video.google.com/videopla...%22lego%22__________________
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. - George Carlin.
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

Wide is about to ding into the range for the end-game task forces, giving us more fun things to do with Wide, Min, Bella, etc.
So. as I have Tuesday and Friday off.... Hows about some Shadow shard tf-ing? VEG, 'sides, should let Min ding 50 quicker
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

Using a nicely arbitrary date of Tuesday, May 8, 2012 as my start point, here's a quick screenshot of where the planets are as of - roughly - the beginning of SOS-con:
fnord.sandwich.net/fenspa...r-2012.jpg
fnord.sandwich.net/fenspa...r-2012.jpg
Discussion, arguments, etc. on the orrery go in this thread. Have at it.---
Mr. Fnord
http://fnord.sandwich.net/
http://www.jihad.net/
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery

FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information

"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"

While we're in the process of nailing things down, I think that we ought to have a timeline of Important Things Leading Up To The Con (and presumably after, once the storyline progresses). Specifically, we ought to have at least a timeline thread, and quite possibly a pinned-to-the-top Official Timeline Post. I know that there was some work done on this in the superthread at one point, but I do not have time or impetus right now to go digging for it. If someone else could dredge it out as a starter, would be much appreciated.
Also, as a complete side note, who *would* have the responsibility of posting Haruhi's first message on the Convention thread? I'm not saying it has to be *just* yet, but I'd hate to have the whole thing stall out here because everyone was waiting for someone else to post a major message from the pivotal NPC.

Hi folks!
Finally got the combat sequence worked out the way I wanted.
As a side note, very VERY many thanks to all the people (Cindy, Rev, Fox, and Drenivian, among others) who helped MechaDeuce achieve the last badge needed for my ultimate story-related goal: The Freedom Phalanx Reserve Member accolade.
And back to the story...
========================================

