NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Please, no sudden intrusions to the RP, if you wish to join, TG me first.


IC:

The search for a civilizations roots is something that historians throughout time have done in order to find answers to the so often asked questions. "Who we are?" "Where we come from?" "Why are we here?". History is often just history, the past time with its only relevance to the current being hunger for knowledge, but there are cases where history affects the current of present events, and some times in those cases, the three questions have answers that can astonish us, or fill us with absolute terror.


.: 5012 years before present time:.

Asteroid belt of Sol System
Imperial Ship-Of-The-Line Sevrid

Senior Fleet Captain Druaga sighed heavully as the shoals of data flowed like a river to his brain. Status reports, progression reports, system reports and most important of all, the progress of the mutineers aboard the ship.

The mutineers were outnumbered, but then again they had all suits of Combat Armor as well as all the heavy weapons. Druaga had to grudgingly admit that the mutiny had been expertly planned and executed. The mutineers had seized the heavy ground combat assets onboard the Sevrid before the loyalists could mount any effective resistance, Druaga had known in moments that the mutiny had been planned for months.

Another barricade fell as the progressing mutineers drove thru the defending loyalists. The loyalists had fought hard and well but in the end, their fate had been sealed. The mutineers had been bringing more and more Combat Armored marines and heavy weapons to bear against the barricade and it had fallen, soon they would reach the upper decks and finally, the command deck.

"Sevrid." Druaga called out to the emptiness around him.

"Yes Captain Druaga?" A voice responded that sounded to be coming from everywhere.

"How long will it take for the mutineers to reach the command deck at their present rate of progress?" He asked.

"At their present rate of progress, the mutinying elements aboard this ship will reach the command deck in sixty-three minutes." The ethereal voice replied.

So, in an hour the mutineers would own the ship. Druaga had gone thru all the options with Sevrid and all but one of his scenarions ended up with the mutineers taking over the ship. Under no circumstances could that be allowed. He yet weighed his options. There was no way he could save all the loyalists, that was a certainty but it was the only way that the mutineers could be defeated. He sighed heavully and began doing what had to be done.

He relayed his orders to the remaining loyalists via secure fold-space comms frequencies and gave his final orders to Sevrid.

=========================================================================================

Fleet Lieutenant Janus snarled as the loyalist scum of another barricade were butchered by his platoon of Combat Armor. No more than 100 meters and then, the mutineers would own the Sevrid and all the massive firepower it carried. There was no stopping them now, they would plunge thru the remaining loyalists like an axe and claim this ship as their own. And after that, it would be time to use the awesome firepower the Sevrid carried.

Janus called for his troops to continue on towards the command deck and prepared to face another barricade, but there was none. The four meter wide corridor was plain and not a single loyalist was in sight, he could see the blast-droos leading to the command deck at the end of the corridor. But was it a trap? He glanced at his sensors and frowned. No, even if the loyalists had stealth fields on, at this kind of space with this kind of number of Combat Armor, any stealth field wouldnt have helped a thing. So he continued, but cautiously towards the bridge doors.

As the 31 mutineers reached those doors, there still was no resistance. Janus closed towards the doors and they opened obediently. The massive open area of the command deck opened before him and there was no human in sight, except the single figure sitting in the captains chair. That fool Druaga didnt even have a weapon! Janus thought with a mild amusement. The rest of his platoon proceeded thru the door and secured the bridge area, it took a while when the sheer size of it was taken into consideration.

Janus moved towards Druaga with his energy gun ready to fire the moment the loyalist captain attempted something. But he did not move an inch, just looked venomously at the Lieutenant.

"So Captain Druaga, it would appear that your command is nearing its end." Janus stated with a taste of venomous hate. But Druaga did not even flinch, simply gazed back at replied with a cool demeanor.

"It may be so Lieutenant Janus, but you are closing to the end of your road as well." Druaga replied, and there was something in his voice, was it satisfaction? Janus could not tell for the Senior Fleet Captains face was one of cold hatred towards the traitorous Lieutenant.

Janus was about to reply when one of his troopers called for his attention.

"Sir! Im detecting four assault shuttles leaving the ship towards the third planet!"

Janus looked back at the trooper and looked back to the captain. The idiot, those shuttles didnt stand a chance to escape Sevrids weapons! But there was an evil smile at the captains face, a smile that shouldnt have been there. A smile that one would smile at someone who he bitterly hated and was about to kill, and then the realization struck Janus and he looked back to the captain in sheer horror.

"It would seem Lieutenant, that the one who laughs last laughs best afterall." And then he sent the neural command to Sevrid.

Faster than any human could detect, the Artificial Intelligence of the Ship-Of-The-Line Sevrid, did something that only the captain could authorize and only the AI could execute, it disabled the containment fields in six of the massive anti-matter anti-ship warheads stored in missile magazines inside the ship.Every fleet-ship had safeties against anti-matter warheads detonating inside a ship or from enemy fire. The magazines were immensely heavully armored and individually they were quite small. Each warhead also had secondary and tertiary containment fields to hold the anti-matter at bay in the case of the primary field failing. Yet to that was added the fact that the missile warheads had armor, and the actual anti-matter bottle in a warhead was quite small. So, the chance of a weapon hit actually causing a magazine to detonate was astronomical, but the captain of the ship and its artificial-intelligence could detonate those warheads despite their massive safety measures. As anti-matter touched matter, they mutually annihilated each other and the titanic release of energy broke the containment fields of the nearby missiles as well, the result was a domino effect that lasted only a micro-second and resulted in every single warhead going off.

The massive warship simply disappeared to the enormous fury of an anti-matter explosion, and the three thousand mutineers as well as the remaining loyalists aboard the Sevrid were reduced to atoms and stray particles in the vast endlessness of space.

=========================================================================================

Senior Fleet Commander Innanna looked away as the ship that had been her home for five years disappeared to a nova and tears appeared to her eyes. Altough some of the loyalists had managed to escape, many had been left behind simply because they couldnt get to the assault shuttles in time or at all. And many of those who she had known for years had not made it.

The four assault shuttles had just and just gotten away from the horrible explosion but they had taken damage, damage that was very serious and the remaining loyalists would have no choice but to land on the third planet which seemed to be the only life-bearing planet in the solar system. Everyone aboard the assault shuttles knew that they were most likely never going home. An assault shuttle was too small to carry a hypercom, and neither did they have FTL drives, for even the smallest FTL drive on a Battle Fleet vessel was twice the size of an assault shuttle. And on top of all that, there was no advanced technological race in the entire system. There was life on the third planet, but no sign of even the crudest forms of electronic communication.

But she was alive, as were two hundred and fifty of her fellow loyalists. They would land on that blue planet and continue to live, with her lead. She was the senior surviving officer and thus she would be in command. The idea of commanding the last survivors of a Battle Fleets warship on a planet where there was no sign of advanced technological presence, frightened her a bit but she accepted the responsibility and she would carry that burden like an Imperial officer.

She watched as the four small-craft hit the athmosphere of the planet and darted past the equator to the southern half of the planet. She had located a fairly large island, nearly four hundred thousand square kilometers, there and the scans showed that the enviroment there as well as the geology of the area seemed to be very favorable for settlement. The four shuttles flew at a mere hundred and fifty meters off the surface of the sea and closed on the northern side of the island (or was it too large to be called that). The shuttles bore in and soon they allready were flying over landscape. Thick forests were evident on the ground and scans showed that the terrain rose steadily higher as the shuttles proceeded towards the center of the place.

Yes, perhaps this place could be a new home. Senior Fleet Commander Innanna thought as she watched the beautifull landscape.

=========================================================================================

.: 5002 years later :.

The large observation station sat silently and idly in the depth of deep space. It wasnt in a solar system, it was in the real depth of space, deep space between solar systems where there was absolutely nothing at all. It had slowly moved to its position from the solar system that was the most nearest one to it, the one where from its carrier ship had launched it, according to the orders of Fleet Captain Fuchien. Its orders had been simple. Take up position in the given co-ordinates and wait until contacted. The machine had obeyed with its simple mindedness and proceeded under the power of its own sublight engines to the given co-ordinates. It had taken it two years simply to reach those co-ordinates but the machine did not care, to it time was meaningless.

The station was relatively large. It massed over two thousand tons and had a diameter of one hundred and twelve meters. It was a heavy reconnaissance drone meant to be deployed to areas where presence of its organic masters was not critical nor absolutely necessary. It excelled in tasks like the observation of solar systems either from the inside of one or the outside of one. And it mounted a hypercom for submitting data dumps at regular intervals. A most efficient tool for observation. But it hadnt been instructed to do any observation, just wait for that one parameter to come true. If the machine could wonder the reasons behind such orders, it could have been confused, but it was a simple mind and it just did as it was told.

And then, after over five thousand years, that single parameter it had been given came true. A hyper communication pulse, reached out from hundreds of lightyears away and the sensitive systems of the observation station caught that pulse. The message it carried was very ordinary. Apparently all Battle Fleet units needed to report in for a routine check of the hypercom systems operational efficiency as well as for logistical purposes. The machine did not care for the message content, its single parameter had been filled. Wait for a hypercom signal with a certain encryption code line in it. And it carried out its instructions, it prepared to send a message that carried the stations ID code and a complete dump of its database, designated to the sender of the hypercom signal it had recieved and at the same frequency that signal had been sent at. The machine had never really been intended to remain operational for five millennia. Over time, 64% of its systems had failed. Most of them being non-relevant systems that did not hamper the orders of the machine. Its hypercom remained operational and now, after five thousand years, the station waked up to life for a brief moment and sent a single transmission.

The hypercom signal traversed thru hundreds of lightyears, to a distant star system named Birhat.

========================================================================================

Present Day
March 11th
Tuesday
3.02 PM
Irmansul City
Saschen District



It was a cold day, a bit colder than usual and he could almost feel the cold thru his outfit. He accelerated his speed further up to one hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, the engine in his motorcycle roaring in barely tamed power. The speedway to Saschen was allways quite silent, the old sub-urb had lost many of its denizens during the years with new and better apartment lots coming available at the east side of the town, but his family had stayed at Saschen for they had a history there.

He took a quick glance at the digital display of his bike. The fuel cell showed only one tenth left, sufficient for about hundred kilometers yet he estimated, sufficient to get downtown and back twice. The digital road sign stated that he had five kilometers to go, not long. Suddenly, the incoming call text flashed in the upper-right corner of the visor of his biking helmet and the indicator had the name of the caller under it. He sighed and spoke to the voice identifier in his helmet.

"Accept call." He stated and the line opened.

"Heya Stewpot!" The cheerfull voice on the other end of the line stated.

"Whaddaya want Jin, im on the road right now." He asked tiredly.

"Well, i was wondering if you're going to be participating to the match we have tomorrow, since the crew really needs practice so i need to know if you're going to come along."

He pondered for a moment, he had a real affection for computer shooter games and he had developed a real skill in one holo shooter called Operation Majestic, he had been playing on a public server one day and some clan leader for the game who had been on the same server had regognized his skill and asked him to join to the team. He had accepted the offer graciously, but he had soon noticed that it required real commitment to keep up with all the clan stuff. So he hadnt been as active as he'd hoped but he hadnt been kicked out since he simply was so good. But now it seemed he would have the time.

"Yeah, i think i will participate."

"Cool man! Come to the NRS channel before eight so we can start the practice session."

"Right, i'll be there." He stated plainly and closed the line.

He slowed down the speed of the bike and took a right turn to exit the speedway to his home street. The large three thousand square-meter lot wasnt far away from the speedway and it was a short hop. He curved to the front of the underground carage door and opened it with a simple signal from his bike transmitter. He left the bike to its place and un-strapped the helmet. He jogged to the stairs and climbed to the fourth floor. The house of the Glevis family was a bit different from the houses of the other families that were financially as wealthy as they were. There were a total of five floors, one of them being the underground carage and maintenance facilities, and four floors above ground level. The size of the floors decreased the higher one went, and thus the fourth floor was a "mere" fifty square meters against the hundred and fifty of the first floor, but thirty squares of the space of the fourth floor belonged to Steward, his own private domain with a spectacular view over the lake. And he had had that private domain locked with a relatively cheap thumb print scanner and adjoined lock. It wouldnt propably prevent his dad from getting in if he wanted to, but against his two little brothers it worked like a charm.

He unlocked the door and stepped to the spacious room. He ditched his motorcycle gear to the closet and proceeded to the modest computer station he had built together with his own money. He sat down to the self-adjusting chair and tapped the awakening command to the command pad he had installed to the right armrest. The thirty inch holographic screen sprang to life. Holographic screens werent too numerous in civilian or military computers. For one, a holographic display screen was allways atleast thirty inches from corner to corner, and the hardware took quite a bit of space. The military only used holo tech for the large tactical plotting spheres on warship bridges and command centers, for the traditional ultra-high resolution flat-screen data-screens more than sufficed for 95% of their purposes. Stewards screen had a lovely background image of the incredibly sexy Victoria Ersin, one of the most famous supermodels in the Protectorate, in pretty nifty bikini. He opened the music folder and wondered what would fit to the moment, he had fifteen thousand music files on his computer, requiring little more than fifteen terabytes of space from the harddrive, quite a modest collection. He often mused with the thougth how many of the ancient .mp3 files he could have had since the new files formats for music files were averagely in the area of a single gigabyte per file. He finally chose one of the songs from the newest album of "Nightingale", altough there had been new music types in the last two hundred years, gothic metal had never died off and he enjoyed it immensely. The sound boomed from all the thirty two speakers set around his room, with the lower frequencies coming from the carefully emplaced six subwoofers. Altough the names for stereo equipment had remained largely the same for the last two centuries, the technology behind them had changed radically and modern stereo system were simply orders of magnitude better than the stuff that had been used two centuries ago.

He moved his hand on the control pad and opened up CNet. CNet was one of the many incarnations of the ancient Internet. The concept of an interlinked web of computers had allways been a viable idea and it had been enhanced greatly in the last two hundred years. CNet really didnt encompass any other countries than Clairmont, but it in itself could retrieve anything from the other public web networks in the world. Nearly every home in Clairmont had a CNet connection so the vastness of the intricate construct was immense. But during these days of fiber optic connections being pretty much the absolute minimum connection any company in the country had to offer, the Net was no longer the slow web it had once been, altough with the increase in performance of computers and better connections all around, the size of webpages and the amount of data in the web had increased as well. Steward recalled that the smallest website he had ever been to had been twelve gigabytes, something that his connection had fully loaded in less than a second. The opening page of his browser loaded up and he clicked the address of a message board he visited regularily, he wanted to know what had been the latest updates on the boardwide ponderings of the meaning of the website named "Chimaera Dossier". The site had been discovered four weeks ago by the gaming community, and it had been cryptic as hell, referrals to ancient myths of Clairmont and of the rest of the world, and weird metaphores and seemingly pointless pieces of text. But some clever gamer had noticed that the site was linked to Wayland, one of the most legendary developers of shooting action games in Clairmont. Everyone had theorised that somehow the "Chimaera Dossier" was a clue of a new product by Wayland, but no one yet had anything solid. Steward loaded the now famous "Chimaera Dossier" and noticed that there was a new piece of text available. The site seemed to be updating regularily, every fifth day, and so he wasnt supprised that there was an update. He went on to go thru the new text. Nothing really all-explaining was seeming to be evident here, but the phrase "as the vengeful son sought conclusion to his conflict.." caught his eye, a definate new indication. He pondered a moment, there had been a game from Wayland many years ago, one that had risen to be a legend among gamers in Clairmont, where the Rebels of a vast Empire had been victorious over the Empire and the Empire had fled, and there the game had ended, lacking conclusion.

He rubbed his temples, this was not the time for this. He felt the rumbling in his stomach and decided that physical needs came first over this mystery.


Present Day
Tuesday
8.11 PM
Geminon City
Vandren Corp. HQ

The room was dimly lit, only a few lights in the ceiling provided illumination and in the dark, the red glow of a cigar was visible. The man sat comfortably in the large armchair, looking out from the scenic window over the towering skycrapers of Geminon City. He puffed some smoke and took the cigar out of his mouth. Such calmness, he thought, such serenity. Ignorant sheep crowding the streets, unknowing of what happened around them.

The man glanced at the datapad on the office table, and smiled as he read the words in there. "by fathers grace, another portion of the path i travel, i have finished, where am i?" . Nonsense, poetical babble, to the sheep yes. To him, those words held a different meaning. A different meaning indeed, and that meaning was the reason for his smile.

He transmitted his reply, lowered the pad back to the table and returned to enjoying the cigar.


Present Day
March 12th
Wednesday
05.01 AM
Deep Space Surveillance

It was time for change of the watch, of which Lieutenant Bajiiruuru couldnt be happier. She hated night shifts. It was allways boring as hell then, and there wasnt too many people present then. But she understood the importance of DSS. This center received all the data from the delicate web of Clairmontian surveillance drones and stations in the solar system, and they were responsible for generating accurate surveillance for the warships and merchant marine. But that didnt change the boredom of the task.

"Bajiiruuru, get some sleep." Came the gentle voice of Lieutenant Sandoval over her shoulder. She turned around and saw the well built man standing there in his allways well maintained uniform.

"That was the plan Sandoval." She replied and rose from the chair, leaving it for Sandoval.

"And dont mess up the store while im gone allright?" She stated with a tone of crispness but they knew each other well enough for Sandoval to take it as the joke that it was meant to be taken.

"Not more than usually, now get lost you!" He retorted. Bajiiruuru simply snorted and left.

Sandoval observed as the watch crew changed and his personnel took the consoles and posts of the previous watch crew. Sandoval himself turned to his own screen and inputted a few commands, requesting the by-the-book situational update. Nothing abnormal seemed to be happening. He snapped a data disc from his right breast pocket, the disc was labeled as "morning watch operational routine update". He inputted it to the appropriate slot and the machine before him pondered for a microsecond before opening the disc. The file discorged its contents and initiated the underlying software. Sandoval allowed himself a minor smile as the screen came up with several light code icons with designation numbers under them. Each of those light-codes indicated a surveillance station or a drone, the area that the screen displayed was merely one of the many sectors. Sandoval made his way to the software of one specific surveillance station and initiated another executable. From looking at the screen, nothing seemed to have changed, but in a few milliseconds the executable had done its job. Sandoval logged out from the surveillance station control module and took the ejected disk.

Such a little modification. Few lines of code altered here and there and few lines added, nothing more. And it had all been done with such haste and expertise that even the military Hunter-Seeker Algorithms couldnt find it, nor any software scans. But it was a delicate work. It was imperative that the operation wasnt carried out more than once in a day or the H-S Algorithms could find it and software scans regognize it. It would take time, but time was something that Lieutenant Sandoval had. Afterall, he had been deployed nine years ago allready, a two months was nothing. And he was a patient man.


Present Day
March 12th
Wednesday
07.07 AM
Airspace Sector 7/G

The calamity of morning sky broke as the large, sleek-lined fighter shot thru the air on a straight vector at a leisurable pace of two-times the speed of sound. The craft left behind a heavy wake of aerial disturbance as its heavy engines heated up the air behind it with their exhaust. From the outside, it was hard to guess exactly how smooth the ride was.

1st Lieutenant Nikkol Fukai enjoyed morning patrol flights. It was allways calm during these few first hours of the day, and the morning sun looked corgeous. When he yet had the unbelievable power and grace of the SA-15 Super Sylph in his disposal, it was easilly worth the early wake-up to get to a morning patrol. The same couldnt be said for 2nd Lieutenant Vanessa Ceres however. The twenty-four year old woman didnt particularily hate morning patrols but she didnt have any special love for them either.

Fukai glanced at his navigational screen and adjusted his plane for a gracefull bank up north as the flight plan indicated. The next part of the patrol route was his favorite, a long and straight trip to the next waypoint, good place to get some of the incredible performance of the Super Sylph out of it. He cranked the throttle up to 75% power, and the G-Forces pulled him to his chair as the velocity began to rise. Altough inertial compensators shamelessly cheated Newton in space by taking away much of the internal inertia of spacecraft so that crews could survive multiple hundred gee accelerations, fighters couldnt take advantage of the compensator when they werent using their gravitic drive fields, something about there being no place to sump the inertial forces to, Fukai recalled, so because of this athmospheric fighters still couldnt accelerate as incredibly as space fighters could. The velocity of the Sylph increased steadilly and Fukai experienced the beginning of slight trembling as he broke the Mach Four limit. Lieutenant Ceres cursed on hushed tones in her seat.

"Is it really necessary to do that Nikkol?" She asked with a bit of crankedness in her voice.

Fukai allowed himself a slight grin that Ceres couldnt see and replied.

"Ofcourse it is. We're given all this nice equipment so naturally we need to get everything out of it."

"Yeah, and you seem to be the only damn Sylph pilot who thinks so." She retorted hotly.

"Yep, what can i say, i never got a motorcycle when i was a kid."

"It shows. You really should....." She started but didnt finish her sentence.

Fukai knew Vanessa well enough to guess that something was going on when she didnt drive home one of her lectures.

"What is it?"

"I've got a possible contact at mark two-niner-zero, four-one-point-seven klicks." She replied, her tone suddenly one of calm seriousness.

Fukai consulted her screen as the sensors of the Super Sylph fed the data to them. Yes, there certainly seemed to be something there, but the computer couldnt identify it. And how had they detected it just now? The Sylph had an effective athmospheric detection range of over one thousand kilometers.

"I see it, no IFF but it sure as hell aint a civilian craft, they usually dont go flying around at Mach two." He said.

Ceres consulted her instruments again and spoke.

"And they usually arent using electronic-warfare either." She stated calmly.

"What!?" Fukai asked and checked his screen as the computers fed him the new conclusions. The contact was definately using some sort of masking ECM along with a deception and avoidance electronic warfare suite, or atleast that was the closest comparison to the readings that the sensors on the Sylph were receiving. The range had now dropped to twenty kilometers between the two craft.

"Try contacting it." Fukai stated.

"I've allready tried three times, their channels are closed. " Ceres replied.

Then, the computers on the Super Sylph made their decision. The text "unknown" under the contact name turned to "enemy" and the course of action to be taken now was directly from the book. Fukai keyed the Master Arm switch with a flick of a finger, and with a twist of a thumb he sent the arsenal of his fighter to combat readiness. The six missile icons in the fighter status panel went from status red to status green and a RDY-AAM indicator lighted up to his HUD. The targeting computer on the fighter sought out the target and the contact icon on Fukai's HUD was locked. By the rules of engagement stated by the Book, Fukai had the authority to engage.

A simple squeeze of the trigger on the control joystick was enough after that. Two AIM-900 Arrowhead missiles detached from their pylons and continue down towards the ground in the state of free-fall for a moment before their gravitic drive fields engaged. The missiles shot towards their target, accelerating so rapidly that clear streaks of air were visible resulted from the heat of friction caused by air particles hitting the drive field.

The target craft had absolutely no intention of sitting still and waiting to be blown up. It initiated evasive actions and increased its speed. But the missiles were faster, and they were coming at the target in a vector that would cross the vector of the fighter from ahead. The distance between the missiles and the target shrunk to a mere four kilometers, but at this point, two smaller objects detached from the target and began emitting massive amounts of deceptive emissions and jamming. The target waited for a moment and then boosted its own electronic warfare equipment to full power as well. The incoming two missiles were confused in a sea of high-energy jamming. One of them sought out the detached smaller targets while the other missed its target entirely.

"Shit." Fukai stated simply and began a hard turn to the right, for the enemy target would zoom past his fighter in a few seconds. He wondered why hadnt the other one shot back? Perhaps it didnt have weapons. Nevertheless, that would be the matter of Intel to find out. The enemy flew past his fighter from a distance of mere 500 meters, and began to rapidly expand the range between the two craft as it passed. But Fukai had no intention of letting this one go. His fighter hadnt yet completed its turn, so the angle to the enemy was nearly sixty degrees, but that was no problem for his missiles. He selected another pair and sent them after the elusive enemy.

The two missiles arced away from the Super Sylph and adjusted their vector towards their prey. This time there was only one detached object from the target, and it began its seductive as well as deceptive song. But the targeting computers on the Super Sylph were smart. They had done quick modifications to the tracking and aquiring parameters of the missiles so neither went after the decoy. The target was increasing its speed extremely rapidly now, and it engaged its own EW too early. One of the missiles was distracted, the other found its target with perfect precision. One hundred pounds of the most powerfull composite explosive ever created by Clairmont struck squarely to the aft of the unknown enemy craft. The ensuing fireball embraced the target within itself, but like any fighter craft of Clairmont origin would have, the enemy didnt disintegrate. Blown to pieces yes, but its hull was still intact to some degree. The smoking wreck fell like a stone from the sky towards the underlying ocean.

Fukai had no time to ponder this, he decided to conclude the patrol mission and head directly back to Fort Stalwart.



Present Day
March 12th
Wednesday
12.07 PM
Beowulf City
Section 9 HQ

"I think that we have a jackpot here Major." Togusa exclaimed from his workstation. The files he was scrolling thru would have hold little meaning for the casual observer, but for someone who had investigated the domestic operations of the Crime Syndicate named "Khanate" for the last three months, those files held a meaning, an important meaning indeed.

Major Motoko Kusanagi looked up from the hard-copy folders she was investigating and walked alongside Togusa to glance at his screen. She did not bother to ask Togusa to point out his revelation to her, for it was simple to note from the files that he had opened up. Several reports from Irmansul city disctrict 7 Police Department regarding organized crime observations and development, as well as electronic money movement data. From those files, it could be correlated that a section of the "Khanate" organization was operating from District 7 of Irmansul city. And there was easilly enough evidence against the "Khanate" for their operations be suspended by the law enforcement. The problem with the "Khanate" had been thus far that they were extremely competent in hiding their tracks, and despite rigorous investigations, only two Operative Centers of the "Khanate" had been effectively raided by the National Police, and those Centers had been minor. But the evidence regarding this particular Operating Center indicated that it would be major, most likely handling a portion of the Illegal Arms Sales that was one of the major sources of profit for the "Khanate". Major Kusanagi made the deductions herself and turned to Togusa.

"Good work, it looks like the hacking of the Police and Bank databases paid off." She stated. Section 9 had extraordinary privileges. Since the Organized Crime in Clairmont had shown extremely impressive capabilities in the form of Cyber Crime, official inroads to aquiring required information from sources such as the Bank and Police, could not be used, for the chance of the Organized Crime of finding out of those requests was very high, despite all the vigilant work by the Cyber.Crime.Supression.Unit. Thus the reason why secret units such as the Section 9 existed, and they had the authority to use methods that other authorities could not even consider.

The door to the room opened and the Chief of Section 9 walked in. He was an old man, in his early fifities but still considered to be one of the most vigilant and effective Law Enforcement Officials in the entire country, and he was short by Clairmont standards, a mere 170 centimeters, compared to the 192 centimeters of Motoko Kusanagi, chief Aramaki was a midget, but a midget with a razor sharp intellect.

"Major, any success?" The chief intoned.

"Yeah, it appears that there indeed is an Operating Center in Irmansul District 7. Now all we need is a precise location." Kusanagi told the Chief.

Aramaki raised an eyebrow and glanced at the findings displayed on Togusa's screen. He scrolled quickly thru the data and then raised his gaze at the major.

"Indeed. I think i have a way to get the precise location we need." The chief told the two.

"How?" Kusanagi questioned the old man.

"Trust me Major, remember that i have friends in ONI." The Chief replied and made his way out of the room.

Tag. OOC: That was a Planetoid in the beginning wasn't it?

Tag. OOC: That was a Planetoid in the beginning wasn't it?

OOC: Nope, i thought that planetoids might be considered a bit godmoddish, but lets just say that it was one bad-ass ship anyways, not really rivaling Dahak but something with which you want to be in friendly terms :D

thread tagged for future reading

:tag... Machinations, good word choice... ominous:

OOC: Nope, i thought that planetoids might be considered a bit godmoddish, but lets just say that it was one bad-ass ship anyways, not really rivaling Dahak but something with which you want to be in friendly terms :D


Heh, good call. To quote someone on Spacebattles.com's forum, "A planetoid is what the Death Star wants to be when it grows up." I would easily consider a Dahak capable of taking out every NS space nation in Sol.

#tagged... Interesting...

:tag... Machinations, good word choice... ominous:

Thanks Santa. I pondered the name for a couple of minutes and thought that "machinations" would be a bit off the usual word choices for the title.

Heh, good call. To quote someone on Spacebattles.com's forum, "A planetoid is what the Death Star wants to be when it grows up." I would easily consider a Dahak capable of taking out every NS space nation in Sol.

Yeah, i remember that quote, it was on one guys signature BTW. I think Dahak could do that, but Imperial Terra could do it even faster :D


Update on this RP coming tomorrow (unless something radical happens)

Tag, will come up with something later

Present Day
March 12th
Wednesday
12.30 PM
Fort Stalwart
Aerospace Base

"Colonel, there was an un-identified craft in there, both the logs from the main computer of my Sylph and my RIO will tell you that." 1st Lieutenant Nikkol Fukai exclaimed with a tone of frustration in his voice. It had taken him three hours to get back to base, and he had went directly to the Commander of Operations who had been extremely skeptical, for not a single ground tracking station had picked up a thing. But both Fukai and Lieutenant Ceres had stated that they intercepted and engaged an unknown craft, for what the word of two mere Lieutenants was worth.

Colonel Sanderson puffed his cigar and seemed to think for a while. He lowered the cigar and turned an inquisitive gaze to Fukai.
"Lieutenant, the only ones who detected anything was you and your RIO, and while on the subject of your Computer logs, we retrieved them and there is no indication whatsoever in them that you encountered what you claim to have encountered."

Fukai couldnt believe it, he had checked that the logs had all the data before he debarked from the plane. And all the data regarding the encounter was there, but now the Colonel was claiming there was nothing there?
"What! Colonel, i checked the data before i left my plane and it was all there, and how do you explain that im missing my payload of AAM's?"

"Watch your tone Lieutenant. The fact of the matter is that the tech department just retrieved your flight data, and your mysterious craft is missing from that data. However, there is indication that you fired your missiles, whether you did this on purpose or not, it remains for the proper investigators to find out. For now however, i must revoke your flight-status to grounded until this matter has been thoroughly investigated. Dismissed!"

Fukai swalloved his arguments, saluted, turned around on his heels and left the Colonels office. He couldnt understand it, with very bad luck his entire career could be screwed up by this incident, where he had acted exactly by the book, but there was no evidence of it. He attempted to ponder the possibilities. Could it be that the unknown craft had hacked Fukai's SA-15 and somehow removed all information in regards to the incident. That was however quite unlikely for numerous reasons. It could also be that the logs had been tampered with when Fukai landed and debarked the fighter, there was ample time between the landing and debriefing for the ground personnel to remove the logs from the computer. And it was also a possibility that the Colonel was lying. Only the two latter options seemed viable, but Fukai did not want to consider the implications if either of them was really true, had he encountered some hush-hush Secret Craft being tested by the Military, of which no information could be allowed to leak? He could only guess. He walked towards his quarters, atleast now he had quite enough time to think for explanations for this case.


Present Day
March 14th
Friday
3.10 PM
Beowulf City
Section 9 HQ

The phone rang with a satisfying sounding tone. Major Motoko Kusanagi accepted the call and waited for Chief Aramaki to tell the good news.

"Major. We have the location. I have contacted Internal Security and the Local Police Department, we will co-ordinate the strike to the Operating Center with InSec, the locals will provide backup support." The old man told her thru the comm.

"When will we do it?"

"The strike will commence at twenty-three hundred, we'll need to be in place atleast an hour before that."

"Right, i'll start the prepping."

"Good. I'll be there in three hours." The Chief finished and the comm closed.

Kusanagi closed the files she had been scrolling thru on her computer and opened the internal communications link of the building.

"Carter, i want two of the Stormers ready to move and loaded with assault equipment. We have a strike operation in less than eight hours, and we must be in place in seven, you have six hours to get the equipment ready."

"No problem Major." The man in the other end of the comm replied and Kusanagi closed the link.

In less than eight hours, they would be storming a base of operations of perhaps the best equipped and most dangerous Criminal Organization in the entire country. Kusanagi had seen a lot of action, and everything she knew about this case told her that this particular raid had all the ingredients it needed to become a massacre. She glanced at her wrist chrono, 7 hours, 40 minutes until strike.

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
6.05 PM
Irmansul City
Saschen District

The match hadnt gone well. As a matter of fact, Stewarts clan had gotten their butt royally handed to them and the emotions had been bitter when the crew had gathered up at their chat channel. Altough it was a grave disappoinment to lose, it was not wholly unexpected, considering the high ranking ,of the clan they had gone against, in the national match ladders.

Stewart didnt let defeat bother him. He had played well and no-one had put any blame on him. There was an other time for victory, but he felt that he would need to accompany his fellows in their practices more in the future.

He took another sip of his coke and opened up the latest "Chimaera Dossier" update he had downloaded to his computer. He had ample time to look over it thoroughly now and he didnt have anything else to do so he opened the file and began his investigations.

The first thing in the file he went thru was the code. All the "Chimaera Dossier" website updates had held multiple oddities in their base code that did not belong there. These oddities had raised much speculation and wild theories among the gaming community, but so far the fact was that no-one really knew what those oddities meant. Stewart went thru the lines of code, methodically checking anything that might give him any clues. As he got to the end he felt disappointed, other than couple of lines of garbled code at the end, there wasnt anything worth of noting in the latest update.

He turned to ponder the actual message of the update. All the updates held references to ancient myths, anciend history and there were even a few pieces of poetry among them. This particular update held a reference to the ancient tale of a three-headed black dragon that lived in ancient Clairmont (or so the myth told) and hunted its enemies with vigor. The dragon was feared by many, and revered by few. In time the dragon simply disappeared, never to be heard of again. An interesting childrens tale, but nothing of much relevance to gaming, Stewart thought.

He opened up the file he held of his findings and deductions related to the "Chimaera Dossier", and updated the file with his latest findings. So far, the gathering of deductions did not tell him much, nor did it really mean anything but in time it more than surely would.

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
10.50 PM
Irmansul City
District 7

Irmansul City was the bright shining capitol of Clairmont. Home to over fifty million people, Irmansul was the second largest city on the entire island, and perhaps the one with the most glorious history behind it. The fifteen kilometer in diameter centrum of Irmansul was populated by skyscrapers over five hundred meters high. The massive buildings served as home for millions of people, as facilities for government officials and as places or work for all those millions of habitants. A large portion of Irmansul's populace lived in the centrum, but the surrounding districts, altough not as grandeur, were home to more millions of people. The size of the districts and height of buildings got gradually smaller as one proceeded outwards from the centrum, going thru the outer districts. And the Criminal Organization "Khanate" had chosen one of these districts as home for one of its Operation Centers.

The building was six stories high, situated very inconviniently with nearly a hundred meters of open ground between it and the next building on each but the eastern side. It was an ideal defensive position, and it seemed like the "Khanate" had chosen it exactly because of that fact.

Major Motoko Kusanagi was not pleased by what the sensors had told her. The sixth floor of the building held atleast fifteen people, and six of the windows on that floor apparently held a heavy weapon with overlapping fields of fire covering the approaches to the building. And if that wasnt bad enough, the third and first floor held yet more people for a total of 45 personnel in the building, of which the number of armed combatants could only be guessed. The eastern side had plenty more cover than the northern, western and southern approaches. However, the eastern side had alleys and bottlenecks that could easilly serve as killzones and be used to slaughter any attackers with little trouble. Considering how much tactical expertise the "Khanate" thugs seemed to have, Kusanagi was all but certain that the eastern side of the building would be an equally deadly attack route. Which meant that the charge needed to go thru the open ground. And the idea of that did not feel too pleasing for Major Motoko Kusanagi.

She glanced at the chrono in the upper right corner of her helmet HUD. Five minutes remained until the attack was due to commence. She checked her weapon and magazine and motioned her two fellow Section 9 agents to do the same. After she finished inspecting her weapon, she called up the tactical map of the area to her HUD and checked the readiness of the Section 9 force as well as the two Internal Security Intervention Platoons that would spearhead the attack. All the icons representing the elements of the strike force were in position and showed readiness for attack.

Fortunately the "Khanate" thugs were not the only ones with heavy ordnance. The Internal Security Intervention Platoons had brought two M-260 APC's to assist in the assault, with the modular turret attachment point holding a turret with a dual heavy tri-barrel and a pair of grenade launchers. With any luck, the suppressive fire from the APC's would keep the heads of the defending criminals down while the attack force closed to the building. The InSec force also had a single Terminator Squad, nicknamed so because of their Annihilator Heavy Power Armor and heavy weapons. And on top of that all, there were several snipers in position, ready to open fire at targets of opportunity showing themselves in the windows of the building.

She looked at the chrono, one minute until assault. She put the pulse rifle against her shoulder, in a ready to fire position and went against the wall next to the door. Agents Fisher and Togusa were behind her, with weapons at ready. The final seconds ticked by, each feeling as it were eternity, but then the moment came and a sound filled with authority came thru the comm net.

"Hammerfall! I repeat, Hammerfall!" The Commander of the Internal Security forces shouted to every single man and woman participating in the assault. Kusanagi reacted immidiately, kicking the door open and rushed out to the killing field.

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
11.05 PM
Irmansul City
District 7

It was hell, it was a display of carnage and terror, a display of destruction. Major Motoko Kusanagi had ran towards the target building for three seconds before the defending criminals had opened fire, indicating that the heavy weapons positions were allways manned. Those were meaningless details now as Major Kusanagi took cover behind a low ceramacrete wall separating the road between the target building and the other side of the street from each other.

The assault had been effectively stopped. As the InSec forces and Section 9 agents had begun their assault, the heavy weapons of the defending criminals had opened up and displayed their gruesome efficiency. Atleast three of the weapons in the sixth floor were either tri-barrels or heavy pulse cannons, judging by the rate at which they spat hypersonic, explosive darts at the attackers. There was a missile launcher, and one weapon that Kusanagi had failed to regognize. Whatever it was, it left no trail in the air as it was fired, and whatever it hit was blown up in a spectacular display. The defenders in the other floors had gotten to position as well and were putting out their share of the fire with small-arms.

She glanced at her tactical map and noted the disposition and number of the strike force. The losses had been severe when the defenders had opened fire on the exposed strike force, twelve had died instantly but now when the force was behind cover, the casualties had practically ceased. The incoming fire from the building however was so thick that it was impossible to avoid casualties altogether. They needed to charge the building, and they needed to do it soon.

As she finished her course of thought, the two M-260 APC's of the InSec force rumbled to the open and began firing. Their twin 15mm tri-barrels spat hundreds of rounds per second at hypersonic velocities. The rounds tore thru the ceramacrete in the building, ripping thru the walls and turning defending criminals into explosions of gore and blood. The grenade launchers on the turrets coughed, sending volleys of 60mm grenades at the windows where defending thugs were located. Explosions lighted up the side of the bulding against which the strike force was charging. The fire pressure from the defenders lowered as return fire tore them apart.

Regognizing the moment as right for an attack, the InSec commander ordered his troops to charge, with the Terminator squad taking up the point, their massive Annihilator Battle Armor covering them and those behind them from light weapons fire and shrapnell. The heavy pulse weapons and grenade launchers carried by the Terminator squad opened fire against any target that dared to show itself in the windows of the target building. The "Khanate" criminals however had little intention of surrendering. The opened fire against the charging Law Enforcement officers, tossing grenades and pulse fire at them. Casualties mounted as the strike force proceeded thru the open ground to the building.

Major Kusanagi was amongst them. Her Assault BDU offered good protection against shrapnell and enviromental conditions but against small arms fire or heavy weapons, it was largely useless as a form of protection. She concentrated on running, pulse fire and grenades hitting home amongst the attacking Internal Security forces around her. It felt as if the journey thru the open ground was endless. Every second felt like years as she ran as fast as she could.

However, finally she reached the entrance to the building, with the Terminator squad of the InSec forces joining her shortly, preparing for a fast penetration to the building. They quickly checked the door for traps with their sensors, and found them. There were two explosive charges set at the door, however they were neutralized quickly and Kusanagi stepped back as the Terminators prepared to blow thru the thick doors.

Sigmund shifted about in his chair, he had always found aircraft seats rather uncomfortable. The cabin itself was rather dark so that the others passengers aboard the flight could sleep, despite numerous attempts Sigmund couldn’t force himself to sleep.

In truth he really didn’t need the sleep, he was instead trying to find a way to quickly pass the time. As a result of years of fieldwork he found the he only needed a few hours rest, and when he was asleep he often had one eye open for the ‘Unknown threat’. Hazards of the job he thought to himself. Taking a moment to relax he reached back a gently rubbed his right shoulder, he was getting old aches and pains reminded him of the fact. Like most intelligence agents at his age he could no longer play the game and was given a choice, teach at the academy, a desk job, or retire. Unwilling to teach he still felt the need to serve his country had chosen a desk job.

Sigmund Xavier was now the deputy director of Tappee’s Counter Terrorism division; more specifically he was in charge of the Organized Crime section. The Government had long decide that the activities of organized crime was no different then that of terrorists, instead destabilizing governments organized crime wanted money and power. Therefore, they now feel under the jurisdiction of the First X, Tappee’s security Agency. The First X’s power was absolute, and their methods were unquestioned by any in the country. It was due to this power that organized crime in Tappee was almost unheard, most groups where crushed even before they had the chance to start up.

However, on occasion a group would slip through the cracks, which was why Sigmund found himself sitting on the flight today.

Several months ago and organization call themselves ‘The Dedecus’ had appeared the scopes. Early indications were that they were rather small; whose activities included extortion, prostitution, and money laundering. This however was only scratching the surface, after more investigation it was discovered that they were also into weapon and drug smuggling. Furthermore, they seemed to be able to counter every move the First X made to take control of the situation; Sigmund had already lost six undercover agents. Fearing the that Dedecus may have a mole in the organization he had recalled all agent, he was now flying blind. All his effort had not gone un rewarded, during an integration of known Dedecus member a link was provide to another Crime organization.

Looking around him Sigmund realized that everyone around him was asleep, now was a good time to catch up on some reading. Reaching under his chair he pulled out his laptop. Flipping up the top the screen came to life with both images and information. Not much about the ‘Khanate’ was known, that why he had arranged a meeting with his Clairmount counter part in order to decide how to best deal with this new emerging problem.

He had been reading over file for about 40 minutes when a voice came over the intercom.

“This is your Captain speaking, sorry to wake you all up, but we have been cleared to land. So if you could all buckle up as we start our landing cycle.”

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
11.08 PM
Irmansul City
District 7

The heavy framed door blew apart as the breaching charges placed on it channeled their destructive energy into clearing a path for the InSec Terminator squad. Smoke filled the entryway, and as no fire came from the entry, the Terminator squad charged the breach, their sensors cutting thru the smoke and seeking for targets. The entryway opened to a corridor with doors in the sides leading to storage rooms and offices. The corridor was a mere three and a half meters wide, with little cover available for attackers. As the first two terminators got in, a fusillade of fire was thrown against them. Razor sharp flechettes deflected away from the heavy power armor with light pulse rifle rounds failing to accomplish much more. Another pair of Terminators entered, their arm mounted heavy tri-barrels opening up in a terrible shrieking sound as their grav drivers threw hundreds of darts per second at the defenders. Then suddenly, one of the Terminators fell, the frontal armor of his power armor shredded to pieces. The remaining Terminators instinctively returned fire, but their sensors were having hard time detecting the defenders, infra-red detectors were all but useless and while other forms of detection succeeded, all sensor returns were extremely hasty, and the return fire from the Terminator squad was only a fraction of the efficiency it should have been.

