---DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS---
IMPERIAL MEDICAL SUITE
COLOSSEUM STATION, COLOSSEUM SYSTEM, NOVA-VERSE
1117 HOURS, MAY 6, 3961 A.D.

Delphis looked at the human as he walked into the room. “Who...are you?”
“I am Medical Officer Thaddeus Sewell, Delphis, or Tad,” the medic replied. “I'm glad that we managed to save you before we were too late.”
“You...saved me?” the Ubercept asked, still somewhat dazed.
“Indeed, sir. Granted it was mostly guesswork, having never had to work on an Ubercept before, but we managed to revive you before your vitals reached critical.”

Delphis sank back into the bed, setting the sturdy frame creaking, and evaluated his condition. He recalled his nightmares and his agonized physical condition, and checked himself over. The humans had done a sterling job of repairing the most problematic injuries, and his body had finished the job itself. After a moment's thought, he asked “Why have you rescued me in this fashion?”

“Warrior, it was not your time to die. We felt that you ought not fear the grave just yet.”

“Ubercept have no fear of death, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Delphis said. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, joints cracking and muscles flexing. He noted that the humans had clad him in a white sheet, which was probably the only thing they could find that was large enough to clothe him in.

He paused a moment to think through the situation from a diplomatic standpoint, using all his first contact training, and continued. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. They were surely expensive for you to implement.”

Sewell bowed modestly. “The Empire wasn't about to stand by and watch you sacrifice yourself needlessly,” he said.

“However, it's a matter of the gravest importance that I get back aboard my own ship,” Delphis continued. “The fate of this Space Station hangs in the balance, as do the lives of all aboard. I'm sure the destruction of this station is not in your goverment's best interest.”

“Of course not,” Sewell said firmly. “I'll make the arrangements for you to be transported to your ship immediately.”

Sewell then tapped on a bracelet-like device, entering what could only be assumed as a hail to his superiors. Moments later, Delphis was standing in front of an Inter-Dimensional Time Gate. “This is a what?” he demanded.

“It's an Inter-Dimensional Time Gate, sir. It's been programmed to deliver you to the ship that you have identified as being your own,” the nervous Imperial operator said.

“I see. Thank you. So, what do I do?” Dephis said, a touch nervous about this bizarre alien technology.

“Just step through, sir.”

“Hrrrm,” Delphis said. He took another look at it, rattled his mandibles, and powered forwards through the gate-

-arriving on the bridge of the so recently embattled Great Death, almost directly in front of Admiral Shlimazel's command chair.

Admiral Shlimazel sat speechless. “Who are-” he began.

“First Contact Specialist, Third-Class Delphis reporting, Admiral!” Delphis said, saluting rigidly. “I bring extremely dangerous news of the station, which shows our current situation in a dark light indeed!”

Admiral Shlimazel gestured at Delphis's robe. Delphis looked at it, then back at the Admiral.

“Ahhhh....” he said. “It's a long story...”

Meanwhile...

C.N.S. OBLIVION
THE NEXUS
NULL TIME

Commander was pacing back and forth anxiously as the Oblivion hurtled through the Nexus to the Colosseum System. He had heard from Langley that the Solomon was damaged from the fight with the enemy fleet, however, he was not given a report as to how badly.

“Core, how long until we reach the Nova-Verse?”
“Got about 30 seconds remaining, chief,” Bowser replied over the communicator.
“Alright; thanks.” He resumed his pacing.

Mike, in Wolf-Form, looked at his superior and shook his head. “If you keep that up, there's gonna be a permanent indentation in the deck,” he cracked.
“Mike...not the best time for a joke,” Commander replied, sternly.
“Sorry.”

Their train of thought was interrupted by the beeping indicating there were less than 10 seconds to their destination. Mike picked up a com-link and addressed the ship.
“Attention, General Quarters, report to stations, report to stations. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill.”

As they exited the Nexus, they immediately saw just how badly the Solomon was damaged. Huge, 5- to 8-mile wide holes had ripped through her hull, but she still held. It was clear, though, that she needed urgent repairs.

