossible."

"Not impossible," the Fleet Most High said, looking at the image. "Otherwise it would not..."

The image of the Supermassive gas giant suddenly began to change. The swirling flames began to gain form, and with horror the Fleet Most High realized that the supermassive gas giant was slowly turning to bring about a Terran skull hidden in the flames.

Three of the bridge crew fainted as the skull slowly rotated.

"I think it is safe to say that the Terrans were responsible," The Fleet Most High said slowly.

When the skull was 'facing' the ship, staring straight into the viewerscreen, the jaws gaped open and spews of burning vapor ejecting from between the fiery teeth.

The speakers on the bridge, across the ship, across every ship in the fleet and every suit worn, all suddenly came to life with a painful squeal of tortured metal.

"HATE!" screamed from every surface, every speaker, every light and shadow aboard the ships. "HATE!" the words were full of rage, of absolutely fiery all consuming wrath. "HATE!" it screamed one last time before it closed its jaws.

Several of the bridge crew fainted. Across the ships nearly a fifth of the crews collapsed in a feint. Nearly 8% of the crews fell over dead, their hearts giving out at the sudden scream.

The Fleet Most High had managed to stay on his feet, managed to not scream in fear or lose control of his bodily functions.

It had been a close thing.

"What did they do here?" He asked aloud, more to himself than expecting any answer.

The screens all flickered and went dark.

The Engineering Technician swore and rebooted his console. The screens came back up.

"Sir!" the Scanning Tech blurted out. The Fleet High Most turned to look. The Tech had backed away from his scanner display.

"What is it?" The Fleet High Most snapped.

"The Fleet, sir," the Scan Tech said.

"Sir, incoming fleet wide transmissions from many many ships," the Communications Tech said. He was shivering, his tendrils curled tight, his crests inflated, and his eyes wild.

"What are they transmitting?" the Fleet Most High demanded. "Put it on speaker."

The Communications Tech made the motion for negative. "I don't think I should put it on speakers, sir."

"Do it!" the Fleet Most High roared, grateful for a chance to take his nervousness out on an underling.

"Yes, sir," the Communications Tech said. He typed quickly and the speakers went live.

It was a cacophony of screams, of howls of terror, of panicking lowing and mooing.

"Sir, Task Force Seven just exploded on station. Looks like jumpcore or reactor overloads," the Scan Tech officer reported.

The screams got louder.

"Task Force Eleven just fired on Task Forces Nineteen, Eight, and Thirty-Two," the Weapons Officer said, his voice choked up. "Task Force Twenty-Six is returning fire on Eleven, as well as opening fire on Three, Sixteen, and Thirty-One."

The volume of the screams and raving increased.

The lights went out again. The Engineering Officer swore and tried to bring back up his instruments.

For long minutes nothing happened. Even the artificial gravity cut off.

After a long while, when the Most High's suit was starting to heat up, his suit fans kicked on, then his suit computer rebooted.

One by one the displays and computers on the bridge came back on.

"Fleet Status?" the Most High asked the Communications Technician.

The Lanaktallan looked up from his display. "Gone, sir. They're gone."

The Most High reared up slightly then caught himself. "Check again."

The Scanner Tech shook his head. "Debris only."

The Most High trembled slightly in anger. "Scan again. There's no way five thousand ships just..."

"There you are," the voice was growling, snarling, static used to made the voice harsh edged and cruel sounding. "These ships are trash fires."

"Identify that transmission!" the Most High ordered.

The main viewscreen flickered and showed a human skull of burning chrome, the flames trailing off into wisps of code.

"Me."

The bridge crew began to show anxiety, several beings clattering their hooves as the moved in place. The harsh accent was undeniably Terran, the skull was, without a doubt, human.

"What did you do to my ships?" the Most High demanded.

"Since we're at war, you ambulatory all beef patty, I destroyed them, what the sexual intercourse do you think I did with them?" the skull asked. It looked to the left and then the right of the screen.

"By what right?" the Most High demanded.

"By what right? What right?" the skull laughed. It held up one burning skeletal hand. "By this right, you jackass."

It reached offscreen and pulled a Lanaktallan made up of digital code onscreen, holding it by its lower body. The screen helpfully designated the digital Lanaktallan as the ship's combat VI.

As everyone watched in shock the skull lifted up another burning hand, grabbed the upper torso.

And yanked.

Digital 'blood' spewed from the two halves as the skull put the still wiggling and screaming upper torso in its mouth and began chewing.

The lights flickered repeatedly. The gravity fluttered. Feedback squealed over the speakers. The inertial compensator went wonky and to the crew it felt like the ship was tilting in three different directions at once.

More than a few of the bridge crew vomited.

The skull put the other half in its mouth and chewed, digital 'blood' pouring out of its jaws.

Several computer consoles imploded. The air pressure spiked then dropped. The lights flicked through different colors. One of the bridge crew dropped dead as his suit discharged the battery pack into his body.