One of the Terminators leveled its left arm and prepared his heavy grenade launcher. The launcher coughed four times, throwing heavy grenades at the barricade the defenders were using to lay down a base of fire. The grenades detonated, sending thousands of razor sharp fragments ripping thru anything they encountered. Screams of agony filled the corridor as defending thugs got torn to shreds or their limbs penetrated by the fragments. Taking advantage of the state of the defenders, the Terminators charged, running towards the barricade while laying down suppressing fire and keeping the thugs from firing back. They leaped over the barricade, landing behind it and beginning a close quarters melee where the great strenghts of their Power Armor could be used to their full advantage. The defenders were quickly wiped out, and as Major Kusanagi got inside, the barricade had allready been neutralized, with only forty seconds having passed from the door being breached.

More InSec Troopers were entering the building now, securing the stairwells leading to the upper floors, with other squads moving in to secure the storage rooms and offices in the first floor. The Section 9 agents moved in with the InSec troopers.

"Squad Three, Four and Seven and the Terminators, secure the upper floors. Squad One, Two and Five, you will take the underground levels." The InSec commander barked orders as he entered the building. The troopers began to move as ordered, half taking off to the upper floors and sounds of gunfire erupting in a few seconds as they began their ascent in the stairwells. The other half used the staircases leading to the two underground levels.

Major Kusanagi spearheaded the part of the force going underground. The force came to the entrance to the first sub-level. Kusanagi switched on her helmet sensors, scanning thru the walls for defenders. She found none, but when taking into account the fact that the defenders at the entryway barricade had somehow been masking their emissions from the Terminators, the possibility was high that the same technique was being used here. The choice to make the strike a supprise felt ever better. Clearly the defenders did keep their masking tech engaged for all times, otherwise Kusanagi doubted that the strike force could have detected anyone inside the building at all. She opened the door with her left hand. No fire came thru the door, but Kusanagi hadnt expected there to be any incoming fire at this point, considering how much tactical expertise the "Khanate" criminals had allready shown to posess. She detached a pair of neutralized grenades from her belt and motioned two of the InSec troopers to follow suit, they primed the grenades and tossed them thru the door. A moment later a blinding flash of light and intolerable burst of sound came thru the door. Kusanagi gave the movement signal and six of the InSec troopers followed her thru the door. Fire erupted immidietly from carefully chosen fire points, ripping apart two of the InSec troopers before Kusanagi and the remaining four InSec troopers dived for cover. The rest of the InSec squads stormed in, releasing careful bursts of pulse rifle fire at the points where the defenders were positioned. Some died, but others remained to return the fire and another InSec trooper was lost as a pulse rifle round tore thru the mans helmet, blowing the back of his head away.

The Strike Force dove behind cover and it took many agonizing minutes before the last of the defending "Khanate" thugs died in a storm of well co-ordinated fire.

"Secured, confirm level secured." Kusanagi radioed to the squads accompanying her.

"Confirmed Major. We got all of them here."

"Still one sub-level to go sergeant, and something makes me feel that the level below us is the most important."

The squads moved out, descending down to the second sub-level and preparing to breach the door. Before they could move, a pair of Terminators came down the stairs, carrying incinerators and tri-barrels.
"The Captain told us to get down here Major, he thought you could use the firepower." The first Terminator radioed to Kusanagi.

"Most welcome Corporal, we are going to blast this door and once we do, we will need covering fire."

"Affirmative major, we can take the spearhead, our armor will provide some cover for you."

Kusanagi nodded in agreement and turned back to the detonator in her hand, and swapped a new magazine to her pulse rifle, preparing for the firefight about to ensue. She flicked the detonator switch, the door blew inwards, flying thru the air at high speed, hitting the end of the corridor behind the entry door at a metallic clang. The Terminators moved in a heartbeat, the one carrying the incinerator filling the corridor with searing flame and the Corporal toting the tri-barrel, opening up with a storm of fire. Return fire came back immidietly, but most of it was utterly useless against the heavy power armor of the Terminators.

Kusanagi and the InSec squads stormed in, their pulse rifles sweeping the corridor for any targets that would reveal themselves. Fire positions were laid at the sides of the corridor, disciplined return fire picking off InSec troopers and ignoring the Terminators for their weapons had little effect agains their armor. As the Strike Force closed the distance between the defenders, grenades began to land near them. The Terminators threw some of them back, but three had time to explode. One blowing away half of an InSec troopers torso, another exploding in front of the Terminator Corporal but failing to penetrate the heavy armor, and third exploding behind the attackers, showering the tail guard InSec troopers with shrapnell. The Terminators charged, rapidly closing to the defenders and ripping them apart in close combat. The corridor was secured.

Kusanagi moved to the door at the end of the corridor and suddenly her sensors lighted up with warnings. On the other side of the door the sensors told that there was approximately fifteen kilograms of C-9 Composite Explosives. Either it was a storage room for supplies, or the "Khanate" thugs had a backup plan, which involved blowing up all the evidence and doing a dent to the Law Enforcement forces while doing so. It was a fifty-fifty chance, and Kusanagi was a pessimist. She kicked the door open, her eyes moved to a character in a combat suit tinkering with a large metallic cylinder at the centre of the room beyond the door. As Kusanagi bursted thru the door, the "Khanate" thug turned, allready pulling and aming his pulser at the intruder, Kusanagi dived to her left, the opening shots from the thug passing her head by mere centimeters. The thug lost a precious second as he began to re-aim towards Kusanagi, in that one second Kusanagi loosed a long burst from her pulse rifle, ripping the upper torso of the thug apart, blood and gore decorating the wall several meters behind the criminal.

The room held no more enemies and Kusanagi approached the cylinder. It was a bomb, a large one and the thug had been working to get it ready to blow. Why it hadnt been ready to blow immidietly when the thugs were alarmed of the attack, she did not know. But she was immensely gratefull that she wasnt now a cloud of dust, scattered by the midnight winds.

She opened up the channel to the Strike Force commander and informed him of the progress.
"Sub-levels secured. Secured a high-yield explosive device at sub-level two."

There was a moment of silence before the sound of the InSec Captain in Command of the Strike Force came over the radio.
"Roger that Major Kusanagi, nice work. You were pretty quick with those levels, the troops i sent to the upper floors are still cleaning out the remains of this scum infesting this rotten building."

Kusanagi winced at the pestilence the Captain had shown towards the criminals. She did not know the InSec Captain well, but what she knew of him indicated to her that the man was a zealous protector of Clairmont, not that there was anything wrong with that.

It took ten more minutes for the entire building to be secured. There were only three surviving "Khanate" criminals, however none of them had surrendered by their own choice, an example of the zeal of the "Khanate" criminal organization. Kusanagi had seen terrorists, religious ones to boot, who were like kindergarten teachers when compared to the "Khanate". Which was another missing piece in the puzzle.

The Strike Force was assembling at the parking yard outside the building with InSec teams specializing in recovering usefull data from crime scenes appearing to the area. There wouldnt be a whole lot of usable data left, the "Khanate" thugs had quite systematically destroyed many of the computers and data storages they had, but some had remained and there was also the matter of retrieved weapons and equipment. Particularily, Kusanagi was eager to see what the thugs had used to mask their emissions.

Overall, it had been a costly operation, one where the lives of many good Law Enforcement Officials had been lost. But the results of the operation would provide more pieces to the "Khanate" Organization puzzle. Or so Major Motoko Kusanagi hoped.

OOC: Hope you dont mind Tappee that i assume your destination airport and arrival time here.

IC:

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
11.20 PM
Irmansul City
District 3, Airport

Agent Nixos Trent was quite displeased. Not only was the weather something less adorable, with the night being colder than usual and air humidity being rather high because of the rain that had stopped only ninety minutes ago. Those were the minor parts, which did not matter a whole lot inside the airport terminal anyway. He had been working for two months, fifty hours per week and with very little contact with her family, to reach some solid leads in the "Khanate" case. He was risking his marriage, and the integrity of his family to bring down the biggest crime organization of Clairmont, thus making it yet safer place to live. And now, he had been taken off from that case, to serve as a tour-guide for some fancy agent from Tappee Counter-Terrorist unit. He didnt have a clue why the guy was coming to Clairmont, but he did not much care. All he cared about was the fact that he had been taken away from his work, and it was because of the man he had come to meet on the airport.

Nixos glanced at his wrist chrono, the plane from Tappee should be landing any moment now. He checked the holographic screens hanging in the air near the roof, each providing information of planes leaving and arriving to the airport as well as the entryway numbers for the planes at the terminal. The screen showed the Tappee plane being on final approach, landing momentarily. Nixos sighed and dug out his datapad from his jacket-pocket. He brought up all the recent updates and advances made in investigations and cases, with the latest update in the "Khanate" case indicating that the raid to the Operation Center ,that had been found only two days ago, had succeeded. Nixos was most eager to dig in to the new data that would be coming in to the Office of Internal Security, but because of his newest assigment, that would have to wait. He sighed in frustration, shut-off the datapad and put it back to his jacket pocket.

Sigmund arched his back as he stepped off the plane, his muscles where sore from sitting in one spot for hours. But all that was over now, he had finally at his destination.

The terminal was hustling with activity as everyone who was on the flight were now going there own way. Looking around he tried to find his contact. After scanning the area a few times it didn’t take long for him to find his contact. Quickly he made his way over realizing that time was of the up most importance.

“Hello, I’m agent Sigmund Xavier” he said to the man who seemed to be waiting impatiently for his arrival

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
11.28 PM
Irmansul City
District 3, Airport

The man approached Nixos and as he greeted him and told Nixos his name, the InSec agent let out an internal sigh at the wait finally being over.

"Nixos Trent, from the Office of Internal Security." He said back to the man.

"Come on, my car 's this way." He motioned towards the entrance to the parking hall at the far end of the terminal hall while simultaneously tapping a few inputs to his datapad, telling the InSec Central Office that he had picked up the Tappee Agent on schedule.

"Do you have a place to stay arranged for you or do you need to stop somewhere because otherwise we're going straight to the central office."

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
11.50 PM
Irmansul City
Centrum, InSec Central Office

Motoko Kusanagi let her gaze stroll over the gathered pieces of evidence from the "Khanate" Operations Center, laying in the laboratory of the Central Office. There had been quite a few interesting objects deemed noteworthy by the InSec teams that had come to clean up the aftermath of the raid. All the computer hardware had been given to the computer whiz's of the lab to be cracked open and all usefull data retrieved from them. From what she had heard so far, the encryptions and protection in those computers were really impressive, and that the computer whiz's were just probing those defences for now, finding ways to get thru them.

She walked past the equipment laid on the lab tables, walking towards the table with the weapons laid on it. She glanced over them, to her supprise noting that only a few of them were the products of the Arms Manufacturers of Clairmont, and the rest being most likely export models. She picked up one of the weapons, a rifle of some sort but weighing over fifteen kilograms and the design a bit peculiar. She glanced at the piece of memory plast attached to the weapon, reading the position where from it had been found and it read "Entrance barricade". Kusanagi examined the weapon in her hands, quickly finding what seemed to be a power level indicator and some switches at the other side of the weapon. She laid it back down to the table.

She walked to another table where laid some charred pieces of metal and fabrics, she let her eyes move thru the stuff and picked up something of interest. She observed the piece of metal more closely, picking up the shape of something in it. It was a creature of some sort, propably an icon, and from what Kusanagi gathered, it looked like a three-headed flying thing, a dragon perhaps.

She took her gaze off from it and moved on to inspect the other tables with evidence laid out on them.

"No we can head straight there" quickly responded Sigmund "I've just spent the last few hours rest on the plane. Besides I want to get to work as soon as possible."

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
00.10 AM
Irmansul City
Centrum, InSec Central Office

The car ride to the central office was un-eventfull. Altough Irmansul City by night was extremely spectacular to look at with the tallest skyscrapers reaching up to over six hundred meters in height and being brightly illuminated, and the road way networks in several layers being full of traffic even at night, Nixos had seen it many times before and the Tappee agent hadnt shown too much interest in something as trivial as a nightly city of over 60 million people.

Nixos left the car at the uppermost carage floor on the InSec Central Office building. Having to pass thru multiple security posts, the journey thru the bowels of the Central Office building took its time, before the two agents reached the floors where the cases of most importance were handled, where the "Khanate" case was handled.

Nixos glanced around as the two arrived to the large central hall that acted both as a final checkup point and sort of a command center of the upper floor sectors. His gaze caught hold of Motoko Kusanagi sweeping towards him from the lab door.

"Ah, Major."

"Nixos." The woman replied warmly, allowing her eyes to quickly inspect the Tappee agent standing next to Nixos.

"And i assume this is Agent Xavier from Tappee First-X correct?" She said to Sigmund, while offering the man her hand.

Present Day
March 14th
Friday
00.30 AM
Geminon City
Vandren Corporation HQ

It was a setback, not a critical one but a setback nonetheless. The danger had allways existed, but the existance of the Operating Centers was a necessity, one that could not be avoided if the pieces of the puzzle were to go to the right places at the right times. How Section 9 had gotten hold of Operating Center #4, he did not know, yet and thus he could not correct the problem, yet.

How and why however were not his immidiate concerns. What concerned him now was the fact that apparently, the joint InSec and Section 9 force had succeeded in capturing intact data storages from the Operating Center, and the self-destruct protocol had not been executed. Apparently, some of the weaponry had been captured as well.

Overall, the situation could be better. Altough imported weapons were nearly impossible to track, that advantage was of little use now as those imported weapons were in the hands of InSec Laboratories. The Grav Guns would not raise much ruckus, but the "other" equipment would when those imbeciles studying them would succeed in getting the grasp of them. But in the end, what could be learned from that equipment would not lead the investigators to any real sources, it would only give them some clues but nothing too vital. And as far as the plans had progressed, this development was largely meaningless.

And considering that there was no way how that evidence could be destroyed at this point, there was no other option but to let it pass. For the evidence was held in one of the five tightest guarded locations on the face of this miserable island. And getting there and destroying or retrieving that evidence wouldnt be as easy as manipulating the Flight Log of an Interceptor on the ground was.

The man rubbed his chin, his facial emotion betraying none of his thoughts or concerns.

The time drew closer by the day, the Execution Hour was close at hand.

Present Day
March 17th
Monday
10.30 AM
Beowulf City
Section 9 HQ

Kusanagi sighed in frustration as she went thru the gathered pieces of data from the raid three days ago. The thugs had had time to initiate some protocols to cleanse the data from their computers but luckily, there had been time to insert the counter-agent protocols to those computers and retrieve something of interest. But so far, it seemed that those pieces of data lead to dead-ends.

All but few of the contact files the "Khanate" Operations Center had had were gone, and those files were practically the only reliable way of determining with whom the computers of the Operating Center had been in connection with and what had they transferred. The only things that had been gathered on that front were pieces of two contact files, indicating that there had been contact with some low-level officials with Vandren Corporation, who were mainly producing a wide variety of software for the purposes of both the military and the government with sub-sections producing such stuff as games. At first glance, that had seemed as a good lead, but now, it seemed worthless. The other contact file leads were to different web-forums, and they as well seemed to bear little fruit for the investigators of the case. All in all, it seemed like a dead end.

She opened the data files containing the analysis that had been pieced together from the physical evidence. There had been several un-identified weapons among the more casual ones gathered from the raid. The labs of InSec central office had been baffled immensely by some of the weaponry, but they had succeeded in determining their purpose rather quickly. Apparently, some of the weapons were energy weapons in nature, more accurately, they used gravitons in a focused beam to rip apart their target at molecular level but at the same time there was no visible beam like a laser in an athmosphere would have had, and the effects were much more devastating. It had been easy to deduce that the Terminator who had fallen at the front entrance had been killed with one of those weapons. The other interesting pieces of equipment were retrieved from some of the "Khanate" thugs. Small harnesses that they had held, but which apparently acted as some sort of emissions control system. They allowed the user to control the emissions they sent out, including visible light. That had made many of the defenders very difficult to detect.

Kusanagi sighed again. Both the Energy Guns and EMCon Harnesses were something that was beyond the level of technology Clairmont could produce. And altough she did not know much about the secret weapons programs, she was certain that those weapons were something that couldnt be produced in decades to come. Which made it abundantly clear that they had come from somewhere else, and determining that would be extremely difficult when it was taken into consideration how many more advanced nations than Clairmont were out there.

She went over the analysis files concerning some of the debris and other pieces of evidence aquire from on-site. She looked at the image of the piece of metal she had held in her hand, the one with the image of the three headed dragon. The analysts had deduced that it depicted the Dragon "Khaine" from the legends of Clairmont, but what possible relevance could that have for the "Khanate"? They werent a cult, nor some religious fanatics that was for certain as there was more than enough evidence to indicate the opposite. There was also analysis of a few burned pieces of paper, why the "Khanate" would use such an ancient platform for hardcopy, Kusanagi didnt know. The paper was mostly burned and the text on it was mostly gone. There were a few words that had been discerned with computer re-construction and analysis. There was a name, "Overseer", which most likely meant the one overseeing the "Khanate" operations, as well as some vague mumblings about prophecies. In the end, nothing that would have told Kusanagi anything.

She logged off from her workstation and trotted off for the Cafeteria to grab something for breakfast.

Present Day
March 17th
Monday
15.10 PM
Irmansul City
Saschen District

Stewart took another bite from the slice of pizza he held as he scrolled thru the lines of text. It was news of a raid conducted by the Office of Internal Security last friday against one of the HQ's of the "Khanate" Criminal Organization.

So, they had finally managed to get off their collective asses and do something to put those scumbags in order. Stewart thought as he read thru the news report. The report had little actual information about the raid, and InSec was notoriously keen to keep its raids under-wraps and release only the information that they wanted for the eyes of the public to see. Stewart didnt see much wrong in that, considering how effective InSec usually was, their methods had to have something right in them. He wondered whether his dad had participated in the raid, propably not considering that he wasnt part of the InSec Storm Troops but rather an investigator, and not that he would have ever admitted that he had participated in it anyway. Sometimes Stewart thought that his old man played the secret agent role a bit too far. But that must have been in his character.

He heard the door chime that indicated someone had come home. He shrugged to his thoughts and raced down the stairs to the first floor.

"Hey dad."

"Hey Stewie." Nixos Trent answered, with slight tiredness in his voice.

"Your mother isnt home yet?"

"Naah, she went somewhere with Allison, didnt hear where."

Nixos shrugged and replied back with a slightly reprimanding tone, altough Stewie knew it was all a charade.
"Not a big supprise you didnt hear it, you play your damn music so hard that its a wonder you have any hearing left at all."

Stewie laughed at the reply, shrugging equally back.
"When you have the kind of sound systems that i do, it would be a crime not to use their potential to the fullest."

"Yeah, i guess it would be. Anyways, have you eaten anything? I could make up something if you're hungry."

"No need, i ate a pizza. You go ahead tough, since i know you arent eating much while you work."

"Aint that the truth son." Nixos said, trotting off to the kitchen.

Stewart allowed his gaze to remain on the folder that his father had left on the living room table. It was a non-descript folder, with nothing reading in it. It appeared that his father had once again brought his work home.

He approached the table, and after a moment of internal struggle, he opened the folder and went thru the sheets of hardcopy inside. It was an analysis of evidence he noticed rather quickly, and the case description told him it was an analysis from the evidence gathered from the raid.

He skimmed thru some of the pages quickly, failing to find anything of interest. On the final page, the word "Overseer" in one of the "Khanate" paper hardcopies caught his eye. The same word had been used on the "Chimaera Dossier" on numerous occasions. Not that it meant anything, but it was an interesting coincidence. He yet allowed himself to inspect the picture of the three headed dragon and the imprinted lines of text below it, indicating where from the image was. He closed the folder, and trotted back upstairs, deep in thought.

Present Day
March 17th
Monday
22.42 PM
Virgon City
Pier A/1

The moonlight reflected away from the calm ocean, casting an eerie illumination at the boat and the men working on the dock. It was an old portion of the docks, meant for surface craft and with the space stealing importance away from the development of the sea, and the lack of any surface naval craft in Clairmont, the docks for such craft saw little use. But there was allways the income of surface shipping from abroad, and as such some of those docks were still held operational.

"This is the last shipment." The leader of the boat crew answered to the leader of the shore crew, as their crews carried the crates to the truck parked at the end of the pier.

"Indeed, and as such we can commence 'Interludes'. "The shore crew leader replied. And short after continued.

"Is your withdrawal route clear?"

The boat crew leader snorted and replied.
"Yes, these wuan-sho are so incompetent that i have my doubts of their fore fathers being who we think they are." The boat crew leader replied.

"However, since our khasakhim hardly is incompetent, then this scum truly mus be who they are claimed to be"

The boat crew leader nodded in silent reply, and as his crew returned to the small surface craft, he saluted the shore crew leader, who returned the salute and they went their separate ways.

The shore crew approached their truck, and as their leader came to the truck, he kicked the headless corpse of a Dock Guard to the ocean, allowing himself a slight smile before the truck left the old dock behind. The leader took his datapad from the inner pocket of his jacket, typing in a few words to the message he was about to send.

"Final retrieval succesfull."

Present Day
March 19th
Wednesday
4.33 PM
Irmansul City
Saschen District

The last couple of days had been interesting indeed for Stewart. He had pressed on with his investigations into the meaning of the "Chimaera Dossier" website and had learned something very interesting. Apparently, the two garbled lines of code at the end of every update made to the site werent irrelevant at all as he had first thought. When he had run those lines thru a decoder he had gotten from a friend who apparently wasnt all on the legal side with his computer work, the revelation had been interesting. The lines created a script that essentially was a countdown. As Stewart had run them as an executable, the system had indicated that several phases had allready been completed with the timer counting down to the next one. And the next phase was due to commence in 4 days 6 hours 20 minutes.

What the hell did it mean? As he had investigated the site further and further, it had gotten very very odd indeed. Truly those behind this were masters in their work of giving difficult puzzles for the fans of their games to solve.

But something was gnawing at him from the inside. From all he knew, this was just new type of hype of a game about to come, but further he went, the more he began to think that this wasnt the case. The riddles and puzzles in the "Chimaera Dossier" updates were mind bogglingly complicated. Altough the referrals in those updates were easy to detect, their actual relevance and the meaning of those referrals combined escaped Stewarts comprehension. Why make a site primarily meant as hype of a game so hard to solve? It wouldnt help the game company a bit if their hype failed because the fans of their games couldnt grasp their message.

All in all, the whole thing was a bit self-contradictory and many had allready given up attempting to solve the damn case. Stewart wasnt all too far from giving up himself, considering that the whole thing was a big dead-end and going nowhere fast.

He searched up the net for anything that would correlate with the date at which the counter would reach its end and the next phase would commence. He searched for an hour before giving up in frustration. There was nothing of relevance going to happen at that date, except for the every four-monthly large scale shift in space-borne personnell in the Military, and the slated date for the release of some new software from Vandren Corporation, but nothing that really would tell him anything usefull.

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. But perhaps it was all there. Laying right before his eyes but because he was searching for something he thought was relevant instead of what really was relevant, he couldnt find the information he sought. He tried to abandon that thought. Few people on the 'net had come up with conspiracy theories, explaining the "Chimaera Dossier" website. Some had insisted it was Government brain-washing techniques in the work, and some had arqued that the site was actually a communications pipeline between two unknowns. Stewart hadnt much considered those explanations, the brain-washing tidbits were just idiotic and the communications explanation, while held some sense in it, didnt fit all the facts.

He forced himself to consider the possibility. He knew allready that the riddles and yabberings of the site were their own form of code. It was a puzzle, and only the one who understood the connection and meaning of all the references and riddles would understand what the real message was.

He forced himself to take the website differently. Dishing out game relevances, what remained? Vengeful son seeking conclusion to his conflict obviously meant war. That the son, or perhaps the offspring or rebels of a government sought to conclude their rebellion and exterminating what they rebelled against. The dragon bit was somewhat harder to comprehend however. Then he remembered what he had seen in the folder that his father had brought from work. The Three-headed Dragon "Khaine", the bringer of darkness and final destruction. The very same legend to which one of the "Chimaera Dossier" website updates had referred to.

Was it possible? Was it truly possible that the "Khanate" had something to do with the "Chimaera Dossier" website? Could it be part of their communications, hidden in plain sight for all to see but for no-one to truly solve and thus go ignored? Stewarts brain whirred as he considered the possibilities, and the indications those possibilities brought to his mind.

Were there hidden groups at work out there, groups that used the "Chimaera Dossier" as a means of communications? The indications truly seemed to prove this, but what was their agenda? And since one of those groups seemed to be the "Khanate", what was their goal? Stewart didnt have a clue. But a silent dread began to form up inside him. Whatever this was, it was larger than what he had thought it was.

Present Day
March 19th
Wednesday
11.43 PM
Cadia City
Basement of Transpan Cargo Company

The six men stood in the darkness, around the illuminated table at the center of the room, all deep in thought and speaking amongst each other, passing and examining pieces of hardcopy in their hands.

"Have all the teams reported readiness?" One of the men questioned the others.

"Not yet sir, the teams at Points Kilo,Omega,Charlie and Tango have not yet reported in." The man directly facing the questioner replied.

"I see. Is there any indication of them failing in their tasks?"

"None sir. The latest report was a day ago, and everything was stated to be going smoothly."

"Allright, we shall wait for their report for another thirty-six hours, if they fail to report by then, we must assume they have been neutralized and the backup plan must commence." The man stated with a voice of authority. He examined some of the pieces of hardcopy for a moment before voicing more questions.

"What is the status with the equipment?"

One of the men consulted a pad he held and replied swiftly.
"Going as planned sir. The last transfer was picked up on schedule and should have allready arrived where it needs to go."

The man smiled slightly and consulted his wrist chrono before speaking again.
"We have 87 hours gentlemen to ensure everything is ready. As of two hours ago, everyone is on 'Black down' mode until Execution Hour."

Present Day
March 20th
Thursday
12.30 PM
Beowulf City
Section 9 HQ

"So, thats where we stand now Chief." Motoko Kusanagi finisher her report to the Commander of Section 9.

Chief Aramaki placed his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. It was good news, but not as much as he had dared to hope nor as much as they needed. But there was bad news among every good news.

"But now there is no activity whatsoever Major?" He asked the woman sitting across the desk.

"None whatsoever. Togusa and Ishikawa scoured up the known "Khanate" pipelines and it seems that there is no communications of any kind, nor any activity."

Aramaki knew what this sounded like. Calm before the storm, and he knew that was exactly what Major Kusanagi was thinking.

"Calm before the storm Major?"

"Exactly. We dont have a clue what they are planning, but it makes sense to be really really shadowy before any big operations to avoid any screw ups at the final moments." Kusanagi stated.

Aramaki agreed with her, but that did not calm his mind one bit, especially when Section 9 nor InSec really had no clue what move the "Khanate" would make next.

"By the way, did you get anything more out of that connection with Vandren Corporation that the "Khanate" place had?" Aramaki asked her.

"As a matter of fact we did. Apparently, there is more involvement within the Vandren Corp. with the "Khanate" than we first thought. The tracks were expertly hidden and we still have very little details, but we know now that someone from the upper echelons of Vandren Corp. was involved and communicating with the "Khanate" on a regular basis. We have yet however to track and find the pipeline thru which the "Khanate" processes their communications." She replied.

"Good work, we should now concentrate our efforts in finding out who inside Vandren Corp. is the main man involved with the "Khanate", how Vandren relates to the "Khanate" and finally, find their main pipeline."

"It was pretty much what i had in mind Chief."

Sigmund placed his brief case on the table located beside the bed, it had proven to be a long day. His meeting with Motoko Kusanagi had gone well, but was brief; she was obviously a very busy woman. They had agreed in the morning and take it from the there.

Taking the moment to relax he laid down on the bed, and began to run through things in his head. From what he could tell there was much more going in that what even he had first perceived. “Khanate” seemed to be a major problem here in Clairmont, but how did it relate to “Dedecus” in Tappee. What tied the two groups together, if anything. Quickly Sigmund found himself coming up with more questions then answers.

However, it would all have to wait till morning, it was then that the his search for answer would start. Until then he would allow him self some much needed rest.

March 20th
Thursday
06.20 AM
Irmansul City
Central District

The bright blue delivery van moved quickly thru the city awakening to another day with the morning sun casting it a tremendous illumination. Traffic was scarse at this time of day yet, though how scarse it could ever be in a city of over 60 million people was a bit vague concept, but the amount of vechiles was a mere fraction of what it would be in the next three hours.

This was the time of the delivery firms to make their rides to the cities and the offices at the Central Districts of those cities to make their deliveries, necessary for the smooth operation of the city. It was the best time for such traffic as they could get to their locations with relative haste. And as it was, very little attention was ever given for those morning delivery trucks by anyone. The police force allways maintained their regular watch of the traffic but regardless, the delivery trucks allways went mostly unnoticed.

The blue delivery truck made a right turn in a large intersection, and continued on at one of the main roads of the city centrum. Reaching its destination in another fifteen minutes, the truck went down to an under-ground parking hall under a non-descript skyscraper, so much like all the others in every major city of Clairmont. Passing thru the security checks, the truck proceeded to the loading ramp to discorge its cargo. As the driver got his car into position, two security officers approached from the security station at the loading area.

"Cargo manifest please." The senior security officer requested, and the driver pulled the data-slate with the appropriate information.

The security officer eyed the data-slate carefully, going thru the information. The other security officer opened the back of the truck, picked up a box at random and opened it.

Non-descript hardware of kinds inhibited the boxes. Everything from computer cases to hard-drives and other regular office equipment. The security officer pulled a hand-held scanning device from one of his equipment pouches and moved it over the boxes. The scanner scoured thru the boxes with delicate precision, searching for signs of explosives or anything that most certainly should not be there. Finding nothing, the security officer returned the scanner to his uniform.
"Seems to be in order." The senior security officer stated to the other one. While handing back the data-slate to the driver.

"Unload them here." He told the driver yet, who complied and activated the cargo unloading mechanism that discorged the cargo sled that held the boxes to the loading dock.

The operation was quickly completed, and the truck left the basement. The senior security officer went to his computer, and logged the shipment as received.

March 20th
Thursday
09.20 AM
Irmansul City
Office of Internal Security HQ

Nixos Trent logged himself to the security station, and entered the core of the InSec HQ. It had been relatively quiet for the past three days, which was really unexpected after the raid last week. Perhaps InSec and Section 9 had hurt the "Khanate" worse than they first thought. But Nixos dismissed that thought, more likely, they were just keeping a low profile for now.

He glanced around at the hall, and keyed his datapad to see whether Sigmund had arrived yet. The datapad answered him negative. They had agreed that they would today go thru all the evidence of the "Khanate" and the Tappee Criminal Organization that the Tappee First-X suspected was somehow linked to the "Khanate". They would then correlate that evidence together, and see if there indeed were any links between the two.

Major Kusanagi had agreed to join them. If it was indeed true that the two organizations were linked, then the entire organization was much larger than anyone had at first suspected, and considering that no-one yet knew how deep the "Khanate" was rooted in Clairmont, it was imperative that every single one of those roots was dug out.

Trent dwelled on in his thoughts as he moved to the analytical section of the InSec HQ. Dozens upon dozens of workstations littered the section, nearly each one of them with an analyst of InSec attempting to dig out facts and analyze the evidence at hand. Nixos sat at one of the workstations that wasnt used and logged in to the network to check his message box. There were only two messages, the first from the labs giving him an update on the analysis of the evidence recovered from last weeks raid, it was too long for him to read now so he dumped it to his datapad for later reading. He opened up the next message. The sender was unknown to him, but what puzzled him more were the words the message contained.

Mr. Trent, i know of your investigations of the 'Khanate' and i
must warn you. Both you and your family are in danger, threatened
by those of the 'Khanate'. But this threat does not come from your
work in the case, but rather from what your son has gotten himself
involved in. Take heed of my warning Mr.Trent, and i suggest you
speak with your son of this matter as urgently as possible.

For a brief second Trent thought it was a joke. But he dismissed that thought nearly immidietly. The only ones who had access to this message box were his co-workers and superiors, and none of them, not anyone he knew would make a prank such as this. But Stewart? What the hell did his son have to do with this? Nixos Trent was no fool. He did not believe everything he was told but neither did he disregard something he was told merely because it felt ridicolous. He would speak of this with Stewart the first thing when he got home, which most likely would be late, possibly even tomorrow, depending on where the investigation of the connection between the "Khanate" and the Tappee crime organization would lead.


March 20th
Thursday
8.30 PM
Barwhon City
Mercury Housing Company HQ

The nine men and women gathered around the large table, and with a motion from the man at the head of the table, they took their seats and sat. Their expressions grim, but determined.

"Its good to see you, all of you. It has been a long time." The man at the head of the table said after a moment of silence.

"It has been ten years since we all were gathered the last time, and we all know why we did that. These meetings represent a risk, a grave risk for us all but now a time has come when decisions that will shape our future must be made." The man continued. There were nods of agreement from the men and women gathered at the table.

"We are ready Joseph. None of us wanted to believe that the day would arrive, the day of final judgement, but in our hearts we all knew it would come and all doubt was erased those ten years ago when we recieved the first indications." A woman spoke to the man at the head of the table.

"Indeed Natalie. The Final Judgement is what we were warned of so many times, but all those long years of peace lulled us and our predecessors into a sense of false relaxation, and to a sense of security. We were wrong. But what now remains is to decide what shall be done." Another man from the opposite side of the table replied.

"That is for us to decide today. For all these years, we have remained hidden among this society. But can we afford it any longer? These people do not know what we know. They have no shred of information what they truly face. We must come forward, and release our information to those who can truly make use of it." The man at the head of the table stated with a voice of steely resolve.

One of the women voiced his doubts. "But who will believe us? Imagine it Joseph if you were in their position, and someone would come and tell you such a tale, would you believe it or would you think that this was merely a man lost of his mind?"

"Indeed Vera. We have some proof to back up our story, but enough to concretely prove it? Perhaps, but i would not place my money on it. What we need is a very small group who to contact first, and tell them. Thru those people, we could be more effective." Another man stated.

"I knew i could place my trust in you my comrades. And i believe i have the first candidate who to bring us in to our little universe, but for him, we must go to Irmansul." The man at the head of the table stated back to them.

Sigmund hurried around the corner and down yet another hallway, despite his guest pass it had taken him some time to get through all the security checkpoints. Most people would have been annoyed be all this, but it made him feel a home, it appeared that internal security here was an important issue.

Coming to a cross roads in the hallway he looked up at the signs hoping to get some directions as to where he needed to be. After a moment of two he found the office number to where he to be, and then when in the appropriate direction. Make his way down a series of corridors he found himself where he needed to be.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic seems to be rather bad this time of” he said as he entered the room “However, that is still no excuse. What have I missed” he asked taking his seat.

March 20th
Thursday
09.30 AM
Irmansul City
Office of Internal Security HQ

Kusanagi had been there before Trent had arrived. She had allready gathered several boxes worth of data-chips to be inserted for viewing into datapads as well as several boxes worth of hardcopy had been brought in to the conference room.

Trent took a seat, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he entered the room. They chatted trivial matters with the Major while waiting for Sigmund to arrive. As the door opened and the Tappee agent came in, apologizing for being late, both of them turned their chairs to greet the man.

"Dont sweat about it Sigmund, we didnt start yet since this conference is about finding out if there truly are links between our two crime organizations of interest, and we couldnt get much started without you." Trent said to him.

"Good to see you again agent Xavier." Kusanagi greeted. "I asked the materials division to bring us every relevant piece of data here so that we can correlate it with what you know and possibly find out whether the two organizations are truly linked or not. But lets get started, i think we wont be out of here before tomorrow." She finished, and began discorging the data-chips and folders of hardcopy from the boxes piled on the table.

As Sigmund took his seat, he reached into his briefcase pulling out two folder, then slid them across the table to Trent and Kusanagi. Although Tappee had the technology to place information on Datapads they had chosen to remain using paper, and at least so far no one had questioned why they had never changed. He allowed the two a moment to pick up the folder and read them over.

“About four months ago a criminal organization known as ‘Dedecus’ suddenly appeared in Tappee. Organized crime in Tappee is rare due to the tough stance that the government has taken; most are eliminated before they can even get going. However this ‘Dedecus” prove to be much different then anything that we had ever encountered before, they seemed to be one step ahead of us at every turn. We would hit a warehouse that they were operating out of, only to find it empty. But three weeks ago we caught a break, and where able to catch them in the middle of a shipment. It wasn’t easy, and we lost a few good agents but were able to apprehend a number of suspects, as well as their cargo.” He pulled another file out and placed in the centre of the table. “We had hoped that the bust would lead to some answers, but instead lead to just more questions. The shipments itself was weapons, but these thing are more advanced then even what the military has, I’ve got R&D taking a look at them now. Through interrogation one to the suspects mentioned the name ‘Khanate’ came up, after running some checks it lead us here. We are flying in the dark here, a fact that we find most upsetting.”

Trent picked up the folder from the table and skimmed quickly thru its contents. It seemed that the "Dedecus" was painstakingly familiar in their elusiveness to the "Khanate". That did not yet however mean anything. As Xavier told him and Kusanagi about the weapons shipment, sliding the folder for them to inspect, their interest came up exponentially.

Kusanagi picked up the file that Xavier had placed on the table, and quickly looked over a couple of analytical images and paragraphs of text in regards to the weapons they had found. She shoved it briefly to Trent and their eyes met in a mutual agreement.

Kusanagi placed the file back on the table and spoke.
"These are identical to the weapons we picked up from our last weeks raid. From what our R&D has told us, these here," Kusanagi pointed at an image of a large rifle-like weapon, but which differed from any rifle Clairmont used by a big degree. "are according to what we know, energy weapons, using Gravitons as their means of delivering energy to target. According to the information we have gathered, and what our eggheads tell us, these things rip apart the target matter at molecular level." She moved her finger over to one of the more casual looking weapons and spoke again. "And these are Grav Guns, they are very similar to the Pulsers that we use but more advanced and their operating mechanics are different." And finally, she moved her finger to hover over a piece of hardware that resembled a large grenade. "And these, these Mr. Xavier are anti-matter grenades. We had to be really carefull when opening them up, so that we wouldnt break the containment field and blow half of the HQ up in the process. In any case, these things pack an anti-matter load equivalent to about 300 to 500 kilograms of TNT. These weapons are quite much beyond anything that we have and what the Seraphim Order in general has, and that in itself is allready a very bad sign." She finished her quick brief.

Trent placed his hands on the table, crossing them and spoke to the Tappee agent.

"We knew that the 'Khanate' had to be recieving its weapons from abroad, but they are like ghosts and so far all the cyber-intelligence and advanced tracking resources of the damn Protectorate havent been able to find a single weapons shipment. We know that there are shipments, but havent been able to found them. And this weapons shipment you intercepted concretely proves there to be atleast a connection between the 'Dedecus' and the 'Khanate' , even if the two werent exactly the same organization."

"Mr.Xavier, would you happen to have any information regarding the actual shipment route? This is critical, for it could very well be our only chance of tracking it to its source. And while yet on this matter, were you able to interrogate the captives you got to any usefull extent?" Kusanagi asked Sigmund.

“Unfortunately, not really” quickly answered Sigmund “These people were more then willing to give up their lives. During the raid all but one fought to the death, the one that was captured was a lucky break”

“Interrogation methods in Tappee are usually very effective” he quickly added “In the case of our suspect it would appear that he has a fear of drowning, and when he found himself ears deep in water he told us pretty much all he could. Only problem was from what he told us he was rather low in the organization and didn’t know all the much. But on side note something that you may find interesting is how they were moving the weapons, the raid was made against a harbour warehouse in Port Pelgas. Which is one of the ways that we think that they were able to avoid detection for so long, now a most goods are moved by space transport, marine shipping line have all but dried up. As a result we’ve increased security patrols around all major ports.”

Kusanagi had not expected much when she asked about the captive the Tappee law enforcement had caught. She replied with a taste of disappointment in her voice.

"Well, that very well coincides with what we know of the 'Khanate'. During our raid, none of them were surrendering. Even when facing impossible odds, they rather fought to the death than surrendered. It is extremely strange to see such zeal and devotion in a Criminal Organization."

Hearing of the findings from one of their harbors, Nixos leaned over the table to speak.

"Harbor warehouse you say? Thats interesting, since a few days ago in one of our coastal cities, there was a strange case of murder in one of the older harbor areas. Apparently, a harbor guard was killed but apparently nothing was taken from the harbor at all, like there was anything to be taken from there anyway. From what we have gathered, a transaction of something occurred there. This would mean that the "Khanate" is bringing atleast SOME of its weapons in thru the sea."

March 20th
Thursday
9.20 PM
Beowulf City
District 8

The headlights of the car cut thru the gloom of the night as the vechile approached the single story building. The street lights were out, their usually bright spheres of illumination gone. The driver of the car wasnt bothered. For the purposes being, the absence of the street-lights was a positive state of affairs.

He stopped the car in anticipation for the challenge to come from the murky depths of darkness. Only a moment after he had stopped, a male voice challenged him.

"Identify yourself." The voice said. The driver did not hesitate and uttered the code words and displayed his identification. A moment passed before the male voice gave the permission to proceed. Visibly, nothing had happened, but the driver knew that he had been and still was in the sights of multiple snipers and heavy weapon emplacements. A wrong move or a wrong word would result in his quick and messy demise.

The carage door to the building opened and the driver parked his car next to several others in the hall. He made haste and proceeded to the illuminated office room placed next to the door out of the carage.

The woman at the office quickly rose from her chair, abandoning the work she had been doing with her computer. She threw up a parade ground salute for the man.

"Star Lieutenant Ghent sir! The others have been expecting you."

The man returned the salute sharply.

"I know Sergeant. Are they at briefing one?"

"Yes sir, Captain Zhakovsky is also present."

Lieutenant Ghent nodded in understanding and yet returned the Sergeants salute as he left. He stepped thru the exit from the carage, entering a hallway, its sides lined with door after another. One of the doors had two sentries standing on both sides. Clad in armored non-reflective black battledress and toting large rifles, their keen eyes were laid on the Lieutenant immidietly when he stepped to the corridor. He walked up to them briskly and presented his identification. The other trooper ran the identification disk thru a scanner. The other lifted a handheld scanner from his vaist and ran it over the Lieutenants face. The trooper checked the scanner and compared the readings to the data the other troopers ID scanner presented. They quickly glanced at each other, and then the Lieutenant was handed the ID disk back.

"You may go Lieutenant." The other trooper said and opened the door.