“Comms, get me Langley, immediately,” Commander ordered as he pointed to the officer.
“Sir, yes, sir,” the officer replied.

The holo-screen flickered for a second before Langley's figure showed up onscreen.
“Commander, BC,” he began, indicating Commander and Mike, respectively, saluting.
“Langley,” Mike began, smiling, “good to see you. Looks like you finished ahead of us – congratulations. Return to RepBay at once. We'll take over from here.”
“Very well, sir. I'll notify Admiral Shlimazel of the Great Death that you wish to speak with them.”
“Excellent,” Commander stated. “Is there anything else we should be aware of?”
“Another ship in the vicinity,” he began, showing the image of the Levaetain, “fired a weapon of considerable magnitude in assistance to the Great Death. We assume they must be allies.”
“Interesting...” Mike mused, scratching his furred chin. “Contact them, as well, in that case. It would be rude of us to not acknowledge their efforts in this.”
“Understood. Langley out.”

The holo-screen turned off. The Solomon lurched to her right, fired a silvery-white beam, and exited the system into the Nexus. Both ships were hailed immediately, and requested to land aboard the mighty Oblivion at once. Both parties agreed to meet in the mammoth vessel's hangar.

With that done, Commander turned on his heel, and left the bridge. Mike followed suit, his tail flicking back and forth as they both exited.

“This is a meeting of incredible importance, Michael,” Commander began. “If everything goes as we hope, we'll be able to get access to the first Black Artifact with little or no resistance.”
Mike nodded. “How do you think this Admiral Shlimazel will take the news? Should we make his race's disposition towards humans known?”
“I'm not sure,” Commander replied, anxiously. “The topic WILL have to come up at some point, but whether or not that should occur right away is something that remains yet to be seen.”
“Probably just as well – Omega's been hounding me to get him aboard Colosseum Station so we can participate in the tournament.”
“Remember the reason you're there, Mike,” Commander stated, stopping and turning to face his comrade. “You're not there to win the whole shebang – you're there to investigate the group known as Cortex.”
“Right – Intel's reported that Murphy could well be part of this syndicate that I've heard about. Participating in the tourney will provide an excuse for more of us to be there while we sniff around.”
“Indeed. Well, that said, let's go greet our guests; it'd be rude of us to keep them waiting.”

Survival Horror

THE CITY OF ACRE
UNKNOWN LOCATION
UNKNOWN TIME

Sanctuary, finally. After running all day, Leon and Rebecca could settle down at last. They'd both had their own shares of Hell this day, and were relieved to be among friends. All the Feddies that were running the joint certainly were using a lot of power. It was to “keep the ghouls down.”

And yet, it made perfect sense.

He remembered that the Ghouls had refused to follow him when he went near the flaming car near the Fallen Angel earlier. Light must be their weakness.

“I'm gonna go and do a little shopping, Principal Lopez,” he excused himself. “Want to go with me?”

She looked at him as if he were half-crazy, but considering all that had happened this day, it was probably one of the more sane things to do. “Sure, just lead the way.”

First stop: the clothing store.

Leon decided the best thing to do was to dress like the military man he was – though he was honorably discharged years ago, he knew how to home-brew a few things to keep his adversaries at bay. He needed a backpack, one large enough that he could stock a few Molotov Cocktails safely inside and ready for use.

He ignored the “Made by Helen” line, and went for Camouflage Olive Drab. The other thing he kept at all times, aside from his cross, was his old Fed Military ID in his wallet – he never knew why, other than for sentimental reasons, but maybe if he flashed it to some of the guards here, they'd let him get access to some of their lighter arms.

Next up, a liquor store. He meant to hit up the one he'd passed earlier, but the swarm back then made that an impossibility. Now that he was in a Federation Garrison, more or less, he could get what vodka, whiskey, and whatever other alcohol he needed for the firebombs. It'd already been pretty well ransacked, likely by the soldiers, but there were still a few bottles of the tipsy stuff. He bagged these and made sure to get some cloth to use as wicks.