"Well, I'm hardly an expert," Psyche turned the small circuit card over in her fingers for a moment, examining it. "I've seen some Rikti technology, yes, but if you want to know if this really is some of their tech, you'd be better off asking Positron for his opinion. He's the technology wizard." She handed it back to the red and silver armoured hero, cocking an eyebrow curiously.
" I had thought of that," MechaDeuce nodded hesitantly, and Psyche caught a fragment of a related thought.
[Should I mention it to her or not? I don't want to alarm her. ]
"Mention what to me?" Psyche cocked her head at him, hiding a smile at the way he started. "Come on," she prodded, "I'm psychic, remember? You had to have some other reason for bringing this to me specifically."
"Smart as well as beautiful," MechaDeuce's tone of voice was hard to pin down because of the electronic modulation from his suit, but Psyche was willing to bet he was grinning. "All right, I brought it to you because everything they've stolen in the last week has been some kind of technology that is very specifically targeted at affecting psychic powers, and a lot of that has been reclaimed Rikti tech. When I found this, I found some records they'd tried to destroy and the records were all about you."
"Why don't you just come out and say that you think they're going to try and kill me?" Psyche's voice was dry, and she gave him a small smile. "Thanks for the concern, but I think I can handle a few Freaks."
"Oh?" MechaDeuce's helmet tilted in a manner suggesting a sidelong glance at her. "I take it you can hear their thoughts before they get close enough to do anything?"
"Something like that," Psyche nodded. "They aren't exactly subtle it might have something to do with being covered in old car parts, but I could be wrong."
"I see," MechaDeuce was silent for a moment. "What if they've found a way to get around that?"
"Not likely," Psyche snorted delicately. "That would take somebody with intelligence and discipline the intelligence to see why they'd need to do, and the discipline to actually follow-through on some kind of a plan. Those are both attributes I've never heard any of the Freaks be accused of."
"What about Clamor?" MechaDeuce asked mildly. "She certainly had both." Psyche shot him a narrow glance.
"All right, but Clamor was an exception," she allowed. "Most of the Freakshow are nothing more than angry punks running around with power tools."
"True," his helmet nodded in agreement. "But there might be somebody new on the scene, somebody able to move beyond that limitation."
"I guess anything's possible," she shrugged. "Don't you think you're overreacting a little? I mean, I appreciate the concern, but..."
"I take it that you can read my mind right now?" The question caught Psyche flatfooted, and she blinked at the sudden shift the conversation had taken.
"What does that have to do anything?" She frowned at him. "I can sense everyone's thoughts to some degree, but I don't run around reading people's minds, thank you very much. That's an invasion of privacy, not to mention unethical." She didn't bother to mention that she didn't really like actively reading minds she got enough 'noise' from everyone around her that she certainly didn't need to probe directly to know what they were thinking.
"I know that," MechaDeuce nodded again. "With your permission, I'd like to try something." When she nodded curiously, MechaDeuce opened a panel in the chestplate of his armour and inserted the circuit card as Psyche watched. He closed the compartment, and the blue glow from the lens in the center of his chest armour brightened. At the same time, the background hum from his armour suit began to rise in pitch.
"All right can you sense anything now?" the resonant electronic voice asked. Psyche opened her mouth to reply... ..and then he disappeared.
It was like suddenly going deaf, or having your eardrums pop from a sudden change in air pressure. The shift was so abrupt that it bordered on being physically painful. Psyche could still see the armoured figure in front of her he hadn't moved since slotting in the circuit card but every trace of his mind was gone as if removed by a giant chalkboard eraser. In fact...
"Shut it off," Psyche's hands flew to the sides of her head, her eyes widening as she suddenly realized she couldn't "hear" anybody's thoughts anymore. Deafening silence seemed to be crushing down on her suddenly, and panic fluttered like a caged bird in her chest. "Stop it!! Shut it OFF!!!!"