Lieutenant Ghent stepped thru. The room was brightly lit. At the front of the room was a slightly elevated stage, and in the air at the stage hung a large holographic map. Row upon row of chairs filled the room from the edge of the stage to the back wall of the room. Nearly every one of the chairs was occupied. The man next to the hologram at the stage laid his eyes on the lieutenant and extended his greetings.

"Not a moment too soon Star Lieutenant Ghent. You have been expected. Take a seat so this briefing can continue." Star Captain Zhakovsky said.


March 20th
Thursday
10.12 PM
Irmansul City
Office of Internal Security HQ

Nixos Trent sighed in frustration as his search for a connection came to another dead stop. It didnt seem to matter how much intel they gained on the "Khanate". Either that intel was out of date when they got it, or it didnt make any sense whatsoever.

He had been skimming thru some of the files they had on the organization. Since the backbone of every criminal organization was profit, he had hoped that using some of the financial records the Khanate had, he could have tracked down their middle-hands between buyers and the organization. But it was of no use. Either there were no buyers, or the information was out of date. Since the former did not make any sense, Trent opted for the latter.

His eyes strolled over the lines of information. It didnt make any sense. It seemed like the "Khanate" was not making any profit, none whatsoever. They were involved in numerous criminal activities such as import of weapons. But none of that weaponry didnt seem to be sold anywhere or to anyone. It was as if the "Khanate" was gathering weapons for itself. But to what end? Every criminal organization such as the "Khanate" existed for the purpose of making money thru illegal means. And "Khanate" was a criminal organization. But their activities made it blatantly clear that the "Khanate" was not one's everyday Mob or weapon smuggling group, they were something else altogether.

Flipping open his laptop Sigmund checked to see if there was any news messages from his inbox. He had just arrived and was about to start on his daily paper, when he noticed that there was an urgent message the was addressed to all field agents, with some curiosity he opened it up. He had to wait some time for the message to decrypt, it could only mean that it was extremely important.

The Message read

To: All active First X agents
Subject: Possible level 10 Security threat
Message:

At approximately 10:45am ST Dylan Phobo escaped from a level 14-prison facility. Subject is extremely dangerous and is a level 10 security threat towards the governments of both Tappee, and Iaceo. Attached is Subjects Photo and history. All agents to be on the look out for subject, the use of deadly force has been authorized.

Sigmund didn’t both to look over the file attachment, he knew all to well who Dylan Phobo was, and after all it was his intelligence that had lead to his capture in the first place.

Sitting back in his chair he began playing events through his mind, trying to connect the pieces. First he had a criminal Organization that appeared out know where, an organization that now appeared to the running weapons for no apparent reason. Now the man thought to be the biggest threat to Tappee’s security had escaped out of level 14 prison.

One just doesn’t just walk out of a level 14 prison thought Sigmund to himself it would take an incredible amount resources. Almost the same amount resources as would take to run weapons under the noise of the First X

A sudden a single thought came into Sigmunds head, he jumped to his feet grabbing the phone. In a panic he dialled in a number, and waited for the call to be answered. A voice started speaking but he cut in before they really had a chance to say anything.

“I need to speak with Nixos Trent, tell him that it Agent Sigmund Xavier and that it is urgent”

March 20th
Thursday
11.15 PM
Irmansul City
Highway 3

Agent Nixos Trent steered his car on the eight lane highway out of the centrum district of the city. It had been a hellish day. The discussion with Sigmund had continued to the early nightfall before they had decided to finish up for the day. And Nixos hadnt been able to leave until fifteen minutes ago because of some unfinished work.

For now, he just wanted to get home to his family. He knew that Cassandra was a bit pissed for him for the amount of time he had been spending working for the last couple of months. But it couldnt be helped, and he hoped that he could get some well earned leave soon and take the family to the famous beaches of the coastal cities.

His thoughts were interrupted as his car-phone rang.
"Accept call." He intoned, and the line opened.
"Agent Trent? Central here, you have a call from Agent Sigmund Xavier. It seems to be urgent." A woman stated from the other end of the line. The communications central of the InSec HQ.
"Put it thru please." He said. A moment of pause before a sound from thru the line indicated that the call had been re-directed.
"Sigmund, whats up?" He began.

Sigmund let out a sigh of relief as he heard Nixos voice answer on the other end.

“Nixos I think that we may have a problem” explained Sigmund “About six hours a Terrorist named Dylan Phobo escaped out of a maximum security prison. I don’t think timing of the weapon shipments and his escape were random incidents. My intuition tells me that those weapons that we seized may have been indented for Phobo, and if that is the case then there is more going on here then what we know, or thought.”

Nixos listened carefully to what the Tappee agent was telling him but either he lacked the intuition needed, or he didnt have enough information yet.
"Hold on Sigmund. This guy Phobo, is he a leader of some paramilitary group or terrorists or something to that effect? Im getting your lead here, basically you are suggesting that the weapons the Dedecus was shipping to Tappee would go to the purpose of being used in-country? And by your feeling they would be used by Phobo?"

While talking, Nixos considered the option. It made sense. That would be the reason why the weapons didnt seem to go anywhere once they were shipped in, they just seemed to be stored for some purpose. But again he began to think, to what end? Sure, a large amount of the kind of weaponry the Dedecus and by extension the Khanate seemed to have could cause massive damage when deployed in high numbers and capable hands. But what was the goal? What was the motive? They couldnt take on entire National armed forces and have a hope of victory so what was the point?

Realizing that he had got caught in the moment Sigmund took a deep breath and tried to slow, not everyone knew Dylan Phobo as well as he did. “Since an early age death and destruction have followed Dylan Phobo. On more then one occasion he has been part of an uprising against the Government of Tappee. I know for a fact that now he’s free that he going after Tappee, more particular Chairwoman Jade Allenson.”

Looking over at his computer he noticed the file attachment was still on his screen “Just give me sec Nixos I’m going to send you a copy of Phobo’s dossier.” Hitting the send button, the information was sent

Personal History
Classified level 13
Subject: Dylan Phobo
Picture:


http://www.namco-xenosaga.com/gallery/avatars/images/x_avatar_78.jpg

History

Following in his older brother footsteps Dylan Phobo joined Tappee’s military at the age of 16, joining the 32nd marine division. During standard psychological testing it was soon determined the Dylan suffered from a series of psychological disorders, disorders that could be traced back to his mothers death at the age of eight. Dylan was allowed to join the 32nd Marine Division on the condition that he received extensive counselling to help him deal with his personal issues.

However, with the onset of the C.O.T conflict Dylan quickly abandoned his post with the 32nd Marine division and joined the C.O.T. In the C.O.T he received training in Special Tactic, and Specializing in guerrilla tactics. Taking parting part in a number of attacks against Tappee Military personal, and Civilians, Phobo is accredit in the killing of 135 Military Officers, 437 enlisted military personal, and 87 civilians. Furthermore, with Dylan going AWOL his psychological problems got worse, he developed into a borderline psychopath, he began to see government structure as the root of all evil. Following the defeat of the C.O.T to government forces, the C.O.T disbanded, those that where not captured by the government fled the country, most finding work as mercenaries, as was the case for Dylan Phobo.

Dylan was able to find small amounts of work running drugs; quickly he earned a reputation as being ruthless, savage, and cunning. It was these qualities the drew Latito Iaceo to Dylan Phobo, she offered him a position with in her arm, and a chance for what he longed for above all else, a chance to destroy government structure, starting with the Government of Tappee.

After joining Iaceo’s army Dylan Phobo quickly moved up through the ranks, most by committing several heinous acts, including acts of genocide, he achieved the rank of 2nd commander of Iaceo forces. It was believe was responsible for planning the nuclear attack on Frononia, Tappee’s then capital. Death toll for the attack was listed at 987,345; President Rodger Sampson was listed among the casualties, along with members of the joint chiefs.

Following the attack on Frononia was the Tappee Iaceo War, with in three of the start of the Conflict Tappee military force had secured three quarters of the country. In an act of desperation Iaceo force under the Command of Dylan Phobo retreated into the dense jungle of Iaceo. It was there during a firefight with Tappee forces the Dylan suffered sever burns to his face following a napalm strike.

Following the fall of Latitio Iaceo, Dylan Phobo organized a resistance group, with the sole purpose of returning Latitio Iaceo to power. The groups activities included an attacks against the Intern Government of Iaceo Headquaters, bombing of several Tappee embassy’s, and multiple attempts of the life of Jade Allenson Tappee advisor to the Intern Government of Iaceo.

Dylan Phobo’s rein of terror was ended when a member of First X was able to infiltrate Phobo’s organiztion, he was arrests during a raid by the Second X.

Normal protocol dictated his immediate execution. However, his knowledge of Latitio’s operation was vast, and considered important in the clean operations of Latitio Iaceo’s operation. As such he was sentence to life time imprison in a TMSPP facility.

END REPORT

“I hope this helps you understand the scope of the situation” said Sigmund seeing that the transfer was complete.

Nixos waited as the data transfer system in his car received the file of Dylan Phobo. He opened it up to the windshield of the car, the HUD display drawing the text to the plasteel in eerie green.

"Auto-drive, home." He told the car which obeyed and took over the controls.

He began to read thru the lines of text telling the tale of Dylan Phobo. It didnt take him long, but when he got to the end, he had the chills in his back.
"Sigmund, i really don't like what im reading here. So this guy is basically an experienced military officer with a lot of experience on both tactical and strategical level? And on top of that he is a psychopath and bend on the destruction of your government?"

Nixos shook his head, as if the damn Dedecus and the Khanate alone werent enough. He took a slight pause before continuing again.

"If your gut feeling is true, and the guns are going for Phobo, your government is going to have some serious trouble when he is ready to make his move. So far here in Clairmont the weapons the Khanate has havent been used on a large scale and in an actual offensive, but if they get to the hands of Phobo, well you're people are going to have a lot of bodybags to fill."

“You are more then right” quickly answered Sigmund “He is going unleash hell, if those weapons are for him. But we can use this to our advantage, if we move fast enough. Someone with a lot of money and power went through a lot of trouble to get him out." Sigmund paused to think for a moment "Maybe we could work the problem backwards come up a list of people, or countries that have the resources to pull this off. We could start with those that have the kind of weapons that we have in storage, not many people have the ability to produce those types of weapons.”

"We are allready ahead of you on that Sigmund. When we made our raid against that operating center of theirs a week or so ago, our lab boys and analysts as their first order of business attempted to find out the source of the weapons. So far, we have been un-succesfull. There just doesnt seem to be a single nation using this kind of weaponry, along with a plausible motive to provide them for use against a nation they have no connection with." Nixos replied. It was one of the biggest issues with the resources the Khanate had, they seemed to be coming out of nowhere with no clear point of origin.

"This has lead us to couple of choices. Either these guns have been specifically designed just for this task, or they are coming from somewhere or someone we have absolutely zero intel of. And quite frankly, only the latter option makes much sense." It was a scary concept Nixos thought. For someone to be providing this hardware for use against nations which knew absolutely nothing of their opponent.

Sigmund swore under his breath as he realized that they had hit another dead. “It would seem that as soon as we think that we find some answers we come to a dead end.”

Through the mirror Sigmund caught the time, and realize actually how late it really was “Anyways I’m sorry it looks like it getting late, and I’m sure that you have a family at home. I’ll keep monitoring the situation in Tappee, and will let you know if the situation changes.”

Deep down Sigmund knew that he would be getting any sleep, he would spending the entire night trying to solve the piece to the puzzle that was now in front of him.

March 20th
Thursday
11.50 PM
Irmansul City
Saschen District

The knock on the door was precise and sounded like the product of a calculating and determined mind. Stewart knew that his father was the one responsible for that knock, and somehow he felt that there would be trouble.

"Come on in dad. " He shouted. The door opened and Nixos Trent stepped to his son's room.

"Hey Stewie." He said. His voice was unusually devoid of the warmth that was usually there. Stewart knew that this was about something he had done or had been doing.

Nixos grabbed a chair and sat down behind Stewart who was at the moment fiddling with his computer. Silence crept between them for a full minute before Nixos spoke.

"We need to talk Stewie. I dont know all the details, or frankly I dont know jack-squat what this entire thing is all about, but what have you been doing lately?"

The question was very simple. If Stewart had decided to play dumb, he could have started to go on with everything he had done in school, dozens of different things. But he knew what his father was after. He had no clue what had prompted Nixos to come and question him of his little project but as it was, he had to go forward and tell him what he knew. He sighed and started.

"Over the past couple of months there has been this website called the "Chimaera Dossier" that has been a subject of great interest and puzzlement among the gaming community. At first, leads were uncovered that hinted that the website was related to this Game Studio called the Wayland Entertainment. The website updates periodically, and each update is full of peculiar puzzles and all kinds of strange shit. The idea was that the website is some sort of teaser for a new game coming from Wayland Entertainment. But as the leads led nowhere and nobody was able to solve the puzzle, people got bored of the thing and moved on. I however continued my investigations."
Stewart held a slight pause, allowing what he had told his father to sink in before continuing.

"Last week, with the raid to the Khanate Operating Center, you brought home some dossier of that instance. I took a glance at it, and to my astonishment, much of the stuff there correlated with the "Chimaera Dossier". This icon for example, the three-headed dragon, its also been referred to several times at the "Chimaera Dossier". And when the raid was conducted, the site was updated THREE times in only a single day, when there usually is a single update in a week. After that and a bit more of investigation, I began to doubt that this site had anything to do with computer games at all. Call me paranoid but I even held up the thought that it might be some form of communicating with different cells of the Khanate, since the "Chimaera Dossier" seems to be related to that organization somehow. But thats all I know."

"How did you get the idea to ask me about it anyway? I was pretty carefull to hide what I was working on." He asked curiously. His father was an agent of InSec, Stewart had long since decided not to take liberties with him. But he had no idea how Nixos had known he was working on something odd.

Silence lingered in the air. Nixos rubbed his chin in thought as he pondered what his son had told him. Stewart was no fool. He was a smart kid. But still he wondered whether all this could just be a figment of his son's imagination. All the connections he thought there were. But no, he doubted it. He had been warned of a danger facing him, and his family because of something Stewart had done. Was it possible that his son had accidentally discovered the communications pipeline of the Khanate? It did make some sense. Hiding in plain sight could easilly dispense doubt. He would have to look into it. He broke the silence.

"Dont worry about that. I heard about it from a reliable source. Right now its important that you dont talk to anyone about what you have been doing. While im a bit skeptical of your tale, you'll understand me, I will have to look into it. Put all your files regarding this "Chimaera Dossier" to a disk and i'll go thru it tomorrow at work. And i'll also have to ask you to stop what you have been working on. Please Stewart, while I doubt this is really serious, there is allways a possibility and if that is the case you might be in danger." He said, with his voice serious and eyes full of worry.

Stewart knew that his father was underestimating this matter for a purpose, to make him be at ease. But it rarely worked, and neither did it work now. He could see that his father was very genuinely worried. He copied the files he had on the issue to a disk and handed it to Nixos.

"Allright dad, I'll stop working on it. But if you find out anything of that stuff that might be real, tell me ok?"

Nixos pondered it for a moment while taking the disk Stewart handed to him.
"I wont promise anything Stewie, but I'll let you know if you were right."

Stewart knew that his father propably wouldnt tell him anyway, but he allready knew he most likely was right, and his fathers worry had only strengthened that feeling. And he was scared. What the hell had he gotten into?



March 21st
Friday
00.20 AM
Geminon City
Vandren Corp. HQ

The man took a quick glance at the situation report in his datapad. Everything was going exactly according to plan, but the next week would be critical. It would be the most crucial week in the entire twelve year span of the operation. Failure could quite possibly mean failure of the entire great Operation, but success could quarantee final victory.

One more puzzle of the game had been placed on the table. Dylan Phobo, a terrorist with a background to give even the most hardened mob bosses a shiver, had been released from prison, and would be soon armed with the kind of weaponry he had only seen in his good nights dreams. In that maniacs hands, the government of Tappee would practically have a war inside their country in their hands, and in that kind of situation, how could they have the time to lend any serious aid for their allies? But there was a catch to this man. The operative at Tappee had reported that Dylan Phobo was much more of a loose cannon that anyone had known. There was allways the possibility that he might do something that would work badly for the operation at the end. But that was a risk that had to be taken. Tappee had to be dealt with, and Phobo was a tool for achieving that goal.

He pressed the delete icon, erasing the contents of the datachip. He picked up another from the small container and plucked it in to the reader device. It was another report, from the Virgon-city team. Apparently, the goose had laid its eggs. The man allowed himself a slight smile as he read the passage and then erased the chip and plucked in another.

March 21st
Friday
10.12 AM
Irmansul City
Office of Internal Security HQ

Nixos inserted the disk to his workstation computer. The device dutifully deciphered and opened the contents of the disk, discorging them in a neatly arranged, archived whole. Nixos looked over the folders, he sought the folder named "Findings".

He read thru the files that outlined what his son had discovered when looking into the "Chimaera Dossier". The actual content of that website did not make much sense, but there were some tidbits at the site that raised his interest. One of them was the three-headed dragon, what had been deducted to be the icon representing the Khanate Criminal Organization. Then there was the link to this Wayland Game Studio. With a quick look over the corporate database, Nixos found out that Wayland was owned by Vandren Software Development Corporation, the very same corporation to which leads had led from the raid conducted some time ago. And there was the fact that when the raid had been conducted, there had been an unusual amount of activity and more updates than usually to the "Chimaera Dossier". For all intents and purposes, it truly did seem that this was the communications pipeline of the Khanate.

Nixos turned his attention to the actual update messages to the website. Stewart had downloaded them all and picked them apart for everything of importance they contained. As with Stewart, the legend and myth stuff did not tell him anything at all. They did refer to actions been made or going to be made, but what those actions were he did not know. The piece of code at the end of the updates that was in truth a countdown, did tell him a lot. He opened the last update and checked the countdown timer. Sixteen hours remained. Nixos had no idea what would happen when the time was up. It could be nothing, merely some kind of regular change in the Khanate made, or it could be something else. He didnt know, and he didnt know where he could find answers to that question.

He opened up his web browser an and inserted the address of the "Chimaera Dossier" website. The software attempted to make its connection for a second before a warning text appeared on the screen.

Destination location does not exist.
Check your address and your connection.

He tried twice more. The "Chimaera Dossier" was gone. The last update was only a day old. The Khanate must have removed the site during last night. Had they discovered that the security of their communications pipeline had been compromised? Or did they not simply need it anymore? The latter option was not the most promising one. If they did not need their communcations any longer, that would only mean that their plans, whatever they were, had entered a terminal phase.

He opened up a connection to the Section 9 HQ in Beowulf City and uploaded everything he had learned to Major Motoko Kusanagi's message box. He hoped that the Major with her resources at Section 9 could fill in the blanks in what he had learned.

March 21st
Friday
7.20 PM
Irmansul City
Highway 3

It had been a shorter day than usually. But it was friday, and Nixos had decided that this would be one weekend he would spend in its entirety with his family. He had neglected them for far too long, and now was time to pay up a little for that wrongdoing.

Major Kusanagi had not been able to deduce much else from what Nixos had found out. The woman had confirmed his findings, and added a couple of minor tidbits to the overall whole but no big break in the case had been made. It irked Nixos to leave the job half-done, but he also knew that working till midnight wouldnt bring him any heavenly revelations. The countdown however did trouble him, and it had troubled Major Kusanagi as well. There had been an conference with the InSec higher up staff, and because of the countdown, national security level had been raised in order to attempt to counter the possibility of a major Khanate operation.

He tore his mind away from the thoughts regarding work. That was enough of it for today, there was ample time to think about it yet, and Clairmont would not fall overnight if he didnt think about the matter.

Then he remembered what her wife had suggested. He and Sigmund had developed something edging to friendship during their time working together. Since this was an evening when he even had time to get home for dinner, her wife had suggested that he call Sigmund over for dinner as well. It was a good idea, and a chance for Sigmund to meet his family. He dropped a text message to the Tappee Agent. Asking him over for dinner.

Sigmund opened up his e-mail to find a rather unexpected message. It had nothing to do with what was going on Tappee, at the present moment in time, in fact it had nothing even to do with work. It was an invite to dinner by Agent Nixos.

For a moment Sigmund was taken aback he wasn’t accustom to such thing. For a moment he thought about it, over analysing it. Finally he prepared a reply


Should I bring anything?

March 21st
Friday
7.40 PM
Irmansul City
Sachsen District

Nixos parked the car to the underground carage below the house. Closing the door behind him, he picked up his comms unit as it chimed, signaling a new message. Apparently, Sigmund would have had a dull Friday night without his invitation. He allowed himself a slight smile and replied to the message.

Perhaps a pack of good beer. Make it quick or you're
going to get axed by my angry wife.

He chuckled at the second sentence. Thinking of Cassandra trying to axe someone was simply such a comedic image that it was impossible not to.

As Sigmund got out of the cab he briefly glanced down at his watch, it was getting late, he only hoped that Nixos wife would not take offence to him running late. He could only hope that the beer he had bought would make up it. Since drinking was generally frowned upon in Tappee, especially for an agent like Sigmund, he had no idea of what to buy. In an act of desperation he had simply bought the most expensive brand that he could find at the store.

With the beer in hand he gave a knock on the door.

Nixos heard the door-chime and checked the small display, showing the feed from a camera placed overhead on the door. It appeared that Sigmund had showed up.

He hurried up to the door and greeted the man cheerfully.
"Right on time Sigmund, we were just about to grab on to the food."

Nixos gave a quick glance at the beer Sigmund had brought. He was rather fond of beer. Altough the beverage as a concept was hundreds of years old, the standards of its production still remained, and frankly, Nixos liked the taste.
"Good man, I see you chose a pack of Mondurian brand. Its good stuff, though a bit too expensive for me to be drinking too often."
He liberated the pack of beer from Sigmund's grasp and motioned for him to get in. As they proceeded to the dining room, Nixos' family was allready present. A woman in her early thirties rushed from the kitchen to greet the guest.

"Sigmund, this is my wife Cassandra. For your luck, she couldnt find the axe."

The woman punched Nixos to the shoulder for the unnecessary addition and spoke.

"Forgive Nixos for his tasteless humor. He knows that I allways prefer a chainsaw." She said and chuckled.

"But enough of the gory jokes. Its good to meet you Sigmund. I allways like to meet Nixos' friends, and its good that you two got the time to eat properly today." She said.

Motioning towards the table, Nixos introduced his three sons. The age difference between the three was easy to determine. The oldest was clearly just turned or turning eighteen years old, the middle-one being around twelve or thirteen and the youngest being something around five or six.
"This is Stewart, I've spoken a bit about him at work, you propably remember." He said. Stewart's attention at the moment was elsewhere as he was completely consentrated on reading an article in the newest "Military Monthly."

Nixos continued.
"This is Vincent, the middle-one of the deadly trio." The twelve year old gave a quick tilt of the head as greeting for the Tapee Agent.

"And finally, this is Samuel, our own everyday terrorist" Nixos finished while chuckling at his description of his youngest son. The boy was busy in taking apart a portable game console, to what end it wasnt clear.

Sigmund felt utterly uncomfortable, he was unfamiliar with family situations. Being a member of the First X meant that he was an orphan raised the by the state. His parents had died when he was too young to remember them; all he had known was the agency. Of course Family training was not something that they had taught at the Academy.

“Nice to meet you all” said Sigmund nervously “You have a rather nice family Nixos”

The dinner went along for over an hour as Nixos' wife served several different kinds of main course's. Having once been a cook in one of the five stars hotels at the centrum of Irmansul City, she had the skill of making splendid food.

Nixos had noted that Sigmund was not all too comfortable with being here. And he knew why. The Tappee Agent had no family of his own, and on top of that, he was an orphan. Nixos understood him, and began to think whether the dinner was such a good idea afterall.

After the dessert had been savagely consumed, Nixos retreated to the living room, inviting Sigmund to join him. The living room was decorated to resemble a late 19th century North American room. The walls were finished with expensive wood paneling, a huge grandfather clock stood on the east wall. There was a large Viewscreen sunken to the west wall and several comfortable looking sofa's lined the edges of the room. Nixos grabbed himself one of the beers Sigmund had brought with him and sat down on one of the couches.

He toyed with the beer for a moment before he spoke.
"Sigmund, I know this was supposed to be an evening when we would relax, but something came to my attention today that I think you should know." He said, sounding unconfortable for speaking matters of work at home.

He retrieved a folder from a hidden safe in one of the bookcases, and laid it on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
"Thats all the information I gathered from what now concretely has been concluded to be the main Khanate communications pipeline. They were using a website going by the name of "Chimaera Dossier". They gave subtle hints that it was only about some video game, or something to that effect. And with that disguise and the fact that it was hidden in plain sight, they were capable of dispelling any inquisitive looks by our Intelligence Communities here in the Protectorate. I was able to learn that this "Chimaera Dossier" is closely linked with Vandren Software Development Corporation. We had allready earlier found out that there were several Khanate operatives working within Vandren Corporation, and this yet gives more proof to back that up. Unfortunately, all the data I was able to gather only showed that something will happen approximately twelve past four a-m tomorrow. What that something is, I have no clue. The messages themselves on the site are really weird, all mythic and legendary sort of babble, I couldnt get heads or tails out of them. Take a look if you could figure something out that I didnt." Nixos handed the folder to Sigmund. He took a sip of the beer before he spoke again, this time with a hushed and dark tone.

"I didnt tell you all of it Sigmund, I didnt tell you how I got my hands on this. It was Stewart, my eldest son who found it out. Im not sure exactly how he did it, but he found out about it. I also got a warning some time ago, a warning that me and my family are in danger because of what Stewart had done. It seems clear that whatever that danger is, it is presented by the Khanate."

March 21st
Friday
10.04 PM
Irmansul City
TransCity Highway 7

The black van moved with a steady velocity of two hundred miles per hour on the twelve lane highway. Hundreds and thousands of other vechiles filled only a kilometer of the highway, each of them moving at roughly two hundred miles per hour. It was a massive traffic accident waiting to happen, but one which's propability of occurring was nearly non-existant. Hundreds of years of development on ground-transportation and security of ground-transportation had seen to that.

The driver of the van glanced at the hud display in his windshield. A turn signal was flashing, indicating that the driver should exit the highway in fifteen minutes and forty two seconds.

"Gear check, e.t.a to location, twenty minutes." He said to his comrades sitting in the rear compartment.

On cue, the six humans in the compartment began to check their equipment. Weapons were taken from cases and checked, headsets and belt equipment taken and checked.

The man sitting next to the driver took a quick glance to his datapad. The flashing indicator of the second van was only a kilometer behind them and keeping its location perfectly. The man took out his pistol from the holster, checking the magazine and firing mechanism for any abnormalities. He found none and placed the weapon back to the holster. He opened up an encrypted channel to the rear van.

"Bishop-three to Bishop-four. E.t.a to target twenty minutes. Commence equipment check and prepare for exit from highway."

Three clicks in quick session confirmed the message as recieved and understood. The man closed the channel and gave a quick glance to his wrist chrono. Six hours and eight minutes remained. He was the kind of man who could control his emotions perfectly, but it was difficult for him not to feel exhalted at this moment. Very soon, a decade of preparations would bear fruit. And that, would be a glorious moment indeed.

Picking up the folder, Sigmund began to read through it. Information that was in the folder was astounding; it appeared that Khanate was using complex puzzles as a means of communicating to their operative. From what Sigmund could see was that Nixos was right, according to the information something would be happening soon, but what?

He began running through some possible scenarios.

Finally after a few moments “Well I have to say that I am rather impressed in the fact that your son was able to find this. I myself would probably have passed it over at first glance.”

Finished with the file he placed back on the table. “I think your right, there is something that is going to happen tomorrow. However, I have no idea what it might be, the only thing that I can come up with is that it is another weapons shipment. If so, we should concentrate our attention to local docks.”

There was one other point that Sigmund wanted to address “I’m not all that familiar with Clairmont mythology, but do you think that Chimaera maybe of some sort of significance?”

Nixos carefully observed Sigmund's expression as he went thru the folder. And he noticed that the man had felt exactly the same as Nixos had when he had read thru all those same files.

"It is ofcourse possible that this is merely another arms shipment, and quite likely. All that I have saying otherwise is a gut feeling. And there is the fact that the "Chimaera Dossier" website does not exist any longer. Which suggests that the Khanate has entered a phase where large scale communication is no-longer necessary."

"About the mythical meaning of this stuff, well, Stewart got some of it together. For one, the logo or icon of the Khanate, the three-headed dragon refers to an old myth dating back a thousand years or so which also talks about such a dragon. The meaning of Chimaera? In our mythology, Chimaera refers to a creature which in its jealousy and displeasure of its brother, went into battle against it and killed the brother but not before the brother nearly mortally wounded the Chimaera. The children of Chimaera's brother escaped the sight of Chimaera. It took a long time for the Chimaera to heal from its wounds, but when it did, it began to seek for the children of its brother in order to kill them for they posed a threat for the Chimaera. What that means in practice and reality, I have no clue. Your guess is as good as mine." Nixos finished, and took a long gulp of the beer he held.

March 21st
Friday
10.20 PM
Irmansul City
Sachsen District

The black van broke away from the highway, and deccelerated as it entered the more confined streets of the living district. The second black van soon followed. The two vechiles navigated the streets of the district with haste, their target coming closer every second.

As they hit the assigned crossroads, the two van's pulled aside to cover to a suitable ravine that ran thru the entire length of their target lot's western border. As they stopped, the rear and side doors opened and the deadly cargo they were carrying filed out. Four people in blood red Powered Combat Armor stepped down from the second van, their heavy rifles held at the ready in their hands. Five men filed out of the first van. Instead of Combat Armor, the five had full-body Armor, faces concealed behind blood red helmets.

"Proceed as per mission parameters." One of the men in full-body armor said over a commlink and the group dispersed to three teams in silence. They climbed over the edge of the ravine to face their target. It was still a kilometer to the target, but with that was quickly crossed.

As the group began to move, one by one their armored bodies became nothing more than ghostly silhouettes, invisible in the darkness of the night.

Sigmund pondered Nixos words for a moment, more importantly about the Mythology aspect of it.

“I have a feeling that the mythology is not just coincidence” said Sigmund “We may unknowingly stumble into the middle of a gang war between two unknown factions. Both Khanate and Dedecus has done any against either government. They mat be arming themselves to fight some other faction that we haven’t discovered. Lets look at the facts, we have advanced weapon being moved between our countries, but the weapon are not being sold. We can’t trace where the weapon were made. So we now have a huge stockpile of weapons that are not being used, or sold. Add to that, that Tappee now has a major terrorist on the loss.”

This though worried Sigmund greatly “It would appear that we might be stuck in the middle of someone else war.”

Nixos thought about it. For the first time he truly began to consider what the mythology parts of the Khanate truly meant. Minutes passed, he took occasional gulps of the beer he held and opened another when the first one went out. Part connected to another, lead created a part and a corner of the puzzle began to form out. Was it possible? It was the only solution that fit the facts. But what the hell did the Khanate hope to achieve?

"Sigmund, I think I have a clue what the Khanate is going to do, im not sure if it makes any sense but by god its the only...." His words were cut off as something let out low beeps in his pocket. Nixos's expression froze and he took the device from his pocket. It was a security system indicator. And one of the warning lights was blinking rapidly.

Worry crept to his face as he grabbed a datapad and connected it to the security system surrounding the house. Camera's swept the surroundings, scanning for any signs of movement. They found nothing, but still the system told Nixos that something had set off the pressure sensors in three sides of the house. Then he remembered it, stealth field's! Those damn Khananate stealth field generators which allowed their wearer to escape visual detection.

"Sigmund, I hope you brought a gun along. Because we have guests, of the worse kind." Nixos said with a grim voice. He crept low over to one of the walls and opened a large safe. Pulling out two latest model military issue pulser pistols, and a large pulse rifle. He checked the magazines quickly altough he allways kept them loaded. He then spoke to the intercom.

"Cassandra, get the kids to the carage now. I dont have time to explain."


March 21st
Friday
10.30 PM
Irmansul City
Sachsen District

The troopers moved towards their assigned entry points. Weapons held at the ready, they swept the windows and doors of the house for any signs of their targets. Thermal scans indicated that two of the main targets were in the living room, the third was in the uppermost floor.

The team leader checked his map, his team and team two were at the rear and side entrances, team three was proceeding to the main entrance. A minute more and everyone would be in position.

Sigmund watched was as a worried expression came over Nixos face. "Sigmund, I hope you brought a gun along. Because we have guests, of the worse kind." Nixos said with a grim voice.

Even before the words had left Nixos mouth Sigmund was going for his gun. It was standard operating protocol for all agents to carry a side arm at all time. Reaching under his shirt he pulled the gun out of the holster.

It was a Mk3 Tappee Avenger Pulse Pistol, with a 20 to 25 energy clip, which all depended on the settings. With his thumb he hit a button, there was a gentle hum as the gun powered up. With his other hand he adjusted the setting, to maximum power at the shortest range.

Given the situation he assumed that they would be fighting at close range, so distance was not an issue, firepower was.

As Nixos crept towards the safe Sigmund took up a defensive position near the door. He kept his back to the wall, and turned his attention the windows. If anyone came through the door, or the windows he would be ready for them. Bring his gun up to eye level he prepared for the worst.

Nixos slammed the storm shield switch in the wall. On cue, thick plates of plasteel dropped to cover the windows. Mainly designed to protect houses from extreme storms, Nixos had re-inforced the shields, just in case. He didnt believe they would hold out for long. If the thugs outside were carrying the kind of heat he feared they were, they could blast thru the storm shields with relative haste. It appeared that they had no desire to do that.

The backyard door exploded in a cloud of splinters as the graviton burst from an Energy Gun tore it apart. From the living room entrance, there was a clear sight to the backyard door. Nixos thumbed the pulse rifle to full auto and sprayed a long burst thru the door frame. It was more of a zeroing burst than anything meant for taking out any of the assailants.

Return fire came back from the door, grav gun rounds and invisible graviton bursts shredded the living room apart. Blowing large holes to the walls, and ripping thru furniture as if it were paper.

Nixos ducked behind the corner of the living room entrance, not daring to glance again at the door. Judging how the fire had tracked him when he had moved from the cover of a couch to the corner, even in the dark these fellas could track him just fine. Which meant that they had atleast thermal detection capability.

He was about to fire again when he heard another door blown apart. The front yard main entrance was blown away in a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke. The living room was just at the opposite side of the house from the main entrance, there was no direct sight for Nixos to see what had happened. He spared a quick glance to his datapad after he keyed it to display feed from the main entrance camera's. Again, there were no shapes for him to see, but suddenly, he made out a silhouette when someone walked thru the smoke. It was a humanoid form allright, but clad in some serious suit of body armor.

He had no time to think of it more. Burst after burst of fire came thru the living room entrance, carving up the rear wall. Nixos grabbed one of the precious grenades he held in the weapons locker, he set the timer for three seconds, primed the explosive and tossed it. The grenade arced over to land at the backyard entrance. It detonated with a thunderous roar, ripping apart the wall as it went and expanding the backyard entrance to a five meter wide hole. There were no cries of pain or agony, but a quick glance told Nixos that out of nowhere, a figure in matte black body armor had appeared on the ground, missing its right leg and parts of its upper torso turned to a bloody mess.

There was no time for satisfaction. The attackers were hardly slowed down by the death of one of their comrades. And then, the situation turned to worse. The eastern entrance door blew apart as the third team of attackers made their move. With each of the entrances to the house under the control of the attackers, Nixos and Sigmund were well and truly boxed in. They couldnt get to the carage, as the team at the main entrance had the carage door blocked. Nixos checked the feed from the carage camera's, and allowed himself a brief feeling of joy as he registered Cassandra and his two younger sons waiting at his car. Stewart, was nowhere to be seen. Nixos scanned the internal sensors of the house, finding the thermal signature of his eldest son. There! At the second floor. But he could not get down, because the backyard entrance attackers could shoot him when he tried to get to the living room. Nixos would just have to keep their heads down.

"Stewart? On my mark, I want you to run thru the kitchen to the living room. We'll keep the bad guys covered for a moment." He instructed his son thru the intercom. Stewart replied with a simple click in the comm, signaling his readiness.

Nixos exchanged the clip to HEAP darts and picked up a concussion grenade from his pocket. Sigmund was ready to open fire as well.

"Now!" Nixos screamed over the intercom and at the same time tossed the concussion grenade and opened fire on full auto with his pulse rifle. High-Explosive darts and pulses from Sigmund's pulse pistol raked the backyard entrance. Another figure clad in matte black body armor became visible as the torrent of fire punctured his body armor and tore his internal organs to shreds. During the moment of confusion caused by the sensor disturbing concussion grenade and the return fire, Stewart sprinted down the stairs and thru the living room entrance. Getting down for cover.

"It seems we are well and truly screwed." Stewart exclaimed as he picked up one of the pulser pistols from the table.

Nixos couldnt think but to agree.

They were running out of options and fast. The torrent of fire thru the living room entrance was unrelenting, and even though they were putting up a good amount of return fire, their attackers had to be close by now. There was no way out.

Sigmund took a quick glance thru the door and fired a burst of three from his Avenger pistol. There was no sign that he had hit anything. Nixos had thrown his last grenade mere seconds ago. The situation was hopeless. They could try to drop the storm shields in the windows and escape thru the yard, but if they did that, they would be on open ground and easy to gun down. The only option was to get to the carage and get out of the house as fast as possible.

Another burst of fire tore thru the entrance, streams of exploding dart rounds cratering the walls and reducing whatever little was left of the furniture to shreds.

They werent getting out of here. Nixos wasnt a man fearing of death, but the impending death of his eldest son and a man who he had grown fond of as a friend filled him with endless grief. Atleast his wife and two younger sons would be safe he though as he keyed the intercom.

"Cassandra, honey, we are not getting out of here. I want you to get out of here and drive to my office as fast as you can." He said with the sorrow deep in his voice.

He knew that she would protest, and those protests came soon.
"No! I will not by god leave you and Stewart here."

It was an emotional response. Little logic or reason behind it. But love was an illogical and often unreasonable concept. Nixos felt the same, but he had been trained to do hard decisions, and right at this moment, cold logic and determination were the only things that mattered.

"You have no choice. We arent getting out of here, and whoever is attacking us must be getting to you as well. The carage entrance is thick but they will blast thru it soon and then we will all die here. I want you out of here, I want you safe. Please Cassandra, I love you, I and Stewart cant escape our fates now, but you and two of our sons will live. Now get the hell out of here before those fuckers break thru!"

There was silence over the intercom, and then Nixos could hear the carage outer doors opening.
"I love you Nixos, and I love you Stewart." She sobbed thru the link, and then it closed, leaving Nixos and Stewart to their fates.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Nixos expression was made of stone, ice cold determination filling his eyes. Then they returned fire once again.



Outside the lot on the street, the civilian car sped up as it pulled away from the underground carage to the streets of Sachsen district. Followed by cold calculating eyes, the car increased its distance separating it from the Trent residence.

The eyes followed it as the car crept closer, and the owner of those eyes recieved confirmation for his actions. The side door of the van opened up, revealing a large tripod mounted weapon that followed the movement of the civilian vechile precisely. As the car reached optimal distance, the man gave the order.

"Fire"

Hundreds of burning tracer rounds of grav gun darts tore thru the night, impacting the car and ripping thru its side as if it were made of tissue. High explosives tore the car's frame to shreds before one tracer found its mark on the fuel tank. The exploding tracer blew apart the thick hydrogen tank, and the car was enveloped in a massive fireball as the hydrogen fuel exploded.

Confirming the total elimination of the target, the man spoke quickly over the comm-link.

"Three secondary targets eliminated."



They were preparing to storm the living room. Nixos and Sigmund had both come to the same conclusion as the fire from the attackers grew more sporadic, it began to feel more of a distraction than serious attempt to kill them. The attackers had finally decided to quit playing and kill them all.

Well, atleast they would now see those bastards Nixos thought. The automatic fire supression systems had kicked in, and apparently the mixture of water and chemicals messed with the stealth field of their assailants. By the looks of it, there were atleast two in Powered Armor who had come thru the backyard door.

His thoughts were cut off as he could hear rapid foot falls, someone was running towards the living room entrance. He trained his pulse rifle at the entrance. Sigmund and Stewart followed suite, preparing to kill the first fool who came thru the door.

They never got the chance. The storm shielded window directly opposite to the living room entrance blew apart, and only a second after, a figure clad in gun-metal grey Powered Armor, similar to those used by the attackers, jumped thru the improvised entrance and opened fire with his energy gun. The attacker running towards the living room entrance was thrown back, his chest and most of the upper torso blown apart by the graviton beam weapon.

Before Nixos, Sigmund or Stewart could train their weapons on the figure, before any rationality or logical thinking could kick in, it shouted.

"Get out of here! Now! I will provide cover fire." The armor clad stranger shouted, his voice full of authority, leaving no ground for hesitation.

Nixos, Stewart and Sigmund obeyed, running towards the destroyed storm shield. They leapt out of the ruined living room to the darkness enveloping the yard outside. Another two figures clad in grey Power Armor met the three outside.

"Come on! We have thirty seconds at most before they get around and thru the house to fire on us!" One of them told the three.

About seventy meters away from them stood a blue minivan. They started into a furious sprint towards the vechile which waited there like a beacon of hope. It was ten meters away when Nixos glanced back, seeing the Power Armored man who had come thru the storm shield, fall with a huge hole in his chest. Thru the remains of the window frame leapt two figures in blood red Power Armor.

Sigmund and Stewart were allready in the van, screaming for him to come faster. Time seemed to slow down. Nixos ran with all his strength, it was only ten meters he thought, but it was like he was moving in slow motion, and the red Power Armor clad attackers were so fast. He reached the van, only two meters to go.

Something hit him from behind and he staggered forward, his momentum carrying him to the van when his legs faltered from under him. Sigmund and Stewart dragged him in and one of the Power Armored men screamed for the driver to go.

The minivan accelerated away from the yard at a rapid pace, quickly disappearing to the night and away from the effective range of the attackers.

They had made it, but Nixos wondered what had hit him. Stewart was looking down at him, tears swelling up in the corners of his eyes. Why was his son crying? Sigmund's face was one of stone, one of grief as he looked down on Nixos.

Nixos used his hand to feel for his ribs, only finding that there was a large hole where his right side ribs should have been. A grav gun round, one that had gone thru but not detonated.

He felt no pain, and he had allways been taught that that was a bad sign.

One of the power armored figures came at him, and quickly scanned his body. Taking some hypodermics from a bag and injecting him, the figure did what little it could do to help him.

Nixos was no doctor, but he knew that there was nothing that could be done for him now. His feeling for his lower body had allready disappeared. There was no pain, only growing sense of weakness, he felt tired. He was about to die. He coughed, small droplets of blood escaping his mouth as he did. He spoke, his voice rasped and tired.

"It looks like those bastards punched my ticket."

Stewart and Sigmund said nothing, only looked at him.

"Well, everybody dies and altough I would have desired to live further than mere sixty eight years, I lived a good life. And I have no regrets."