Now, the gun store. He'd already seen that “ninja,” William, walk in here, and he only came out with a pistol. However, Benjamin Guyson, the original owner, whom Leon had been friends with, kept a private arsenal stowed in case of emergency. Ben didn't need it anymore (he was killed earlier that day), so he'd help himself to it.

He felt around behind the counter, looking for Ben's access switch to the basement. Eventually, he felt the button underneath the counter and pressed it, opening the trap door to the cache.

“Wow. Guess ol' Ben was a bit more paranoid than I thought,” Leon said to himself and Becca.

Inside, they found a large assortment of shotguns, rifles, knives, and apparently shurikens, with plenty of ammo to spare – enough to start a small war, in fact. They decided to get the shotguns first, then a couple of rifles. Now they were in business.

Leon took care to close the stash without anyone noticing – he wanted to make sure his friend's little secret wasn't known to anyone except a few people, one of which included William.

Last up, he headed for the Fed Armory. The sergeant in charge eyed him suspiciously, wondering what this civilian was doing here.
“I'm sorry sir, but you don't have authorization to pass,” the sergeant stated.
“Pardon me, sarge,” Leon stated, “but I believe I do.”

At this, he procured his old ID.

“It says here you were discharged, Lieutenant,” the sergeant stated firmly. “I still can't grant you full access to the armory.”
“Then can you at least tell me what I can get, dirtbag?” he said, in his gruff army voice.
“The best I can get you is some of our mid-grade explosives, like rocket launchers – I can't get you any mortars or the like, obviously. And hi-explosive rounds are also restricted.”
“That'll work. Just show me what you can get me.”
“Very well, sir. Right this way.”

After being shown the storage room, Leon grabbed a few blasters, a crate of grenades (with 20 grenades inside), and a rocket launcher with a crate of rockets (10 inside). He handed one of the blasters to Rebecca, saying, “we'll need all the help we can get, now.” She nodded in acceptance.

However, he didn't intend to get it all for himself and Rebecca. He headed back to the Decon room with his arsenal in tow.

He opened the door, and pointed to the two hecklers with their stalwart friend.

“You three. With me at once.”

He led them outside to the gun store.

“Ever heard of Christmas coming early?” he said, as he opened the stash.

G.U.I.N. GREAT DEATH
COLOSSEUM STATION ORBIT
1154 HOURS, MAY 6, 3961 A.D.

Admiral Shlimazel and Delphis sat in the Admiral's briefing room. Delphis had changed into slightly more dignified apparel than his hospital sheet, and he stood stiff-backed in his grey and green diplomatic uniform.

“So, then. What is your report?” the Admiral said.

Delphis took a moment to gather his thoughts, then began.

“Sir, we have a code omega situation aboard the station,” he said.

Admiral Shlimazel tensed. “You'd better be absolutely certain of that, agent.”

“I have absolute certainty, sir. There is a space god on that station. It has infiltrated the station and has demonstrated the ability to control the population. It claims to be some sort of facilitator, not a true space god, but some weaker entity which has bargained for its current power with other space gods. It can focus its attention upon us, Admiral.”

“It could well be responsible for the appearance of a Deviant fleet in this system,” Admiral Shlimazel mused. “There is no choice now. We must destroy the station.”

“I believe I can deal with it, sir,” Delphis said.

Admiral Shlimazel looked at Delphis. “Don't be absurd, diplomat,” Admiral Shlimazel said scornfully. “Even with this entire ship we might have trouble dealing with-”

“I am an Ubercept and a soldier, Admiral,” Delphis said, sudden anger burning bright inside him. “I have always been so, despite my blood, and always will be so!”

“Of course,” the Admiral said. “But to think of fighting a space god-”

“Antimatter charges, sir, within a space/time deflection field,” Delphis said. “This space god wants me, and it will have me. But as the humans say, the last laugh will be mine.”

Admiral Shlimazel surveyed Delphis speculatively. “I find myself surprised to hear a possible plan put forth,” he said. “You'd need soldiers to lay charges in the appropriate area, of course.”

“Yes, and I'd need assistance pinpointing the exact location of the space god. Perhaps the human station commander would be able to provide assistance with that,” Delphis said.