"THAT'S BY WHAT RIGHT! MIGHT MAKES RIGHT!" the skull roared, blood still dripping from its jaws.

"Sir, life signs are dropping across all decks," Environmental Officer Eighth Class said, his voice choking slightly.

"This ship contains three thousand, two hundred, fifty-eight crew members. There are Thirty on the bridge," the skull snarled.

"And?" The Most High said, typing rapidly on his suit's comlink, sending a message to the Science Officer. When he looked up he saw that everything he typed was in a box in the upper left of the viewscreen and the skull was staring at it.

"Really? Purge the computer core?" the skull looked back out of the screen. "To answer your question: I don't need any of them to run this archaic flying junk pile. So I'm killing all of them but you. Oh, and your bridge crew."

"Life signs terminated," The Environmental Officer said. He made a gagging noise. "Ship atmosphere has been reduced to zero. It's total vacuum outside the bridge."

"Why are you doing this?" the Fleet Most High asked. He could hear the whine in his voice but was unable to stop it.

"For the same reason you did what you did," the skull said. It seemed to lean forward. "Because I can."

"Sir, the jumpcore is charging," Nagivation said, his voice flat and defeated.

"Where are we going?" the Fleet Most High asked.

"Some place with more of you," the skull said.

"Why?" the Fleet Most High asked.

"To kill them," the skull said.

The ship shuddered as it entered jumpspace.

"There's a lot of shipyards and repair berths in the system you came from," the skull mused. It picked up another digital Lanaktallan and bit its head off, chewing slowly.

"Why are you leaving us alive?" The Most High asked, resignation filling him.

"Because I want you to watch. To see what I'm doing," the skull said. It spit out a bit of code shaped like a Lanaktallan skull.

"Why?" the Communications Tech asked.

"Because I hate you."

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

TERRASOL

What happened to the Galaxy Scouts was the last straw. Gestalt Consensus Reached.

Aye.

TERRAN CONFEDERACY

It's official. We're at war.

Internal polling shows support for the war at 64% and rising. 80% of recruiting stations are reporting overloads. 19.8% of SolNet social media posts are demanding war. 8.8% are demanding 1% Line or worse for the Lanaktallan.

It is too late to change Gestalt Votes at this point.

Victory Conditions Will Be Determined in No Less than 90 Terran Standard Days.

A State of War, by Confederate Wartime Statutes, will exist for a period of no less than 150 years or until negotiated or unconditional surrender of target government/species, 1% Line, or Total Destruction as according to the Noaflenn Statutes of Ante-Reconstruction 114.

All Gestalts are permitted secure chat rooms.

All Gestalts are permitted Intelligence Gestalt Assistance.

Official Declaration of War is considered to be enacted: 7148 AR.

Rules of Engagement have been posted.

Rules of Warfare have been posted.

Reserve Component Activation Notices have been posted.

Citizen recall notices are underway for all Senior Races.

Military Operations have commenced.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

It's official.

God help us all.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

We all knew how this was going to turn out.

But dammit, this isn't just TerraSol punching someone in the face.

How long has it been since the Confederacy itself was at war?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGELLIAN COMPACT

642.81 Terran Standard Years since the last time the entire Confederacy voted to go to war.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

Wait, what about the Mar-gite War?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

That was just Terran Descent Humanity. By the time most of us mobilized it was already over. Hell, we didn't even get a full confirmation vote before it was over.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

You all understand why I voted Nay, right?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE

To prevent us from coming to the conclusion that you used us to eliminate an ancient enemy for your own purposes. Yes, we understand.

All of us understand.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

My support, with this declaration of war, is unconditional.

We simply ask for as much restraint as Terran Descent Humanity can muster.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Trying to hold them back still, sis, really?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

No. You don't understand. We owe them everything. As far as they are willing to take it, we will march with them through the Gates of Hell and beyond.

They freed us! We will march in lockstep with them.

Our request for restraint is not only out of our concern for Terran Descent Humanity but also out of concern for ourselves.

Gestalt input shows that 6.2% of Mantid believe that bringing back the Queens and Speakers in order to avenge Harmony and other crimes is an acceptable cost.

Humanity broke our chains. Liberated us from vile bondage not once, but twice. Forgave us. Comforted us. Taught us how to live free.

Our gratitude knows no bounds.

If we were asked, each day, to feed a trillion Mantid into the Wrath Forges of Mercury to keep them fueled...

...we would.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Oh.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

What can I do to help?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CLONE WORLDS CONSORTIUM

Right now? Rebuild and rearm. Defend your system. You're an ally, which means they'll come for you too. Stand on your own two feet, like you have been.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

We're willing to send in the First Telkan Marine Division.

Gestalt Approval is 83%.

Social Media approval at 72%

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

Let him fight.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TERRAN CONFEDERACY

ACCEPTED.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TERRASOL

Approval at 71% and rising.

Social Media approval at 48% and rising.

Recruiting stations 92% overloaded and rising.

Activating Black Box Protocols.

/////////

BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

And

Here

We

Go

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---