Darkness was coming at him quickly now, and Nixos understood there was not much time. His gaze bore on Sigmund, his voice both demanding and soft.

"Sigmund, I want you to head over to the InSec HQ as quickly as possible. I want you to tell them everything I told you tonight, I want you to brief them on everything that happened and allow your own instincts to guide you. We came very close to solving it all, and whatever happens tonight, it must be important for them to risk exposure by trying to wipe us out." He said, and handed the Tappee agent the folder with all the information and deductions he had made of the "Chimaera Dossier" and its links to the Khanate organization.

He coughed again and paused before speaking again.
"And I would like you to look after Stewart and my family. I dont have any real friends, and you are into this mess as much as we and know what these people are capable of."

Nixos turned his head to face Stewart.
"Stewie, Im sorry that you got into this, Im so sorry that during the last year I devoted more of my life to my work than to you and your brothers. I wish we had more time, but this is all the time I have left. I want you to live a life without regrets, without looking back. You lived thru today, and I want you to continue to live on, without risking your life foolishly as I did. I wish you will some day be a better husband and a father than I was. Take care of your mother and your brothers, they will need you now."

"I love you son." He uttered with his failing voice before his eyes closed and darkness took him.

Sigmund watched helplessly as Nixos slipped away, he had not known the man for long, but had come to respect. He had been taught never to be over come with emotion, they were dangerous. However, in the end he was still human, and wave of sadness came over him. Taking a moment he sat against the vans wall, placing his face in his hand, after a few moment he looked over Stewart.

He could see the pain in Stewart’s pain, it reminded him of his own pain. Sigmund had been to young to remember his parents, but could still feel the void in his soul that had been created by their passing.

For Stewarts sake he fought to keep his emotions it in control. In an act of kindness he reached over and he placed his hand on Stewarts shoulder. “I’m sorry Stewart” In truth he didn’t know what to say, the boy had just lost his father. “Your father was very proud of you and cared for you very much. He was truly a good man.” Sigmund decided that it would be best for the moment to give Stewart a moment alone.

Looking around the van he realized that they may not be out of the woods yet, there was still the fact of their mysterious saviours. Had it not been for the fact that they had been rescued by these people he may have mistaken them for the enemy, they had the same weapons, and same armour.

Looking down at his watch he realized the time. His thoughts drifted back to the conversation that he had with Nixos about something was going to happen at twelve past four, and it was already getting late. With the horrendous act that occurred tonight, a deep fear entered Sigmund mind, he now thought that if he did not act quickly then there would be more that would suffer the same fate as Nixos.

Quickly he made his way to the front of the van “Who’s in charge here?”

Stewart said nothing as Sigmund offered his words to soothe his grief. He blamed himself. If he hadnt put his nose where it didnt belong, perhaps his father would still be alive. It was all his fault.

There was nothing he wanted to say, nothing he could say. He sat there at the back of the van, staring at his father.


As Sigmund questioned for the leader of the Power Armored saviors, the one seating at the seat next to the driver replied while he took off his helmet. His face was just like any normal man at his mid forties might have. A completely unconspicious face, one not to attract too much attention, one that could be forgotten quickly.

"I am." He replied to Sigmund.

"I know you must have a truckload of questions, unfortunately the tale is longer than no one could hope to explain in the span of few minutes. But one thing I will assure you, we are on the same side. Now it is increasingly imperative that we get you two to safety, and when the time is right, I will answer all your questions."

Sigmund glanced back at Nixos lifeless body and remembered the dying mans last request looking down at his watch he realized that there was not much time left, it was getting late and if he and Nixos was right then something bad was going to happen soon.

“It is of the up most importance that I get into contact with InSec headquarters, if I don’t then what happened here tonight might start happening all over the place.”

The man nodded in agreement to Sigmund's deduction. Not that this was new information for the him. As far as he was aware, his organization had so far much more intel on the course of events to follow than InSec or Sigmund. Though he found it curious how the agent had reached the right conclusion with so little to base it on.

"You are correct Mr. Xavier. This was but a tip of the iceberg. Altough the attack against you came before the deadline, the organization you know as the "Khanate" is indeed intending to commence a large scale assassination operation, which however is still only a fragment of the true scale of their impending acts."

The minivan plunged deeper to the depths of Irmansul city. As they proceeded deeper and deeper to the core of the city, the buildings grew in height and the amount of traffic increased ten fold. Even at night the city buzzled with activity as if it were a hive of ants. Millions of people, going about their business. Finding less than a dozen people in here was a feat requiring a miracle, but there were ways, and the eyes that followed the minivan closely as it moved on the small screen of the datapad, had found them easilly.

March 22nd
Saturday
00.20 AM
Irmansul City
District 3
Irmansul City AirTrans Corp.

The roof of the skyscraper was brightly illuminated as an aerial vechile after another took off or landed. Over a dozen landing platforms covered the roof, each of them not remaining vacant longer than a few minutes at most at a time. Usually the different shuttles, dropships and air trolleys did not remain at their platforms for longer than fifteen minutes, with the exception of a single small inter-athmospheric shuttle at a far end of the roof. Slated for being down for a hardware failure, the crew of the shuttle knew however that their transport was ready to leave the moment the time came.

These people are so gullible. The pilot of the shuttle thought as he watched the activity outside the cockpit window.

Back home, such an easy lie would not have gone thru. Back home, we would have been shot by now. But here, these idiots can be made to accept practically anything even remotely plausible. The man mused as he recalled how easilly all had proceeded to this point. How easilly the air watch crew of the night shift had accepted their explanation for engine trouble.

He glanced the screen displaying image from the cargo hold. Seventy two men and women stood or seated there, either checking different kinds of armaments or their powered armor. Some were asleep. None of them showed any indication that they were bored, or not ready to act within a moments notice. The pilot of the shuttle knew that, even though it was still four hours before they could commence the operation.

He checked the IFF transponder for the tenth time. It was the critical piece of the puzzle if their part of the grand project were to succeed today. If it became un-operative, they would be shot out of the sky in extremely quick succession. The pilot was certain it would not come to that, but that certainty only came from making sure that the device worked properly. He went over the checklist methodically, inspecting the status of the engines, power core and the concealed weapons systems. All showed green. Satisifed for the results, he returned to gazing out of the window, until he would go thru the checklist again in half an hour.

Sigmund didn’t like this situation in the least, it was obvious that their saviour knew more about the situation then he did, and that was not something that he was comfortable with. His mind flashed back to the conversation that he had with Nixos, about the mythology, and the possibility of two groups that were fighting each other. Looking around the van and seeing the same weapons and power armour as their attacker, Sigmund couldn’t help but think that this was the other group.

Glancing back he saw Stewart sitting there, alone to his pain. “Just let me now when we are about to arrive at InSec.” Said Sigmund to the man sitting in the passenger seat.

He turned and made his way to the back of the van taking a seat beside Stewart “How are you holding up?”

"No problem Mr. Xavier, in fact, we are there in about twenty-five minutes. I just hope that your temprorary security clearance there can get us thru the checkpoints quickly, time is of the essence and at the moment we have very little of it."

The minivan took a turn to one of the main roads of the nexus of Irmansul city that lined the areas between the massive skyscrapers. Towering many others stood the InSec HQ tower, its kilometer high frame silhouetted against the pale moonlight. At quick glance it might have seemed that a trip there with a car could have been done from their present position in a few minutes, but the size of the building easilly fooled people, and the traffic intensity did not make things better.

As Sigmund questioned Stewart for his condition, he remained silent. He could not find the words to describe what he felt. He wanted to vent the anger on someone, on something, the moment of desbelief and sorrow was quickly fading away to the background, to be replaced by anger, and pure hatred. He replied in a hushed tone after a moment of silence.

"Im feeling like shit Sigmund. How would you feel? But I guess I will be better later, when those motherless bastards who did this are shot, or blown up, or burned. Whatever the most painfull way to go. I goddamn want them dead Sigmund, all of them. Every single one of them who is responsible for this."

Twenty-six minutes later ,the minivan took the ramp leading to the parking hall of the building. The man who had spoken to Sigmund now turned on to him.
"We're here." He said simply.

Only a mere moment after the minivan had gotten to the parking hall, they reached the first check point. The guard allowed only a fraction of a second of hesitation pass thru him before he pressed the silent alarm, seeing the driver and several of the man in the van suited in the unknown suits of power armor. In seconds, the van was surrounded by troopers in Powered Armor with the InSec insignia.

"Identify yourself, you are unauthorized here." The officer at the checkpoint stated plainly.


March 22nd
Saturday
01.00 AM
Irmansul City
District 3
Irmansul City AirTrans Corp.

The comms system of the shuttle rang with a hushy tone, indicating an incoming signal. The pilot accepted the signal and checked the encryption for any anomalies. Intel had assured that the Intelligence Agencies of this nation could not break their encryption and emulate them before it was too late, but it never cost anything to be sure. The encryption checked out 100% and he opened the channel.

"Hammer-Two." He answered plainly.

"Hammer-two, Chimaera-actual. Addition to mission parameters, additional targets have entered the target area. Elimination of these targets is an extreme priority. Target data following. Confirm Hammer-Two." The voice at the other end of the line spoke with a command voice.

The pilot checked the data that streamed thru the datalink to the shuttle's computer.
"Hammer-two copies. Mission parameters updated and understood."

"Good hunting Hammer-two, Chimaera-actual out."

The pilot closed the comm link. He didnt like changes to plans, especially at this late hour. The plan was going to be set into motion in less than three hours, and any changes to the plan were hard to devise with so little time at hand. But it wasnt as much of a problem as he had first thought. The targets would be in the higher levels of the building in any case, large changes to the previous plan were not necessary.

He sent the data to the man leading the strike team, who proceeded to revise the plan at the utmost haste.

Not having any real parenting experience Sigmund was at a loss on what to say to the young man, after all he had never known his parents. It was that thought that gave him some guidance. “Stewart I never knew my parents, they died when I was to young to remember, at least you knew your father.” There was an awkward silence between the two “Trust me when I say this, I will make sure that the time for retribution will come.”

After some time Sigmund noticed that the van was beginning to slow down, they were finally arriving at their destination, moving to the front he flashed his pass to the guard “Agent Sigmund Xavier, Tappee Intelligence.” Explained Sigmund “I must speak with Motoko Kusanagi, it is of the up most importance.”

Time was not their side, what was needed was action, Sigmund hoped he could reach Kusanagi in time.

March 22nd
Saturday
01.05 AM
Irmansul City
Centrum
InSec HQ

The guard took a close look at the security pass that Sigmund showed him. Running it thru the scanner, it gave an all green, indicating that the pass was real. That however did not solve the entirety of the problem. Sigmund was indeed authorized, but his fellows were not. The guard went to the intercom and called to the upper floors for instructions. Minutes passed as the guard conversed with his superiors. Then, he emerged from the guard room and motioned the occupants of the minivan to exit it promptly.

"We will escort you up Mr. Xavier, your fellows are allowed to come as well however leave your weapons right here or there will be problems."

Seven guards of which four were in Powered Armor, formed a ring around the group, and escorted them to the elevator that would take them to the lower levels above the carage. Despite the guard's promise for an escort to the upper levels, the trip took a long while. At every single checkpoint, the group was halted and examined again, and progress communications were sent to the upper level. Dozens of security cameras and dozens of pairs of eyes kept close watch on the proceedings of the group, ready to cut them apart at a moments notice if a false move was made.

It took them nearly hour and a half to get to the 432nd floor, the main nexus floor for the Office of Internal Security Headquarters. By this time, the guard group around Sigmund, Stewart and their Armored saviors had increased to fifteen people, all heavully armed and ready to act.

They arrived to the main lobby of the floor. And Kusanagi was allready there, racing to meet them, curiosity and worry apparent in her expression but amongs those was anger.

"Sigmund, what the hell is going on? I got a word at thirty past midnight that Nixos's house is totaled and you were nowhere to be seen. Then you show up, with these men in what most definately is Khanate issue power armor, except for the different colour and Nixos dead in the back of your damn ride. I want some goddamn explanations Sigmund, and I want them right now."

There was so much that had happened in such a short period of time, Sigmund had troubles find a spot to begin.

“Well Nixos had invited me over to dinner, after he showed me some information that he had recovered.” Explained Sigmund “Nixos oldest son had some how stumble Khanate’s information pipeline. They were using a web page disguised as a video game promotion to openly transmit message. Basically on the site, they would have a complex puzzle for the public to solve, but the puzzles where actually messages. From what Nixos and myself could tell, there was something major going to happen tonight at twelve past four tonight. Our initial thought was that it was referring to another weapon shipment.

However, upon looking more closely at the web page, we found more. The web page was called the ‘Chimaera Dossier’. Which links it to Khanate’s icon, so we looked more closely at the mythology behind it. To put it simply the Chimaera is betrayed by it brother, who it kills but is wounded. When the Chimaera heals from it wound to goes after its brother’s children, as the Chimaera sees them as a threat.

At first we thought that we had stumbled into the middle of a gang war, but the attack on the house make me think that there is more here then what we thought.

We were in the middle of discussing this when the house was attacked. Something set off the houses security sensors, but we could pick up anything visually, they were using stealth suit. When the attack did occur it was oblivious that they were using weapons that were similar to the ones that we had obtained in our raids. Nixos was able to get his wife and kids into the Garage and out of the house, but before we could escape they were able to pin us down.

We thought we were done before, but then these people here came in and got us out. Unfortunately during our escape Nixos took a Grav dart to the chest, there wasn’t much we could do.”

Sigmund though of Stewart for a moment “Seeing his father murder in front of him has been very hard on the young man. We should get Stewart reunited with the rest of his family.”

Kusanagi listened patiently to what Sigmund had to say. About the "Chimaera Dossier", she allready knew for Nixos had transferred his findings to her before he left work, she hadnt known where the information had come from though, and the fact that Nixos' eldest son had discovered it was quite astounding.

"Allright. I know about this 'Chimaera Dossier'. And it was allways a possibility that the Khanate would start hitting us if we came too close, it appears you three did. And it seems that whatever is about to happen, its something very big."

While the two talked, the leader of the men in Grey Power Armor was beginning to grow increasingly annoyed. He knew that there was extremely little time and if they did not act very very quickly, it would all be for nothing.

"Please, there is little time. We must tell you what we know immidietly, so that actions can be taken before its too late. We have answers for your questions, we need a briefing room and quickly." He spoke with urgency in his voice.

Stewart looked around the hall, trying to find the rest of his family. They had left the house two hours ago, they should have been here by now. He pushed thru the group to face Major Kusanagi.

"Where is the rest of my family? They were supposed to come directly to this place."

Puzzlement appeared on the Major's face at the announcement of this.

"They havent arrived, atleast I have no word for it. I will order a lookout for them immidietly." She promised with a calm and assuring voice.

Stewart did not thank her, just nodded in acknowledgement and returned to look around the hall. Kusanagi turned back to gaze at the leader of the unknown soldiers, and motioned towards one of the corridors leaving the main hall.

"We will take Briefing #1, it is empty at the moment and has the best security systems." She lead the way out of the hall, towing Sigmund's group behind her with the InSec guards still keeping close watch of these un-invited guests to their main sanctum.


The briefing room smelled sterile and damp. The air was dry and crisp as the powerfull ventilation systems cycled the air in and out of the room at rapid pace. The room was dominated by a large table, surrounded by a dozen comfortable looking chairs. In the middle of the large table was a metallic object with a lens in the middle of it. A holoprojector.

The saviors of Sigmund and Stewart had had to surrender their power armour before being allowed to proceed any further. Irritation was apparent on their faces as valuable time was wasted on such a trivial matter. But the InSec guards were adamant on the matter.

The group took their seats around the table. Only two InSec guards came inside the briefing room. The rest had to have been dismissed due to their inadequate security rating. The leader of the unknown group glanced at his wrist chrono. The time was allready three am, there was so little time.

As the leader attempted to start the conversation, Kusanagi rudely stopped him and spoke.
"If you dont mind, I will ask the questions along with Sigmund. Because of the time, we must solve the unsolved puzzles first."

The team leader nearly yelled at the woman for this. But he understood her. The Office of Internal security was largely clueless to the truth, so it was merely natural that the woman wanted answer to her questions first, and he also had promised to answer any questions Sigmund might have.

Kusanagi's gaze bore on to the team leader as if it were a laser, but he did not even flinch. He had nothing to fear, and during the years he had had to develop integrity unattainable to many.

"Firstly, who are you?" The woman asked.

"My name is Arado Jericho. And our group is called the 'Archangels of the loyal'."

Kusanagi listened to the reply. Her impression remaining transfixed. The name sounded odd. She couldnt make any connections out of it and the man's name told her nothing either. Ofcourse, it was possible and even likely that it was not this man's real name. But she accepted it at face value.

"Why did you rescue Nixos Trent, Sigmund Xavier and Stewart Trent?"

"Their survival is crucial to the revelation of the truth. Without them, there would be no one of the Protectorate Ingelligence Agencies who would have any idea of the real motives of the Organization called The Khanate." The man replied calmly and plainly.

Kusanagi thought of this for a moment. It was true that those three had come closer to blowing the entire Khanate case wide open than anyone else. But what were these real motives the man spoke of? She calmed herself in the inside, she would come to ask that question yet.

"What is the Khanate?"

The man took a moment to ponder a good answer to the question.
"The Khanate is a cover organization, used to mask another organization in its shadow. It is not a criminal organization in the traditional sense due to the fact that they have no cash income in any form. They merely stockpile arms and prepare to the execution of their final plan."

Kusanagi nodded in understanding of the reply, though she was not certain she believed the entirety of it. It did not make much sense, but so little in the Khanate held much sense. She turned her gaze to Sigmund.

"Sigmund, if you have questions, ask them now."

And the time moved on. The wall chrono at the briefing room turned to display 03.13.

March 22nd
Saturday
03.20 AM
Irmansul City
District 3
Irmansul City AirTrans Corp.

The shuttle took of from its designated platform gracefully as its thrusters lifted it up to the air and in to the thick air traffic at the lower skies of Irmansul city. It swept to its assigned outbound flight path and settled in on the course that would take it to the heart of the city. Speed limits were strictly enforced at the skies of large cities such as Irmansul. Hundreds of air vechiles filled the sky even at night, and the higher the velocities went, the more likely it was that a catastrophic collision would occur. In a city as densely populated as Irmansul, two shuttles colliding at the sky and crashing down on the city would be disastrous. As it was, the travel times were much longer than they would have been if they had been travelling at full speed, but the pilot of the shuttle was not concerned. The plans had taken everything into account. They would arrive at the roof landing platform of their target at precisely zero-three forty-five. It would take them ten minutes to get into positions, and then after five minutes the strike would commence.

He glanced to the monitor displaying the cargo hold. All of the troops he carried had allready suited up to their Armored Battledresses and Combat Armor's, and they clutched their weapons ready across their laps. They were ready to kill.

The pilot glanced at the e.t.a indicator. And adjusted the course a bit. At the distance, he could see the buildings growing taller the further the shuttle proceeded towards the core of the city. And amidst those buildings was one in particular, a kilometer in height, with security and defenses that could give a division a reason to sweat, the Headquarters of the Office of Internal Security.

Listening to Arado Jericho’s words Sigmund started to try and connect the pieces. From the conclusions that we was drawing he was starting to get worried, right away two questions came to mind.

“Well to start I have few questions” quietly responded Sigmund. “First being, how does Khanate and Dedecus tie together? Also what is their final plan, is that we they are going to commence at twelve past four?”

Jericho pondered for a moment how to correctly assess the answer to Sigmund and then replied.
"The Dedecus and the Khanate are practically the one and the same. The Dedecus is merely the Tappee-bound wing of the same shadow organization, created by the same people, driving the same primary goals." He kept a slight pause, allowing his words to sink in before he continued to reply to the second questions.

"As to what is their final plan, the entirety of it is unknown to us. Their level of security keeping the final plan a secret is so intensive that despite five years of infiltration attempts, we have been un-succesfull. However, the information that we have gathered, suggests that their final plan is to weaken the Star Protectorate of Clairmont, both internationally and nationally. How they are going to achieve this, we are not certain. Twelve past four the final phase of their operation will commence. According to what we know, this will be a massive operation aimed both to disorganize, distort and harm the Protectorate from the inside. At the same time, the Dedecus will commence a similarily styled operation in Tappee, its goal to do the same to you." He stated plainly, his tone unflinching and his gaze deadly serious.

Sigmunds jaw almost dropped to the floor upon hearing the news. Quickly he glanced over at the clock, he swore under his breath when he realized how much time they had left. In a bit of a panic he turned to Kusanagi, "I need to get ahold of my government right away"

The major complied immidietly, opening up a panel in her place at the desk, attempting to create an outbound communications channel. Her face twisted a bit after a minute of attempts bearing no fruit.

"I am unable to form a connection with any of our comms satellites used to relay such transmissions. From the looks of it, its not a hardware problem." She stated in puzzlement.

Jericho nodded in agreement, for he knew allready what it was about, and worry crept to him as he guessed what was going to happen soon.
"Your communications are being jammed. Most likely by jamming devices within this very building. I have studied your comms systems, and that is the only logical answer."

Kusanagi stopped her attempts in frustration and called for one of the guards at the door.
"Corporal Bishen, I want you to get to central immidietly and find out what is the problem with our satellite relay connections. Double time!"

The young man complied, saluting his superior before leaving the room. Kusanagi turned to face Sigmund again, her frustration apparent in her voice and expression.
"Without our satellite uplink, there is no way we can contact Tappee. "

Behind her, the wall chrono turned to display 03. 45. Minutes passed faster and faster, and it seemed that there would not be enough time to prevent whatever the Khanate was intending.

Jericho consulted a datapad he pulled from a pocket of his jacket, comparing some of the information he knew to what had been made available for them to study in this briefing. Pieces locked together. He had found the man they needed to slow down or possibly even stop whatever the Khanate was planning. He spoke to the rest of them in haste.

"Major Kusanagi. According to your intelligence reports, you learned that the Vandren Software Development corporation has several Khanate operatives working beneath its roof? And the origin of their communications pipeline, the "Chimaera Dossier" is in Vandren Corporation? Then I believe I know who is the Overseer of Khanate operations when I added that to what little we knew of the man. He is known as Hector O'Reilly, Head of the Development board of Vandren corporation. If we are to learn the details of their plan, and hope to put a stop to it, we have to capture him." He handed Kusanagi the datapad with the files he had been studying, and waited for a moment for the woman to make the same connections he had. She laid down the datapad and spoke.

"I agree, due to the nature of this incident, we cant go thru proper channels, we have to act immidiately, and commence a raid of the Vandren Corporation facilities. The problem is that their Headquarters is in Geminon City. Minimum flight time to there is half an hour, we'll never make it there in time." She said.

Jericho nodded and responded.
"No, we will not. But we will have a much better chance to stop them than we would have at our current situation."

Kusanagi thought of it. She knew the man was right. They still did not know anything of what the Final Plan of the Khanate contained, and they needed to learn times, places and names in order to do anything. She opened up an intercom channel. The intercoms worked thru hardlines, and as such they could not be jammed.

"This is Kusanagi. I want a single Intervention Platoon prepped and ready to depart at platform eight in fifteen minutes. Ready a minimum time flight plan to Geminon City." She did not wait for an acknowledgement. She knew her orders would be complied, and that the team and their ride would be ready by the time it needed to be.


March 22nd
Saturday
03.52 AM
Irmansul City
Centrum
InSec HQ

The shuttle had touched down a few minutes ago and allready the troopers it had carried had discorged and all of them had activated their stealth fields to eliminate the possibility of visual detection. They would get to their entry points, but once they got thru the first checkpoints, they could be detected, stealth fields or no. The Headquarters had impressive internal sensor arrays.

But that was irrelevant. Altough the attackers were outnumbered by fifteen to one, even at night shift being in effect in the HQ, they would have both superior weaponry and supprise at their side. The HQ had several impressive armories, filled to the brim with armaments and Battle Armor to supply a single heavy assault company of Fleet Marines. However, those weapons would not be available to the Internal Security Troopers they would face.

The strike commander took a glance to his chrono superimposed at the upper right corner of his helmet hud. Not all of his teams had arrived to their pre-arranged strike points yet. But there was still time.

The comms unit chirped once, indicating an incoming signal which he accepted, though comms silence had been pointed to be crucial. If someone saw the need to comm him, he knew it was important.

"Tyrion-Actual. Go ahead."

The voice that came thru was from the Intelligence Officer attached to one of his platoons. A young and extremely competent woman who had proven her worth time and again in their operation.

"Tyrion-Four-Niner. Overseer has been discovered. Strike planned with main targets possibly about to leave target."

The strike commander thought of this. So, they finally found the Overseer. And some of our priority targets are about to leave, this changes things. His training spoke against it, but it had to be done. They had to strike sooner than the plan dictated.

He switched to open comm throughout the entire strike unit and spoke quickly, while calculating the factors involved.

"Tyrion-Actual to all Tyrion strike units. Commence breakthrough in three minutes."

He was granting just enough time for every team to get into position, but no time for extra preparations. He waited exactly three minutes, and then he sent the detonation command thru his communications unit.

For the first time since all this had began Sigmund found himself in a position where he was no longer in control. Time was not there ally, and now there was no way that he could Tappee of the impending danger. If he was right and Dedecus did have something to do with Phobo escape, it was possible that he was part of their final plan. The loss of communication could only two things, either they had someone on the inside, our they where jamming communications at a location nearby, both caused him to worry a bit.

He turned to Kusanagi “With the disruption of communication, it could mean that they have someone with in InSec.” Said Sigmund calmly “Furthermore, if they are now jamming our communications then it would indicate, at least to me, that they know we are aware of their existence. Which in theory would make us a threat, and from what we have seen so far, we know how Khanate deals with perceived threats”

It was a practical impossibility to smuggle explosive devices to the Headquarters of the Office of Internal Security. The security scans recognized any operating explosive device before they would get any deeper into the building than the cargo unloading docks. The Khanate solution to that had required technology that the Protectorate had not accounted for. Amongst an earlier delivery of computer components, there had been several small pieces of explosive in several of the computer components. They were inert. Odorless, and invisible to the security scanners the InSec had, they had gone thru the security checks without a hitch. Each of those parts had ended up in different portions of the building. Some had gone to the power room, where the building was tapped to the main power grid of Irmansul city. Some had gone to several of the armories within the building, some had gone to security posts. All around the building there were explosives, and the detonation command sent by the Strike Commander thru subspace communications suite, detonated them all.

Explosions tore thru the building. The main power room exploded, cutting the building from the main power grid of the city. The main armory detonated as the computer component that had been replaced to the rooms door control blew. Security posts vanished. Offices turned to rubble and flames. All around destruction went un-checked as the destructive charges blew.

The Strike Commander waited for a few seconds after the detonations had all subsided before ordering his forces to proceed. Entrances were detonated and checkpoints torn apart as the troops struck to the Headquarter building.

The Strike Commander checked his holomap for confirmation. They were in the 455th floor, and they had to go down to reach the main hub of the Headquarters in order to wipe out the data storages and labs, as well as the higher echelons of InSec. He squeezed the trigger of his Energy Gun reflexively, blowing apart two InSec security troopers across the hall.



Kusanagi was about to reply to Sigmund when the building rumbled and seemed to shook. The lights went out for a moment to come back after a few seconds as backup power generators kicked in. Red warning lights went on, indicating that the building had been cut from the main power supply.

"What the hell?" Kusanagi exclaimed and called for Security Central. After calling for the center to reply for a minute, she shut off the comms link.

"Internal comms are down. Whatever this is, those were explosions, and could only have been resulted from explosive devices that had been smuggled in."

Arado Jericho stood up from his place with his two fellows following suite. He spoke urgently to Kusanagi, his voice grim and urging.
"It is the Khanate. Only they could achieve something such as this. We need to get out of here, their main targets might not be us, but we cannot risk it."

Kusanagi considered the options. They were bound to attack the Vandren Corp. HQ soon in any case, it would not matter if they took the security precaution and lifted off early. She nodded, and stood up and began to head for the door.
"I agree. Sigmund, I cant order you to come with us but under the circumstances, it would be the best if you did." She said to the Tappee agent before turning to face the remaining InSec guard in the room.
"I want you to bring Stewart Trent here immidietly, he is still in the hall."

The guard complied, and took off jogging to the direction of the hall to return in a few minutes with the puzzled Stewart in tow. Kusanagi nodded in satisfaction and spoke to the group.
"Allright, we will head to Aerial Platform three where our raid team for Vandren HQ is waiting. It is possible that there are hostiles within the building, there are yet no signs of it but it is highly likely. As such, I want everyone to be ready for action if it comes to it."

They headed off to the direction of the main lift shaft. The corridors were devoid of their regular lighting. Instead, red warning lights in the roof casted their blood red light to the corridors, giving them an eery feel. There werent many people in sight. At night, the Headquarters was running at skeleton crew, but even during nights there were thousands of people in the building.
Where is everybody?. Kusanagi thought as they encountered no-one on their way to the lifts. She attempted to call for a lift to the upper floors, but the command pad gave no reply whatsoever. Either they had been cut of power, or otherwise sabotaged.

They would have to take the stairs. She told the bad news to the group and lead them off to the emergency stairwell access at the same floor, and still they encountered no-one.

They began their ascent towards the 456th floor. Everyone kept pace well as they ascended the stairs at rapid pace. As they came to the 442nd floor, Kusanagi called a halt at the point.

The body of an InSec security trooper lay sprawled in the corner, most of its chest blown away, entrails and blood covering the floor. The wound was much too large to have been made with a Pulser type weapon, and the marks suggested it was a Khanate Energy Gun. Kusanagi was certain of that when Jericho confirmed her suspicisions.

"They are here allright. We better keep going." She said, and continued on.



The Strike Commander and his squad bursted thru the entrance. Defensive fire came at them as pulse rifles, grenade launchers and a heavy Tri-Barrel opened fire. One of his men fell immidietly, the large rounds of the tri-barrel sawing him apart from the midriff.

He ordered the squad to return fire. Grav Guns and Energy Guns snarled back, tracer darts and invisible graviton beams stripping the defenders of their cover and blowing apart any of them unfortunate enough to be in the path of the fire.

Another of the squad went down as the tri-barrel again found its mark. The strike commander did not worry, the other squad was merely late. It was possible he could die here, but he doubted it.

His doubts recieved a confirmation when the InSec defensive position blew apart from a well placed grenade. The other squad had come thru. He signaled the squad leader who had saved him, reprimanding him for being late. The man at the other end of the line apologized, and assigned himself thirty days of tactical study as penalty.

The route was clear now to the main data storage and processing. The two squads proceeded hastily to the large space. None of the computer parts from the shipment containing the explosives had come here, and as such it had to be destroyed differently. Energy Gun fire and explosive darts blew apart data storage banks, computers and anything worth shooting in the room. In minutes, the entire storage had been wiped out. But that would not ensure the goal. As a final touch, the tech specialist at the commanders squad inserted multiple algorithms to the internal network of the Headquarters that would methodically go thru the databases, purging them completely. The commander doubted that the algorithms would get everything, but they would get the important pieces.

He called for a status report via his subspace comms. All but two squads replied to the call, and it appeared all mission objectives had been met before the squad at the other end of the 432nd floor reported that the primary targets had escaped.

The Strike Commander knew where they had gone as he remembered the order he had intercepted from Major Kusanagi. They were going to flee via the shuttle they had prepared for the raid to to the Overseer's location. Without hesitation, he ordered two of the closest squads to cut them off in the first possible location. The lifts were out, so the targets had to be traversing on foot via the emergency stairwell


"Take cover!" Kusanagi scremead as she detected the signs of ambush aheead. Without warning, grav gun rounds began to rain down, exploding against the walls. She cursed. They did not have time for this. If they were not at that platform soon, the raiding force would leave without them for she had no way to contact them.

They had come close. They were now in the 453rd floor, with only two floors separating them from their goal. She considered her options while returning fire with short bursts from her pulser. They had to take them down somehow, but at such thight quarters, their options were heavully limited.

She clipped off two grenades from her belt and set the detonators for four seconds. She tossed them precisely, and they flew well and true within a meter from the enemy position. Blinding light and searing sound were the result as the disturbance grenades overloaded the sensory systems of their assailants BDU's and Combat Armor for a moment. Kusanagi signaled the three 'Archangels of the Loyal' as well as Sigmund to come with her. They leapt over stairs, closing with the enemy position. As they took the turn at the next stairwell level, they saw their enemy, still disoriented and confused because of the grenades. She had no intention of giving them a chance to clear it off. She charged them, her pulser releasing a short burst directly to the face of one of the enemies in Armored BDU. The darts punched thru the face plate, and tore the man's head apart. Sigmund's Avenger Pistol clipped one man's knee, cutting his leg in two. The three Archangel's handled two of the assailants, Kusanagi finished the last two with a concentrated pulser burst and a thrust with her monomolecular knife thru the others' eye socket.

She gave only a cursory glance to the bodies before she yelled Stewart to come up to them. She liberated one of the fallen Khanate soldiers from his Energy Gun, and told the others to take what heavy weapons they could from them. They could still need the firepower.

They proceeded on, and their trip to the 456th floor was un-interrupted from now on. The floor was ghostly silent. Dead bodies of Internal Security troopers and clerks laid all over the place, slaughtered without mercy. They didnt have much time. She lead them to the door that opened up to the platform where their ride awaited. As they came to the door, fire slashed at them from behind. Tracer rounds came at them as they sprinted thru the double doors.

The night sky opened up above them and around them glew Irmansul city. At the platform extruding from the side of the InSec HQ Tower stood the Storm Hawk-class Light Dropship. Its engines were allready humming as the pilot prepared for take-off.

Kusanagi waved her hands at them frantically, hoping against hope that they could see her and her group. For a moment, she thought they would not, but then the rear loading ramp of the dropship dropped, and two men in black InSec Annihilator Power Armor came out.

Kusanagi yelled at them over the growing scream of the turbines of the dropship.
"Wait! We are coming along, and we have pursuit!" The other power armored man glanced back at the platform entrance, and now saw the figures coming thru it. As on cue, the under-cockpit turret of the dropship traversed to point at the door, its double tri-barrels rolled up to speed and opened fire. It was an anti-light armor weapon, what it did to the Khanate troopers in their power armor and BDU's was indiscribable. Four of them went down in seconds, and the remaining ones pulled back, either not insane enough or stupid enough to follow thru their charge. Kusanagi boarded the dropship as last, with Stewart, Sigmund and the Archangels going in first.

The Lieutenant in command of the raiding platoon spoke to her from across the passenger hold as the dropship took off from the platform and settled on its course towards Geminon city.
"What the hell is going on Major? From what we gathered, the HQ is under attack! Shouldnt we go back to assist?"

The major replied hastily to the man, understanding his feelings perfectly.
"No! Your thirty men would not do much difference, our current priority is to raid the Vandren Corp HQ. , it is absolutely critical that we catch the Khanate main man."

The Lieutenant only nodded. Kusanagi was not certain if the man agreed with her, but that did not matter as long as he would follow orders. She glanced at her chrono, now displaying the time as 04.05. Worry crept to her. Whatever the Khanate was about to do, she only hoped that by cutting off their head and with any luck gaining some information from the Vandren HQ., they could stop them. But she was not all too certain. And for the first time she truly felt that the grand picture of it all was something much more dreadfull than she had first believed.


The strike commander watched the sky in disappointment. The primary targets had escaped, and were now en-route to Geminon city. They could not warn the Overseer due to the low maximum range of their subspace comm units, and because the jamming devices had not yet been dis-engaged. He did not believe that the InSec platoon and the Section Nine Major would catch the Overseer, but it was possible. He dispelled his worries. It was not truly all that relevant any longer. Only five minutes remained before the final phase was commenced, and twenty-seven minutes after the final phase commenced, it would be too late.

Nevertheless, his training dictated to him that he would have to make certain that those targets would not pose any kind of threat to the plan. He called one of the teams over at the landing platform in District Three, instructing them that if the target dropship came back to their airspace, they were to take pursuit and shoot it down. Acknowledgement came back thru the link and the strike commander closed it.

He signaled his remaining thirty men to head back to the shuttle and depart. There was still work to be done.

Sigmund took a seat, and took a moment to catch his breath. He was no stranger to death; he had almost lost his life on a number of occasions, but never so many times in a single day. It seemed that at every turn, the danger kept getting worse, now they where on their way to try and capture the Overlord. A glance down at his pistol reminded him that he was running low on munitions, but that would an issue best addressed at a later time.

He glanced over at Stewart, the young man seemed out of place among this chaos. He was young, and seemed so young. However, it only reminded Sigmund how young he actually was when he first took a life, but all that seemed like a lifetime ago.

Thinking it best to distract Stewart from everything that was going Sigmund got up from his seat and made his way over, taking the empty seat next the young man. “Earlier you mentioned that you wanted to take revenge on those who took your father life, and you seem to have your father wit. So I was wondering if you could help me with something that has been bothering me since my conversation with your father.”

He paused for a moment to allow for Stewart to consider his proposal, but continued before Stewart had time to react. “I can’t shake this feeling that the mythology around the ‘Chimaera’ is not just coincidence, that it has some relevance to all this. So if I could better understand the mythology, then perhaps I could better understand Khanate. Were your father and I had last left off he was telling how that the ‘Chimaera’ went to battle with its brother because he was jealous and displeased with it brother, but he never told me why the ‘Chimaera’ felt this way about it’s brother. I was wondering if you could tell me anything?”

March 22nd
Saturday
04.10 AM
Protectorate Airspace
Aerospace Patrol Sector 7
At altitude of 36,000 ft.

The journey towards Geminon city went by quickly as the Storm Hawk dropship rushed towards its goal at a velocity of over six times the speed of sound. The sense of speed on the inside was not easy to feel however, and only during accelerations and deccelerations it was possible to really gain a feel of the true speed of the vessel. But, despite its awesome speed, Major Kusanagi could not dispell her feelings that they would be at their destination too late. She felt no optimism, only determination and desperate stubborness. She would do everything in her power, even if it was not enough.


At a normal occasion, Stewart would have been investigating the dropship and perhaps questioning the InSec troopers due to his curiosity in anything related to military, but this was everything else but a normal occasion and he could not find the slightest sense of interest towards much anything anymore. After the initial shock had passed, a deep grief and sorrow now inhabited him, and much of the cheerfull optimism he once had had was gone. But there was also something else. Desire for vengeance, anger and hate. Those feelings were strong on his being now, and his desire to lash out at those responsible grew by every passing hour. It did not help that he still had not heard of his mother and two brothers. Major Kusanagi had ordered a look-out for them, but they had not been in the Headquarters, and so far nothing had been heard of them, and as such, Stewart was deeply worried.

He sensed Sigmund leaving his seat and dropping on the seat next to him. He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye before succumbing back to his thoughts. But Sigmund's words interrupted his course of thought, and returned him to a subject that he was most interested of at the moment, vengeance.

He listened to what Sigmund had to say, and was pleased that the question was one he could reply. Stewart had studied the ancient mythologies a fair bit, part for the reason that many doctors and professors had lectured on the subject of the irregularity and supprising consistencies of those myths, which was unusual for myths in general. Stewart sought the information Sigmund needed from the corners of his brain and spoke.

"Well, the mythology describes that the Chimaera felt this jealosy and displeasure were the product of the elder brother's decisions. You see, at first the two brothers lived in harmony. They were powerfull and kept mostly to themselves. In time however, Chimaera began to more fully comprehend its power and wanted to use that power to dominate the lesser species and to act as a ruler. Chimaera's brother disagreed with this, and was vehemently against such use of their power and even stated that he would stop Chimaera if it were to attempt to use its powers like this. During time, Chimaera grew ever more displeased and finally when its lust for dominance and control was too great, it went to battle against its brother."

Stewart had also concluded that the mythology parts of the Khanate case were by no means a coincidence. There was a meaning to them, it was like the entire plot was there for them to see but they could not understand it.

"No, they are not a coincidence Sigmund. If by hell we knew what it meant though."

After telling Sigmund of this, Stewart glanced at Arado Jericho seating at the opposite side of the cabin, apparently, he had heard what the young man had said. There was a look in his eyes, as if he had seen a ghost, a look of comprehension or perhaps remembrance. Stewart wasnt sure. Then Jericho also took up from his chair and came to sit down next to Stewart.

"You are quite right young Trent. There is no coincidence in this matter, the answer is there right before your eyes. But before you can fully connect the pieces, you must extend your thinking past the bounds of this planet, and understand the vastness that is beyond your solar system."

Stewart took heed of the suggestion, and returned to silence, this time his expression one of furious considering and thinking. Jericho was certain that the young man would come to the right conclusion quite soon.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.12 AM
Beowulf City
District 12

As the time came, hundreds of chrono displays on different places throughout the Protectorate displayed zero in their countdown. Thousands of people went to work, all following their part of the incomprehensibly large final plan. They moved like clockwork, precisely and thoroughly.

The house of Colonel Amanda Schaeffer was a small one, situated at the edge districts of the Military Citadel City of Beowulf. The Colonel was early to wake up. The next days schedule was thight, full of training to arrange for the battalions of the 34th Regiment, as well as extensive personnel transfers to oversee when the Pinnaces and Assault Shuttles freighted her people to space.

She poured another cup of her own strong coffee mixture to her cup while glancing the interesting parts from the national newspaper. The doorbell rang.

For christs sakes, cant that idiot Townes handle anything by himself? She cursed mentally. Major Hugh Townes was one of the problems in her regiment, and due to connections high in the government as well as a relatively clear service record, she couldnt remove the man untill there was a clear sign he was incompetent. The man had a habit of allways bringing his problems for her to solve, and this time she swore to herself she would kick his ass back to the damn Regimental HQ for bothering her this early.

She moved to the door,and opened it, only to find out that there was no one there. She had a full two seconds to think about it before the missile lashed out from the darkness of an alley right opposite to her house, and directly at her feet. The entire small one story building blew up in a brilliant fireball.

And only seconds later, the nightly horizon brightened with more similar fireballs reaching out to the sky. Amanda Schaeffer had was merely one amongst many of her colleaques.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.15 AM
Fort Stalwart

"Allright guys, the order of the day is CAP's." Captain Erica Sandros told the pilots seated in their comfortable seats in the briefing room. There were grunts of displeasure among the group as she announced it, but the job of a CAG was hardly to be nice she told herself.

The last Combat Air Patrol excersises had been two months ago, and she had begun to have a feeling that her thirty two pilots were losing their edge. So she had decided upon this. Several CAP's in the dawning light, and a few supprises along the way. She wanted to see how they would react ,when those Super Sylph's she had arranged from the 56th and 214th squadrons to act as "bogies", would show up. She continued the briefing.

"We are going to fly several routes, all in different altitudes and terrains. Each route gets three planes." She punched a few buttons in the podium and a large holomap of the Clairmont Airspace sprang up to the air from the ground. She took a pointer from a pocket of her flight suit and pointed to the several different routes drawn on the map.

"I will be checking your logged flight data when we get back, if I find anything that I dont like in there, I quarantee that your basic pilot training will feel like a damn vacation in Caprica compared to the hell Im going to put you all through."