“You know what, Delphis?” Admiral Shlimazel said. “I think that I will clear you for this operation. Tell First Officer Ralnse that I've given it my go ahead, and work with him to plan the details.”

“Sir! Thank you, sir!” Delphis said, saluting. He turned to go.

“One more thing,” Admiral Shlimazel said. Delphis turned.

“Remember always that these humans are aliens, diplomat,” Shlimazel said. “Do not place implicit trust in their hands.”

Delphis was silent for a moment, then he said “Sir.”

Admiral Shlimazel turned his chair away as Delphis left the room. He sat for a long moment, thinking. Then his comm signalled.

Shlimazel reached over and activated his desk comm. A holographic image of the Comms officer appeared.

“Sir. Another one of these massive human warships appeared in-system, and they are hailing us. They want a diplomatic meeting.”

Admiral Shlimazel sat back, musing.

“Well, I suppose we will oblige them,” he said. “Signal them that we will be dispatching a shuttle with escort to meet with them.”

“Sir!”

Admiral Shlimazel stood. Another diplomatic meeting. Hopefully this one would turn out better than the last one.

C.N.S. OBLIVION
COLOSSEUM STATION ORBIT
1213 HOURS, MAY 6, 3961 A.D.

Admiral Shlimazel had shown up in full ceremonial battleplate. Two Deathstriker Elites stood in the back of the room, surprisingly discrete for all their mass. Captain Tobias Maylithiar stood beside the Admiral. The other humans had seated themselves at the table across from the two of them.

“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” Commander said. “Admiral, I hope your ship did not sustain too much damage in the fighting.”

“Indeed, no. It can easily be repaired,” Admiral Shlimazel said smoothly. “But without the assistance of Admiral Langley and Captain Maylithiar,” he paused to nod to Tobias, “we would not have survived the fight.”

“I'm afraid our assistance was minor, Admiral,” Captain Maylithiar said modestly.

“Still, we appreciate the effort.”

“I'm glad our forces were able to assist you,” Commander said.

“And which forces would those be?” Admiral Shlimazel asked “I've been given but the most minor of hints as to the truth.”

“That's a fair question,” Commander said. “We are representatives of the Commandarian Empire.”

“I see,” the Admiral said. “A local goverment?”

'No, there is no such Empire here,” Captain Maylithiar said. “You gentlemen must be from outside our universe,” Maylithiar said to the Commander.

“Yes, that is true. This is not our native universe. We have an interest in this station, however, and an immediate interest in you and your ship, Admiral.”

The Admiral tensed. “I see,” he said. “And what sort of interest is that?”

Commander took a deep breath. “We have received intelligence to the effect that there is an unnerving possibility that our universe is on the brink of total destruction, and that you and your ship can help us prevent that destruction.”

Admiral Shlimazel and Captain Maylithiar exchanged a look. “I suppose that is something we might be concerned about, yes,” Maylithiar said.

“Help you,” Admiral Shlimazel said. “Excuse me while I laugh. You field nine-hundred mile-long warships, and ask me for help? What sort of help? Perhaps fighter defense? Cargo delivery?”

“We need to collect an array of extremely old and powerful artifacts. They were once owned by an extremely powerful entity. These artifacts must be destroyed, to prevent everything from coming to an end. We believe that one of these artifacts can be found in your universe, Admiral.”

“You might as well stop there," Admiral Shlimazel said. “I know what artifact you are speaking of, and there's no way I can allow you to aqquire it.”

Silence.

“I think you'd better clarify that remark, Admiral,” Commander said tensely.

“In the beginning of our empire, we were plagued by space gods,” Admiral Shlimazel said. “If we didn't devise some way to sunder them, we would have been destroyed.

“So we constructed a prison network. It stretched across an entire spiral arm of the galaxy. We knew it would be sufficient to contain the space gods.

“But we needed a power source to fuel this network of prisons. The power expenditure would be immense. No conventional power source would do.

“We discovered an ancient artifact, on a cold, dark world at the very edge of the spiral arm, orbiting a sun that was little more than a cold splinter of ash.

