There are two things someone passing through Calderspace would find. The first was a planet.
Calder IV, with its gravity of .93 Earth standard and an oxygen-nitrogen rich atmosphere, could one day develop life of it's own. But it won't bear any import on this story for now.
What would draw an observers attention would be the ships orbiting this planet.
Measuring 7,260 meters long, 605 meters high, and 5,815 meters wide, the ungainly lead vessel contained 500,000 members of a people whose colony planet was destroyed by the dictators in charge of their homeworld. The enormous ship and its two escorts were unlike anything made by current space naval powers. Understandable, as the ship had not been made in this universe.
The commander of the Ci'Vonian Azashar-Class Mothership, a green haired human appearing man in his late 50s, stood next to a brunette woman with a distinctly academic air about her.
"You say the sensors have detected what?" questioned Rygar.
"The signature of a Hyperspace Fold, your eminence." Trillian responded.
The wide-eyed shock on her normally serious commander's face was understandable. Since their arrival in this universe, the space faring races that they had encountered had used different, less efficient, methods of FTL travel. Those who actually had FTL capability, that is. And to all their knowledge, the ability to fold Hyperspace required the usage of Protoculture, something which they had found no trace of in their travels and were in dire need of.
When the joint Ci'Vonian/Zentraedi Rebellion had made their last ditch effort against the Robotech Masters, the entire remains of their one proud space fleet had folded to Tirol, only to find the Masters and their loyalist Zentraedi laying in ambush. A slaughter from the beginning, the few vessels which survived the initial fightng attempted to flee, only to be cut dow my the overwelming power of Dolza's Grand Fleet.
All except theirs.
Their communications officer had intercepted an encrypted communication from Tirol's capitol city, Tiresia. When the comm officer had decoded the message the crew had been shocked upon seeing the face on the viewing screen.
It was Zor.
The imprisoned scientist was attempting to warn the rebels of the ambush all while the pounding of the Masters' clone guards resounded against the door of the hijacked comm relay center.
Commander Rygar ordered for an immediate retreat and regroup. When the mothership began its fold maneuver, a stray shop from the battle breeched their shields and damaged their computer systems. The out of control Fold-Field fluxuated wildly, enveloping two Thuverl-Salan Zentraedi Destroyers and knocking the crews unconscious.
When they awoke, they found themselves in an unknown location with half their Protoculture stores depleted. A scan of the area around them revealed the structure of space resonating at an entirely different Quantum Frequency than their own universe.
With no known method of returning to their home reality, the Tirolians and their Zentraedi escorts had roamed space for the past nine human months searching for a suitable planet to inhabit. Running low on Protoculture, they believed they were going to be forced to settle on the inhabitable, but inhospitible, planet which they now orbited.
But now this.
"Set immediate course for the source of these emissions! Inform our escorts to prepare for folding!" he ordered. Please, thought Rygar. Please let this be someone whom can assist us."
A short time later, the three vessels disappeared in the orange/yellow-colored distortion of a Fold-Field. Their destination: Sol.
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(Posted Wed, 01 Sep 2004 22:15)
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