"Sorry." The blue glow faded a bit, and MechaDeuce pulled out the circuit card.
[I was right, damn it...] The thought echoed ominously.
"Yes, you were right," Psyche's mouth was dry as she tried to get her pulse back under control. In the back of her mind, the familiar babble of a myriad of different minds had re-established itself. She took a deep breath and tried to force herself to relax. "So you're telling me the Freakshow has a psychic cloaking device?"
"Something like that," he nodded, then handed her the circuit card. "You'd better get Positron to look that over and see if he can find a way to either jam or circumvent it." The red-and-silver battle suit stepped back from her and bowed formally. "Thank you very much for taking the time to talk to me; I really appreciate it."
"Wait a second, what...where the hell are you going?"
"Hunting," MechaDeuce's voice was flat. Dust swirled around him on the pavement as he began to lift into the air, the glow from his helmet visor and chest lens brightening to a steady blue-white burn. "I now know who, how, and why, but I don't know where or when. Yet." The hum from the red-and-silver armour rose to a high-pitched howl, and he shot off into the distance, banking sharply and angling out over the harbour.
----------

----------
"...And then he just blasts off across the harbour!" Psyche fumed, pacing back and forth. "Who the hell does he think he is?!" Her eyes flashed as she turned, her bright red hair framing her irate expression. On the other side of the room, Positron glanced up from his workbench, but withheld any comments he might have had. In front of him, wires snaked from improvised connections on the mysterious circuit card to a nearby computer bank.
Readouts flickered and scrolled on a nearby screen, and the armoured scientist examined the data carefully, occasionally glancing at another screen and tapping a key. Positron became aware that it had become quiet suddenly, and glanced up - Psyche was standing watching him with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and tapping her foot, evidently expecting a reply of some kind.
"Uh," Positron scrambled to come up with something that wouldn't sound lame. "Was that a rhetorical question, or did you really want me to comment on somebody I haven't met?"
"Forget it," Psyche sighed and resumed pacing. "Any luck with that thing?"
"Some," Positron replied absently, his gaze again fixed on the monitor readouts. He snagged a spooling printout from a third console and read through the results. "It's definitely a knock-off of Rikti technology, but it was manufactured locally. The analysis shows typical elements and composition consistent with North American fabrication facilities."
"I thought it was illegal to duplicate Rikti tech?" Psyche's eyebrow quirked upwards.
"Plasma weapon technology only," Positron replied, hitting a couple more keys and watching the screen. "If you get the proper licenses and permits, research on the more mundane stuff is allowed."
"What's mundane about psi-blocking?" Psyche glanced darkly at the wired-up circuit board. "Anybody working on that kind of stuff is either hiding something, or wants to control psychics."
"It's possible," Positron admitted, cocking his helmet at her. "Or they could be looking for a defence against Rikti psychic powers."
"You're an optimist, Posi," Psyche shook her head, giving him a small smile. "So what's our next step?"
"Finding the rest of the device would be a good start," Positron turned away from the workbench. "This board is only part of a larger device, after all. Based on what you've said, it generates a field that blocks psychic-type abilities, but we'd need to conduct some more tests before I can say what the range is or if it's only supposed to block mind-reading."
"I'll pass on the tests, thanks," Psyche eyed the circuit card inimically, her lips pressed in a thin line. "Feeling that thing in operation once was enough."
"Well then, it looks like you'll need to call up your friend in the armour suit," Positron glanced at her. "From what you've said, it sounds like he's actively pursuing it."
"Great," Psyche sighed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Got a phonebook handy?"
--------------