“This artifact held within it massive power. It demonstrated the capability to corrupt vegetable and animal matter as if it exuded some form of disease from within it. But it had no effect on Ubercept physiology.

“We used this artifact to power our prison network, and for a million years to follow filled that network using our Glyphships and our Omega Level Units. Eventually we began constructing newer and more efficient prisons, including imprisoning space gods in the hearts of suns and neutron stars. The ancient network grew older.

“And now millions of years of ancient doom is contained within that network, and powered by the artifact you seek to retrieve. So you see why there is no possible way I can let you remove it.”

A long silence endured as they absorbed that. Then, finally, Commander spoke.

“Well. I'm afraid-”

The commlink activated. The ship's scanner operator appeared on the holo-display.

“I'm sorry to interrupt the meeting, but there is a massive jump corridor opening up in this system. Something huge is coming through.”

“Can you show us what it looks like?” Commander asked.

“Yes sir, we've got a good visual on it.”

An image appeared onscreen. Rotating smoothly, it displayed sensor readings on the target object.

“Vegetable puke!” Admiral Shlimazel said furiously. “That's a Corebeam System!”

“A what?” Commander asked.

"Let me put it this way," the Admiral said. "If that System opens fire, this solar system will be blown off the face of the galaxy, and it won't even notice."

“But it's only three hundred miles long,” Commander said disbelievingly. “How can it pack that much firepower?”

“Stunted deviant freaks though they may be, they construct weapons nearly as effective as Ubercept weapons,” the Admiral said. “And when we build a ship that's hundreds of miles long, we don't mess around.”

“I'd better get back to my ship,” Captain Maylithiar said.

“I, as well,” Admiral Shlimazel said.

“Admiral, when this is over, we'll be meeting again,” Commander said, warningly.

“I'll count on it,” the Admiral said, sweeping out of the room.

Meanwhile, Commander contacted the comms officer.

“Comms, get a hold of any five Omegas the Empire can spare – we're dealing with a Level 6-Epsilon threat and need reinforcements.”
“Yes, sir. Contacting High Command at once.”

Commander then raced to the bridge, with Mike in close pursuit.

“Well...it seems that the Boots of Plague are what we seek first, Commander.”
“Indeed, Mike. And we have the annoying task of convincing the Ubercept to relinquish possession of them.”
“Should we initiate directive 3965-Delta once our boys get here?”
“Not right away. We'll save that if the situation gets too hairy.”
“Guess Omega and I will have to wait just a little longer, huh?”
“Indeed. Sorry for the delay.”
“Well, I'm sure this little fight will make up for it.”

---END TRANSMISSION---

---

NOTES 'N STUFF:

Well, this marks the first part of the hunt for the Black Artifacts. I've still yet to figure out four pieces - and if at all possible, I would like to make them canon with each universe's storyline, though I understand completely if making it canon would clash with your story.

And, well...damn. What to do, what to do? On the one hand, you've GOT to retrieve an Artifact before Akasi does, but on the other, you're going to risk a Universe-wide apocalypse of another variety in its own Universe. Rest assured, you can bet that something will come up that causes the sh!t to hit the fan.

The Deathstrikers are essentially the Ubercept's Elite Guard. Since even the common soldier of the insectoid race could quite EASILY rip a man in half, it'd be a scary thought to imagine what these guys could do.

So far, this marks the end of the Survival Horror bit - the person who runs it has been away for a while, but it's rather typical of him (he's been known to disappear for months on end).

Come next post, the stage will be set for the start of one very, VERY disturbing revelation.

Additionally, for those of you on dA, there will be NO part for that. It's just too much work for me to re-write it in such a way that it conforms to both ASW's and dA's formatting methods. Additionally, it just doesn't deliver the same panache as I'd like it to.

That said, see you next post!

Admiral Shlimazel, Delphis, and the Ubercept © their owner
Captain Tobias Maylithiar and the Levaetain are © their owner
The Nova-verse and all respective characters/governments © Ambrosia Software
Bowser is © Nintendo
The Empire, JR/VA, and all characters w/in © me