[u][b]Core of New Yrrkeltharl Space[/b][/u]
[u][b]Alkrath
The Citadel of Order, Seat of the Central Administrative Council[/b][/u]

[img]http://img12.deviantart.net/f2d3/i/2012/003/4/6/alien_city_wip_by_tarrzan-d4l6wwd.jpg[/img]

The world which was now known as Alkrath had not always borne an alien name so harsh upon the human tongue. Little more than a century before, it, then a largely pristine, beautiful planet, dotted sparsely with comparatively small cities (as not many could afford a residence there) mimicking an architectural style dating back to the old days of old Earth itself, had been known by a quaint, if somewhat lengthy, appellation derived from an ancient Terran language. That name had been uttered wistfully by many an inhabitant of the nearby systems as they gazed up to the stars, fancying they saw the world in question amid the glimmering expanse, or jotted down upon the pages of journals, public announcement screens, digital invoices or other suchlike documents with such feelings as longing, satisfaction or slight envy. The world had been the focus of several lifetimes' worth of dreams and desires, whether those involved a pleasant retirement, being appointed to a privileged position or simply a brief, yet memorable visit - and ever had that name been the banner and symbol of such aspiration.

Now, no more. Now, it was Alkrath.

Where had once been bright meadows and elegant towns there stood now an immense maze of outlandishly twisted, bizarrely stacked structures, glaring with the lurid red lights of foundries and crackling with energy conduits of tremendous size and potency. As had been its predecessor, Erelkhathurl, Alkrath was placed in a strategic position, being as close to a hypothetical centre of the Coalition's rather irregularly shaped territory as it could reasonably be expected of an inhabitable planet - and thus enabling the CAC to dominate its entirety with ease. Under its evolved rule, no longer could the free initiative of its subjects be relied upon to populate what was effectively its capital world; yet, had this even been an issue, little thought would have been given to it, for the quantity of officials and lieutenants of various sorts required by the new, centralised system was more than sufficient to compensate for it - and this without mentioning the energetic and industrial support facilities necessary for the vast government apparatus to function. Thus, there was scarce a spot to be found upon the planet's surface where there did not stand a terraced spire or run a multi-level road, and unwholesome fumes spread foully where there had once been a crystalline sky.

Over all this towered the behemoth sable mass of the Citadel of Order. Built atop a complex framework which would have appeared surreal to an architect of bygone ages, the colossal structure was as much a monument to the might of the Coalition, and a constant reminder of the Council's unceasing vigilance, as the nucleus of its administrative activity. Here there regularly gathered the nation's nine most influential figures; some of them even permanently resided there, ever surrounded by a host of servitors, guards and transmitter technicians tasked with conveying their commands throughout multitudes of systems almost as soon as they were given. While the Citadel was theoretically accessible to anyone at any moment, those who had no urgent business within it knew better than to enter its shadowy, vault-like halls on a whim; the Council did not take well to being disturbed in its activities, and any perceived as engaging in such a deplorable activity would find it difficult to avoid summary censure – or worse yet, in case a meeting were underway.

Now was just one such a time. At the inmost core of the Citadel’s main tower, in a chamber dwarfing that of the old Seat on Erelkhathurl, yet just as dim, there had gathered around a massive circular podium-table nine beings which, for how they appeared, might as well have emerged from the feverish nightmares of an overly imaginative human under the effect of a strong “stimulating” concoction. From the looming bulk of the Voice of the Deep, bristling with ridges and spines of chitin shaped strangely even by a Zsresriir’s standards, to the amoeboid mass of the High Administrator, composed of semi-fluid rivulets of fungoid flesh and nano-machinery, twisting and mingling in unnaturally intricate forms which shifted every second without losing their symmetry, the members of the Central Administrative Council were an outlandish sight even for others of their respective species. The enhancements they donned – all save for Rseslar, who, being touched by the Zsrolor, eschewed such petty contrivances – were unique, specially designed models whose equal was not to be found elsewhere in Coalition space, or, indeed, in the galaxy itself; it was even rumoured that the presence of the regiment of elite troops tasked with watching over their persons was entirely symbolic, as the nine could easily have out-performed an entire army on their own. 

Regardless of theories concerning their supposed martial prowess, the representatives all shared a skill which had enabled their election to the CAC, and at the practice of which they excelled - namely, devising schemes to further the Coalition’s interests at the expense of everyone else. Which, if one was to judge by the holographic map of the galaxy, characteristically gold-hued and slightly distorted to accommodate the watchers’ visual organs, hovering over the podium-table at the exact centre of the circle formed by them, was just what they were engaged in at that moment. Everyone’s gaze, or equivalent thereof, was directed toward a bright green spot which pulsed amid the core regions, surrounded by flowing coordinate lines.

“This time, we have solid information” Exalted Strategist Sralsresr hissed, “According to field reports, over twenty craft, including what seems to be a supercarrier. Contrarily to our previsions, the Republic does not act alone. Some of the vessels are of Hexanagallion facture.”

“Which renders direct action entirely out of the question” Cycle-Bearer Xalthil commented, “But I am aware that this is not the pertinent matter. On behalf of the Weavers of the Cycle, I confirm the experiment to have been a success. The prototypes have performed admirably in field conditions, and the covert intervention fleet has been identified and located. I second my esteemed colleagues’ motion to initiate mass production of the infiltrator units.”

A wave of swaying and nodding swept around the podium, manifesting the CAC’s unanimous approval.

“How shall we dispose of the prototypes?” High Defence Coordinator Aalthallr inquired.

“They are set to revert to their unformed state upon engaging armed foes, and self-destruct when lethally wounded. If the Republic should reach them, we shall be able to gauge their combat abilities. Otherwise, they shall continue their activity within the Taspara household as before.” Xalthil replied.

“In one manner or the other, they should provide enough time for our own intervention force to arrive within reach of the specified coordinates” Sralsresr rejoindered, “Is the fleet ready?”

“Entirely.” Decorated Proto-Engineer Iurrvelt twitched with a pseudopod, and the map disappeared, replaced by a projection of an old Agonis-designed carrier ship.  ”The difference between the original models and our refitted replicas is undistinguishable even upon close scrutiny, and the synthetic crews are fully operational.”

“Excellent. It shall be dispatched in short order. Our delegation is likewise on its way to encounter the marauder leaders on the southern fringe.” The Exalted Strategist snapped his mandibles, and the map appeared again, this time without the green spot, as the other members expressed their approval. “Deep-Vassal, you had requested announcement time.”

“Indeed.” Rsilrsesr tapped upon the podium’s edge, and more pulsing spots, this time of a reddish-orange hue, appeared in the northern regions of Coalition space. “I have been notified by garrison force commanders that unknown items have been apprehended orbiting previously uninspected planets at these locations. Scansions indicate that said bodies closely resemble vessels produced by the Agonis Collective, as classified among the samples we possess, yet show no signs of activity. A lesser fleet has been sent to investigate upon my orders. This is all.”

Some moments of silence ensued, then, with a horrific half-rumbling, half-screeching sound the Voice of the Deep spoke. “With no further matters of immediate importance to be submitted to our attention, in the name of the most august union of our peoples, the great Yrrkeltharl Coalition, I declare this meeting closed. Glory to the Coalition.”

“Glory to the Coalition” the other eight beings echoed, as the map flickered out of existence, plunging the chamber in a faintly green-bluish gloom.