A rippling blast of energy slammed into the motley group, exploding in a coronal discharge of blue force that scattered them like bowling pins. Curses and surprised shouts filled the air as two more bursts of blue energy struck one of the Freaks - the one with the large transformer coils jutting from his shoulders. The Freak stiffened and toppled over in a limp heap as a glowing red-and-white suit of armour landed neatly in the middle of the Freaks as they scrambled to their feet.
A crimson aura burst from MechaDeuce's right gauntlet as he slammed it into the chest of the nearest Freak, sending him arcing through the air to crash into a pile of crates. Wood chunks flew everywhere as they splintered noisily, but MechaDeuce had already turned away to deliver a point-blank volley of pulsing energy bolts to the next Freak in line - the one trying to line up a shotgun on him. The gun bellowed, spraying buckshot in a hailstorm of whining ricochets as it glanced harmlessly off his armour. The first bolt shattered the shotgun; the remainder of the volley stretched the Freak out unconscious on the pavement.
From off to MechaDeuce's right, a submachine gun chattered noisily, but the hail of lead missed him. MechaDeuce barely even glanced in the direction of the gunner as he flattened him with another crackling energy bolt. His helmet turned, the glowing blue visor lens seeming to focus on another man groggily climbing back to his feet. Like most of the Freakshow, the man was covered in tattoos and pieces of implanted metal; unlike the others he had replaced both of his arms with massive robotic arms, ending in razor-edged claws.
MechaDeuce's gauntlet flared again, and the metal-armed Freak skidded along the cracked asphalt in a tumbling roll. As the dazed Freak sat up drunkenly, the towering armour suit reached down and grabbed the front of his ratty leather jacket, hauling him upright to stand eyeball-to-visor.
"I want some information, Slicer," MechaDeuce's electronically modulated voice was hard-edged, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Where's the weapon, and when are you punks going to try using it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, cape," Slicer sneered, spitting blood onto the chestplate of his questioner.
"Do I look like I'm wearing a cape?" MechaDeuce's gauntleted fist clenched tighter. "Let me refresh your memory: large long-range focused plasma weapon with psi-shielding, smuggled in pieces into the city. Dossier on Sister Psyche. Ringing any bells in that vacuum you call a brain?"
"I don't know nothin'," Slicer's gaze was bright with hatred. "An' even if I did, I ain't telling some nosy do-gooder in a tin suit. Why don't you mind your own business before you get hurt?"
"By you?" MechaDeuce snorted derisively. "That'll be the...."
Something crashed into the side of his helmet with bruising force, sending waves of blackness shot through with red sparks across his vision. The world spun crazily as warning lights flashed in his helmet viewscreen. As he fought to reorient himself, MechaDeuce felt himself slam into something hard and unyielding with a loud, gritty crunch concrete, he reasoned foggily.
Shaking his head to clear the last of the flashing lights from his vision, he rolled to his feet in a combat crouch. A scant twenty feet away, a very large and bulky Freak covered in heavy metal armour, rusty spikes, and with two massive mallets for arms was stomping towards him.
"Not by me," Slicer's voice oozed malicious satisfaction. "By him."
----------
Psyche settled herself comfortably on the couch, irritably brushing her bangs out of her eyes again. It was blessedly quiet in the lounge the rest of the Freedom Phalanx were off on their own assorted tasks, guaranteeing that she'd have the solitude necessary for what she needed to do. Folding her legs in a lotus position, she closed her eyes and began working at summoning up the calm and concentration required for trying to locate somebody with a mind-scan.
It wasn't easy. She hadn't been entirely joking when she'd asked Positron if he'd had a phone book; contacting somebody telepathically across several city zones when she had only met them once very briefly was almost impossible. Everyone's mind was unique, and it required close contact for an extended period of time before she could just reach out and quickly find somebody amid the confused psychic morass that covered Paragon City. Finding a total stranger was worse than finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Irritation tickled at the back of her mind again, and she stifled a sigh as she tried to squelch it so that she could concentrate. She still couldn't quite figure out why one lone armoured hero delivering dire warnings to her would be nagging at the back of her mind as much as it was it wasn't like she'd never had warnings of threats before.
In her mind's eye, she again saw the red-and-silver armour standing in front of her, and caught herself frowning at the image. Maybe it was because he'd presented more of an enigma than she was used to. Usually she had no problems 'reading' somebody when they talked to her, but with him she'd picked up almost no stray thoughts at all. When he'd done that stunt with the strange circuit board, she'd had no clue at all from his thoughts that he'd anticipated what it might do to her psychic senses.
Psyche's eyes shot open again as she suddenly realized that she'd actually picked very few extraneous thoughts up from him at all and that was unusual. He hadn't been using any kind of psi-shielding himself she had picked up on some of his thoughts, after all but for her to not get any anything meant one of two things: either somebody trained to avoid casual mind-reading, or else somebody so focused on something that they were verging on obsession.
Closing her eyes again, Psyche called up the memories of her brief conversation with MechaDeuce again, this time paying closer attention to what she had or hadn't sensed from the armoured hero. She frowned in concentration as she carefully sifted through the memories, replaying the conversation. No, he hadn't been using psionic shielding his thoughts were there, very neatly organized and precisely analytical, but at the same time it almost seemed out of focus to her, muffled somehow.
It was strange - there was a weird overlay to his thought patterns, almost like static on a radio channel. As she examined it, a small smile quirked at her lips. It wasn't much to go on, but if this 'distortion' was unique to his mind, she could use it to locate him. It looked like her odds of finding him had just gone way up.