The pilots murmured among each other, some nodding in agreement. She shut off the holo projector, and returned the pointer back to the pocket of her flight suit.

"The details have been uploaded to your datapads, and the route assingments can be found on the board. We will take-off at zero-four-forty. That is all."

She began to trod towards the exit at the northern side of the briefing room, situated at the edge of the airstrip. She never made it there as the door bursted open. She had a few seconds to glance thru the door to the outside, comprehending that there was no-one there when two spherical objects flew thru the entrance. Grenades. She concluded, a second before they went off.

The tiny amounts of anti-matter in the grenades were released from their containment fields as their timers reached zero and consumed an equal amount of the casing on the process of annihilation. The entire briefing building disappeared to a massive fireball as an explosive force equivalent to several hundred pounds of TNT consumed the building in its entirety.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.30 AM
Geminon City
Vandren Corp. HQ

The Storm Hawk class dropship dropped down to the landing platform at the top of the tall skyscraper Headquarters of Vandren Software Development Corporation. They had gotten here faster than Kusanagi had believed possible. The pilot had done miracles in his flying, and they had gotten thru the air traffic above Geminon city much faster than she had thought due the identification of their craft as well as the pressure Kusanagi had applied on the local air traffic control center to allow them to centrum as quickly as possible, all other traffic aside.

Both the forward and rear boarding ramps of the dropship dropped down as the crafts landing struts touched the pad. Figures in Powered Armor as well as black, armored BDU's of InSec poured out, securing the perimeter around the dropship before proceeding. No one was at the roof to question their business here, the place was ghastly silent.

The InSec troopers fanned out and proceeded towards the center of the roof where the main lift shaft and staircase were situated. The squads checked and secured every possible firepoint at the roof, investigating every possible source of danger. There was none, and the platoon re-grouped at the entrances to the building proper.

The lieutenant in command of the force issued orders thru the comm.
"Squad three will take the point and proceed to secure our entrance to the two hundreth and fifty second floor. Squad two will remain here and hold the landing platform against possible OPFOR. Lets move out people." On cue as per the Lieutenants orders, the third squad took the point and proceeded to the stairwell. It was only ten floors down to the destination floor, they would get there quickly if there was no opposition.

As the third squad had disappeared to the depths of the stairwell, the Lieutenants squad as well as the six-man heavy weapons team proceeded with Kusanagi, Sigmund, Stewart and the Archangels to follow them.

Kusanagi was certain that answers were soon to come, but whether she liked those answers or not was a different question alltogether.

Sigmund watch as Stewart went deeper into though, he could see that Stewart had his fathers wit to him.

As the craft hurled through the air towards it object Sigmund realized that it had been sometime since he last had got any sleep. Noting that it would still awhile till they reached their objective he took the time to get some rest.

It seemed like he had just closed his eyes when Sigmund felt the craft drop in altitude, it could only mean that they were about to reach their destination.

His senses jumped to alert, there was a gentle thud as the pilot put the craft down. Sigmund watched as the InSec troop made their way out the made their way out with the up most military precision.

With some hesitation he followed Kusanagi lead as they made their way. As a precautionary measure he upholstered his weapon. “Let hope we are not going from the frying pan into the fire” he said sarcastically.

Like everyone else right now, all he wanted was answers.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.34 AM
Geminon City
Vandren Corp. HQ

The teams moved swiftly thru the corridors and halls of the large office building. There was not a single sign of life visible anywhere. They had not seen bodies, they hadnt seen signs of battle, nothing. It was as if everyone had just packed up and left. Still, the InSec troopers maintained their guard. Expertly checking every corner for ambush, the heavy weapons squad constantly providing a ready source of suppressing fire if it came to fight.

Kusanagi was worried. She had expected fierce resistance here, for all intents and purposes and from what she had gathered from Arado Jericho, the leader of the Khanate was here, but there was no physical sign of it.

Behind her came Sigmund and Stewart. Sigmund's pulse pistol held firmly in his hand, sweeping the corridors inter-connecting to the main corridor they were using for any sources of danger.

Stewart's gaze was one of cold desire of vengeance. It was obvious to Kusanagi that the young man wanted to get his hands on the leader of the Khanate, badly. She just hoped that he would not summarily try to execute the man out of hand.

Her course of thoughts was interrupted as the Lieutenant in charge of the platoon lifted his fist to the air as a sign for the force to stop. At the end of the hall they had just arrived, was an open door. Kusanagi checked her datapad for the map of the building she had downloaded to it. According to it, that room was the room of the man they had come here for.

The lieutenant swiftly lifted four of his fingers and made a "move out" sign. Without sign, four of the troopers of the forward squad proceeded towards the door, constantly keeping their rifles ready to fire at any enemy that might oppose them. They reached the door without incident, and two of them went inside. Seconds passed, seconds that felt like minutes. But then a calming sound came thru the comms channel of the platoon, signaling the others that the room was clear. The lieutenant and his squads proceeded promptly to the room with Kusanagi outpacing them to it.

When she bursted thru the door she first thought of the sight as impressive. The room was massive for an executive office. A large, ornately decorated desk dominated the far end of the office, with the eastern wall being a massive window reaching all the way from the floor to the roof and from the edge of the room to the other. Paintings and other decorations covered the open wall space. From the looks of them, they were expensive and Kusanagi easilly recognized some of the more famous pieces. The floor was covered fully by carpet and behind the desk at the wall was a rack, with several fire arms on it which seemed to be antique pieces. But then her eyes tracked over the full volume of the room, finding no sign of the man they were seeking. She had allready feared that they would not find him here, but now she was certain.

As she approached the desk, a life size hologram appeared at the front of the desk. Kusanagi did not even flinch at the appereance, but coldly gazed the man that the hologram presented and guessed that this was the Overseer. The hologram seemed to measure her for a moment before it spoke, though it really did not speak, the voice was merely a recording track coming from the speakers, the voice of the hologram was one of cool contempt.

"Good morning Major Kusanagi. I see that your inept organization finally succeeded in putting together two and two and finding me. And I see that you brought other familiar faces with you. I see that you have those loyalist scum of the Archangels accompanying you, and ofcourse there is the ever benevolent Sigmund Xavier and finally, the young man who simply went so over his head that he did not even understand it, Stewart Trent. I welcome you, and to witness the final dawn your pathetic Star Protectorate will ever see."

Kusanagi flinched when the hologram mentioned everyone here. She gazed around the room. Was it possible that this hologram was a direct feed transmission instead of a recording? Was the Overseer looking at them thru hidden sensory systems? That was not something to be concerned with at the moment. She faced the hologram and began to voice her thoughts.

"Your skill of stating the obvious is noted. It would be more fitting if you were here in person to welcome us."

The hologram chuckled a bit at the reply of the Major before speaking.

"Yes I know it would be. But more pressing matters call for me, and the time of my charade is now at an end."

The major shrugged at the reply and replied sarcastically.

"Being the obvious main evil villain of this tale, shouldnt you now be revealing your full scheme to us?"

The hologram bursted to laughter. It laughed for a full minute before it replied.

"Oh major, your sense of humour is so good. But Im honoured that you consider such a lowly man as I so high in ranking. And I think I have no need to reveal anything to you, it will become obvious very soon to you."

Before Kusanagi could reply, Arado Jericho came to stand beside her and spoke to the hologram.

"Damn you and your riddles traitor. Be assured, we will find you and whatever plans your precious Imperial High Council has for the final remnants of the loyal, they will not succeed."

The hologram laughed again, this time more hysterically.

"Oh dear Mr.Jericho, we have allready succeeded. And our time will be long and fruitfull, and the inconvinient stain of you will be soon wiped out of existance."

Jericho began to retort angrily, with Kusanagi staring at both him and the hologram in puzzlement. She had no idea what they were talking about.

Stewart pushed her aside and came to face the hologram with the thoroughness of his anger palpable in his cool voice and expression.

"Since you know me you son of a bitch, and being the head of this damn Khanate, you must be the bastard who is responsible for killing my father. I will hunt your ass down, and when that time comes, I'll make sure you suffer."

The hologram gazed at the young man with expression resembling pity and at the same time amusement.

"Yes young Trent, I am responsible for that. But you seem to have forgotten something, I am also responsible for the death of your mother and two brothers. Or didnt the InSec even succeed in finding their remains just two hundred meters from your apartment lot?"

Disbelief and unimaginable sorrow filled Stewart's face. He could not believe it, he wouldnt believe it! But what reason would this man have to lie, and it was true that he had not heard anything of her mother and brothers even though it was allready hours from the time they supposedly had escaped from the house. Hot tears swelled down his cheeks and rage filled his voice.

"You lying shit! Its not true!"

The hologram seemed to sigh before speaking.

"It must be hard to handle the truth, but handled it must be. Your mother and brothers were killed by the backup unit guarding the road from your house's underground carage."

Stewart collapsed to the floor on his knees, tears dropping to the carpet. He did not reply.

Kusanagi's face was full of rage as she turned her head to face the hologram.

"We will get you, and when we do, I will personally rip your goddamn heart out."

The man portrayed by the hologram semeed now to be growing tired of the discussion.

"Whatever you want to believe Major, but now Im afraid that destiny calls, and I have no further time to spend chatting with you. I beg you farewell, enjoy the final moments of your precious existance."

The hologram disappeared leaving everyone stand there in silence, with Stewart sobbing for the truth he had learned. Kusanagi swore in frustration and she glanced over to the Lieutenant, her glance demanding. The Lieutenatn shook his head uncomfortable and spoke.

"Im sorry Major, we couldnt track him. It seemed as if there was no transmission to track at all, atleast not one we could detect."

Is this it?Kusanagi thought. She had expected answers, but she had found none, and it seemed that the only hope of bringing the Khanate to its knees was gone.

She lifted her arm to gaze at her wrist chrono, a the digital numbers changed to represent 04.39, and at that moment, a flash of light, brighter than the sun, illuminated the nightly sky and even a bit of the office. Kusanagi shielded her eyes, from the light and as the moment of its highest brightness passed, she glanced to the horizon. Disbelief filled her alongside the terror. It was not possible. The Archangels and the InSec troopers all were watching it.

The mushroom cloud was growing rapidly in the horizon, the creation of a nuclear weapon detonation. Only a moment after its detonation, further in the horizon to the right from the first one, another flash appeared, and shortly after it, another growing mushroom cloud.

Nukes, how can this be? Those fucking Khanate bastards have honest to god nukes. She thought in utter disbelief.

Beside him, the pieces locked together in Arado Jericho's head. His organization had hundreds of small pieces of information, alone they were useless, but now they all came together, and he understood. His face filled with terror, he turned to face the Major.

"We got to get out of here right NOW!"

Kusanagi shook her head slightly and spoke.

"Where Mr.Jericho?"

"To Manticore's Nest."

Kusanagi turned to look into the eyes of Jericho, and she found only the backdrop of terror and the absolute assurance of the importance of his words.

Manticore's Nest was the code name for Protectorate Military High Command. Buried to a depth of over seven hundred meters below the ground, it was a massive base at the absolute heart of Clairmont Island. That was where every branch of the military had its highest echelons of command structure, all the way up to the First Space Lord, Commander of Naval Operations. For Jericho to want to go there, and be absolute certain of its importance, Kusanagi knew it was important.

She only nodded in reply, and only a quick glance and nod to the Lieutenant who had overhead them was enough to convince him as well.

They set off, Kusanagi picked up the grief stricken Stewart as they headed off to ascend back to the roof of the building and to the landing pad where their ride waited.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.45 AM
Outskirts of Diess City

The commander of the strike unit glanced at the chrono super-imposed to the upper left corner of the HUD of his Combat Armor. As the countdown hit zero, the visor of his helmet automatically polarized to protect his eyes from the blinding flash of the detonation that burned another military base from the face of the Earth.

It was an itty bitty weapon he reminded himself. A mere sixty kiloton anti-matter device. But it sufficed for the job at hand, even though the "job" was the destruction of a single logistics base. But that was their mission, and he would carry it out to the best of his abilities or die trying.

March 22nd
Saturday
04.50 AM
Irmansul City
Protectors Palace

The garden grounds of the Protectors Palace were brightly illuminated by the lights cleverly placed at the ground at regular intervals. It was a scene of serenity, broken only by the occasional passing of a group of guards.

The inside of the Palace was equally calm. At nightly hours, no-one except for the security detail were working and the usual hustle of the day was gone.

The guard detail of the Protectorate consisted of the absolute best the entirety of Clairmont had to offer. A full company of the finest soldiers ever produced by the nation, Drop Commando's of the Royal Cadre, also known to many as the Dark Knights because of their night black Vindicare Powered Armor.

But sometimes, even the best could be overcome by sheer cunning. The Palace was an immense place to guard, and no less than full company of troops was sufficient to guard it effectively, but despite this, many of the areas were only patrolled by a pair of Cadre Commando's.

The staircase leading from the back entrance to the upper floors was guarded by one such pair. They did not speak while on duty, their weapons held constantly ready to act the moment a threat would emerge. They could and did to this for hours and their vigilance was almost mythical, but they had not ever experience combat with enemies using a Stealth Field that made them the next best thing to invisible. An invisible blade slashed from the darkness, catching the other Commando in the neck. Even the monomolecular edge of the blade had some difficulties penetrating the thick layer of protection the Power Armor of the Commando had, but it went thru, and the blade embedded itself to the neck of the trooper who went down immidietly. The second Commando did not hesitate for a second, his vision mode immidietly switched over to infra-red where he could catch a faint sign of the assailants. He could see three of them, but his sensor enhanced hearing caught another one right behind him.

His right leg struck backwards in a kick, the artificially augmented and increased strength of his kick caught his attacker right in the solar plexus. The figure flew backwards, its chest organs ruptured and destroyed by the strength of the kick and with no battlesteel of Combat Armor stopping it. His body struck the wall, wet snaps indicating broken bones.

Simultaneously the lone Commando had opened up his communications network in attempt to alert his comrades, but the communications were jammed, and there was no way he could call them.

Another figure charged him, and it dawned to him that they wanted to take him down without the use of fire arms to alert the other Commando's. He allowed his assailant to close within a meter of him, before he brought his right leg around in a lightning fast roundhouse kick that struck the side of the helmet of his attacker. This one wore Powered Armor, but even it could not prevent the mighty strength of the kick from breaking the neck of the attacker.

His assailants were growing weary of the fight now, and he caught movement in them bringing up their weapons, deciding that the time for subtlety was gone.

The Commando brought up his own M-300 Grav Gun and opened fire. The graphite coated depleted uranium teardrops of the weapon tore apart one more of his attackers, and the loud hypersonic roar of the weapon would be enough to signal every Commando in the palace of the fight.

Then his fight was over, a graviton beam from an energy gun blew open his chest with the Commando's inert body falling down to the floor with his finger still squeezing the trigger of the grav gun for a short moment.

The attackers paid him no more heed, and quickly pounded up the stairs to the upper floors, to the quarters of the Protector and his family.


The assailants reached the main hall of the uppermost floor. Charging thru the entrance to the hall, they met the gathered power of the defenders of the Ruler of Clairmont. A platoon of Commando's had had time to converge to the hall for defense when they caught the sound of the grav gun, and now they stood ready.

Thousands upon thousands of depleted uranium teardrops tore down the first attackers, ripping thru their body armor as if it had been tissue paper. But the attackers quickly returned fire, their own grav guns and energy weapons taking a heavy toll on the defending Commando's. Despite their losses, the attackers did not stop, they raced on, trusting on their superior numbers to overwhelm the defending Commando's. They also knew that if they did not hurry, the Protector would escape for the standard procedure dictated that at the face of a strong attack, the Royal Family was to be evacuated via the Pinnace that allways inhabited the roof landing pad of the building.

In the end there were too many of the enemy for the Commando's to kill them all, and the unfavorable defensive position did not help them. The attackers closed to a melee range, and killed the last of the defending Commando's. But their price was terrible, for every dead Commando they had three dead of their own, and the strength of their force was down to only a single platoon.

But they pressed on, ignoring their losses. Trusting in their superior mobility to catch their targets before they could escape. Pounding thru the corridors of the upper floor. As the vanguard of the attackers crossed the final corner behind which opened the corridor at the end of which was the entrance to the landing pad, three of their number immidietly went down. The last of the Commando's at the upper floor faced them, only four of them firing their grav guns methodically and calculatingly at every target presenting itself. They were buying the royal family precious seconds of time. After no less than twelve of the remaining attackers had been gunned down, carefully thrown grenades and well placed energy gun fire took the final Commando's down.

The attackers broke to a furious sprint, charing to the roof of the building. But they were too late, the Pinnace was allready in the air, its turbines howling as the craft ascended ever higher and to safety. But there was no safe haven for the attackers who had reached the roof, the ventral tri-barrel turret of the Pinnace swiveled, tracking the targets down on the roof. And it cut them down mercilessly. Ten of the attackers died in mere seconds before the rest retreated back inside the building. Their escape was short lived as more Commando's from the courtyard of the Palace and from the lower floors raced to the uppermost floor.

The Pinnace extended its wings to their full length, and adjusted its course for a heading to the one place where the Royal Family would most certainly be safe.

March 22nd
Saturday
05.20 AM
Irmansul City Airspace
At 24,000 ft.

The trip from Geminon city had been one of silence. There had been very little chatting during the trip amongst anyone. Witnessing the usage of nuclear weapons on the beloved soil of home had taken its toll in everyone native to Clairmont, and there was still a residue of shocked disbelief in all of them.

Kusanagi had become near to falling into despair. It seemed that there was no limit to the power of the Khanate, and that their only objective seemed to be in wreaking as much wanton destruction as they could. And the fact that they had nuclear weapons made that thought look exponentially more ugly.

The dropship rocket slightly as it passed thru some turbulence, but its passengers hardly noticed it. It wasnt long until they reached Manticore's Nest now, and Kusanagi was most eager to see what possible business did Arado Jericho have there.


The Khanate pilot checked his instruments for the final time before he powered up his fighter and took up to the sky. The orders had been clear, if and when the InSec dropship appeared to this sector, he was to shoot it down.

He glanced to his instruments, checking if any tracking stations had penetrated his stealth field. Altough he doubted it, it was allways best to be certain. There was no sign of detection. No missiles coming up to bring him down. He adjusted his course to intercept the dropship, and checked his missiles and guns for any irregularities. Finding no problems, he concentrated fully on the flying.

It did not take him long to find his prey and come about to the dropships six o'clock. His fighter was much faster than the crude piece of craft he had been ordered to shoot down, and much more agile to boot. His targeting system sought up a firing solution for him obediently. He flipped the master arm switch and released the missile from its pylon.



The red indicator immidietly ignited in the pilots panel, the letters AAM making the kind of threat clear to the pilot and the co-pilot. They did not hesitate for a second. In a mere moment, the ECM suite of the dropship went to full power and counter-measures alongside decoys detached in order to fool the missile tracking them now.

Their quick reaction was the only thing that saved them. The missile had been fired from close, and its enormous speed had reduced the flight time to almost nothing. It missed by mere two meters, passing the dropship and detonating harmlessly away from it.

But the danger was not over. They still could not see their attacker, and if they could not see him, they could not engage him. The pilot made a quick decision and dived steeply to reduce their altitude as much as possible, but the situation was grim, the possibility of escaping their attacker slight.


1st Lieutenant Nikkol Fukai was not enjoying the re-instating of his flight status. Altough he had been cleared to fly once more, he was out of the cockpit of a Super Sylph, and placed in the cockpit of a mere athmospheric fighter, be it the top of the line or not.

The brass had turned a blind eye to his protests. And despite him having flown this thing for no more than three days, he allready disliked it. It was a good plane, but it did not match the awesome power of a Super Sylph, with its capability to escape athmosphere at will.

His thought pattern was rapidly brought to a halt as his sensors picked up a possible unknown contact. He checked the screen and arced his eyebrow in puzzlement.

It was fading in and out, as if the sensors only momentarily caught a slight glimpse of it. He brought his F-78 Eclipse around in a steep bank for an intercept vector with the contact. The range was not all that high, a mere fifty kilometers, and it seemed that the contact, if it was that, was following a dropship that was putting out an InSec IFF signature.

As he continued to close, pieces and memories began to click together in his brain. The contact seemed familiar, he had seen something like it before. And then it dawned him, that contact was oddly similar to the one he had shot down those ten days ago. His suspicion recieved confirmation when another contact appeared on his scope, the computer immidietly identifying it as an Air-To-Air Missile. Fukai gringed his teeth as he watched the missile close with the InSec craft, but relief filled him when the InSec craft evaded it at the last moment.

His relief was short lived however as he knew that another missile would soon follow. There was very little time, and none of that time could be spared on futile hesitation.

He armed his weapons systems, the missiles and guns ready to spew death at the enemy. Having experience of fighting these things, whatever the hell they were, he knew how to engage. The enemy had more altitude than him, but he was approaching the bastard from five o'clock, and he possibly had supprise.

The range was good for his missiles, and he pulled his firing trigger twice, sending two of his own AAM's against the enemy. The missiles streaked away from his under-fuselage weapons bay, tracking the signature of their target with their cold and calculating minds. But the enemy had no intention of being shot down. Counter-measures and decoys were released and both of the missiles missed their mark.

Shit. This is too much like last time, except this guy seems to be willing to shoot. He swore mentally.

The range was decreasing rapidly, and Fukai knew he had but one chance of bringing the target down or dying himself. He prepared both his cannon, and two more missiles. As the range came down to five kilometers, he sent the second pair of missiles away and fired his cannons. Hundreds of twenty-millimeter rounds tore thru the air at hypesonic velocities, but none were hitting. The two missiles crossed the distance between the enemy quickly, one of them missing the target entirely but the other attaining a proximity detonation and damaging the enemy. Its stealth device inoperable, the fighter became visible, Fukai spared it no curiosity, adjusting his fire. The cannons tore apart the unknown fighter, ripping large holes to its fuselage. Its propulsion systems failing and its pilot dead, the fighter began to drop like a rock.

Fukai pulled his fighter alongside the dropship that had now level its flight and was continuing on its original course. He was close enough to see the pilot and the co-pilot of the dropship who were waving for them. He replied with an uplifted thumb of his left hand.

His comms device crackled to life as the relieved pilot of the dropship called him.

"Thanks for the save. That bastard would have creamed us if you hadnt been there."

Fukai allowed himself a slight smile and replied.

"No problem. Its allways good to be of assistance. I can provide you with an escort if you are going anywhere within this sector if you like."

A minute passed before the pilot replied again.

"Of that, we would be gratefull. We are on our way to Manticore's Nest, and though there is only about fifteen minutes left on our flight, there could be another attempt such as this. Form up on our starboard side."

Fukai acknowledged and maneuvered his fighter to an escort position. He did not question the pilot of anything, and he doubted he would have gained any answers anyway.


The dropship was challenged the second it reached the secure airspace over Manticore's Nest. Anti-Air emplacements tracked it and the fighter alongside it, ready to fire at a moments notice. Altough the InSec IFF was up to date, and confirmed, a certain level of paranoia when protecting such a facility as Manticore's Nest was necessary.

After carefull questioning, the dropship was guided to one of the landing pads near the entrance to the Manticore's Nest. No chances were taken. The landing pad was surrounded by a full platoon of Marines, all in Battle Armor. There even were two tanks there, along with a single Sky Piercer Mobile SAM platform.

Kusanagi was pretty sure that Sigmund was thinking that to the guardians of Manticore's Nest, they were practically the enemy. But Kusanagi knew this was not the case. The men and women whose task was to protect Manticore's Nest, were being cautious, a bit more so than usually, but since the High Command had obviously learned of the numerous nuclear detonations a while ago allready, every precaution was being taken.

As the dropship touched down, Kusanagi, Stewart, Sigmund and Arado Jericho came out, and as they appeared in the open platform, dozens of guns trained on them immidiately.

A Captain in the uniform of the Clairmont Space Navy approached them, and Kusanagi guessed that this man was propably from the Office of Naval Intelligence. He spoke loudly over the dying scream of the turbines of the dropship.

"I wish I could say that a pleasure to meet you Major Kusanagi, but the last half an hour have been very hectic around here. No unnecessary chances are being taken. But I assume that since you are here, you would have something to shed some light to this unimaginable mess."

Kusanagi understood the man perfectly, and replied warmly.

"Yes, we witnessed two of those detonations first hand. And yes, I believe we have something that will shed light on this case." He motioned Arado Jericho to come forward.

The Archangel approached with long strides to face the ONI Captain.

"It is imperative that we meet the First and Second Space Lords immidiately, as well as Field Marshals Broderick and DeSilva. I have information absolutely critical to the national security."

The ONI Captain faced Jericho skeptically.

"I have no proof of the importance of your information, and the personnel you seek are extremely busy at the moment."

It was an answer dictated by instincts. The ONI Captain knew that his Naval Intelligence as well as the Special Intelligence Service had very little idea of the truth and meaning behind these attacks. Jericho knew this as well.

"Captain, you have no idea what is truly happening. If you care anything of your nation, then let me speak to those people. They are the only ones who can make any kind of use of the information I have. "

The Captain hesitated for another moment before finally nodding and leading the group down the ramp from the platform and to the hard ceramacrete ground. The security detail still did not trust them. The entirety of the platoon moved around them to escort the four people underground.


The journey down to the heart of Manticore's Nest was a long one. The large elevator took them down for over seven hundred meters to the Central Command floor of Manticore's Nest.

The place was a small city in its own right. There was not a time in a year or day when there would not be atleast three thousand people at work here. And because of the recent happenings on the face of the Island, the place was like a bee-hive of activity.

The security detail escorted them thru the security checkpoints and corridors, and finally to the central command center. The room was a massive hall, with the command center itself situated in an open "pit" with a walkway splitting it from the middle, staircases down allowing acces to both sides. The central command center was divided to two main sections. The other was for planetary operations while the other was for spacial operations. The planetary operations section was dominated by an absolutely massive wall-screen, with all the dozens upon dozens of workstations facing it. The main attraction point of the spacial operations side was the fifty meter in diameter spherical hologram at the centre, around which were arrayed dozens workstations. Both of the operational sides were hives of activity. Hundreds of people went about with their tasks, and every workstation was constantly manned. For an outsider, it seemed like utter chaos. As if there was no organization in it all. But those who had worked here for years knew exactly what was happening at each given time, and the underlying organization was clear as day to them.

In the absolute middle of the massive hall, situated high at the roof was a plasteel walled room where the absolute upper echelons of Military High Command made their decisions. At the far end of the walkway, a lift shaft with its walls made out of the transparent plasteel, granted access from the lower level to the heights above.

Kusanagi had never seen this place herself. He had read about it, and heard about it, but only when truly seeing it with her own eyes could she grant it the respect it deserved.

They moved promptly over the walkway to the lift at the far side of the command center, only to be halted by the two Marines guarding the lift. It took a good five minutes before the Marines finally allowed them to pass, but only Kusanagi, Stewart, Arado Jericho and Sigmund were allowed up, escorted by a pair of Marines from the platoon that had escorted them down here.

Jericho's mind was clear as crystal. He knew what he had to tell these people, he knew he was right. He prayed in his mind that they would listen to him, and they would heed his warnings. For they had no clue of what they truly faced, and if they did not listen to him, then as the saying went, "they could kiss their ass goodbye."

Silence fell over the occupants of the drop ship during the trip to Manticore’s Nest, everyone was still overcome by the shock of what they had just witnessed. Sigmund could understand their pain, he would feel the same way if the same thing had happened it Tappee, he could only hope that Tappee would not suffer the same fate as Clairmont. Deep down on some level this thought made him feel a bit guilty, he should have done more to prevent this from happening.

Suddenly the drop ship lurched hard, followed an explosion somewhere outside the craft, they were under attack. Helpless to do anything all he could do was hold on, and trust the pilots skill. Yet again he had under estimated Khanate’s ability.

After a few tense moments it was over, looking out one of the drop ships windows he could see that they now had a fighter escort. He couldn’t help but assume that it was the fighter that had been their saviour.

A short time later they arrived at Manticore’s Nest, after having to talk their way in. After meeting with a ONI Captain they where lead into the facility. Sigmund could help but be reminded of the Core, the Core was Tappee’s version of Manticore’s Nest, and the similarities were striking.

For the moment his only priority was to get an outbound message to Tappee to hopefully warn them of the present situation.

March 22nd
Saturday
05.40 AM
Clairmont Military High Command

The thick battlesteel doors opened automatically as the Sergeant standing at the right side of the door entered the opening code to the numbad behind him. And then, the four people caught a glimpse of what it was like to control the entirety of the Star Protectorate's Armed Forces.

The room was a curious blend of spartan utilitarism as well as decoration. At first glance it seemed as if the pieces of art at the walls without windows would not fit to the scene, but when her eye got used to it, Kusanagi liked the view. The windows at the sides of the room gave a perfect view down to both the spacial operations side as well as the planetary operations side of the command center.

Around the table at far end of the room, a furious debate was taking place. Six men and women were exchanging harsh statements, and the temperature of the room almost felt as if it was pulsing along with the debate. As Kusanagi, Stewart, Sigmund and Jericho entered the room, the two marines escorting them brought them to stand next to the table. Eyes fixed on them, some cold, some curious and some welcoming.

The man at the end of the table was the first to speak.

"I hear you are supposed to have something worth telling us. Well, its time to spit it out. Frankly, the only reason why you were allowed down here was because we are just as clueless as you think we are. Take a seat."

Kusanagi recognized First Space Lord Caparelli immidietly. Despite prolong treatment, the man looked old. His hair greying, and his face like it had been carved from granite. But there was strength in that face, unyielding strength, and Kusanagi knew that despite his age, Caparelli was a sound strategic genious when it came to spacial warfare. She also admired the man's honesty, having admitted first hand that they had no idea what was really going on. She obliged to the Admiral's request and took one of the seats with her entourage following suite.

"Yes Admiral Caparelli, I believe that we have information that will be crucial to National Security. Mr. Jericho here has implied that he has the pieces of the puzzle. But before we begin, I would request that Agent Sigmund Xavier be given a communications channel over to Tappee. These events are have been concluded to affect his homeland as well, and it is crucial that he gets to inform his national security forces of the situation."

Caparelli nodded almost immidietly and spoke to the small intercom device he held at his wrist.

"This is Caparelli, have Corporal Valensky come here and escort Mr. Sigmund Xavier over to comms one."

After a minute, a Marine wearing an armored BDU and the rank insignia of a Corporal stepped in and saluted sharply. Caparelli motioned Sigmund to follow the man.

"The corporal will escort you to one of our secure comms rooms where you can speak freely."

When the Tappee agent had left the studying eyes of the High Command officers turned to study Jericho. He did not care of the cold gazes he recieved, he did not care what they thought of him at the moment, all that he cared about was that they would listen to him. He cleared his throat a bit and began the tale that he was certain they would not swallow at first.

"Before you can understand what this is fully about, it is imperative that you know your true background. And please, if you can, no interruptions. Ask what you will after I have finished."

Many of the expressions on the faces of the officers had changed a bit towards curiosity, but a bit towards doubt as well. And then he began.

"The history behind Clairmont has allways been assumed to be one of slow colonization and immigration, all the way from the 14th century to the Succession War. This is to a point true. However, for decades many of your historians and analysts have ran into contradictions and problems when attempting to calculate the growth of your populace from the assumed beginning. This is because of a simple reason, your island has been colonized for over five thousand years."

He knew that many of the officers present wanted to ask What the hell has this got to do with those damn nukes going off!?. But they kept their questions within, and Jericho continued.

"Five thousand and twelve years ago, your solar system was visited by a warship from a Star Nation then known as the Third Imperium. This warship was on an exploratory mission at the time, and their sole purpose in this solar system was to log it to their archives and move on. But events took a different course when mutinous elements aboard that warship rebelled, and succeeded in overthrowing the loyalist crew. However, the captain of the ship as his final act blew up his ship and the mutineers with it. A handfull of the loyalist crew escaped, to land on this planet, on this very island. Having escaped with practically no resources at all, with no communications to call to their government, and with no faster-than-light capability, those loyalists were stranded here. They took upon themselves to develop on this island and stay away from the at that time, still extremely young human population of this planet. In time, in hundreds of years, many of the descendants of the original loyalists forgot their true heritage. But a select few remained, those to whom the loyalists had given the task of ever remaining vigilant if the mutineers would come to this world. I, and my organization are the direct descendants of those people, and we still maintain our goal. After five whole millennia, we dared to believe that we were safe, but during the past year we recieved signs that we were mistaken."

Only three of the faces of the Officers now maintained a look of believing even a little bit of his story. He continued on regardless.

"The mutiny aboard that warship was not a singular event, but merely one among thousands. Across the entire Third Imperium, mutinying elements took arms against their brethren, bringing about a war that in the end very very nearly annihilated the entire Imperium, only some few survived on the capitol planet. To our misfortune, the survivors where the mutineers. And thus, the Third Imperium came down in flames. It took the mutineers hundreds of years to rebuild anything of their former glory. With most of the technology of the Third Imperium lost forever, they had to start over. It took them four full millennia to be powerfull once more, and this day, they have regained much of the glory of the past. They believed that they had now taken the place of the Third Imperium, but when they found out of your nation, twelve years ago thru a twist of fate, they faced a possible threat to their realm. They understood that this nation was the embodiment of those who they had sought to destroy. You are a threat to them, a threat they will do anything to annihilate. And thus they embarked on a mission to destroy you."

He paused for a moment, glancing for a moment to Kusanagi and Stewart. Kusanagi's facial expression was at the same time curious and skeptical, while Stewart's was one of absolute curiosity. Jericho continued.

"That mission began with a simple Covert Operations phase. The purpose of that phase was to infiltrate your society, and gradually work up to the higher levels of your armed forces and government. The purpose of that infiltration was both information gathering as well as preparation for the future. The final phases of their Covert Operation phase required a puppet, a scapegoat and a distraction. Those needs were filled by creating a criminal organization, or the impression of a criminal organization. That organization is the Khanate. Most of the people in that organization are criminals and thugs recruited from your underworld, but those who hold the leash are agents of the Fourth Imperium. Tonight, their twelve years of preparations are ready, and they have commenced their operations. These actions you have witnessed tonight, are all the work of the Fourth Imperium. Their goal is to weaken you and create disorder that they can use to mask the truth behind their actions. All for the final goal, invasion."

He fell silent. Observing the expressions on the faces around the table. After a minute, one of the men bursted into laughter. It was a deep rumbling laughter from the bottom of his throat. After he finished, his face turned both amused and cold.

"What a fine childrens tale Mr. Jericho, and if it were a better time, Im sure I could enjoy it, but right now, we have a serious issue of national security to face and frankly we dont have time for such BULLSHIT!!" Field Marshal Broderick yelled at the end while slamming his fists at the table.

Jericho remained calm. This was to be expected, and he would have been supprised if they had swallowed it. His glance invited the others to express their feelings of his story as well.

A woman, seeming to be at her forties directly across him at the table crossed her fingers and spoke, her voice not one of disbelief or anger, but coldly analytical.

"Mr. Jericho, you must understand our feelings of this matter. You have presented no evidence to support your case, and while your case in regards to our populace growth is true, it does not support the entirety of your story. This is a grave moment for our nation, and we only have room for facts."

Finally, someone who is taking it the right way. Jericho thought as the Second Space Lord, in charge of the Bureau of Planning expressed her thoughts.

"Admiral Givens, I will ask you to analyze the evidence at hand. Is it not true that from any of the sites of nuclear weapons use, you have not found a sign of radiological contamination, indicating the usage of anti-matter weapons? Is it not true that the Khanate has been proven to use technology for which you have no equivalent, and which you could have not identified to belong to any of the nations you know of to have such a high level of technology. Is it not true, that ALL of the strikes so far have been against Military or Intelligence targets? And finally, it has been concluded by both the Office of Internal Security, and Section Nine that the Khanate as a Criminal Organization would not and has not been making ANY profit whatsoever."

The woman fell silent for a moment. Analyzing the difference pieces of the puzzle, considering possibilities, calculating propabilities. While she was thinking, Admiral Caparelli said what was going on in his mind.

"While correct Mr. Jericho, you still have to provide proof to us that this is not merely the work of a certain lunatic fringe organization recieving its arms from a yet unknown supply."

Jericho was growing frustrated despite his understanding of their disbelief. There was no time for this, for all he knew, and from what his organization could have pieced together of the 4th Imperium's operating methods, the fleet was allready on its way. He fought to keep his tone calm.

"I have no physical evidence towards that. However, when the Khanate commences its attacks against your Surface-to-Orbit missile sites, as well as your Planetary Defence Centers, consider my words carefully. And you dont have to believe me fully, all you should do is to regroup your naval forces, re-call the Fifth Fleet from Orion Sector and the Seventh and Eighth Fleets from their assigments."

Caparelli shook his head to the suggestion.

"Unfortunately, while we could do that, we would need solid evidence of an impending assault, and so far we have none. And Im afraid that our time is over, the Sergeant will escort you out."

Jericho stood up and slammed his palms at the table, his voice high and full of rage.

"You goddamn right our time is over! And if you do nothing but fucking sit on your asses here, there will be a damn million Fourth Imperium ground combatants down on your precious island before you have a friggin clue!"

Summoned by the yelling, two marines came in to the room and grabbed Jericho and began to drag the man out with a third marine escorting Kusanagi and Stewart out.

As they approached the door, Jericho's head snapped back at Caparelli who was yelling to whoever had called him thru the intercom.

"What!?? Confirm that lieutenant.........And this is absolutely positive?........... Allright, contact the Vindicator and Prometheus at orbit, relay my orders that I want the Twenty-Second and Forty-fifth Marine Battalions combat dropped to assume defensive positions of those bases." He closed off the comm without listening for a reply. And then he called for the three marines who were busy escorting the trouble makers out of the room.

"Hold it Sergeant, let the man go and return to your post."

The marine obeyed without hesitation and left the room.

Caparelli faced Jericho now, his tone still disbelieving. But Jericho saw that there was a hint of shocked understanding behind his eyes.

"I was just notified that Planetary Defence Center Number five as well as Fort Vanguard Missile Base have fallen under attack. The number of attackers at the moment is uncertain, for they are using some sort of stealth technology that renders visual detection nearly impossible."

Jericho did not want to believe it himself, this was far sooner than he had expected, which also could mean that the end was far closer than he had anticipated as well.

Before he could speak, the doors opened and a Lieutenant in the uniform of the Clairmont Space Navy bursted in.

"Sir! We have just recieved a message from Fort Ramilius, they inform us that they have lost contact to a full quarter of their sensor stations!" The lieutenant informed. Fort Ramilius was the Vanguard-class space fortress which was tasked with maintaining guard of the outer sectors of Protectorate Controlled space around the Hephaestus shipyard.

All the faces in the room turned to face the lieutenant, and Jericho's head dropped. It was too late, they were in-system now, and there was nothing in their way that could stop them.

Sigmund felt somewhat relieved as he was told that he would be given access to a comms room, the events of the past few hours were weighing heavily on his mind.

With haste he followed Corporal Valensky until they reached the Comms room, quickly he dialled in the appropriate person in charge. As the screen load he played everything that he would say I his mind, trying to make sure that he got all the details in.

Suddenly the image of Tappee’s President Jon Anerton appeared on the screen “Commander Xavier” said Jon is voice was full of concern “We have been desperately trying to get a hold you”

Without hesitation Sigmund cut the man off “I’m sorry but we may not have much time.” There was a certain level of panic in Sigmund voice “I’ve been working in conjunction with InSec here in Clairmont and have recently discovered a terrorist plot, they are moving toward some final object with operation commencing at 4:12 local time. Already there have been a number of isolated attacks, including the detonation of at least two nuclear bombs. We believe that a local known as Khanate is responsible for the attacks. Furthermore, I believe Khanate may be connected to a group in Tappee known as Dedecus, and that Dedecus is responsible for Dylan Phobo escape. I also fear that Dedecus maybe planning attack in Tappee, we have to act fast to prevent similar event in Tappee as to those that occurred here in Clairmont”

Jon expression changed, there seemed to be much sorrow in the mans face “I’m sorry Sigmund, but it is already to late”

A wave of both confusion and worry came over Sigmund “What do you mean” he already knew the answer but did not want to accept the truth.

An image appeared in the lower corner of the screen “A short while ago Terrorist detonate a series of bombs in the four towers, and the Transway bring them to the ground. In conjunction attacks occurred at a number of schools, Iaceo was also hit as well. We’ve also lost contact with Jade, and we fear the worst. In addition to all that we also been locked out of a number of our satellites.”

Looking at the images on the screen and hearing Jon’s word Sigmund was dumbfounded. He felt helpless and was not sure what he should do “What are you orders Sir”

Taking a moment Jon considered all the Sigmund had told him “I want you to stay were your are. Work with the Clairmont officials, find the reasons behind the attack and get to source. I’m going to send you a care package, make sure to clear it’s arrival with the appropriate people on your end.” Jon paused for a moment “like make sure that we make these bastard pay for what they done”

As quickly as it had started the transmission cut out. Opening the door to the room he turned to Corporal Valensky “Thank you for letting me use the Comms room but I know must speak with both major Kusanagi, and your High Command.”

March 22nd
Saturday
05.55 AM
Clairmont Military High Command

The Marine Corporal waited patiently and in silence as Sigmund finished his transmission over to Tappee. As the agent asked to be returned to the company of the others, the corporal complied.

"Ofcourse Sir. Follow me please."

The Corporal escorted Sigmund back to the Command Chamber, where they found Arado Jericho staring white-faced at one of the wall-screens and the officers discussing furiously. It was obvious that the state of their emotions had gone up drastically from the point when Sigmund had left the room.


Down below, on the ground operations side of the Command Center, the massive wall display was now showing a map of Clairmont Island, dotted by over a dozen icons indicating strikes against military or intelligence targets. There was a definite pattern to them, the coastal plains of the island had recieved all of the hits while the mountain surrounded middle had not been struck even once.

The icons of the 22nd and 45th Marine Battalions glowed brightly alongside the icons of the Fort Vanguard Missile Base and Planetary Defence Center #5. They were not the only icons of military units on the map. A state of national emergency had been announced, and the use of military forces on homeland territory authorized. Allready Fleet Strike Forces as well as Marines were being dropped from the few orbiting ships to find and eliminate the Khanate forces wreaking the havoc. But it was not over, not by a long shot. Suddenly, a bright flashing icon with the nuclear warning icon appeared on the western coast, indicating another detonation of a nuclear weapon.


Kusanagi shook her head in disbelief. Who would have believed the Khanate was capable of doing something as grand as this? She had believed that they were powerfull true, but something such as this? She couldnt have imagined it, it was incomprehensible. And now it made sense to her. After Jericho had told his at first, preposterous tale, she had not understood it, but now when she connected every bit of information Jericho had provided with what they had learned of the Khanate the truth was blatantly clear.

Stewart understood it as well. He had first investigated the "Chimaera Dossier" and the mythological gibberish had made no sense to him, but now it made perfect sense, all the pieces locked together. But what was the point any longer? It seemed that those intent on murdering the Protectorate were allready in this very solar system, closing on their prey. And judging by Jericho's expression, the forces that the Protectorate had at space were insufficient to stop them.

Admiral Caparelli had no intention of sitting down and dieing, even though he still did not fully believe the ridicolous sounding story. But he did know that all the signs hinted towards these attacks being a preparation for an invasion. He had allready ordered the 11th and 7th Battlesquadrons of the Home Fleet, currently at the opposite edge of the solar system going thru war games, to proceed at maximum military power to the Fort Ramilius guard sector. They had complied immidietly, but those Superdreadnaughts were slowing them down and it would take them the better part of nine hours to get there.

But the element of supprise was on the (possible) enemy's side. He did not have the slightest clue of their numbers, their inbound vector of their primary targets. As such, he could not concentrate his ships to one spot only and was forced to divide them equally between the Earth sector and Hephaestus. He looked down thru the plasteel window granting a view over the spacial operations section of the CCC. The massive spherical hologram currently displaying the entirety of the Sol System, was only displaying Protectorate vessels to avoid massive cluttering of icons. The one of the three icons he had searced for was right where he wanted it. The three Supermonitors Eternal Vigilance, Macharius and Avalon were the greatest starships ever constructed by the Protectorate. Four and a half kilometers long each, they bristled with countless weapons batteries, missile tubes and point-defense systems, protected inside the most powerfull of sidewalls and meters worth of armor. Slow and ponderous they were, but once they got to battle, they made their presence felt. Only the Avalon was in its assigned position within the surveillance sector of Fort Ramilius while the Eternal Vigilance and the Macharius were on their way at flank speed from the edge of the solar system. Caparelli hoped they would be in time, but he also knew that hope was all he had at this moment.

It was time to pull the cards out of his sleeves and start calling some friends. He grabbed his datapad from the table and transcripted a message for sending to it.

===To: Seraphim Military High Command
===Subject: Request fleet support
===From: Fleet Admiral Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations Clairmont Space Navy

===Code sequence: L6 Gamma 99 Red

~Message Begins: Possibility of an attempted invasion extremely high. Reason to believe that invasion force allready within solar system or coming in soon. Believe available domestic fleet assets insufficient to stop hostile forces. Request any and all assistance that can be provided.

~Message Ends

He called for pickup of the datapad and a young woman in the uniform of a Junior Grade Lieutenant soon appeared and picked up the datapad.

Caparelli still dared to hope that this Jericho figure was wrong, that this was all a false alarm. But he doubted it, and denial helped no-one. He glanced thru the window down to the planetary operations side, his mind racing as his brains noted every single icon representing a Khanate attack, as well as the nuclear icons.

Their operating pattern seemed clear now. They had allready taken out five dozen officers, all the way from Intelligence Analysts from ONI to Colonels of the Ground Forces as well as five captains of the fleet who had been taking their shore leave. By now, all military officers had been warned of the danger, and they had quickly moved themselves and their families to safety.

Overall, the deaths of sixty one officers would have hardly hampered the operation of such a massive body as the Protectorate Armed Forces, but in this case, all the officers who were dead were high-ranking. There were majors, colonels and even three generals. With them gone, battalions, regiments and divisions had their upper command structure in disarray, and the repeated strikes against military installations were not helping things. It was obvious that whoever was coming, he was planning for a ground campaign, and trying to reduce the coherency of the opposition as much as possible.

But whoever was behind this, had not restricted himself to merely targeting military command, the attempted assassination of Protector Benjamin himself had become as a shock to everyone. Only the valiant defence of the Royal Cadre had saved the Protector and his family from their assailants. Caparelli did not want to consider what would have been the state of affairs had the attackers succeeded in their operation. But they had not, and the Protector along with his family was now within the protected womb of Manticore's Nest, out of the reach of possible attackers.

Though the fact was that there were traitors in their midst. Allready had a certain Lieutenant Bajiruuru commed from the deep space surveillance and tracking that she had uncovered a possible traitor, though who seemed to be gone allready. The Lieutenant was a clever one, she had immidiately went to work to find out what the suspected traitor had been upto, and the results were the possible source of the sensor net failure of Ramilius. How she had found out that the man she suspected was a traitor, Caparelli did not know and he could not disclose the possibility, though unlikely, that the Lieutenant herself was a traitor.

Nevertheless, the Special Intelligence Service, upon receiving information of the events unfolding, had immidiately went to work in order to uncover possible traitors in the military. Caparelli doubted that they would find many. This whole operation was executed at preciseness and ingenuity that spoke of an organizer who knew what to do. As such, the traitors, or most of them anyway had propably left their service bases allready for locations unknown.

Caparelli glanced over the quests who had brought him such a tale. Jericho himself was white-faced, as if he had seen a ghost. He spoke to no-one but stared blankly at the massive hologram dominating the centre of the spacial operations side of the CCC. That worried Caparelli. Despite the fact that the man was clearly seeing hundred and twenty ships moving to defensive positions, not accounting for the hundreds upon hundreds of fighters and the four massive Space Fortresses, he had an expression that gave away his feelings. He did not believe that any one of them would survive thru this. The man seemed to know atleast something of their enemy, and if he believed that, then Caparelli had a cause to worry.

He walked to stand beside the man, gazing down thru the window just as Jericho was.
"You do not believe we will survive?" Caparelli asked bluntly.

Jericho shook his head, and replied after a moment.
"Admiral, you still do not have the slightest idea what you face, and without a miracle, the Protectorate will fall within the next days."

Jericho's voice was that of a man absolutely convinced of the truthfullness of his own words. And Caparelli's worry grew. He was not a believer, but in the solace of his mind, he prayed that the man was wrong.

Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien gave her bridge crew an inspectory glance. It was unnecessary, she knew, for every one of them had been trained extensively and this operation had been trained for for years. There would be no mistakes, and if there were, there would also be summary executions. The Imperium had no use for personnel who failed in their tasks despite the extensive training and the best equipment they had.

Altough all Battle Fleet personnel were psychologically indoctrinated not to feel unnecessary emotions such as fear, she could not help but feel satisfied for this day. She was not one of the supporters of destiny herself, but the fact that after five millennia, the Fourth Imperium was coming for the last of the loyalists, it had a certain sense of fate in it.

To consider that those twelve years ago, the Imperial Council had learned of the final remnants of the loyalists, and the fate of the 3rd Imperium Battleship Sevrid thru such an unusual course of events gave even more support for that feeling. But now was not the time for it, now was the time to prepare for the impending battle. Judging by all signs, the plan was proceeding as it should, and the Protectorate Navy had no idea that they were here, or atleast where they specifically were.

They would strike the dagger of their righteous crusade to the hearts of their enemy, and when they were finished, the Star Protectorate of Clairmont would be a mere memory.

She allowed her eyes to circulate the massive 180 degree viewscreen that filled a full half of the bridge of her flagship. It was presenting the feed received from the external sensors and Nuvien could only savour the sight.

Two hundred ships, all arrayed around her flagship. All in close formation. Their sleek hulls bristled with deadly armaments, the deadly snouts of energy batteries, the hungry maws of missile tubes. Very soon, they would unleash death, and this would be a day long remembered.



OOC: Information on the 4th Imperium
http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/4thImperium.htm

The full might of the Seraphim, which had hitherto been unveiled to none and used for no singular purpose, now was set to mobilize in the Sol sector.

Hundreds of sizeable warships, and thousands of smaller craft, and networks upon networks of satellites, all of which could not be transported the long haul to the Orion sector, were soon to step up patrols and activity. The machines of war, industrial hubs scattered throughout the many cities belonging to the Order, and the production and garrisons of Mercury began preparation for nothing short of warfare in defense of Earth.

In an unknown bunker on an unknown world, hooked into the brains and eyes and ears of the countless men and machines of the CSF, the High Imperator narrowed his dark eyes and clasped his fingers together in thought. Now it would be tested. Now the trials would begin.

===To: Fleet Admiral Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations Clairmont Space Navy
===Subject: Request fleet support
===From: Combined Seraphim Forces Strategic Command

===Code sequence: L6 Gamma 99 Red

~Message Begins: Be advised that CSF units stationed in Sol have been keeping track of the situation and contingency plans will be put into effect ASAP. All relevant data must be relayed to the CRC. A full debriefing is expected so that the Order and the High Imperator can determine the correct course of action.
~Message Ends

Calmness was settling down on his mind as Admiral Caparelli read the communicue from the Seraphim Strategic Command. He was well aware of the number of vessels they could bring into fray here in Sol, and those numbers almost assured him, almost. He could not believe that whoever was behind this would commence this kind of assault if they did not believe they could overcome the Seraphim Military that would certainly come to the assistance of the Star Protectorate in its moment of plight. And that worried him. They had accounted for the Seraphim involvement, which meant that they were sending sufficient forces to achieve their goal anyway.

He transcribed reply to the message.

===To: Combined Seraphim Forces Strategic Command
===Subject: Request for fleet support
===From: Admiral Caparelli, CNO Clairmont Space Navy

===Code sequence: L6 Gamma 99 Red

~Message Begins: Tactical information will be transferred as soon as it can be gathered. Current disposition, size and vector of incoming enemy force unknown. Enemy is suspected to have stealth capabilities far exceeding ours and allied capabilities. At the moment, the enemy force remains un-detected. Request assingment of fleet support both to the Protectorate Controlled Space around Shipyard facility Hephaestus as well as Earth control zone. Briefing on the events leading to this moment will be provided as soon as time permits.
~Message Ends

Sigmund was visible distressed upon hearing the news of what happened at Grathmoras, the images that Jon had shown still-hunted him. In an act of rage he pashed out at the only person he could Arado Jericho, he grabbed the man by the shirt.

“How long have you know” Yelled Sigmund uncontrollably, he began shaking the man with all his might “How long have you sat there letting other people struggle to figure this out. How many innocent people have died because of your silence. How many!!!!”


At the same moment back in Tappee

The last ten minutes had been nothing but chaotic to say the least, Jon was using every tool that he had at his disposal to figure out what was going. His conversation with agent Xavier was weighing heavily on his mind; they had been caught flat-footed. However, if Xavier was right then there was more going here then what he could possible imagine. The coordination of the attacks and ferocity had been well planned, and Jon could not name any organization of hand that had capability of such a feat.

At least two of the Tribunal members had been confirmed killed in the attack at Grathmoras. Add to that, they had lost all contact with Jade and feared the worst. With Jade currently out of the picture the Tribunal lay in ruins, The Tribunal was Tappee’s central core, whoever was behind these attack in one single blow had almost severed the head from Tappee’s body.

Just when he thought things could not get any worse, an unexpected message complicated the situation further.

Harold Armstrong, Tappee’s foreign minister, was forced to be the barer of bad news “Jon, it has come to my attention that Clairmont has requested military assistance from the Orders High Command. They believe that a possible invasion fleet is on route to Clairmont as we speak”

Jon looked at the man sitting across from him, General Robert William, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and Supreme Commander of Tappee’s military forces. “What kind of aid can we give them” asked Jon bluntly

It took the General a moment to answer “We are speared rather thin at the moment, currently 40% for our fleet in the Sol system, the rest are deployed in the Orion, and Incol system, it will take at least three days for before any of our forces can come back. However, even at 40% strength we still have a sizable force, couple that with the CSF and JIL would create a formidable task force.”

“hmm..” mumbled Jon thinking “And lets go worst case scenario and say that ground forces do land, what then”

“To put it simply” quickly answered the general “Lets hope what ever god they pray to help them.” General Williams was never one to sugar coat things, he always told it as it was. “With the military losses today, and the forces that are currently engaged in the Orion Sector, we have none to spare. A large portion of our force is currently conducting rescue operations in Grathmoras, and the rest are on standby. It comes down to simple numbers, currently we hardly have the man power to defend Tappee, little alone Clairmont in and Tappee.”

Sitting back in his chair Jon thought for a moment, suddenly it was all so clear. If an enemy fleet was truly on their way they would have wanted to ensure success, and that would include making sure that Clairmont allies would be crippled before the attack. Assuming his line of thinking was correct, then it was this unknown force that was responsible for the attacks in Tappee, he now a target for retribution. “General William, I moving us to alert status Epsilon, make the appropriate arrangements.” Jon looked over at Harold “Send Clairmont Command telling them that we will provide all the military support that we can.”

From there everyone went to their assigned tasks.

Moments later all across Tappee, since the morning attacks at Grathmoras most had chosen to stay home and watch the new, hoping to catch any new development. Suddenly the image changed on the T.V, most instantly recognized as the emergency broadcast screen, there was a message scrolling across the bottom telling people to stay in their homes. For those few that we out of their homes a chilling sound filled the air, for the first time in a generation air raid sirens were going off. Miles off ground located in boarders of space, countless orbital defence platform came to life. Onboard all the ships in the Sol crews were manning their combat stations.

Dogs of War were on their way, and Tappee was poising itself to inflict swift vengeance on those they believed were responsible for the sever loss of life that they had suffered today.

===To: Fleet Admiral Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations Clairmont Space Navy
===Subject: Request fleet support
===From: Tappee Strategic Command, and Tappee’s Office of Foreign Affairs

===Code sequence: L6 Gamma 99 Red

~Message Begins: Tappee’s military Forces will stand side by side those of Clairmont’s as we have done a number of times in the past. You can have our upmost assurance that we will defend Clairmont territory with the same ferocity and determination as that of Tappee territory. Both nation have recently suffered a terrible loss, now is the time to bring our fully furry on those responsible.
~Message Ends

War minister Descralda read through the communique carefully. He had received as part of his daily intelligence update regarding Order military operations. He re-read it. Shit, first Steel Butterfly, now this. Why can't disasters space themselvs out conviently, preferable to occur after my retirement? The Santa Barabarans having yet another coporate government meltdown isn't helping things eaither. When are they going to learn? Our way is the best way. Realizing he was now mentally ranting at the injustices of the world, Descralda brought himself back to the situation at hand - the immineint invasion of Clairmont by an aggressor of unknown strategic strength. He was faced with several difficulties - one, the newly constructed battle fleets were only a quarter of the way through with weapons calibration at the Mercury facility, forcing the rest of the ships to engage in normal combat ranges as opposed to the long standoff distances they were designed for. Two, the land Sketchian land forces were designed explicitly for the defense of Sketch, with only a relatively small offensive arm meant for lightening strikes. Take and hold; meaning conquest, capabilities, were put on the back burner due to political considerations. Luckily, this also meant that the dedicated defensive troops that could be utilized specialized in urban warfare; a very likely tactical senario. And thirdly, despite the Sketchian government being essentially run by the military, the associated bureaucracy didn't like making decisions based on unconfirmed information; much less approve of support when it wasn't even requested.

Descralda shifted uneasily in his seat. It distrubed him that he had to find out about such things via sneaking around and reading other people's mail. It's all part of his job of course. But it would be much better for him if he could simple get direct communications when trouble arrived. Alas, that would be too easy. And politics forbids that anything be so easy.

After careful consideration, Descralda decided that this was too important to wait. He hadn't acheived the position of war minister based only on his political savy, he was well schooled in strategic planning as well. He cut orders to redeploy key fleet and ground assests for quick transportation. No mobilization yet, that would be too obvious; and attract all the wrong attentions, this had to be taken care of quietly. Discreet, but pointed directions were issued to lower level unit commanders to make inquiries or otherwise obtain tactical information regarding Clairmont's current defensive capabilities. Descralda will wait patiently for now, but when the time comes, by the powers above, Sketch will come charging in; whether Clairmont wants it or not. Steel Butterfly will not happen again. Sketch shall not be denied another member of the Order.

Arado Jericho looked upon Sigmund with sad eyes as the man vented his anger on him. Jericho had wondered himself, would the situation be different if he had attempted to come forward earlier. The fact was that only today had he found out that the invasion was coming this soon and for that matter he had learned the true extent of the operation only today. He questioned his actions, could he have saved all those countless thousands who allready had died?

He shook his head and retorted to the Tappee Agent's accusations.
"And what do you suggest I would have told everyone? Told my story in a news paper? You know as well as I do how skeptical people are, and with the lack of any good physical evidence, it would have been just more rambling of a madman."

He sighed and continued.
"Agent Xavier, you can blame me and my organization from your hearts content if you so desire, that does not change the fact that our entire existence is solely devoted to the need to protect this nation we today call home."


Caparelli gave a cursory glance to the episode occurring between the Tappee Agent and Arado Jericho. He sympatizhed with Sigmund Xavier, he had a bit of an urge to shake around Jericho himself, but he knew it would achieve nothing.

He turned his head to inspect the hologram on the spacial operations side of the CCC. Many new icons now had appeared with all of them glowing the relieving colour of blue, signifying allies. Two full Battle Squadrons, two battle groups and three lesser fleet groups from the JIL were allready converging to defensive positions.

On top of that, Tappee had allready granted their fleet support as Caparelli had learned from the recent communicue from Tappee Strategic Command. He inspected the deployments of his own forces. The battle squadrons at the other edge of the solar system were still hours away, but the defense group at Hephaestus had arrayed into position around the Supermonitor Avalon,

But he still had his doubts, was this all enough? The planners of this 4th Imperium were not stupid, as their operating patterns here on Clairmont proved adequately. They had to have up-to-date intel on the Order fleet capabilities, as well as those of Clairmonts allies. They would not attack if they did not have a reason to believe that they could penetrate the defenses erected.

He glanced at the wall chrono at the end of the room. It was 06.30 AM. Barely over two hours had passed from the beginning of the crisis, and Caparelli could not help but wonder, how long did they still have to prepare?

Admiral Nuvien observed patiently as the icon representing her Battle Squadron continued to close on with the icon representing the loyalist Space Fortress. She had noted with interest the appereance of one of the enemy Supermonitors in defense of the Space Fortress. It would make a good target, slow, ponderous and huge as it was. She glanced at the mission time clock ticking at one of the screens protruding from the armrest of her chair. It was about time to start dropping the stealth fields soon.

She allowed herself a predatory smile as she expected the carnage about to enfold. The Imperial Navy had total advantage, the advantage of supprise and the advantage of the attacker to choose targets at will. And they knew the armaments and tactical capabilities of their enemies, while they did not have the slightest idea of what they were facing. She nearly chuckled as she thought of the missile engagements soon to come.

She gave a cursory examination to the new icons that had appeared on the tactical holo. Seraphim fleet assets. Two full Battle Squadrons, two full Battle Groups and three smaller groupings. They had been accounted for, but the number of fighters still startled her a bit, there were over five thousand of them. When coupled with the fighter wings of the Home Fleet of the enemy, the Imperial Navy would be facing no less than seven and a half thousand fighters. Perfect target practice for our own fighters she chuckled mentally.

The mission time clock came down to the time stamp set for the next phase of the operation. Tamara Nuvien gave the order immidiately.

"Drop stealth fields to assigned levels."

The crew aboard her battlesquadron obeyed, their stealth fields weakening, and making the gravitic signatures of the fleet's drive fields detectable for the gravitic sensors of their enemy. But the stealth fields were not fully dropped, merely to the levels where their enemy could see them. With the loss of their long-range sensor net covering the outer system, the Imperial Naval forces had had an unhindered approach for the most of the trip. The Space Fortress had only its own sensor suite now, and its range was far lower than that of the long-range sensor net. And despite of the stealth fields, there had been an extremely high possibility that those sensor drones guarding the outer system could have detected her force before the plan allowed.

Nuvien wondered what those sensor operators were thinking right now onboard Space Fortress Ramilius. But most of all, she thought what would the CNO of the enemy, this Caparelli figure think of the number of the enemy he saw. She allowed herself a small wish that the man would be stupid enough to think that the ships they had detected represented all or most of the attack about to come. She doubted it however, she had studied Caparelli from the intel reports sent back by the 4th Imperium infiltrators, and he doubted that the man would make such an error. Not that it mattered.

She inspected the tactical holo. The range was still seven light-minutes to the enemy, but her force was closing at a base velocity of point-four-cee, it would not be long now. She knew that her enemy had a maximum powered missile envelope of three light-minutes with their multi-drive missiles. She also knew that her enemy had no idea that she could start hitting them from six light-minutes. Soon they would.

March 22nd
Saturday
06.35 AM
Protectorate Controlled Space
Space Fortress Ramilius

Rating Ghent Laumer gasped as they finally saw the enemy. Contacts were popping up on his sensor screen and so far the computer counted a total of one hundred and fifty contacts. They were well inside the fortress' sensor envelope, and it seemed like they had just came out of nowhere. They had not come out of hyper just now for there was no energy signature to reveal that, which meant that they had approached to this distance from the outer system. How they just seemed to pop up made Laumer suspect the possibility that they had allowed the Ramilius to see them.

The computer finished logging the new contacts and Laumer's eyes flew wide as he noted the number. Solid two hundred contacts, all judging by the power of their gravitic drives were destroyers and upwards.

The Commander of the fortress noted the numbers, their inbound vector and base velocity dutifully and made sure that the data had allready been relayed to High Command back on Earth. The inbound vector of the force was what affected him and his command the most, those enemies were coming straight at his face. The range was still far too high even for multi-drive missiles, but when it would not be, he would be ready, for he had allready rolled his missile pods out of the fortress and the Pod-Superdreadnaughts as well as Avalon were following suite. When they were finished, there would be no less than five hundred and forty pods in space, each carrying ten missiles. That would give him an opening salvo of five thousand and four hundred missiles.

March 22nd
Saturday
06.40 AM
Manticore's Nest

Caparelli noted the appereance of the enemy contacts. They were finally showing their faces. But it looked like they showed them because they themselves felt like it, not because the Ramilius had found them of its own accord.

Judging by the present rate of closure, the enemy force would reach the Ramilius far before any of the JIL assets or any of the ships of his 11t or 7th Battle Squadrons could reach the fortress. That meant that the Ramilius and the forces allready there were on their own, a scant fifty warships, of which ten were ships of the wall. The odds were not made better by the fact that their enemy most likely had full intel on the capabilities of his ships while he and his men had no idea of the enemy's capabilities.

The numbers of the enemy troubled him. Only two hundred. While it was true that the enemy had the element of supprise, and the advantage of knowing their enemy, they could not possibly hope to achieve victory with two hundred ships against the massing forces of the JIL, the CSN and the Tappee Space Navy assets coming to help. Caparelli would acknowledge the possibility of arrogance, but he doubted it as it was extremely uncharacteristic in light of the actions the enemy had allready taken.
No, that is not all of them. And since that is not all the enemy can throw at us, where are the rest of them? Where the hell are they headed?

===To: CRC National Command, All Order Member Nations
===Subject: Strategic Alert
===From: Combined Seraphim Forces Strategic Command

===SEQ: L6 Gamma 99 Red

~Message Begins: The High Imperator has ordered the CSAS be set to level 4 in response to the iminent threat posed to majority holdings in Sol. The CSF, including all CRC and JIL forces, is set for mobilization to intercept forces of unknown capability and composition. All CRC Command Center personnel numbers must be boosted to partial wartime standards and all CRC National Forces are be mobilized. Mobilization and Coordination Procedures are being transmitted with this message. This is a direct order from the High Imperator, bearing the full authority of Das Sketch and the Order of the Seraphim.
~Message Ends

Somewhere in Vrak...

Translated from Vrakian.

-Message from CSF Strategic Command!
-Indeed. Let me see.

After a few moments, the walrus sighed.

-Alas, there is not much we can do militarily. This can not have come at a worse time with this war in Neo Tyr.
-Yes sir.
-Very well. I'm sure our few personnel in Mercury may already know about this. We can only help on a manufacturing end.
-Yes sir. Shall I inform them?
-Oh, I'll do it.

====


==To: Combined Seraphim Forces Strategic Command
==From: Vrak Military High Command

==SEQ: L5 Gamma 99 Red

As always, our military might is nil in this area. We shall have to discuss ways to rectify this. But I digress. Our industrial output is at your convenience and our Mercury personnel have been notified. Bolden transports have been told to give Order personnel and equipment top priority if needed.

Admiral Nuvien felt a tingling sense of elation as her Battlesquadron crossed the pre-determined engagement border. They had been training for this for five years, never tiring, never relaxing, never giving any less than their best to the excersise, and finally the real operation was happening and for what very well could be the last time in over five thousand years, the Imperium went to war against their old brothers.

Tamara Nuvien gave the order that the thousands of Imperial Soldiers aboard her Battlesquadron had been expecting for long now.

"Execute battle plan."

It was a simple order, but it commenced a course of events that committed the Imperium to the war. They would fire the first shot, and they would fire the last shot. That was how it was destined to be, and thats how it would be.

The launchers aboard her two hundred ships spat missiles. The frigates in her battle formation spat only a few each, but the Battlecruisers, Battleships and the immense Monitors and Supermonitors were releasing dozens of missiles to space. In only a scant few seconds, fifteen hundred missiles were out of their tubes, their nav-computers having received the targeting telemetry from their motherships and seeking for those targets hungrily.

Nuvien knew that her salvo was only a bit more than a quarter of what the defense fleet of the Ramilius would soon be putting to space. But it hardly mattered, her missiles were superior in every way, and she knew her enemy, the opposite was true to that enemy. She smiled the hungry smile of a predator for the blood of her enemy she was about to taste.

March 22nd
Saturday
07.00 AM
Protectorate Controlled Space
Space Fortress Ramilius

The screen and the tactical holo-sphere lighted up with the swarm of incoming missiles. The officers and ratings immidiately went to work to distribute the point-defense and maximise the effects of their Electronic Warfare against the missiles, but whatever jamming they were using, it was hellishly effective and the only feed that was coming thru was the emissions that their drive fields were putting out.

Having determined the situation, Sensor Rating Ghent Laumer spoke to report the situation.
"Incoming! Count one-five-zero-zero birds in space. Approximate flight time, two-two-point-four-six minutes, ma....."

He cut his sentence short as the contacts disappeared rapidly from his screen. Training and reflexes cut in. He swept the space again and again for the missiles, but there was nothing, as if all those fifteen hundred missiles had disappeared.

Everyone else at the Command Center was as puzzled as he was, including the CO of the massive fortress. They had been hard contacts, no EW could fake something like that. Had they gone ballistic? Cut off their drives to make them invisible to the gravitic sensors of the Ramilius and her defense fleet? It seemed to be the only response, but that did not make sense for..

His thoughts were cut short as the sensors suddenly registered hundreds of energy spikes, only two and a half light seconds away. He regognized those energy spikes for they resembled the energy release of a ship exiting hyperspace. The computers did their work methodically and analyzed the data dutifully. In a heart-beat, they confirmed Laumer's fears, fifteen hundred objects exiting hyperspace.

It was impossible! But it was the only thing that could have happened. The missiles had jumped, an absolutely tiny jump by the standards of hyperspace travel, and executed with precision that no Protectorate technology could match, doing that they had approached within point-blank range of the defense fleet. And now they were coming straight at them, closing at over thirty thousand kps.

"Sir! Those damn missiles jumped!" One of the other sensor ratings screamed.

Shock was evident from the expression of Commander DeSisco, but the man was not a fool, nor had he been given the command of the fortress because of his incompetence. He allowed himself only two seconds of shocked disbelief before he began shouting orders.

"Target those fucking missiles! Throw a damn curtain of PD between us and them!"

The tactical officer of the fortress obeyed immidiately, her hands flying over the controls of her panel, locking in firing solutions, configuring parameters. As her commands relayed to the ships of the defense force and to the fortress' own point-defense systems, volleys of fire went out to intercept the incoming missiles.

The Supermonitor Avalon brought its massive point-defenses to bear. Over two hundred point-defense projectile guns commenced fire, each releasing two rounds every second to space, each and every one of the rounds was a fifty kiloton nuclear device. Over four hundred of the small nuclear warheads went out at every second, creating a literal wall of nuclear fire to space.

The destroyers, cruisers and Superdreadnaughts of the defense force added their weight of fire to that of the Avalon point defense lasers, hundreds of counter-missiles and nuclear cartridges swept the space, desperately attempting to stop the incoming missiles.

Dozens of the missiles vanished, shattered or detonated pre-maturely when the deadly point-defense fire found them. But these missiles were unlike anything the Clairmont Space Navy had seen. Faster, more maneuverable and obtaining ECM systems of unseen power, their capability to avoid the point-defense was unimaginable. Without any intel data on their enemy, the effectiveness of the point-defense was a scant shadow of what it should have been.

In the end, hundreds of the missiles died, but two hundred and twelve of them got thru.

Space lighted up as the massive anti-matter charges ot the missiles went off in a brilliant display of nuclear hellfire. They detonated at distances of only a few hundred meters from their targets, at that range, only the most massivest of ships or fortresses could withsand the hundreds of megatons worth of death. Many wasted themselves uselessly against targets allready destroyed, some detonated a little too far to destroy their targets, regardless of this, the damage was terrible.

Four destroyers, three cruisers, a superdreadnaught and a carrier vanished instantly, each receiving several near-contact hits from the massive AM warheads.


The Ramilius verberated as the two warheads that had nearly hit the fortress vented their fury. Sensors were wiped out, missile tubes fused shut, weapon emplacements destroyed.

Only five thousand kilometers from the Ramilius, the Avalon shuddered as if it had been a toy as the result of three near misses of hundred and fifty megaton AM warheads. Point-defense guns melted into useless heaps, sensor arrays blinded by the energy releases and armor scarred as the energy from the detonations hammered into the Supermonitors hull.


Nearly a full fifth of the defense force had been wiped out by the enemy's first salvo, and they had not yet even returned fire! Commander DeSisco's eyes circled the command center and transfixed on the tactical hologram.
We havent yet even returned fire! How for the love of all that is holy we can fight something like that?!

More missile contacts appeared on the screens and the tactical hologram as the enemy fleet launched its next salvo. It was lighter this time, "only" twelve hundred missiles. But with level of destruction each of those missiles could wreak....

There was no doubt in DeSisco's mind now. They were going to die here. With the enemy out-classing and out-numbering the Ramilius defense force, they had no chance of stopping them.
But we will, by the love of god, take some of those bastards with us!

There was no hesitation, only cold determination and the knowledge of their duty as the defenders of the Star Protectorate of Clairmont. The enemy was nearly within range now, and it seemed that they were willing to approach within energy weapons range.

DeSisco composed himself, and spoke with this cool tenor of command voice.
"Prepare to open fire. Lets show these goddamn bastards that a Clairmontian goes down on top of a pile of his enemies bodies!!"

Artificial light filled the hallway as the two men made their way towards the briefing room. They were alone, only the sounds of their foots steps filled the air, as the sound bounced of the featureless cement walls.

“I really wish that Emily was here” finally said one of the men “We could have really benefited from her experience” Admiral Martac was in his late fifties, with greying hair, and dark blue eyes. Despite his age he looked like he was still in good shape, maintain a solid body structure. However, he was expected to maintain such an appearance, as an admiral in the Tappee Navy he was expected to set an example for those under him.

“It could not be helped” quickly answered General Williams “At the moment she is needed in the Orion Sector. Too pull out now would be disgrace the memory of all those that died trying to accomplished victory.” General William paused as the reached a look door at the end of the hallway. Without hesitation he placed his left hand of a blue pad that was jetting out from the wall. Then put his face in a small terminal. Moments later the door opened. “Besides, I fully trust in your ability to hand the situation” casually remarked Williams as the door opened.

As the door opened a flurry of activity was reviled, as the full scope of the Situation room came into view. The two made their way to the centre of the room to the giant Holo display. Everything that was going on in the system was being displayed, Blue dots where allied forces, green represented Tappee’s force, and lastly the red dots showed the enemy fleet.

“It doesn’t appear to that many” commented Williams. Seeing the actual number concerned him. Currently the enemy did not have sufficient force to deal with the offensive strength that was now bring to bare. So far the Clairmont and Tappee had mobilized their forces, add that the combined strength of the JIL, CRC, and CSF. What could they hope to achieve with such a force, he could not help but think this was but a taste of what was to come.

“It could just be a diversionary tactic” answered Martac with a certain degree of confidence “They could just trying to pull the bulk of force away from the planet in an attempt to hit us from another attack vector. From what we can see they have rather impressive stealth technology, so they could be rather close by”

General Williams thought for a moment “Agree, so what the game plan then?”

Typing in a few commands into a nearby consol Admiral Matac highlighted the force in the Sol system. “I’ve created a few specialized strike forces, nothing big, mostly fast gunships and missileships to help support the Clairmont. However, the bulk of our force will remain near the planet, this will give us several advantages. We will have the benefits of fire support from both the Orbital defence platforms, and ground based artillery. Secondly we will be able to utilized both short range and long range fighters from the surface, if we are going to fight these bastards then lets do it on our terms”

“Very well” nodded William “I’ll coordinate with the CDA forces then”

March 22nd
Saturday
07.15 AM
Protectorate Controlled Space
Supermonitor Avalon

Vice Admiral Maximilian Semper gringed his teeth as another Superdreadnought disappeared in a blinding flash of light as her fusion bottles let go, resulting from the contact hit with an anti-matter warhead. That last salvo had wiped out one more Superdreadnought and two cruisers.

The situation was most certainly as grim as Commander DeSisco had put it. However impossible it appeared, the enemy had missiles capable of jumping to hyperspace and crossing most of the distance between their launching ship and the target in less than a minute. Semper had no idea how they did it, but they did it regardless.

The first salvo had been the most devastating one, after that the ECM and point-defense of the defense force had began to compensate for the ECM of the missiles and their evasive maneuvers. The defensive effectiveness had increased three fold, but was still only a fraction of what it would have been against traditional missiles.

To make matters worse, their enemy's point-defense and Electronic Warfare capabilities were frighteningly effective. When the enemy fleet had reached the powered flight envelope of the defense force's missiles, of the massive opening salvo of fifty-four hundred missiles, only a pathetic twelve had gotten thru. The x-ray stilettos of the laserhead missiles had stabbed at their targets, penetrating their defensive fields with difficulty. Two of the enemy had died there, destroyers by their drive signatures.

The resultant salvoes had been little more effective, but the ratio of hits to the launched missiles was till abysmal. During the fifteen minutes of combat, only eighteen enemy ships had been wiped out, and only two of those had been heavies. In turn, twenty-eight of the defense force's ships had been destroyed, and the Ramilius fortress was a wreck.

Semper could only imagine what those ships could do once they reached energy range, which , he glanced at the countdown ticking down beneath the icon of the enemy fleet, was now five minutes away. The enemy had every intention of coming within energy range, but to what end, Semper did not know. Perhaps their operation was critically dependant on time, perhaps they had to wipe out the Hephaestus before the JIL, Tappee and CSN Home Fleet units would arrive. But thinking of that was useless at this point, his command had less than five minutes to live, and in that time he would take as many of them with him as he could.

He glanced at the tactical hologram and allowed himself a slight smile when the glowing blue icons of his last missile salvo ripped apart one of the enemy heavy warships and two of their lighter combatants. The weight of fire of the defense force was being withered away as more ships died in the nuclear hellfire of the enemy anti-matter warheads.

Semper did not allow himself to fall into dismay, and began issuing orders calmly.
"Guns, give them another full salvo with the main batteries."

As he issued the order, the massive one-thousand millimeter projectile cannons charged, and released each a massive shell at point-four cee towards the enemy fleet. Each of the shells carried a eighty-five megaton thermo-nuclear charge, and the fact that the shells were inert objects in themselves made them hellishly difficult to detect. But, as they had no maneuvering capability, they were also inaccurate. But once they hit, the effects were......interesting.

Semper grunted with approval as two of his shells from the salvo he had launched several minutes ago connected with the enemy fleet, and two of their ships disappeared from the tactical hologram. As they got closer, the effectiveness of the main guns only grew better, and once they reached energy range.....Semper had never seen his point-defense grav guns unleashed against a warship, but once those bastards got within half a million kilometers, they would be receiving nearly half a thousand small nukes every second at their heads.

Though, the effects of such small nukes being what they were in the vacuum of space, and the dispersal of the enemy being what it was, he doubted that he would get many kills with those.

He glanced at the countdown timer, HMS Avalon had roughly four minutes to live.

March 22nd
Saturday
07.17 AM
Manticore's Nest

Admiral Caparelli could only watch as the out-numbered and out-gunned Ramilius defense force fought their desperate stand against the incoming enemy. They would all die, there was no CSN, JIL or Tappee ship that could reach them in time. In the opening of this war, thousands upon thousands of Clairmontians would die in less than half an hour, with thousands having allready died. Caparelli could not help but allow himself to consider that this was merely the beginning, that millions of the citizens he had sworn to defend would die yet. He would do anything in his power to prevent that, but he the darkness of his thoughts allowed him no feeling of relief.

He glanced at the indicators of the Battlesquadrons of the Home Fleet returning from the other edge of the solar system. Knowing the battle of the Space Fortress Ramilius as lost, Caparelli had ordered them to gather at Hephaestus along with the other two Battlesquadrons of the Home Fleet. Together with the three massive Space Fortresses protecting the shipyard, he was certain that they could hold out against the enemy. But if the enemy decided to attack directly, casualties would be enormous. Having allready displayed their Defensive capabilities and their hyper-missiles, they would slaughter untold numbers of the Hephaestus defense force if they would attack directly. Caparelli doubted that was what they intended, he was allready almost certain that the enemy would contain the Hephaestus defense force to protect the shipyard. One might think that his near assuredness of the enemy's intentions would give Caparelli the choice of refraining his two battle squadrons from the edge of the solar system from joining the Hephaestus. Those who would indulge themselves in such false hopes were wrong, for if he did not commit those two battle squadrons to protect the Hephaestus, the enemy could wipe the shipyard out, and that was something that could not be allowed.

He allowed his gaze to circle the room. Patricia Givens had immidiately left when the capabilities of the enemy had been revealed. Undoubtly, the Second Space Lord was furiously at work in quantifying the enemy's capabilities. Caparelli had immense trust in her, and he knew that his friend would find out everything humanly possible of their new nemesis and provide it to him. Whether it would be enough, whether it would be soon enough and whether Caparelli could use it or not were another questions alltogether.

His wrist communicator let out a sound, signaling him of an incoming call. He promptly accepted it, and listened the voice in his earbug. It was a call about a visitor, and it wasnt a call asking if he would allow him in or not, but rather a notification.

He only nodded and shut off the comm. Straightening his uniform, he turned to the door to face the coming visitor. The double doors slammed open, and a man appearing to be in his early thirties (though the use of pro-long had made external implications rather moot points) stormed in.

Benjamin Alexander was as furious as he could be, and even to a man who knew the ruling Monarch of Clairmont, that fury was a sight that one would wish to avoid.

"Tom, I know you have been busy and having other things to ascertain and arrange, I did not bother you earlier, but as my country is under attack, I want to know what the FUCK is going on and I want to know right now! Tell me everything you know."

Caparelli could hardly tell his Leader no.

The gathering point would be Hephaestus, further outsystem than Mars but not past Jupiter. The CSN fleets had no other options, so the High Imperator ordered the JIL to support that action and defend the inner system.

He shook his head. The battle the enemy gave was unlike anything he'd seen. So far from the ambush at the time, they had only gotten time-delayed long range sensor readings, and the alarming comms from the CSN ships as they were destroyed.

Who are they?

This was the most pressing thing to Executor Alex Cullens; not knowing the enemy. He had a terrible suspicion that he wasn't alone in this. Core Commander Broadstreet, if he knew any pertinent details about the identity of the enemy, wasn't sharing them. And so the mystery went on up, for infinity perhaps.

He didn't like going into battle against completely unknown foes.

His ship, the Mars, was now part of the 15th System Defense Group, which was an intermediate part of three groups and two battlegroups attached to two Interplanetary Warfare battle squadrons. A total of 438 combat warships, with a dense screen of thousands of sensor drones and tactical assault craft, (many of which were being towed by the new small engine drones for the interplanetary voyage), in a sphere formation hundreds of kilometers across.

It was a large part of the standing CSF fleet, but instead of making him feel reassured, it had the opposite effect.

He could only take reassurance that he would be alert, as alert as he could, and that he would make sure the ships in his group were too. There was no need for grandiose speeches. They had trained endlessly. The crews were fluid in their movements and the ship nearly organic; living, seeing, hearing, smelling, breathing. It too had an interest in survival. Perhaps it was afraid, but plunged through the wells of space towards Hephaestus anyway.

Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus gave his bridge crew and inspectory glance. All of them went about with their tasks at endless energy and vigour, making sure that the ship operated smoothly and flawlessly.

Fastus's part of the operation thus far had been one of waiting. His fleet had been inserted thru the corridor created by the Imperial Infiltrators to the Fort Ramilius's sensor drone net. Now they laid in wait in Jupiters shadow, eagerly expecting for their prey.

It wasnt long from now, Fastus pondered. His stealthed recon drones had allready determined that their target was approaching the enemy shipyard at rapid pace, and they would soon be in a position where Fastus's force could finish them, or to the very least cripple them severely in one quick firing pass. "Quick" being what it was with the ranges of space combat being what they were.

He inspected the tactical hologram. Thus far, everything was going as had been planned. His colleaque, Admiral Nuvien had engaged the Ramilius fortress as planned and would soon finish the defense force there with a her energy batteries. The third force of the invasion mission was only a small leap away from his fleet. Their part would come immidiately after he was finished.

After Fastus finished assessing the situation, he noted the current position of their prey. It was time. He gave the order to the bridge crew.

"Communications, signal the rest of the fleet. Commence execution of battle plan. Navigation, execute maneuver Alpha-One. Tactical, set stealth fields to maximum disruption."

The instructions were executed precisely and swiftly, and in seconds the three hundred ships of his force began moving under the concealement of their stealth fields. Their acceleration was a mere 15% of what they were capable of, but to avoid detection as long as possible it was necessary to maintain the drive fields at as low power as possible.

Fastus knew the complete disposition and numbers of the enemy. He faced four hundred and thirty eight combat starships with his three hundred. He was hardly worried. He had the element of supprise on his side, and the massive majority of his enemy's force consisted of light combatants such as Frigates, Corvettes and Destroyers. While he admitted the usefullness of those ships as screening elements, they would not hold for long once the battle got within energy range. In actuality, he outnumbered the enemy in terms of heavy battle line units. He had a total of twenty-two Iconoclasm-class Supermonitors, sixteen Marathon-class Monitors, fourteen Nergal-class Battleships and twenty Imperium-class Battlecruisers. And two-hundred and sixty-eight Destroyers and Frigates running the screen. He had the capability to launch a total of thirty-six hundred fighters.

Outnumbered as they were, Fastus had complete faith in his fleet.

The fleet drifted out of Jupiters shadow, running in thight formation with their stealth fields at maximum power, they would be undetectable for the enemy for another fifteen minutes, at that point the massed numbers of enemy sensor arrays could burn thru their stealth and see them, but at that point the stealth would no-longer be necessary.



Meanwhile, Admiral Tamara Nuvien closed in for her kill. She had hammered away most of the opposing Clairmontian vessels, and now it was only a matter of cleaning up the trash. Her ships would reach energy weapon range in one minute.