Composing her thoughts into the disciplined patterns required for mind-scanning, Psyche closed her eyes and began searching the city.
---------
Orange flames blossomed in an expanding cloud of sooty smoke as shrapnel tore the air. The explosion bounced off the nearby buildings with a rolling reverberation as the silver-red armour suit spun crazily out of the air, impacting the side of a warehouse with a sound reminiscent of a car wreck. The abused metal siding held up to the impact, and MechaDeuce banked off the building like an armoured billiard ball as gravity took control of his trajectory.
He landed awkwardly, his helmet bouncing off the pavement as he piled into it with another rattling bang. Trying to ignore the flashing lights again peppering his vision, and the unmistakable taste of blood from somewhere in his mouth, the armoured hero rolled sideways, barely avoiding the massive metal-shod foot that crushed an impact crater into the asphalt where his head had been only moments before.
As he surged to his feet, trying to back-pedal and get some clearance between his enemy and himself, MechaDeuce was clipped with a back-swing from one of the tanker's bludgeoning sledgehammer arms. Metal crunched ominously as he flew backwards again, this time punching a jagged hole through the wall of the long-suffering warehouse.
Coughing and gasping, he floundered around as he skidded to a stop in a pile of shredded metal siding and splintered crates, desperately trying to scramble back onto his feet. It hurt to breathe...it felt like a dozen knives stabbing into his ribs, and taking anything other than a shallow breath was inviting another wracking coughing fit. His armour had held together under the impact, but he was willing to bet that he had at least a cracked rib or two. At the very least, he had to have one hell of a bruise.
Every movement tight with pain, MechaDeuce rolled over to his hands and knees and staggered upright as the tanker started tearing a larger hole into the warehouse to pursue him. Off in the distance, he could hear Slicer braying with laughter and cheering the tanker on.
MechaDeuce made a noise reminiscent of an angry snarl, clenching armoured fists. His arms snapped up and a cascade of bright blue energy roared across the warehouse, tearing the hole wider and flinging the tanker backwards to land in a clattering heap on the pavement beyond.
The armoured hero sprinted for the now-empty hole, sweat breaking out on his face inside his helmet as he gritted his teeth against the complaints from his battered midsection. He had to get out into the open again outdoors he could use his flight system for better mobility, even if it did entail the risk of being shot down with another grenade barrage.
The tanker loomed in front of him, and the red-and-silver battlesuit flared with discharging energy as MechaDeuce instinctively belted him in the chestplate with an empowered gauntlet. The blow crunched home with a very satisfying detonation, hurling the tanker away from him like a metal-clad rag doll.
The tanker slid to a grinding stop a few feet away, and ponderously began clambering back to his feet, a smoking dent visible in the center of the armour plating on his torso.
"That the best you got?" Slicer's voice taunted from the relative safety of several yards away. "You're gonna have to do better than that, cape! We're gonna turn that tin suit of yours into tinfoil!!"
MechaDeuce flashed across the intervening space in an eyeblink, propelled by snarling boot thrusters. His gauntlet flared with energy again, and Slicer was slammed into a nearby wall. After a very satisfactory rebound, the metal-armed Freak toppled to the pavement and lay motionless.
Still hovering, MechaDeuce spun back towards the tanker, who had regained his feet and was thundering towards him with an enraged bellow. The red-and-silver battlesuit smoothly side-slipped another grenade barrage, swooping into a smooth, curving evasion as the tanker tried clipping him with another hit from his arm-hammers. The momentum of his massive bulk carried the tanker past him, and MechaDeuce came to a hovering halt thirty feet away.
Youve had your fun, you walking scrapyard reject, MechaDeuces voice taunted the enraged Freak as he turned around. Now its my turn.
Big deal, came the sneering reply. Take your best shot, tin can!
Thanks, Mechas voice was dry. I will. The red-silver armour was suddenly lined with golden light that shifted into flickering streamers of actinic blue energy, laced with ominous crimson flashes. The energy spread, sheathing Mechas armoured form with a flickering aura that rapidly began brightening. The lens in the center of his armoured chestplate went from a soft blue glow to blazing white incandescence in a heartbeat. The energy field around MechaDeuce seethed and hissed as the surrounding air began ionizing.
You dont scare me!! the Freak bellowed, charging towards the hovering battlesuit. Grenades peppered the pavement around the hovering hero, without causing any apparent harm. The tanker snarled and surged forward as he swung up an arm.
And staggered backwards, a red-and-and silver armoured arm buried in his torso plating almost to the elbow. Metal superheated, and blew outwards from the Tankers back as a massive burst of flaming blue plasma tore through him, ripping apart metal and circuitry like cheap plastic. MechaDeuces visor was mere inches from the stunned Freaks face as he pulled his smoking gauntlet out of the gaping cavity hed just made.
Youre finished, MechaDeuces statement crackled with finality. Why dont you just give up and tell me what I want to know?
NO!! The tanker bellowed, staggering backwards and crashing to one knee. Oily-looking green and black liquid splashed on the pavement around him, raining in a steady drizzle from the hole in his chest as he staggered back to his feet. I aint done yet!! I can still take you out!!
Have it your way then, MechaDeuce sounded disgusted. The energy field around him blazed hotter and brighter, and the crackling hum from his armour transformed into the piercing scream of electronics stressed well beyond the point of normal operating limits.
For one brief moment, the Brickstown warehouse district lit up with almost solar incandescence, overlaid with a detonation that shook the nearby buildings.
&nbsp