One of the Battleships off her Flagships port bow caught a direct hit from the massive one thousand millimeter shells of the enemy Supermonitor. The round did not detonate as it hit the gravitic defense field of the battleship. The defense field withstood the kinetic energy delivered by the round for a mere fraction of a second before failing. The projectile detonated only scant few meters off the bow of the battleships, the rage of the eighty-five megaton thermo-nuclear detonation ripping the ship apart like a toy. Nuvien did not even flinch at the death of one of her ships. She had still killed more of the enemy than they had killed her ships, and most of her casualties was mere frigates or destroyes among which were a few Battlecruisers and some Battleships, the core of her force was still intact and capable of proceeding with the operation.

Her command voice shouted orders over the battle chatter of the bridge.
"Ready main energy batteries! Target that Supermonitor! Ready to fire immidiately once we are within range!"


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Fastus.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus
Commanding Officer of 2nd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Nuvien.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien
Commanding Officer of 3rd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

March 22nd
Saturday
07.18 AM
Protectorate Controlled Space
Supermonitor Avalon

Smoke filled the bridge of the massive Supermonitor and there was a sense of chaos there as every crewman went about with their tasks at frantic pace. It was nearly over now. Only twelve ships remained of the Ramilius defense force, and all of them were little more than wrecks. Despite their grievous damage, all of them still fought on, determined to bring down as many of their enemy as possible.

The Avalon itself was in bad shape. It had recieved six nearly direct hits from the enemy anti-matter warheads, and most of her main armaments and point-defenses were out of comission. It was only due to the meters worth of armor and the incredible design of the vessel that it had survived at all.

But that would soon change. The enemy was nearly within range of their energy batteries, which, Semper had determined, was nearly the same as that of the CSN or so it seemed to the very least. Not that it mattered at this point.

He glanced over the crew he had had the privilege to serve with. He had commanded several ships in his time, but never had he seen such a dedicated and determined crew. None of them showed signs of fear for they all knew they would soon die. All of them had allready mentally said their good byes to whatever loved ones they would soon leave alone in this world, and so had Semper. He only wished that he could have seen his daughter once more, but this was how it was, and he would die protecting her, protecting those over two billion people that depended on his kind to protect them.

He waited calmly for the scant thirty seconds, and then gave his final order.
"All port batteries, fire at will!"

Simultaneously, the entirety of the remaining port side energy weapons, point-defense guns and all of the remaining main projectile cannons opened fire. The Ramilius and the other ships of the defense force opened fire with their energy batteries.

A massive storm of nuclear hellfire and GRASERs swept thru the rank of enemy ships. Smaller ships simply disintegrated as they were struck often by over half a dozen small nuclear rounds from the Avalon, larger vessels came apart as GRASER beams ripped their hulls asunder, cleaving thru the defense fields and armor of the enemy as they had been tissue paper.

Fleet Admiral Nuvien's fleet responded. Over two thousand graviton based energy weapons lashed out at the remainder of the Ramilius defense force. The fortress itself came apart as it was simultaneously struck by nearly two hundred of the beams.

Superdreadnaughts were disintegrated under the massive onslaught, and lighter vessels simply ceased to exist alltogether.

Dozens, hundreds of beams cleaved at the Avalon. Armor shattered, beams struck deep to the internal compartments of the ship, causing chain-reaction explosive decompressions. Weapons were blown apart. The rear section of the Supermonitor was blown straight off, and desroyed. Scores of beams burrowed themselves thru the meters worth of armor of the ship to wreak terrible havoc to the insides of the ship. Thousands of the crew died in mere seconds as the powerfull beams stabbed the massive ship to the heart. Three beams converged directly to the bridge of the ship, destroying it completely.

The guns of the massive ship died as the enemy fusillade destroyed them or cut off their power supplies. Then it was over, the enemy fleet ceased firing. Only a few dead ship hulks remained, most of the remaining vessels having been utterly blown apart by the final onslaught. Among them was the shriveled, and butchered hull of the Supermonitor Avalon. Drifting in a cloud of debris, it was now a lifeless piece of metal. Tribute to the amazing engineering of the ship, her fusion plants had not gone off. But it had little difference for there was no-one left alive or any system intact to take solace of that fact.

The Battle of Ramilius had been lost.

The Dark Angel cut through hyperspace along with over 400 other ships pf varying size and class. They were known as the ESUS battle group, a well organized fleet of both speed, manoeuvrability, and firepower, which if used well could be a rather deadly combination. The Dark Angel served as the battle groups command ship, it was one of only Three Super Dreadnaughts knows as the Cronos class. The other two were the Hand of Vengeance which was currently located in the Incol System, and the third was none other then the Furious Angel Tappee’s flagship operating under the direct command of Admiral Dodalla, which was currently leading Tappee’s forces in the Orion conflict.

Captain Max Darmiticus stretched his arms, every things was going well, a glance over at the time remained him that they were far ahead of schedule. It had taken far less then anyone had anticipated gathering their battle group for the return trip back to the prime system of Sol, they were a good eight hours ahead of schedule. However, in their haste they had not informed command of their advancement before jumping into hyperspace, as a result they would be unable to get a signal to command until they exited hyperspace in the Sol system.

Truth was the news of the terrorist attacks had caused the crews to work feverously, they all feared for loved ones, and had done everything in their efforts to get back as soon as possible.

“Sir, we are coming out of hyperspace” proclaimed the NAV officer.

“Very well” answered Darmiticus.

There was a slight shudder in the floor as the Dark Angel came pit of hyperspace. For a brief moment their was a complete sensor black out as the ship came out, but this was the norm for hyperspace travel.

Relaxed Darmiticu made himself a bit more comfortable, allowing for a brief sigh, he was looking forward to getting back home and helping to search for the terrorist responsible for the attack.

“Sir” yelled the Dark Angel’s TAC officer “Something is very wrong”

Quickly Darmticus jumped to his feet, and made his way over the TAC “what is it?”

“I don’t know how to explain it” shuddered the TAC officer “But the Clairmont Supermonitor Avalon is gone, I’m ready only debris, there is a unknown fleet of ships near that location. Also there are no ship flying patrol routes, It would appear that the fleet is grouped around the planet. Also there is a unusual amount of Order ship in sector, based on their vectors they are grouping at Hephaestu”

At any given time Tappee force would be flying standard patrol routes, that fact coupled with everything that Darmiticus was seeing told him that something was very wrong, and there was more going on here then everyone had been lead to believe.

“Move us to alert status 10” barked Darmiticus, he flipped on the Comm system “Admrial to the Bridge, All hands to battle stations, I repeat all hands to battle stations, this is not a drill.” Immediately sirens went off and the lights dimmed. Darmiticus looked over at the Comm officer “Get command of the horn, and get a hold of them now!”

"Hmm, this is most inconvinient." Fleet Admiral Nuvien murmured simply as the icons representing the new contacts just having appeared from hyperspace glowed on the tactical hologram.

The Tappee force was in a most inconvinient position for her Battlesquadron, and its appereance had not been accounted for, atleast not this early. It was obvious that they were not here because they would have been recalled because of this attack, but rather they were simply following a schedule.

As inconvinient as it was, it would require an adjustment to the current plans. As it was, if those ships vectored in to intercept her force and the Clairmontian forces at their shipyard would do the same, she would be facing very bad odds indeed. Over two to one odds in fact. Despite the advantage of supprise, and several tactical advantages, her professionalism did not allow her to believe that she had a chance to prevail against those kinds of odds.

There was no sense of unease at the bridge following the detection of the new force, no nervoussness or fear. Such useless feelings had been ruthlessly removed during the psycho-indoctrination, allowing the military to work more effectively.

She turned her command chair to face the communications officer.
"Send the signal to Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis."

The communications officer acknowledged without question and turned to his console to see to the execution of his orders.

Nuvien knew that the Star Admiral would come quickly and exactly in the time the operational plan had assigned to him. She also knew that the Star Admiral would question her judgement to call for his force this early, but the Star Admiral would also understand immidiately once she explained the reasons behind her sending the signal.

She glanced at her chrono, forty six seconds had now passed from the moment she had ordered the signal to be sent. Twenty seconds later, exactly a minute after the signal had been sent, new icons appeared on the tactical holo.

:New contacts detected:
--Vector one-niner-zero
--Acceleration at nine-fifty gravities
--Inbound velocity at seventy-six thousand kps

She eyed the positioning of the arriving ships, they were exactly where they should be, and at max accel they would reach her position in twenty minutes. And once that goal was complete, she would have over seven hundred ships in her formation, though the command of the fleet would then fall for Star Admiral Vanadis.

It could have been seven hundred and forty she mused, if that exchange with the Ramilius and its guard fleet had not cost her fifty ships. She admitted herself that the massive enemy Supermonitor had fought extremely well, and no matter how much technical specifications of the class she had seen, nothing had prepared her to witness that massive storm of nuclear hellfire the vessel had unleashed at point-blank range.

Not that the loss of those fifty ships was truly relevant. Most of them had been light combatants, only eight of them had been heavies. The losses had only dented her screen, and thus made her slightly more vulnerable against fighter attacks and missiles. But that would change soon when Star Admiral Vanadis would join her force to form the main fighting force of the Imperial Battle Fleet in the system.

She eyed the information relayed to the tactical hologram. The Tappee force was a wildcard. She did not know what their orders were, and what they would do. They could attack her, they could move to reinforce the Clairmont Home Fleet massing at Hephaestus, or they could move to Earth orbit. It was pure guesswork, and such un-predictable modifiers made the scenario more difficult. But, as the old truth went, "No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy", it would be a problem to be adapted to.


Meanwhile, Admiral Morian Fastu's fleet force accelerated at a leisurable pace away from their position at a vector that would bring them within missile range and finally at energy range of the Seraphim Order forces approaching Hephaestus.

Fastus inspected the tactical hologram, the range was still far too much even for hyper-missiles, and it would take atleast twenty minutes to close to range enough for his missiles to start hitting home. Tapped the arm-rest of his command chair gently while simulating the scenario in his head, as he had done twenty times allready. Thinking of all the possible modifiers, he ironed out his engagement plan to guarantee the most destruction against the enemy. Soon, he would get to apply that plan in practice.

Admiral Martac let out a sigh of relief as the new ships that appeared were quickly identified as the ESUS battle group, they had arrived much sooner then anyone had thought, but this was not a bad thing. However, it did change things, he new a much larger force to play with, and a fleet they was now in position to provide support to other military units.

“Admiral” called out a voice “Admiral Jensen is wait to talk to you.”

“Put him on the main screen” quickly answered Martac, within seconds the image of rear Admiral Jensen appeared on the screen. Jensen was the commander of the ESUS battle group. “As you probably see Jensen we have a bit of a situation here” Explained Martac. “We facing an unknown foe, that is using advanced technology. In particular they have missile that can jump in and out hyperspace. Order force have gathered, Clairmont has already taken a number of losses”

A grim look came over Jensens face “We have detected that already, what are your orders.”

Initially Martac was going send the fleet group with Order forces massing at Hephaestus, he had in his opinion sufficient forces around the planet. He was about to give the order when an idea suddenly came to him. “Jensen I want you and your fleet to move to the following coordinates near the asteroid belt” Martac sent Jensen the Data. “I want you to stay there until told otherwise, try to have asteroids between you and the enemy at all time, do not let them get a line of sight.” Martacs plan was simple, he would keep the ESUS fleet between the enemy fleet and the planet, use the asteroids as shields to prevent both missile and long ranger attacks. This would force the enemy to either go around the fleet, or engage them at close range. Fighting at close range favoured the smaller more agile attack craft of the battle group, as well it would allow the Dark Angel to unleash punishing volleys from it’s energy weapon. However, if the enemy fleet chose to go around the fleet and attack the planet directly, Martac could call in the battle group at attack the foe on two sides.

Martac didn’t think that the enemy commander would be that reckless, they would force to deal the battle group located at the asteroid belt before making a run at the planet, and Martac had an Ace up is sleeve if that happen.

When Martac had initially called Tappee’s forces to group around the planet he had ordered the 4th carrier division to hide its fighters in the asteroid belt. Currently there was 900 attack craft lying dormant in the belt, somewhere armed with EMP missile, and other high yield antimatter warheads. The trap had been set, like a spider waiting for food, all they could do was hope that they would take the bait.

March 22nd
Saturday
07.34 AM
Manticore's Nest

Caparelli finished giving his briefing of the current situation to Protector Alexander. Throughout his explanation, the man had listened to him with both worry and trust apparent in his expression.

They had been friends for a long time and Admiral Caparelli respected his leader utterly. He also knew that the upcoming crisis would require everything from the man if Clairmont was to survive. He had faith in his friend.

Benjamin Alexander stood up from his chair and stared down from one of the windows of the command room for a while before speaking.

"If you believe this Tom, then I know it must be what is happening. But this sounds so...unbelievable. Our origins arent what we believed them to be. And now, that reality threatens to wipe us out. We are in a war were not prepared to fight, against an enemy we know pretty much nothing about and thousands of our men and women have allready died to protect this realm."

There was sorrow apparent in Alexander's voice, sorrow at the loss of so many of his soldiers without there being nothing he could have done to prevent it. But there was also understanding, understanding that thousands more of those soldiers would have to die and the terrible possibility that millions of his citizens would die during the course of this war. And that truth gnawed at his soul deeply.

Admiral Caparelli allowed his friend to think about the matter before speaking.

"You can only guess how I felt when I heard this insane story Benjamin, but there is little reason to doubt it at this moment. The reality is, that we are at war now and we have taken the first punch to the gut. Now we have to start dealing punches to our enemy. Currently, Im massing two thirds of the Home Fleet at Hephaestus with the remaining third remaining at Earth, Lunar orbit. With the JIL ships allready headed to Hephaestus, the shipyard will have enough forces in position to defend it from any attack. Since we at the moment are lacking three of our main fleets that are on missions elsewhere, I plan to recall them and when they arrive, use them to sweep the Solar System of the enemy forces."

Protector Alexander listened carefully as the Admiral explained his plan. But he was educated in military tactics and strategy, and he could see the problem.

"And what about Earth? What if they decide to go around Hephaestus and attack us down here?"

Caparelli turned on the tactical hologram at the conference table, the sphere appearing thirty centimeters off the top of the table and beginning to display the positioning of Clairmont and allied ships in the system. Caparelli drew a small pen-like device from his pocket and pointed at some of the icons.

"For that, we have our allies at Tappee. Currently, their ESUS Battlegroup is headed into position at the asteroid field, that will allow them to commence offensives against the enemy if they try to get to Earth. But, if worst comes to worst and they do get to Earth regardless, we have massive defences here and they are all but ready. Our five Planetary-Defence-Centers all hold five One Hundred and Five Millimeter Grav Cannons, in addition we yet have our planetary missile batteries and the Space Fortress Sentinel at orbit directly above us. If those fail, then it all falls to the ground. Mr. Jericho who first brought us this information has assured me that the Imperium intends to commit itself to a ground campaign, to what end I am not certain but that would be their intention. If they manage to commence planetfall, then.... its out of my hands Ben, you'll have to talk to the other High Commanders about that."

Benjamin Alexander simply nodded in reply. Silence crept between them for a moment before the Ruling Monarch of Clairmont spoke.

"I leave it to you Tom. Now, I've got to go and see to our people. There is a crisis cabinet meeting arranged here to discuss the crisis and what we will do immidiately to it. As far as I understand it, all of the enemy infiltrators down here havent been captured, and destruction is still being wrought. You handle the war up there, I handle it down here."

Caparelli threw up a parade ground salute for his friend and ruler who responded in kind and left.

He had shown more faith in his defences than he truly had, Caparelli thought. The situation by all accounts did not look good. The enemy force that had attacked Ramilius had disappeared under the cover of their stealth, and five minutes ago the outer sensor platforms, the ones that still worked, had detected a massive energy signature, signaling a number of ships exiting from hyperspace. Since there were no drive signatures to detect, due to the enemy coming in under stealth, Caparelli had no clue of the numbers of the enemy who had jumped in now. But it had to be in the hundreds, and all logic said that they would link up with the force that had attacked Ramilius. Where that force would then go, was anybody's guess. But it was a high possibility that they would head towards Earth, and directly thru the asteroid field between Jupiter and Mars orbits. And that would make the Tappee ESUS Battlegroup the only force standing in their way, that would soon change.

Caparelli scripted new orders to his datapad for a message to be sent to the 3rd Carrier Group currently in Earth orbit. He doubted that the combined forces of the 3rd Carrier Group and the ESUS Battlegroup would be enough to stop the enemy, not if the enemy had had enough sense to bring in enough ships to finish the business despite of the variables, but it could give the defence force at Earth orbit a chance.


March 22nd
Saturday
08.05 AM
3rd Carrier Group
Near the Asteroid Belt

The twenty ship formation of the 3rd Carrier Group began to kill their velocity as they approached the positions of the ESUS Battlegroup from their relative rear. In terms of total numbers of capital ships, the 3rd Carrier Group was miniscule in comparison to the ESUS Battlegroup, only eight Assault Carriers, Six Fleet Carriers and four LAC-Carriers, and two Battlecruisers running escort. But what the carriers could discorge was the true strength of the group, a total of over fifteen-hundred Strike Fighter's and four hundred Light-Attack-Craft's. It was a full quarter of the total fighter strength the CSN Home Fleet had, and it was now committed to one goal alone.

As the ships came closer to the asteroid field, the hangar bays of the carriers began discorging flight upon flight of fighters with the flanks of the LAC-Carriers opening and beginning to discorge the hundred-meter in length Light Assault Crafts. Immidiately when exiting their motherships, the fighters took a heading towards the asteroid field, seeking for positions behind asteroids to use as cover.

"Queen-six to flight, once in position, engage stealth at maximum power. Kill everything except maneuvering thrusters and life-support." The squadron commander of the 32nd Jade Falcon, Space Strike Fighter squadron told his pilots. The 32nd was one of the oldest of the fighter squadrons in the entirety of Clairmont Armed Forces. It had a history stretching out all the way to the beginning of the Succession War, and during the hundreds of years of its existance, the pilots who had come and gone had flown practically every single aerospace craft in the arsenal of Clairmont. Even today, only the elite pilots would be allowed to join the legendary squadron, and Captain Eric McKeen was proud of his flight.

As his flight approached the asteroid of their choosing, they began to kill their forward momentum, slowing down and coming to the side of the asteroid. Shutting down all absolutely non-essential systems, and engaging their stealth, the fighters soon became very nearly invisible to any sensor not knowing exactly what they were looking for.

McKeen followed the same procedures, and prepared himself to wait for the fight. He was not positive that it would come, and there was a slight inner tension gripping his gut. Live in the moment was what he taught to his pilots, and he sure as hell would follow his own teachings.

Star Admiral Vanadis was absolutely certain that he had enough ships to break thru to Earth. It was not because of personal pride towards his forces, or due to underestimating his enemy, no Admiral of the Imperial Battle Fleet would make such mistakes. No, it was more due to the fact of sheer cold calculation and application of the currently known variables.

The beginning stages of this war had gone well. They had allready wiped out the first of their ancient enemy, and more would follow when he would reach Earth. But losses had been inevitable, and they were higher than he had expected. Truly, Fleet Admiral Nuvien had done her best, but the capabilities of the enemy Supermonitors had still taken her by supprise. Vanadis was forced to consider what kind of destruction those vessels could release when they had the proper screening and support elements, and to know that there were still two of those monsters in the solar system...

It was an illogical worry he knew. He had enough ships to wipe the vessels out of space and be done with it.

He abandoned those thoughts and inspected his position at the tactical hologram. His fleet had joined up with Fleet Admiral Nuvien's force, and they were now headed towards the asteroid field at a leisurable pace and with their stealth fields at full to avoid detection and keep the enemy in the dark. In addition to Fleet Admiral Fastus's force allready headed towards the battle squadrons of this Order of the Seraphim to which their enemy was allied to, the total force heading towards Earth was no less than one thousand ships, a full two thirds of the 2nd Interstellar Battle Fleet, the fleet sent to deal witht he final remnants of the 3rd Imperium. And those thousand ships were not all that would head to Earth when the coast was clear, Fleet Admiral Yzanne Issard still waited in position behind the Gas Giant Jupiter with her troop transports and the ground forces.

Thirteen hundred ships in total. Vanadis knew that not all of them would reach Earth. Some of Fleet Admiral Fastus' force would perish in battle against this Joint-Interplanetary-Legion Battlesquadrons, and some of Vanadis's own force would perish soon as well. But he had high confidence that many would survive, and push thru the expanding gas and debris clouds of their enemies.

He inspected the thousands of small holographic representations on the large holo-sphere that represented the asteroids of the field between Jupiter and Mars. He was nearly certain that there were enemies there, it was only logical and a tactic he himself would surely have taken. If he guessed correctly, there would be enemy fighters hiding behind the asteroids, or even larger enemy vessels. He did not know ofcourse, his sensors could not detect anything there but since sensors could be fooled and were not infallible, he rather trusted his instincts in this matter.

He allready had a quite good idea of what the enemy was attempting. They were giving him a choice. Either go thru the asteroid field and fall under attack in....less favorable conditions, or go around the area and fall under attack both from the rear and from the direction of Earth. Atleast, once again he corrected himself, that was what he would have done if he was the enemy commander.

The problem was that altough he was near 100% certain that the enemy would ambush him in that asteroid field, he knew nothing of their numbers. He was positive that they would not outnumber him, for not either the remaining Battlesquadrons of the Clairmont Home Fleet nor the JIL forces had joined the asteroid field ambush forces. But they could very likely have sufficient numbers to deal grievous damage to his fleet, and that could jeopardize the mission.

He weighted the options for a moment, and made up his mind. He would push thru the asteroid field right here, but he would not do it in his enemy's terms.

He was still too far out for hyper-missiles, but once he was within sufficient range, he would bombard the area to give the enemy fighters something to think about. As Strike Fighters had only minimal armor, and were delicate pieces of equipment in themselves, his nukes hardly had to hit them head on, a proximity detonation would do bad things to a fighter. And after that, he would send out his own fighters, twenty-five-hundred should suffice he mused. And after his own fighters had sweeped the enemy out of their holes, he would push thru the asteroid field. It was a sound plan, for one to have been devised in a few minutes, but as it had been hammered to the head of every Fleet Commander of the Imperial Battle Fleet in training "No Battle Plan survives first contact with the enemy", and he followed that rule to the letter and would be ready to improvise when the time came.

He was still twenty five minutes out from the firing range he had chosen, plenty of time to hammer out any bugs in his plan.

L6 GAMMA 75 ORANGE

TO: Clairmont high command, Terran forces
FROM: Sketch SDF command, Terran command
SUBJ: Imminient invasion of hostile forces
MSG:

Sketchian SDF high command intelligence indicates that there is a high probability that the current space campaign against the unknown hostile agressors will result in a shift to a ground campaign. The current status of Sketchian space based assests do not allow for a timely response to the present threat. However, the SDF maintains a large contigent of terran forces on Sketch [Earth], and is fully capable of redeploying a vast majority of those troops to aide in the bolstering of the local Clairmont defense system. In ordewr to do so, we require access to travel clearances as well as the pertinent defensive line intelligence for deployment purposes. It will facilitate the effort greatly if a military liason can be assigned to key units with both the Clairmont and Sketchian commands.

===To: Sketch SDF command, Terran command
===From: Field Marshal Broderick, Homeland Defense
===Subject: RE: Imminient invasion of hostile forces

===Code sequence: L6 GAMMA 75 ORANGE

~Message Begins: Our intelligence sources confirm your suspicions, it is an extremely high propability that the enemy will intend to land massive ground forces upon entering orbit. As Commander of Homeland Defense, I will grant you authority to move your troops into our soil, our aerial surveillance shall be notified immidiately. We will also relay the current defensive deployment plan to you as soon as possible, however the majority of troops will be going to the coastal territories and the fortified defensive positions there. The matter of a liaison officer to your units can be arranged, and the proper clearance shall be granted to your liaison officers immidiately upon their arrival.
~Message Ends

The silence of space necessitated only well-oiled professionalism for the ballet of death to ensue.

The sphere approaching the asteroid belt was slightly dispersed. Heading up the front quarter was the 20th destroyer battle group and some of the heavy warships of the two IW battle squadrons, screening for the main body of the formation. The van was protected by the 7th IW group under Salesson, and at the sides of the sphere were the system defense groups, also screening, probing, guarding and maneuvering. The raw power of the fleet included two massive Cruentus missile dreadnaughts, three Wastelands class dreadnaughts and 15 battlecruisers of the Mars class.

Assembled at key locations within the sphere were the command cruisers, who now coordinated with the sensor drones to determine and maintain control over the big-picture. When the TACs were launched, the Audax cruisers would also coordinate their activities for best effect.

Add to this the whole of the primary and secondary warships of three battle squadrons, support and fighter craft, and you get...

...A giant target.

And Executor Cullen grew more worried.

Since the battle at Ramilius had been lost - and so quickly, too - long range sensors hadn't picked up the enemy fleet. They had melted into oblivion, but in a different way than the hapless Clairmont space fleet. They were ghosts now, but malicious and threatening rather than merely haunting.

The fleet's sensors compared the locations and orbits of all contacts in the asteroid field with the known data. But there were many non-conformists there - the ability to hide in the asteroid field was aided not by the sheer quantity of asteroids, but by the sheer number of mining craft, the odd outpost here and there, or trade vessels making their way to or from Mars, Jupiter, Titan - all of which obscured the EM picture and could hide any number of alien ghosts.

It was a dangerous place to have a battle.

But then, weren't they all?

Admiral Fastus' smile grew broader as the JIL forces came deeper into the trap he had set to them. They were heading directly towards his fleet at a vector that would bring them right past his fleet at energy range, but before that, he would have the advantage of supprise and the chance of opening up with his own missile salvo before the enemy could reply.

If and when Star Admiral Vanadis broke thru the enemy formation facing him at his inbound vector thru the asteroid belt, the Order forces would fall under attack from two pincering elements, leaving their escape vectors few to choose from.

Fastus doubted he would need Vanadis, but as there was no such concept as "overkill" in his vocabulary, it would be good to have the Admirals support once he got it there.

At the moment, Fastus's force was moving thru the asteroid belt at a low velocity, their drive fields at as low power as possible to avoid the amount of emissions. Coupled with their stealth fields, and the amount of electro-magnetic clutter in the asteroid field, they would be all but invisible to the enemy for a while yet.

And it was time, Fastus glanced at the mission time displayed on the chrono at the wall turning to display zero, while simultaneously the tactical hologram projected a angry red cone between the icon of his fleet and the approaching enemy. His command voice spat orders as they reached the designated point.

"Order the fleet to open up missile tubes, decrease stealth field power to twenty-five percent. Forward elements, target the lead ships of the enemy formation, heavy elements, target the enemy heavy combatants. Fire on my command."

The thick battlesteel doors closing the missile tubes of the ships opened up as the ships rotated to present their broadsides to the enemy. Targeting sensors went to active as they sought up the enemy emission signatures and transferred telemetry to the missiles ready in the tubes. While simultaneously, the enveloping stealth fields of the ships decreased their power. The enemy should be starting to get definite indications of their presence here now, but they wouldnt have time to acknowledge it before the missiles were allready on their way. He waited fifteen seconds for the orders to be executed.

"Fire."

The broadsides of all the three hundred ships spat fire. Hyper missiles exited their tubes at full power, only to jump to hyperspace once they were hundred thousand kilometers from their launching ships. A total of twenty five hundred of them went out, and would appear again two and a half to three light seconds away from the enemy, call it one million to twelve hundred thousand kilometers. It would still give their enemy time to react, as the missiles required time to find the target again and re-orient themselves once they got out of hyperspace. But it was far less time than the enemy would have had to burn thru the missiles ECM and track them than it would have been if the missiles had travelled the entire length of the trip in normal space.

And he had the advantage of knowing the enemy, Fastus thought. While his enemy had no such information. He knew that if he allowed those Cruentis-class Missile Dreadnaughts to get a good solution on him and start throwing their missile loads to his neck, he would start getting losses that could even jeopardize the mission. But there werent many of those things, and they would have a hard time getting a good solution on him. In the end, it would boil down to taking down the enemy heavy combatants as quickly as possible, the light elements wouldnt be a problem and could be wiped out with the energy batteries of the fleet once they got within range.

Now, Fastus eased himself to wait for the effects his opening salvo would have on the enemy.

The Sketchian military organization, infinitely more efficient than its governmental counterpart, processed the official Clairmont aide resquest immediately. In truth, the support was ready to ship out before the first communication had even been sent, but it was bad form to land troops on someone else's land first and then ask for permission. Technically speaking, there had yet to be a response on the governmental level, but with pratical military efficiency, such minor details were left to the bureaucrats who loved them so.

Hundreds of thousands of combat troops waited in readiness aboard massive transport barges - hovering vessels capable of traversing over land and sea. Thousands of tanks, APCs, areial comabt vehicles, armored slaves, and war machines were carefully packed away for safe transport. Even more personnel were busy working away on the complex logistical train necessary to support an extended campaign. Everything was ready to move, awaiting only the green light to launch. The time was now, triggered by a flurry of activity, some hundred barges, loaded to the brime with war, set off for Clairmont.

It would be at least forty two hours before they arrived, but that was just the main body. The command staff was already in the air, jetting across the great expanse that separated Sketch and Clairmont. Within hours they would arrive, to prepare for the integration of the Sketchian support force.

Back on the Sketchian mainland, great industrial production centers already began earmarking production lines for military equipment. Projected equipment "inventory shortfalls", as they were called, were already being made up for before even the first hint of conflict. Dark tidings of an extended campaign intend.

JIL Vandus
Flagship of the 1st IWBS

Strange readings, he thought - if an automaton could be said to think -

Energy spikes. Radiation. Gravity that seemed to change every second, as if the mass of the object was itself changing inconceivably, or there was an attempt to mask the gravitic signature...

He immediately forwarded the information - which came from the sensor drone relays - to the CIC, where Broadstreet directed the commanders of the fleet.

Two seconds had passed.

------
JIL Mars
Flagship of the 15th SDG

Executor Cullens watched with relative helplessness as the ship registered the enemy missile launch. Multiple inbounds, within murderously close range!

Stupefied, he realized that although the missiles were now detected, they had literally appeared out of nowhere. They could not have detected the launch after they had travelled - and where were the enemy ships?

He busied himself looking. The ship would take care of itself. Automatic procedures hammered into the hardware, needing only the idle press of button to activate and sometimes not even that, readied point defense emplacements and warned the crew of iminent possibility of explosive decompression. And battle.

But too late. Before he could make out the correct signatures on the TDM, the enemy missiles were upon them, screaming at speeds and accelerations characteristic of their own Clairmont-designed impeller missiles.

Clusters of missiles arrived, homing with deadly accuracy on the CSF fleets.

His ship, luckily, was not targeted with an overwhelming number. The great laser batteries lanced out invisible beams of tightly focused energy, obliterating those missiles they hit. But the ECCM and maneuverability of the damn things were good! Too good.

The missile that got through slammed against the outer hull, bursting the thin anti-energy-weaponry layers out, entering head-first into the first vacuum separating the multi-hull, and energy blasted outward against the first incredibly hard, dense armor layer below. The massive 3.7 million tonne warship wasn't moved by the blast, but Alexander Cullen heard the deep, boomy echo. A hairbreadth moment of silence.

More incoming - must focus the main batteries, the sensors, find out where the enemy is -

Then the thing exploded -

------

The JIL fleet, taken completely by surprise, attempted to deal with the incoming missiles. The formation they had been in had been calculated to offer maximum point defense arcs for the whole of the fleet, but as missiles arrived - some of them looping around the ships, as if mocking them, and circling in from the flanks - individual ships, inevitably, maneuvered out of this careful positioning. Better shots were afforded, for some -

A Sicarius missile frigate of the 20th DBG managed to get a semi-decent lock on an enemy vessel, huge beyond it's own size, and loosed a deadly, rapid blast of dense kinetics in a violent spasm. A moment later the light vessel was wiped out in a silent final burst of radiation.

Spearmaiden Tactical Assault Craft were launched, by all ships that had them - and most did. These joined those already at the scene, those towed this far by specialized bots. These bots were left alone, low-priority targets that they were, as apparently were the Spearmaidens. They bounded forward, interplacing themselves between the enemy contacts - now shared throughout the fleet's collective networks - and the CSF fleet.

But the missiles were not distracted, and continued to home in without mercy on the immense and expensive allied ships.

The commanding ships of the 16th SDG and the 7th IWG were torn apart by gravity; the beautiful, but practical and sturdy architecture of their designs - identical in every respect to the Mars - were rendered useless as the chaotic forces left nothing but destruction in their wake. Instantly, two groups had been eliminated as effective fighting units, as the remaining destroyers boldly attempted to salvage command and mission - only to be methodically and carefully obliterated by enemy heavy weaponry.

A Cruentus of the 2nd IWBS, under Chief Executor M. Agentson, formed the core of a last-ditch effort to respond to the ambush. Rallied behind the potent warships of that squadron, the entire group pushed at the highest combined acceleration - in this case a mere 25 G - lumberingly toward the enemy vessels -

However, the second missile dreadnaught, under Broadstreet's squadron, had been targeted before such measures could be taken. The massive armor proved able to sustain even the powerful explosions of the enemy missiles, and the ugly ship launched a few of it's own - well, over 300 to be exact, almost entirely unguided kinetics - before an improbably precise shot from an enemy gravity weapon took out the bridge, followed by the propulsion system, disabling the mighty thing.

Other ships of Broadstreet's immediate command fared less well. Within just a few minutes, the Wastelands class superdreadnaught carrying the Core Commander blew apart as it's entire ammunition compliment - a stunning 40,400 warheads, not including the dumb-kinetics - ruptured and exploded, sending the engine plate hurtling out behind the ship, blasting out the hull from the aft through hundreds of meters all the way up to the forward batteries, and killing the entire crew.

And the remaining Mars battlecruisers, Agentson's Cruentus - after the command cruisers and other primary and secondaries - were now targeted, and their seconds were numbered.

The effects of the Fastus's first salvo were far better than he had dared hope, truly the enemy had not been ready for an impending attack, and his hyper missiles had taken them completely by suprise. When yet added to the effectiveness of his missiles, the torrents of energy battery fire released by his forward elements ,that were barely in range for that, had been devastating.

But now the enemy was beginning to react to the supprise, even as the auto-loaders in the launchers of Fastus's ships brought new missiles from the magazines to the tubes, more salvoes went out, one after another while simultaneously the Imperial Force closed down the range between them and the enemy.

Return fire was coming now, incredibly fast kinetic missiles as well as traditional explosive tipped ones. Their accuracy was a bare shadow of what it would have been in an optimal combat condition, thanks to the electromagnetic clutter of the asteroid field as well as the ECM of the Imperial Fleet. Counter missile canisters shot out of the flanks of the ships, upon reaching space, each released a torrent of five counter missiles to home in on incoming enemy missiles. Point-defense laser batteries sent coherent streams of energy against the incoming projectiles, dropping many out of space. Scores of them disappeared, but propability theory dictated that some of them had to get thru.

The last remnants of a final defiant missile salvo from a dead frigate struck one of Fastus's Forward Element Destroyers directly amidships, the kinetics hammering thru the gravitic defense shield, and then striking themselves against the thick armor. Plating shattered and twisted as the missiles burrowed thru the hull, cutting power feeds, destroying weapons emplacements and killing crew. The destroyers drive field fluttered and died as the missiles dealt their havoc.

It was a loss of no consequence, but it would hardly be the only one. More kinetic missiles came at them now, some finding nothing more than empty space while others found targets. However, the realities of the situation being what they were, the kinetic missiles achieved little in the enemy opening barrages. Two dozen ships died regardless, nearly all of them part of the forward element screening the Imperial Force, and the main firepower platforms of the fleet remained as deadly as they had been from the start.

The enemy fighter compliment was now gathering its act together, forming up in flights as they headed towards the position of Admiral Fastus's fleet. There were thousands of them, thousands of small and fragile space fighters that alone were nothing more than insects against capital ships, but at the numbers they had now, and they would surely have anti-shipping missiles with them, they were a pack of wolves against a bear.

But, Fastus was ready for them, and had prepared for them.

"Launch fighters."

The hangar bays on the larger Imperial capital ships began discorging flights upon flights of Fury- and Avenger-class Parasite Attack Craft. They formed up outside the protective heart of their fleet, and arrayed upon a vector that would bring them against the enemy fighters in a head-to-head intercept. Three thousand Imperial Fighters filled the space ahead of the main formation of Admiral Fastus's fleet. Altough the JIL fighters outnumbered his, he was confident that his pilots could gain victory.

It would not be long now as the enemy Commander had made his decision. He was coming straight at him, Fastus's noted, and doing so was playing towards his own demise. When the range would be proper, Fastus would open up on the approaching remains of the enemy formation with every starboard energy battery in the disposal of his heavy elements, and the result would be nothing less than the total obliteration of the Joint-Interplanetary-Legion forces that faced him.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Fastus.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus
Commanding Officer 2nd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

L6 Gamma 99 Orange

To: Clairmont Military Command
From: Vrak Military High Command

We can send three projection fleets; the 3rd and 5th New Type I and the 3rd Old, with the 3rd New able to arrive shortly from its present position in Neo Tyr. In total, roughly 60 combat ships along with a significant force of submarines will make up the task force. Additionally, we have activated the Northern. North West, and Middle HORDE air and ground assets and will commit at least one mechanized infantry division, one tank division, and one artillery division. More forces can be made available. We shall use the Tappee space freighters that are currently being used to haul civilians to Mercury to begin rapid transport of FULL strength brigade levels of infantry.

Please forward the best landing arrangements for the quickest deployment of troops and any other precautions we need to take.

Death to the enemies of the Order.

Chief Executor Agentson was a man who liked to take risks.

And so, the ships under his command, in formation, plodded toward where the enemy was thought to be. The missile dreadnaught under his command - the surviving one - held fire until the enemy was within probability of strike range. At that range, the kinetics couldn't miss, and had almost no chance of being intercepted, and their numbers would blot out any conceivable force.

Mass was still mass, energy still energy, after all. The enemy's technology was superior. They could hide, and ambush, and their missiles could dodge. Weapons he had never known existed had obliterated most of the rest of the fleet. He was, in fact, now in command, Broadstreet having died on his ship. Now the fleet moved against an unknown enemy in unknown, but superior, numbers, with nothing but the simple assurance that mass, at high speeds, translated to energy.

Risks, indeed.

But they were taking fire now. There just weren't enough forces to survive long enough for the powerful, but surely obsolete fusion drive to push the 300 megatonne dreadnaught into range.

So he took another risk - what he understood would be his last risk if it failed -

He ordered the faster ships to speed ahead of his. Without an escort, the fat Cruentus would make the perfect target. With any luck, the other combatants could do some damage while his armor took a beating.

Again, the enemy targeted the largest ships, but once it was evident that the quicker ones posed the more immediate threat, they were simply bumped up in priority. One Mars was destroyed. A second. The accelerations of these battlecruisers were such that their fragments spewed pathetically forth in space alongside the still-remaining ships.

The command cruisers were left alone, at first, but the fifth battlecruiser had been taken out and the Audax class vessels were next. Twenty cruisers of varying types remained, and began combat with the enemy.

From what he could see, they were only doing as they had been - firing on enemy missiles. The enemy, outranging them, fired and retreated with infuriating skill, repeating the process until Agentson's fleet was being gouged like the rest. Without the command cruisers, coordination between fleet volleys and sensors was severely hampered. Enemy fighters would now have another advantage over their own, and they had not needed it in the first place.

The gamble had failed.

----

The last remaining Mars battlecruiser out of the original sixteen drifted helplessly. The impact of multiple explosions had left the power systems only 20% intact, barely enough to sustain basic systems. Much of the ships systems, however, were damaged or destroyed, and the ship flipped crazily over and over in space. Hull breaches were clearly evident, and fragments and gasses continued to spill forth from them like the blood of the dying. It passed, unimportantly, beyond the field of battle, haphazardly heading toward the asteroid belt.

----

The battle was now a simple rout. The smaller ships, retreating, were pursued and destroyed before their speed could get them out of range. Fighters exploded inconsequentially. Millions of tonnes of debris clogged the field, taking out some of the JIL ships through simple kinetic impact in their haste to depart. Point defense systems, exhausted, now had to worry about the broken bodies of the allied fleet in addition to the enemy inbounds.

Not every ship was utterly destroyed, but with the death of combat capability and crew, it made little difference.

There was one ship left which could not retreat by any stretch of the imagination - Agentson's Cruentus. It still plowed boldly, nearly alone, toward the massive, overwhelmingly powerful enemy fleet. Aboard, a Chief Executor gritted his teeth and prepared for a soldier's death.

Fastus allowed himself a slight smile of victory as the remnants of the enemy fleet dissolved into a mess. The fight had gone better than he had dared hope and the superior numbers of the enemy had been of little use in their defense. But he had suffered his own losses as well, no matter how skewed the rate was. Eighty-seven of his ships had either blown up in a brilliant flash of light as their reactors gave up or just drifted dead in space as little more than beaten wrecks, their athmosphere escaping their hulls in exhausts of gas.

But, the enemy's casualties were over four times as high as his. Few ships still remained, and Fastus's eye was drawn to one of the defiant dots still remaining on the tactical hologram, the remaining Missile Dreadnaught. As the missile batteries of his fleet sought out the Dreadnaught hungrily, he made up his mind on the fate of that single vessel.

"Hold fire on missiles, energy batteries only. I want that vessel disabled."

Obediently the fleet followed the new orders, and no missiles lashed out from their broadsides against the Dreadnaught, instead, fighters swarmed against the lone vessel, making attack runs against point-defense weapon emplacements as well as main weapons batteries. Simultaneously, the lighter elements of the Imperial Fleet re-targeted their graviton energy weapons precisely to cut the Missile Dreadnaught off from its weapons.

As weapons emplacements disappeared one after another, several flights of assault shuttles broke off from the launch bays of the Imperial Capital Ships, all heading towards their fat target.

As the fate of the final remains of the JIL force was all but sealed, Admiral Fastus concluded that it would be time to move on to the second phase. Coded messages were sent from his Flagships' communications array to the Fleet Force behind Jupiter that carried the millions of soldiers of Imperial Army that would be sent to purge the home of the Protectorate from their taint.

The massive troop barges and their escorts began to accelerate steadily away from Jupiter's shadow, and towards the location of Admiral Fastus' fleet force. The massive troop barges were slow and ponderous, and as such their rendzervous with Fastus' fleet force was several hours away. But Fastus did not worry about time, as time was on their side in the first days of this conflict.

He began to lay in the plot that would bring him to Earth/Lunar orbit, and to battle with the Protectorate Orbital Defenses that would need to be annihilated or incapacited for the planetfall to commence. Alone he could not hope to defeat those defenses. No less than three fortresses floated there in geo-synchronous orbit along with numerous weapons platforms. In addition, there were the ground-based fighters as well as the planetary defense centers of the enemy. Alone, he would be obliterated, but once Star Admiral Vanadis would link up with his Battlesquadrons, they would plow thru those defenses and blast the enemy into the fiery depths of oblivion.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Fastus.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus
Commanding Officer of 2nd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

March 22nd
Saturday
10.12 AM
Irmansul City Center

The city was in widespread chaos. With the attack's to the Office of Internal Security, as well as dozens of other locations all across the city, the populace, unknowing of what was happening was quickly reacting with their human instincts only and with the panic from the nuclear attacks spreading quickly, the result was bad.