(posted here to keep discussion out of the Registry thread)
Um. Dude, while the SS Katamari idea has some merit, grabbing the ISS - which we've established in-story as still being there - plus a brace of LA-class subs is reaching somewhere beyond the Line. It's too much, man.---
Mr. Fnord
http://fnord.sandwich.net/
http://www.jihad.net/
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery

FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information

"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"

"Thank you for coming," Gilbert Dullindal said, as his visitors entered the large office. The Chairman of the ZAFT Supreme Council was a tall man and handsome with dark hair spilling down over his shoulders and a thin face that usually revealed only detached confidence in his policies. He was feeling unusually tense now, however, for the complexity of his duties had risen markedly over the last month.
None of the visitors knew this however, though he had a passing acquaintence with most of them. Indeed, two of them likely knew this office almost as well as he did, for they were the only children of his predecessors. Athrun Zala looked much recovered from the strain he had been under two years ago, at the end of the Bloody Valentine War, standing behind the blonde 'Princess of Orb'. He wondered if the young man knew how much his occasional glances at Cagalli Yuna Athha revealed.
The other young couple, were thinner. Lacus Clyne was as sweet as ever... and perhaps even more beautiful. Her young man, the almost legendary Kira Yamato, looked thin and pale however. The strain of the climatic battle at Jachin Due had almost broken his will to live, and he was evidently not yet fully recovered. That was not good.
Last into the room were a man Dullindal knew well and a woman he did not. These two were not a couple, however, instead the survivors of two romances that had been broken by the war. Andrew Waltfield had been ZAFT's best ground forces commander until he was defeated and his lover killed by the then inexperienced Kira Yamato. Murrue Ramius, for her part, had risen from obscurity to inherit the command of the Earth Alliance's famous Archangel... and lost her own lover when conscience drove them to battle against the Archangel's sistership the Dominion that had fallen under the command of a genocidal madman.
"Why have you invited us here?" Cagalli broke the silence once they were all seated on the white couches that dominated one wing of the dimly lit office. "You must know that you made nothing clear except that you wanted a face to face meeting. Several of us endangered our lives by coming here."
Dullindal smiled. "To the point as ever, Princess," he noted, and smiled secretly to himself as her face reddened at the title she despised. "My apologies for the mysterious nature of the invitation, but what I am to tell you is the most guarded of secrets - one that I have shared only with only a few of the Supreme Council and the leaders of a few Earth nations."
"What could be that vital a secret?" Waltfield snorted. "Have you discovered a living space-whale or something?"
"Or something," Dullindal said quietly. "Something... to be more precise someone, that has given me cause to be perhaps a little paranoid about my electronic security." He lifted an old-fashioned plastic file from a side-table and retrieved a printed picture, passing it to Athrun. "What do you make of this, Mr. Zala?"
Athrun examined it and then shrugged. "Some sort of shuttle? I've not seen it before, but there are any number of designs..."
"It's a electronic warfare platform," Dullindal told him. "No, not something we've come up with, Ms. Athha. Nor is this an Earth design. A Junk Guild ship happened upon it adrift on the far side of the Moon. They were able to retrieve the crew before their life support gave out, and when the Guild heard their story they brought them to the PLANTs."
"So, if they aren't ZAFT... and aren't from Earth, then were do they come from?" Kira asked, showing the first sign of interest since he'd entered the room.
"They're from another star system," said Dullindal and waited for the room to explode with protests. He was pleased to discover that for the first time, an audience did not react with instant disbelief, although Ramius and Cagalli both looked as if they were waiting for the punchline to a particularly tasteless joke.
Lacus shook her head. "I don't understand," she said candidly. "You mean to say that this," she tapped the picture that Athrun had placed on the coffee table between the couches. "Is a starship? It's so small! And her crew are from another star system?"
"Somehow I don't think you're talking about bug-eyed monsters," Waltfield said drily. He picked up the picture to look at for himself. "The fittings look like they're designed for humans."
"They are indeed humans," Dullindal agreed, "Which has placed the biologists into quite a panic, I must say. However, they are adamant that they originate from - well, they call their home the Twelve Colonies and their particular planet is called Caprica. Our linguists have spent almost as much time deciphering their language over the last month as our engineers have in repairing their ship."
"Colonies?"
"Yes, which raises several interesting questions, doesn't it?" the Chairman said with a hint of irony to that particular bit of understatement. "All of which are beside the point for the moment however. You see, these particular individuals are scouts for a convoy of refugees. Their homeworlds have been attacked - the word destroyed has been used, although I'm not sure how to interpret that at this point, by a force they call 'Cylons'. A large number of civilians, almost fifty thousand in fact, are headed this way and the Cylons are close on their heels."
There was a stunned silence. "I can see why you want to keep this a secret... for now," Murrue said at last. "But why tell us? With the exception of Cagalli, none of us are in a position to do anything about this."
"I'd like to change that," Dullindal said, avoiding a direct answer. "But there are a few things I would like to tell you before I come to that. Everything in its place, so to speak." Receiving nods to continue, he did so.
"A week ago, we finally managed to finish repairs to their ship and two of the three crew departed for their mothership. The third remained behind to continue helping us work on understanding their language. We've come a long way on that front and I'd have to say that there have been some interesting technical developments as well. I'd brought the leader of the Oceania Union in on the story by then - with all due respect to Orb, Oceania has been our closest ally on Earth for sometime now - and we have been able to bring the Kingdom of Scandinavia, the African Community and the Equatorial Union in on the secret in the last few days. Three days ago, two vessels of the same kind arrived, carrying a diplomatic party, albeit a rather small one. Their ambassador has requested sanctuary on behalf of their remaining government and population in the convoy and warned us that in all probability the Cylons will target us regardless of our stance."
"Do you believe that?" Cagalli snorted. "Of course they're going to demonise their enemies!"
"I believe that they believe that, Ms. Athha. They could, of course, be quite mistaken. That is why this is being dealt with as a matter of the greatest delicacy. For obvious reasons, our allies have agreed that someone needs to visit this convoy to verify their story as far as we are able. We will also need time to prepare in the event that the Cylons are everything that they are painted as."
"You're talking about rearming," Cagalli snorted.
"It is hardly a secret that all signatories of the Junis Treaty have been upgrading their forces to replace their older equipment," Dullindal said. "The older equipment is usually scrapped, of course. This has allowed ZAFT to be substantially reduced in size without compromising our security. But if we are faced by an attack that can, literally or figuratively, destroy planets then we must consider this a threat on the order of GENESIS."
Athrun flinched. The GENESIS superweapon had been used to destroy entire fleets attacking the PLANTs... and on the orders of Athrun's own father, had with one shot depopulated almost a third of the Moon. Only it's destruction and his own death had prevented Patrick Zala from turning it on the Earth and wiping out inconceivable numbers of the human race.
"But..." Cagalli protested.
"Obviously the next step has to bring in the old Earth Alliance nations," Dullindal said, "And I intend to do so. But someone has to judge the nature of our prospective guests... and it has to be someone neutral that we all know will not play favorites. I believe that the veterans of the Three-Ships-Alliance would be the best choices."
There was another silence and then Murrue shrugged. "What do you have in mind?" she asked.
The Plant's scientists had naturally been interested in the hyperdrive of the colonial vessel and had constructed several duplicates, including a scaled up model that the Colonials had indicated should be powerful enough to move a full-size vessel. With this fitted to a ZAFT vessel, the Earth party would be able to travel to the refugee convoy without being left dependent upon the Colonials for their return.
Dullindal's plan had been to fit the drive to ZAFT's newest battleship, the Minerva, but it was Lacus to nixed that plan.
"If we go aboard a ZAFT vessel, then we shall be considered to be a ZAFT group," she explained. "Instead, let us mount the drive aboard one of our own ships."
"What ship do you have in mind?" the Chairman asked, more curious than offended.
She simply smiled and answered sweetly, "I think that the Eternal would appear the least threatening, Mr Dullindal."
Practically everyone in the room choked. The Eternal wasn't all that threatening in appearance, but it had been designed to support the two most powerful mobile suits in the Bloody Valentine War.
"I believe that with two mobile suits aboard, we can be reasonably secure," Lacus continued, blithely. "Without appearing to be unnecessarily cautious."
The question of what those suits would be hung in the air of the office. Given the identity of the two pilots in the room, it was not a question, the Chairman realised, that he really wanted to voice. No small number of battles in the war had been skewed by the intervention of one or both of them. If the Colonials were to try anything hostile then they would be playing with fire.
"Well, I suppose that if I'm asking you to be our emissaries then I can hardly second-guess you before you've so much as left my office," he said finally. "One of the Colonial military officers will be going back with you as a liason."
What with one thing and another it was another week before the Eternal was ready to depart. The ship had been anchored within Artemis, an abandoned Eurasian military outpost that had been abandoned during the Bloody Valentine War. It brought back memories to Murrue and Kira, who had both been aboard the station when ZAFT attacked, having to fight their way out with the Archangel and the old Strike. With prompting from Lacus, Kira told Athrun about and how Athrun's friend Nicol had singlehandedly opened Artemis' supposed invulnerable defenses to the ZAFT forces. In return, Athrun shared his memories of Nicol, whose death over the Pacific had almost caused a permanent risk between he and Kira.
The station itself, dug into an asteroid like most major orbital military bases, didn't make much of an impression on the Colonial officer who would be acting as their liason. The only thing that seemed to surprise him about the arrangement was the colour of the Eternity, although no one was quite sure why. His name was Lee Adama but his exact position in the Colonial Military wasn't something that anyone had worked out yet. Of course, since he was being kept away from most of the military equipment, such as the two mobile suits, he'd had to keep pretty much to himself - everyone else was busy getting that military equipment ready to go.
It was early on the seventh day since he'd come aboard that Andrew Waltfield knocked on the door of the quarters he'd been assigned. Unlike the confined quarters of a warship, Artemis was large enough for large and comfortable rooms and until it was time for Eternal to depart there was no point being uncomfortable. "Good morning," the scarfaced man said in greeting. "Ready to go home?"
Lee looked at him for a moment and then held up his dufflebag to indicate that he was all packed. "Home's been gone for almost three years now," he said somewhat grimly as he followed Andrew out of the room.
Andrew shook his head. "Home is where the heart is," he said sagely. "You always have one somewhere - sometimes it just takes a while to find it."
"Have you ever had your home destroyed?" the Colonial snorted. "There isn't much left to find."
Andrew looked at him and then shook his head. "Are you familiar with what we mean by 'nuclear weapons'?" he asked.
Lee thought about that. "No," he said. "No one's used that one yet."
"Well I don't plan to explain it in a corridor," Andrew said. "But the last time I was aboard the Eternal we were defending my home from being destroyed. We succeeded, but I could not go home. So I made a new home on Earth. Now everything changes, so who knows where I will call home tomorrow?"
"You say destroyed," Lee asked carefully. "How do you mean... destroyed?"
Andrew used the hand that wasn't holding his cane to gesture explosively. "Boom!" he said loudly. "Like that."
"Perhaps I do know what 'nuclear weapons' means," he said at last. "If so, then I... I apologise for my rudeness."
"That's alright, boy," Andrew said as he opened the hatch to the Eternal's airlock. "Just watch it around some of the crew. We didn't save everybody's home."
D for Drakensis

You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.

I was cleaning up my screenshots and found some good ones. Thought I'd share.
Everyone has to take the train sometime
My favorite Minuet picture
Minuet and her Shivan Shard
Watch my back -QB Kitsune and Windy Day
I love this one. Vigdis Brightblade, Fae Wree Tail and Sir-Vile.
Fae learns the difference between Light and Dark
This SG base is spectacular. They must have a huge base plot.
Arcane Style Base on Champion - WOW
The perfect couple
Maid Obselete
I managed to get this shot just as Min leveled. :-)
Min hits 48
Odd bit of symmetry

Natalie
Bond. James Bond. - Whether as some wierd manipulation of quantum mechanics and probability, sheer dumb luck, or just her karma in life, Natalie seems to have been cast as an Action Hero Superspy. Not that she knows that.
Okay, I know what these are, but how did they get on my chest? - She's one of the seventeen tied claimants for the title of 'first biomod, ever'.
A cool thing is even cooler if it's useful, too. - As a direct consequence of the above, she was also one of the first fen to reach orbit, and the first to think to take NASA instruments and scientists along on the ride.
'All these worlds are yours...' - First person to set foot on Europa.

So, I had Evangelia wandering around Striga trying to get rid of some old backlogged missions that are really for L27-29 toons. I'm figuring, hey, she's L33, she finishes the one that's outstanding, and the contact will go, "duuude, you're like way too high for my stuff. Go talk to $RANDOM_NEW_CONTACT in $RANDOM_ZONE."
No such luck.
Next thing I know, Eva's been charged to take down Burkholter and his Erector set.
So, anyone want to go whack an Archvillain and his toy robot?
-- Bob
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...The President is on the line
As ninety-nine crab rangoons go by...