Towers of smoke pillowed up to the sky from all across the city, results of devastating attacks executed by Khanate strike teams. For over five hours they had gone about with their work, but despite the certain inefficiencies of the city Police, the terrorists were approaching the end of their road.

The Office of Internal Security was quick to react after recovering from the shock of the massive attack against their headquarters. InSec had entire battalions worth of highly trained troops, intervention battalions they were called, that could and were called upon now. Athmospheric dropships made their runs, dropping platoons all over the city to locations where there were signs of the Khanate terrorists.

But more was required, and as locations of Khanate Terrorist Groups were confirmed, dropships made their runs to the city, their flanks opening and the white armored bulks of S.W.A.T squads were hot dropped to the critical locations.

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/bscap156.jpg
http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/bscap154.jpg

Vicious firefights lighted up all over the city as the InSec forces and SWAT teams hunted down the Khanate terrorists mercilessly. As the Khanate teams found out that they were nearing their end, they began to take hostages and fortify themselves in the several hundred story high office buildings. Some went out in what they saw as blaze of glory, while destroying everything around them.


At the same time, as the possibility of a soon to become orbital invasion became more apparent, the military began to mobilize in preparation for a defensive scenario that they never had thought they would truly face. Infantry Divisions gathered up their strength, and prepared to move out to assume defensive positions in the cities that had been designated for them. Armored Columns loaded up in their depots, stocking up on fuel cells, ammunition and consumables, preparing to head out to their assigned guard sectors. Tactical Armor units began to load up to transport shuttles to be air-dropped wherever they would be needed.

In mere hours, hundreds of thousands of men of the Clairmont Armed Forces were preparing for a ground war. Thousands of armored vechiles and the bipedal forms of Tactical Armor gathered up their crew and pilots. Countless hundreds of pilots streamed in to their service bases, preparing to launch up on a moments notice.

But however efficient it all might have looked from the outside, the truth was much harsher. Many divisions had lost their upper command structure in the terrorist attacks, and with absolutely no time before-hand to prepare, there was a lot of confusion in the military. Calling up the army personnel all over the country to assemble in their service bases was made extremely difficult by the massive panic and confusion caused by the numerous nuclear attacks against a multitude of targets across the entire country. Even in the best of circumstances, it had been calculated that assembling to an optimal defensive setup against a planetfall attack would take several days to the very least, which the people of Clairmont did not have. But, there was no desperation, only cold determination and the burning desire of vengeance to strike back at those who would have hurted the Protectorate this day. But, even hard motivation did not translate to magic.

JIL Cruentus

The Chief Executor ordered the defense of his increasingly solitary warship as best he could, but he knew it had been a very low chance of victory. They had taken out many of the enemy ships and fighters, but not enough.

A screaming explosion, a hull breech, and the groaning of the ship were all redundant signs telling him what he had already discovered - the Cruentus was de-clawed. What remained of the 150 Projectile Towers were now out of communication and most likely ship's power. They had their own generators, and he had confidence that even indirect fire at those horrendous rates would be effective enough. But they would all be silenced, all too soon.

He noticed the enemy was concentrating on disabling, not destroying, his vessel. Grimly, he realized he had no desire to become a prisoner, nor see the most expensive ship of the fleet fall into enemy hands.

He took some time to reflect. He had never known anything but the military. One military to another, eventually leading to the Joint Interplanetary Legions of the Combined Seraphim Forces. What family he had was but a dim memory. He decided that that was best.

Agentson knew there was precious little time before all command controls were cut off, so as soon as he was decided he made it so. It took no effort, no special codes; as commander, the VCM recognized his authority and the interface sped his execution along.

He disabled the heat regulation system and maxed the power plant's output.

Earth Orbit

The entire Joint Interplanetary Legions, save slightly more than 2.5 battlesquadrons, waited for the alien forces to arrive.

The number of ships involved continued to grow. It was soon clear that the loss handed out near the asteroid belt had only wounded the JIL's armed might, and that perhaps only slightly. Orbital satellites joined the massive protective screen of communicators, detectors and destructors.

But soon a message was bounced, relayed, finally delivered by tightbeam. It was encrypted at the highest levels and scrambled seemingly without hope of decoding. The sender, though, knew full well that it would be read.



Admiral,

So the wheel turns, the cycle continues, and the show has gone on. I trust that our combined performance was adequate. Our losses were higher than anticipated, and yours as well, I suspect, but the cost was not more than the profit. Today you conquer your enemies. - And I mine.

Warmly,

The High Imperator

Shortly afterwards, as if one whole organism, the JIL fleets powered their engines and made way for a different Solar planet - Mercury. Within a few hours, the home skies would be clear of the international fleet.

Admiral Fastus noted in displeasure the rapidly increasing energy emissions from the enemy vessels' reactor core. It was evident that they had no desire to become prisoners of war, and rather would blow themselves up. He urged the fighter wings in their strafing runs to to disable everything hampering the passage of the assault shuttles heading towards the massive enemy ship, if at all possible, the boarding teams would attempt to shut down the reactor before it blew.

The Assault Shuttles paid a heavy price before reaching hull-contact range with the enemy vessel. Despite their hopeless situation, the enemy gunnery crews had expertly been targeting the boarding vessels to the best of their abilities, and many of those shuttles had turned into expanding clouds of debris and gas due to the efforts of the enemy gunnery crews.

But finally, they got thru and clamped themselves to the hull of the enemy missile dreadnaught. Specifically designed boarding drills shot out lancing beams of energy to cut a hole thru the thick armor of the enemy ship. As they opened up entryways to the corridors and insides of the ship, the armored shapes of Imperial Marines discorged from the assault shuttles. Few of the shuttles had attached as near to the main reactor core as possible, and their boarding parties began to fight their way thru the mazes of corridors towards the core, in order to stop it from killing them all in its cataclysmic dead throes.


Meanwhile, Star Admiral Vanadis smiled broadly at the communication transcript brought to him on a dataslate. As a confirmation of the sender's words and authenticity, the combined JIL forces that had only moments ago stood ready to defend their ally against an attack at Earth Orbit, now headed away, towards Mercury.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Fastus.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus
Commanding Officer of 2nd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

The Vrakian Brigadier General watched the massive Tappee craft lift off and speed away for Vrak. Within minutes, another one landed and after the retrojets fired, the craft landed softly, incongruous to its bulk. The cargo doors opened and the large gangway extended, thudding into the tarmac. What emerged was an entirely different Vrakian…

With perfect precision, the gleaming, yet skeletal looking robots descended. Three thousand SOATs one stepped in unison and six thousand feet clanged on the gangway. Each one had a arm mounted machine gun on the left with either a grenade launcher or flamethrower on the right. And each one was silent.

The robots, once cleared of the cargo hauler, formed razor sharp ranks. Amongest each squadron of twelve, a human dressed in a King’s Own Battle Dress talked into a microphone, seeming to direct his charges. The commander of this ghastly crew found the Vrakian Brigadier General and saluted.

-Awaiting your orders, sir.

100 nautical miles from the Clairmont coast

Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!

The wardrums on each and every single ship aboard the projection fleets and each transport began a steady, rhymical beat. The Vrakian War Banner was raised and a loud cheer could be heard from the troops. A bellow from a bull walrus could be heard above the din...

"Death to the enemies of the Order!"


OOC: Sorry Clairmont. I wrote this kinda early in the morning so I was a bit foggy. To flesh out the SOAT army, each squadron (12 robots) has a human "controller". Basically, a special ops (King's Own) wearing something like a motorcycle helmet. So, he controls the SOATs for complex stuff but if he's killed, the SOATs will go beserk on their foes - but their tactical ability will be severly hampered. I'll write up more later, but roughly there are 250 "controllers" (like a sergeant) and then about 66 officers. The Vrakian Brigadier General is the highest ranked guy from our side.

March 22nd
Saturday
10.35 AM
Manticore's Nest

"Comms one, any luck on getting that maggot of a High Imperator online?!" First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli screamed with with hot rage at the man at the other end of the communications link.

There was a moment of silence and a youthfull voice replied.
"We are trying sir, but it seems that all their communications lines are closed. He simply is not listening!".

Just as Caparelli had allowed himself to feel some hope as the armada of JIL vessels took geo-synchronous orbit above Clairmont, assuming defensive positions alongside the fortresses and ships of the Clairmont Space Navy, they had turned their backs and left, towards Mercury, towards safety, abandoning Clairmont to its fate.

Thus far, all the reactions Caparelli had gotten from the Sketchian liaison officers, this was an utter and complete supprise upon everyone, and it seemed clear as crystal that the High Imperator was a traitor. For the 4th Imperium to have gotten hold of the Commander of the massed forces of the Order itself, their infiltration had to have been more extensive, and more thorough than Caparelli had even believed possible.

He slowly took off his glasses, and methodically cleaned them. It was a reflex, and he did it whenever he was deep in thought, or finding for a way out of a maze that did not seem to have one. Had Arado Jericho been right? Had his dark prediction of the Protectorate's future been correct? Caparelli wanted to believe otherwise, but the current of events left him little reason to. With the assistance of the JIL gone, the future seemed grim.

His eyes strayed to gaze upon the tactical hologram hovering above the conference table of the room. The JIL forces were pulling away from Earth rapidly, their vector set towards Mercury and there was little that Caparelli could do to make them turn back. Silently and bitterly he cursed them, cursed them all because of their traitorous actions, cursed them because of their cowardice, because of their betrayal, and watched them go.

He finished cleaning his glasses, and lifted them back up to their place, while simultaneously wiping the thoughts of hate towards the betrayal from his mind, they would not help him now to defend the Protectorate. He was certain that Das Sketch had allready heard, or would soon be hearing from Protector Benjamin because of this incident, and he doubted that he could accomplish more than the ruling Monarch of Clairmont.

He picked up the datapad from the table to read of the newest updates to the deployment of the Ground Forces for optimal defense against an orbital invasion force. Caparelli observed the attached tactical maps and deployment plans approvingly. The Field Marshals knew their job expertly, even though their attitude sometimes made Caparelli cringe his teeth.

The defense plan essentially concentrated on turning the cities on the coastal plains into fortresses while using the terrain to defend the inner areas of Clairmont. The mountain chains and highly elevating terrain would be used to limit the movement of an invading enemy army to a few select valleys and level areas. The mountainous areas themselves, altough impassable for vechiles, could still be used by infantry. To remove the threat of the enemy from taking the mountain paths and ground around the flanks of the defenses in the valleys, the mountains would hold heavully armed firebases at regular intervals. The firebases would be armed with heavy loadouts of anti-personnel weaponry as well as indirect fire weaponry.

The possible entryways to the inner sanctum of Clairmont island would be held by multi-layered defenses. Bunker chains and fortificated firebases alongside entrenced armor and infantry would be used to deal with the enemy at closer range, while numerous SheVa guns and mobile artillery regiments would provide artillery support. With the capability to fire tactical nuclear rounds, the SheVa's could hammer the enemy heavully before they would reach range of the main defenses.

The cities would each be held by mainly the Infantry and Tactical Armor regiments. Using the existing defense system networks of the cities to their advantage, the plan relied on the mobility of the Infantry and Tactical Armor to maintain a mobile defense of the City perimeter.

Ofcourse, he thought gloomily, before it came to that point, thousands of his men and women would die in space, and the Planetary Defense Centers along with the missile bases would do everything in their capability to prevent the enemy from landing in the first place.

But those deaths were still some two days away. Caparelli was certain that the main enemy force planned to strike thru the Tappee ESUS battlegroup as well as the CSN Carrier Group he had sent to support the Tappee force. Once they had accomplished that, they would most likely link up with the Imperium force that had demolished the JIL Battlesquadrons that had been sent to strengthen the defenses of Hephaestus. And only after that would they head over to Earth. Due to the orbital position of Earth, and tactical considerations that the Imperium force ,Caparelli was certain, would not ignore, it would take them a minimum of thirty-six hours to commit themselves to combat against the CSN Defense Forces covering the Protectorate's home on the soil of Earth.

It was not a lot of time, but compared to the rapid pace of events that had occurred in the last six hours, it felt like an eternity. But Caparelli would not deceive himself, he knew that even if they had a week, they still couldnt be fully ready for the onslaught that was about to come.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Caparelli.jpg
First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli, CSN
Commander of Naval Operations

"Acknowledged, engineering. Continue to make repairs as you can."

Alexander Cullen, clutching the enormous bruise on his skull with a damp rag, had deliberately left out the usual addendums along the lines of, 'because someone will be here soon.' He was sure of no such thing, and didn't want to give anyone false hope that left them complacent in this dire situation.

The medical teams had a field day, that was for sure. There were many dead, but many more wounded, and Cullen discovered he cared nothing for his own pain when he saw the manglings suffered by the crew.

The ship, too, was wounded. Drifting, on auxilliary power, it was trying to heal itself by the time he was woken out of his artificial slumber, lying on the cold metal floor lodged slightly underneath a metal pipe, disoriented. That was two hours ago, and they had made some progress since.

As for combat, it was out of the question; over. The gargantuan fore and aft laser and projectile cannons and turrets were all disabled or destroyed. The IWS was down, so the side-mount weaponry could easily shoot - were it not for the smashed guidance systems and lack of main power. The fission cannons, with their own power, had proven unable to so much as scorch the paint of the enemy's ships even at the best of times. The Mars was combat incapable.

Besides, the enemy had left. The battlefield was littered with corpses. Perhaps others, he thought, made it too. But for them he could do nothing yet. He commanded not the 15th System Defense Group, which was annihilated. He didn't command so much as a ship now, just parts of metal with which a few thousands of his fellow servicemen were dependently entwined.

And the main raw computing power available was out, along with the main power and main propulsion. They could make a few G's, but blind as they were, the battlefield would become a death trap of kinetic hull impacts that the shattered, lifeless point defense system would be of no use against.

His first thought had been to use the remaining Spearmaidens to search the wreckage for survivors. None, however, remained. 31 pilots had met the enemy and never returned.

And so the Mars had drifted, silently, not daring to signal to any remaining and undetected enemy eyes and ears of it's existence. Unknown to her captain, she wasn't quite alone - there were others, repairing, healing, coalescing. For the Fourth Imperium, in it's haste and confidence, had now utterly discounted the initial force sent against it.

After all, a handful of damaged ships could no more threaten the mighty Imperium than the hundreds of undamaged ships just destroyed.

CSN 4th Battlecruiser Squadron
Approaching last known position of JIL Task Force
sent to re-inforce Hephaestus defense force.

Rear Admiral Walter Dansbury observed the data gathered by the sensors and presented in visual form in the tactical holo tank. It had barely been an hour since the JIL Battlesquadrons coming to join the Hephaestus defense force had been ambushed and possibly completely destroyed by a previously un-encountered Imperium Battlegroup. The CO of the Hephaestus defense force had first thought of it as a good idea to send backup for the JIL forces. However, after it became painfully clear that the engagement would be over before the ships from Hephaestus could even cross quarter of the trip separating them and the JIL Battlesquadrons, the Admiral had simply recalled the Superdreadnaught squadrons and ordered Dansbury's single Battlecruiser Squadron to proceed onwards and conduct Search and Resuce operations at the area to find any possible survivors.

There was not much cause for optimism. Not a single transponder was active, or detectable to the very least. That either meant that every single ship from the JIL Battlesquadrons had been hammered to such a condition that even their transponders had been destroyed, which meant basically that they were all dead. Or it meant that there were smart captains there who had ordered their transponders turned off in order to make their ships look as if they were nothing more than dead metal in space. Despite his preferrance of the second option, Dansbury was a realist and understood that with luck there would be a bare handfull of ships with anyone inside them that could be saved.

Soon they would find out.

The icon representing his single squadron had approached the last known location of the JIL forces at the best maximum acceleration a Warlord-class Battlecruiser could muster, and they had begun their deceleration twenty minutes ago in order for the ships of the squadron to come to stop in time.

As his squadron passed the six light-second mark between it and the last known location of the JIL battlesquadrons, Dansbury ordered the squadron to spread their network of reconnaissance drones. Independant platforms with an FTL communications system and powerfull sensor suites, they could increase the surveillance bubble of a ship or a group of ships by a significant degree, and now they would be used to search the outlying space for wrecks of warships.

The problem with Search and Rescue in this situation was that the gravitic sensors of Dansbury's squadron were all but useless. Since the gravitic sensors could only pick up extremely strong gravitic signatures such as those of drive systems operating on gravity based principles, or gravity based shield systems and weapons, they simply could not see the dead hulks of the JIL ships that had no such strong signatures.

As such, it came fully down to sensors scanning the EM band and active sensor systems such as LIDAR and Radar. But the range of those sensors was short, and as such the recon drones and ships of the squadron would need to pass within relatively close range of the JIL ship wrecks in order to find them. Despite Dansbury's initial pessimism however, it did not take long for the drones to start finding the remnants of the battle.

"Drones two and six have detected multiple shapes. CIC makes them out to be JIL light combatants ranging from Spearmaiden Tactical Assault Craft's to frigates and destroyers, nothing heavier yet. So far, no active emissions detected."

The Tactical Officer reported from his station at the other side of the bridge. The report was pretty much what Dansbury had expected from the initial detections. Since it was standard procedure for the lighter elements of a fleet to act as a screen for the heavy elements in the core, the wrecks of those light ships would logically be what he would find first.

Thirty minutes passed quickly as all the recon drones zeroed in on the debris field that once had been mighty JIL battlesquadrons. Dozens upon dozens of hulls, ripped apart and savagely mauled floated in space. The Combat Information Center of Dansbury's flagship dutifully logged and cataloged every single wreck to the database, and checked the readings of each and every one for signs of survivors. None were found.

Another thirty minutes came and went as the Search and Rescue operation went on. They had now discovered the first wrecks of the heavy ships of the JIL Battlesquadrons. A single Audax Command Cruiser had been found, completely missing its forward quarter. A Mars-class Battlecruiser had apparently been hit several times with heavy energy weapons, and as a result the ship had been disemboweled and chain-reaction decompressions had gone un-checked, ravaging the internal compartments of the ship. There were no signs of survivors, and the recon drones continued onwards, methodically checking each wreck.

"Sir, CIC reports that they have a definite confirmation on active EM signatures from what they classify to be a Mars-class Battlecruiser at mark two-zero-one-point-two-eight!" The tactical officer shouted his report, elation clearly evident from his tone of voice.

"Give me a visual." Dansbury ordered, wanting to see if there truly was any point in hoping for survivors.

The small screen attached to his command chair came to life, displaying direct visual feed from a drone floating outside the Mars-class Battlecruiser in question. Beams of light shot out from the drone, bringing the details of the ships hull clearly into focus. Dansbury observed the dreadfull damage wreaked upon the Battlecruiser. Dozens of smaller scars and craters filled the outer armor of the ship, and one side of the ship had been completely burned, the outer layers of the hull melted into a mess, sensor arrays and weapons having been turned to slag. Evidently the result of a close proximity detonation of a high-yield nuclear weapon. Hull-mapping of the vessel quickly revealed that every single weapon in the outer surface had been turned to scrap, and a deep scar, atleast a hundred meters in length, cut across one of the side flanks of the vessel. Despite the obviously grievous damage, the hull was intact, and it was possible that some of the internal compartments still were pressurized.

"Tactical, what's the status of their docking capabilities? Can we bring a couple of assault shuttles to dock with them?" Dansbury questioned the tactical officer.

The man shook his head quickly, having allready determined the facts from the hull mapping and more accurate scan of the vessel.

"No sir. Their docking facilities are pretty much gone, and their TAC launch bay is for all intents and purposes destroyed. If we are to send a search party, they will have to cut thru the hull."

Dansbury nodded in understanding, but despite the obvious difficulties of getting in and actually finding out if there was anyone alive in that ship, the possibility could not be overlooked. Dansbury turned his chair slightly to face the captain of his flagship seated in her own chair.

"Captain Foster, dispatch two assault shuttles with a platoon of Marines each to get a look the old fashioned way."

The woman acknowledged quickly, and used the internal comms of the ship to relay the orders to the primary boat bay of the battlecruiser. The two assault shuttles detached, and were under way in less than five minutes as the Pinnace's and Assault Shuttles aboard all ships as well as their Marines had been in constant readiness for the last hour, prepared for the possibility of having to go aboard the wrecks in order to find anyone who could be saved.

With the distance being barely one thousand kilometers, the two assault shuttles crossed over to the wreck of the Mars-class vessel in less than ninety seconds. Since the usual methods of entering the vessel were not an option, the assault shuttles took upon themselves to make their own entrances. Powering up their main lasers, they began cutting thru the thick layers of armor to create passages which the marines aboard the shuttles could use to enter the ship.

The work was slow as the energy weapons of the Assault Shuttles were never meant to be capable of cutting thru actual warship armor, or ever go to actual combat against such ships. Slowly the two craft cut a gap to the outer hull large enough for a single battle armored marine.

As the shuttles finished their work, they began to discorge their loads of Marines. First from each shuttle came the fire-support teams clad in their bulky suits of battle armor. Descending thru the gap cut to the armor, their armored feet were the first to touch down on the decking of the JIL Battlecruiser. Behind them came the Marines suited in their regular combat skinsuits. Like Naval skinsuits which were basically designed to protect the crew of warships from decompression, the Marine skinsuits were vacuum sealed as well. However, that was where the similarities ended as the Marine skinsuit was heavully padded with armor and equipment attached all over it with the backpack carrying the life-support systems, comms, extra ammunition and other assorted hardware, making the skinsuit much bulkier than its Navy counterpart.

As the sixty marines all entered the ship, they divided into squads of ten, each taking into their own direction, and to find any signs of life from the dark and cold innards of the once mighty warship.


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Rear Admiral Walter Dansbury CSN
Commanding Officer BatCruRon #4

Admiral Jensen let out a nervous sigh, thing had gone from bad to worse, and then to unimaginable. The JIL fleet had been ambushed, and much to everyone horror, was quickly dispatched by the enemy force. Then when he thought that it could not get any worse, a section of the JIL force went rouge and possible joined the enemy, combined it dealt a devastating blow to the defensive force.

Despite all that another fact worried Jensen, his battle group was now all that stood between enemy fleet and the planet. Only advantage he had was the asteroid field between him and the enemy. Normally that would have made him feel safe, the asteroid belt would act as a barrier for incoming missile, but the enemy’s technology was impressive, which meant the rulebook had to be thrown out. His game plan had remained the same; he was going ambush the enemy fleet as they came out of the asteroid field. If the enemy fleet did not go through the field, but instead around it, then this fleet would go around it always keeping the field between them and the enemy. Jensen could play this cat and mouse came all day, it would only buy more time to organize the defences on the planet.

He now doubted that they could stop the incoming fleet, but he could deal some damage, and buy sometime.

The two massive Frunze-class battleships, the Decaying Hand and Stonebreaker held position off the marshalling area for Vrakian forces. The 3rd New projection fleet, consisting of no less an Aerius class carrier readied her fighters while nearby, a Kreml-class carrier, the command ship for the 3rd Old was also undergoing final checks. With logistical help from two more Klatchian states, Dyelli Beybi and North Germania, along with the Tappee cargo haulers, three entire regular infantry Vrakian divisions along with an entire mechanized division pushed the total troop count at nearly 112 000. The mechanized rode out on their BMP-3s, troops hanging on the top and also inside while literally scored of troop trucks and Vodniks rolled out. All were bristling with heavy machine guns and determination.

Next came the ponderous T-90 tanks, followed by the reliable AA and AT s;ystems in orderly fashion. The tank commanders saluted as they filed into columns awaiting deployment orders.

Finally, the Vrakian commander in charge of it all came out in his personal command tank, custom built for his species. It sprouted an unusual amount of antenneas and was painted jet black. It rolled to a stop and the back door opened. Out waddled a huge walrus, wearing his battle dress uniform which, among other things, consisted of a kevlar helmet but with two horns sticking out. Oddly enough, the walrus’ tusks were sheathed in metal and appeared to have been sharpened. Escorting him were two King’s Own and the strange threesome drew close to the nearest highest Clairmont officer. The walrus spoke in his deep voice.

“I am General Riouk. I am here at your service.”

The massive ships began to turn, presenting their broadsides towards the general direction of the enemy force, bringing their missile tubes to bear. As the active target finders engaged alongside active scanners, the Clairmontian and Tappee vessels would soon see the seven hundred ships of Star Admiral Vanadis' force. Vanadis would not allow them time to prepare however. He had delayed the initiation of the battle plan for over an hour in order for the other two elements of the invasion to reach their assigned waypoints, and for his fighters to get into position for the upcoming battle.

"Execute fire plan Ixion." He ordered simply.

The forward light elemens of his force spat fire simultaneously, hyper missiles leaving their tubes and jumping to hyperspace only a short while after launch, to appear in the midst of the asteroid field, in the general area where Vanadis had estimated most of the enemy fighter assets to be.

The anti-matter warheads released their nuclear fury in the thick confines of the asteroid field. Their massive energies vaporizing and shattering asteroids. Hundreds of missiles poured on the target area. Any small fighter finding themselves too close to the blasts would be as good as dead.

But it was only the beginning. The Clairmontian Carrier Group as well as the Tappee ESUS Battlegroup were using their ECM to the best of their capabilities, and as such targeting thru the field was made a nuisance. But Vanadis had accounted for the possibility. Just as the enemy was using the asteroid field to their advantage, so was he. Two flights of stealthed parasite craft had approached slowly and silently, covering themselves in the asteroid field and getting closer to the enemy to feed targeting data to Vanadis' ships.

Suddenly better firing aquisitions began appearing on the tactical hologram, they were somewhat better than the readings the fleet itself was getting, but the fact that the parasite craft had to remain hidden restricted their usage of active sensors. This data would have to do.

"Execute fire plan Ixion two."

The capital ships of the fleet now spat fire. Their more numerous and heavier launchers throwing hundreds of more missiles into space, each and every one hungrily seeking out for a Tappee or Clairmontian vessel.

Simultaneously, hundreds of fighter parasite craft that had allready left their motherships charged the asteroid field in neat formations, methodically searching for enemy fighters in the field in order to clear a path for the larger ships.

Vanadis had no intention of slugging it out in a missile duel with the enemy. Instead, he plowed on. The shields of his ships snapped to full power, their ECM and Point-Defenses active and ready to swap down any incoming small craft or missiles. He would finish off the enemy with his energy weapons, in a straight out slugging match in which his superior numbers would bring him victory. After that, there would be nothing standing between the 4th Imperium and their target.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Vanadis.jpg
Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

March 22nd
Saturday
11.41 AM
Beowulf City
Military Assembly area Able

General Sharon Issard watched as the Vrakian forces assembled to the general assembly area arranged for their disposal. As it was Standard-Operational-Procedure in the case of a Homeland defense for all of the main defense groups to organize and assemble on their assigned assembly areas before being dispatched to their designated defense zones, all allied troops joining Clairmont in the defense had been instructed to do similarily.

Issard could do nothing but admire the bravery of the Vrakian troops. They had to know that their mainline combat armaments would be far inferior to that what they would be facing in combat, and yet she saw no hesitation on their faces. And suddenly, she felt very uncomfortable indeed.

Yet, as a strategist and a tactician, she could not dismiss their capabilities despite their technical inferiority. She doubted that the T-90 MBT's could do much as anti-tank platforms, but if the Vrakians would use canister shot (that shotgun shell-like round perfect for anti-personnel usage), then they could be usefull. And the Vrakian infantry, lacking the large amount of energy signatures of a regular Clairmontian Infantryman, could prove stealthier against the Imperium ground sensors. It would just be a case of using those troops where they would count.

The Vrakian forces were not the only ones pouring to assembly area able however. The 56th Clairmontian Special Mountain Warfare Regiment was coming there as well, along with the 13th Tactical Armor Regiment all in all, the area and the numerous depots filled with ammunition, fuel and food would come under heavy use.

She noticed how a corridor among the massing troops was formed, and a jet black tank, seemingly custom built rolled thru over the ceramacrete ground towards her. Stopping only a scant ten meters away from her, the rear boarding door opened and the walrus, she assumed to be the commander, came out and approached her. Despite the long-lasting alliance between the Clairmontians and Vrakians thru the Order of the Seraphim, the image of the walrus in his own choice of combat gear was still a sight to behold.

She noticed how the walrus's personal guards, those of the Kings Own she recalled, observed her own bodyguard. Normally, high officers of the Clairmont Armed Forces went without constant bodyguard details. However, the hard blows against the officer corps of the Armed Forces dealt during the night had forced the armed forces to hastily arrange bodyguard details for their higher officer corps. As it was, the two men standing behind her, both from the 81st Special Combat Operations Regiment, Special Ops, eyed the Vrakian entourage closing the general inquisitively.

As the walrus greeted Issard, she answered politely, attempting to remember any special Vrakian customs in order to avoid pissing off the walurs, she couldnt remember any, and cursed mentally for avoiding some of the special briefings in the past.

"Glad to see you here General Riouk. I am General Issard, Commanding Officer of the 2nd Combat Corps. With the time scant as it is, I would like to discuss with you about your deployment as soon as possible."

[b]March 22nd
Saturday
11.43 AM
The Asteroid field
Supporting Tappee ESUS Battlegroup

The missiles had literally come out of nowhere. As the wait for the enemy force to arrive had pro-longed for hours, far longer than anyone had first expected it to take, the sudden fury of hundreds of nuclear detonations ripping thru the asteroid field had taken everyone completely by supprise. Dozens of fighters had simply vaporized or shattered to millions of pieces as the monstrous anti-matter warheads of the enemy had gone off close enough to their positions.

But it was only two full salvoes, and then it ended. Despite the thousands upon thousands of megatons the enemy had poured on the general area of the asteroid field where they had believed the Clairmontian and Tappee fighters to be, space was vast and the effective range of even an anti-matter warhead was very limited in space as there was no athmosphere amplifying the destructive effects of the blast. It took McKeen precious seconds to understand the true purpose of the missiles, to act as a psychological attack, and to blind the sensors of the fighters hiding in the asteroid field for moments.

He keyed the channel open to his squadron furiously, ignoring the order for comms silence before contact with the enemy was made.

"Queen-six to flight. Break off break off!"

His elite pilots reacted immidiately, purely upon instinct, the drive fields of their fighters snapping to full power, and the fighters leaving their cover behind the asteroids.

But it was only some seconds too late. Two of the Jade Falcons blew up as missiles and enemy fighter weapons ripped them apart. Checking his scanner display, he noticed a dozen other icons representing Clairmontian fighter disappear nearly simultaneously. The enemy fighters had approached as close as they could, using their superior stealth capabilities to their full advantage. But now their element of supprise was gone, and McKeen's HUD lighted up along with his scanner display as his sensor array found the emissions from the enemy fighters.

Bringing his fighter around a full 180 degrees, he quickly snapped the Master Arm switch and reeled the closest enemy fighter to his sights. He selected the target simply by focusing his gaze on it, the small lasers following the movement of the iris of his eyes transferring the data to the computer and aquiring the selected target.

He pressed the trigger on his joystick, his fighter' main lasers spitting out invisible beams of energy. They hammered the enemy fighter with all their power, burning gaping holes to the fuselage, vaporizing surface material. After four direct hits, the fighter blew up.

McKeen pushed his throttle to the max, getting out of the way of any incoming fire and searched for another enemy.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Issard.jpg
General Sharon Issard Protectorate Army
Commanding Officer 2nd Combat Corps

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/McKeen.jpg
Captain Eric McKeen CSN
Squadron Commander
32nd Jade Falcons

Admiral Jensen let out a nervous sigh, thing had gone from bad to worse, and then to unimaginable. The JIL fleet had been ambushed, and much to everyone horror, was quickly dispatched by the enemy force. Then when he thought that it could not get any worse, a section of the JIL force went rouge and possible joined the enemy, combined it dealt a devastating blow to the defensive force.

Despite all that another fact worried Jensen, his battle group was now all that stood between enemy fleet and the planet. Only advantage he had was the asteroid field between him and the enemy. Normally that would have made him feel safe, the asteroid belt would act as a barrier for incoming missile, but the enemy’s technology was impressive, which meant the rulebook had to be thrown out. His game plan had remained the same; he was going ambush the enemy fleet as they came out of the asteroid field. If the enemy fleet did not go through the field, but instead around it, then this fleet would go around it always keeping the field between them and the enemy. Jensen could play this cat and mouse came all day, it would only buy more time to organize the defences on the planet.

He now doubted that they could stop the incoming fleet, but he could deal some damage, and buy sometime.

The walrus replied,

“Well, in total, we have three regular infantry divisions, one mechanized division, three tank and three artillery divisions committed to this war, and possibly more. This doesn’t include the 3000 SOATs. As well, Dyelli Beybi and North Germania, states within the FKC, are providig logistical support. North Germania has also committed over three hundred thousand Reichswehr Guards, some EMP weaponry and thermite bombs. As well, since we are obsessive on logistics and supply, we will bring our own medics, engineers, cooks, and so on. I should add that our advanced weapons R&D departments are working overtime here but…”

A sigh.

“I’m not sure if it will be much help. What do you know of the enemy? How do you think we can best be of use to you?”

Issard listened to Riouk giving their force disposition, while simultaneously estimating their best tactical and strategic deployment in a defense. The hard truth was that they knew effectively nothing of the enemy ground warfare equipment. Currently, all the information they had was that the enemy had advanced powered armor in use of their ground forces as well as highly advanced energy weapons and projectile armaments. But that was pretty much all there was. There was absolutely no intel whatsoever on the enemy armored units such as tanks and possibly walkers, nor on their artillery or light armor. Essentially, the current knowledge on the enemy ground combat capabilities was next to non-existant.

She replied to the walrus with a grim expression on her face.
"At the moment, our intel regarding the enemy ground combat capabilities is all but non-existant. We do have very limited knowledge on their infantry equipment but that is pretty much it."

She also admired the modesty of the Vrakian General, there was none of the bloating that accompanied many generals of so many armies, their foolish and utmost overconfidence in their capabilities.

"I have allready thought of ways on how to best use your capabilities. The main problem is that most of your equipment cannot compete with the enemy if you follow the standard doctrine, like for instance I doubt that your T-90's will meet much success against the enemy armored units. But that is where we must improvise. If your T-90's are loaded with canister shots, we can make them effective anti-personnel firepower platforms. Your infantry is another point which I thought of. Your standard infantryman carries much less power sources than a standard Clairmontian Infantryman with regular combat gear. As such, your infantry could be used to fight the enemy with guerilla tactics. But thats just the basics of what I had thought of, we will have to flesh out the details."

The Vrakian listened intently.

“Hmmmm. So we are limited to attacking infantry. That will be fine. If you concentrate on their bigger stuff, then that may work. Now, do we have an idea of their intended targets? Perhaps there is where we can best be used. And, at least according to my limited information, the enemy will be coming from above.”

He paused as memories of the Dozle war rose in his mind. The Klatch was caught unaware of that attack. Thousand of dropships disgorging millions of SOATs and hundreds of heavy tanks and artillery. It was a slaughter, and even the LOW was pushed back in the beginning. He shook his head.

“I suppose our AA systems will be used to great effect in the beginning. Then, if they are able to land we can swiftly engage them. You mentioned the possibility of our troops having less of a ‘signature’ than yours to the enemy. Perhaps if we were placed in areas that would increase those odds and then able to ambush them, say, from a forest that will help. Certainly we should be able to predict how the enemy will approach their targets – unless they are dropping directly onto them.

I don’t suppose you would have any spare, er, laser guns or something for my men? Even older models might tip the scales. As far as guerilla tactics, well, I suppose we would need to establish weapon caches and then go from there. How much time do we have?”

Issard rubbed her brow a bit, forming up thoughts and checking the possibilities as the Vrakian General made his suggestions. Altough she was no Logistics Officer, she could recall fairly well that there was a good surplus of all kinds of infantry weapons down in the Diess City Storage Areas. That surplus owed itself to the massive armament export industry that Clairmont held. Noticing that the walrus was giving her a slight stare of interest as she clearly was deep in thought, she spoke out loud.

"Well, we dont have any laser guns per-se, however as you propably know, Clairmont has a massive armament export industry and we export large amounts of small arms and infantry equipment in general. Though Im not too well versed in the actual logistical situation, I can say for sure that there are large amounts of older model Pulse Rifle Projectile Weapons in storage, as well as our Anti-Tank equipment and other infantry hardware. We propably have some newer stuff as well but not as much."

That, was the good side of the situation, she also would divulge the bad.

"The problem is that your troops need to be trained in how to use these weapons. Altough a Clairmontian Pulse Rifle is largely similar to a chemical operated assault rifle in its general usage such as loading and operation, such things as field-stripping and general maintenance are completely different. And dont even get me started on our battlefield electronics. And ofcourse, the weapons need to be distributed to your troops as well. As at the moment we are proceeding with defensive deployment plan with the slimsiest of time scales, the amount of personnel we can spare for teaching your troops in how to use the new equipment is low."

While she spoke, she also thought of the fact that the logistical arm of the Army was fully going to the deployment of the troops on the ground. If the Vrakians were to be equipped with the weapons, their own logistics would have to retrieve them from Diess.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Issard.jpg
General Sharon Issard Protectorate Army
Commanding Officer 2nd Combat Corps

March 22nd
Saturday
11.50 AM
The Asteroid field
Supporting Tappee ESUS Battlegroup

"Stay in formation!" Captain McKeen screamed furiously to the pilots in formation around his own fighter, making an attack run straight thru the teeth of a Imperial capital ships point-defense.

The treath indicators in McKeen's panel flashed constantly as his fighter' onboard computer detected new missiles in space or target locks on his fighter. His electronic warfare suite had engulfed his fighter in a bubble of jamming to make his fighter less easy to get a lock on. But there were a lot of ships out there, and many of them were directly interested in this particular attack run.

McKeen grimaced as a Liberator Strike Fighter disintegrated into a cloud of debris, approximately five kilometers to his right, the result of a direct hit from an enemy point-defense laser. He had no time to feel sorry for his comrade however as he banked hard to port once more to maintain his evasive actions, or otherwise he would soon end up as a cloud of dead debris as well.

The attack run was costing the Clairmontian fighters heavully, but there was no choice. They had to get within point-blank range to burn thru the jamming the Imperials were putting out, and to ensure that their missiles would get thru the enemy defensive envelopes.

As the range-to-target indicator flashed down to 299,500 kilometers, McKeen's weapons control system indicated a confirmed missile lock on target. He selected the two heavy missiles under his wings, the massive Mk. 59 missiles specifically designed for Strike Fighters for taking down capital ships.

The missiles detached from his fighter, their drive fields snapping to full power after detaching and aquiring their target from the telemetry McKeen's weapons control computer had fed them. In unison, the eleven other fighters that had survived to reach firing range each dropped two similar missiles. In only two seconds, two hundred and twenty two missiles were in space, heading out to strike against a bare two ships.

The Imperials reacted at lightning speed and precision. Their point-defense priorizing the missiles immidiately, and invisible pulses from laser batteries began to swap down a number of missiles while counter-missiles sought out others and took them down. But the flight time was simply too low, and there were too many missiles. Forty eight missiles survived to strike against the single Battleship and Battlecruiser chosen as targets, the Battleship being struck by no less than thirty missiles and the Battlecruiser by the remaining eighteen.

Forty eight miniature suns engulfed the two ships, the nuclear fury from the twenty-five megaton warheads of the missiles rapidly disabling the enemy shields and ripping the ships apart. The battlecruiser simply lost control of its powerplant, and disappeared in a blinding flash of light. The battleship survived without a reactor core loss, however with its weapons gone, hull breached and drives destroyed, it was nothing more than a dead wreck.

The flight of twelve fighters broke off from their attack run, and began to quickly increase the distance between them and the enemy formation, using asteroids as cover.

McKeen winced as an asteroid only five hundred meters above his head disintegrated completely as a result of a direct hit from an Imperial point-defense battery, it had been a very near miss, one that McKeen was all too thankfull to have survived. Two more of his flight had not been as lucky however, their fighters turned to wreckage by accurate fire from the Imperials as the fighters had turned their backs on the enemy to flee.

Despite the asteroid field heavully favoring the Clairmontian Fighters, the Imperial formation was plowing thru the field without bothering to slow down or without taking the kind of losses that could have been expected from such a maneuver. They were allready deep into the asteroid field, filling the space around them with death. And soon, they would break thru the field, straight tot he expecting Tappee ESUS Battlegroup...

His thoughts were cut off as the computer suddenly began to scream a warning of multiple target locks. McKeen quickly discovered that a flight of three Imperial fighters had aquired him, and were now boring in on an attack run to blow him out of space. Two missiles flashed past him, scantly having missed due to the heavy evasive maneuvers McKeen had executed along with the help of the ECM blanketing the immidiate area around his fighter.

The Imperial fighters were adamant on slaying their prey however, choosing to engage McKeen with their guns. Damage indicators lighted up as one of the enemies caught a lucky shot, cutting off McKeen's Liberator Strike Fighter's port side wing from the middle.

Time seemed to slow down as the Captain felt certain of his fate finally coming to meet him, untill suddenly all the three Imperial fighters were ripped apart, one being completely disintegrated as it absorbed the full brunt of the force from five point-defense laser stilettos, and the other two disappearing inside a flash of light and disintegrating as a fifty megaton nuclear weapon took them down.

McKeen searched the vicinity for his savior, and smiled broadly as the ten-thousand ton mass of a Valkyrie-class Light Attack Craft zipped past him, completely dwarfing McKeen's Strike Fighter. His smile only grew broader as suddenly the triumphant sounding hymn of "Ride of the Valkyries" filled the air, and the voice of a young sounding female followed.

"This is Lieutenant Woods from LAC Three-Niner-Six to Queen-Six. Get your boys back to the barn Sir. We will cover you."

McKeen glanced at his sensor screen, noting that three more Valkyrie LAC's were rapidly approaching his position, coming to support the one that had saved him. At the same time glancing at his screen indicating his ordnance situation, he had to grudgingly accept the Lieutenants proposition as he was completely out of missiles, out of Grav Gun rounds, and his power packs were soon running on redline. Quickly checking the situation of his squadron, he also noted that out of the twenty four Jade Falcons who had gone out to meet the enemy, eleven remained and their ammunition situation was not much better.

He replied the Lieutenant with a bit of humorous undertone to his voice.
"Thank you Lieutenant, its about time you LAC boys and girls starting carrying your weight around."

"Queen-six to flight, RTB, I repeat, RTB. Return and re-arm."

Complying to the order, the remaining Jade Falcons began to detach from the fight, laying in on a new vector that would take them back to their carrier for combat re-arm.

March 22nd
Saturday
11.55 AM
Diess City
Military Munitions Depot #34

The term "depot" might have given a person the idea that Depot #34 was only perhaps few small warehouses and bunkers with some ammunition, however the term "depot" was used extremely broadly in Clairmont and such a person would have been completely amazed to find a massive district completely filled with large warehouses and bunkers, completely filling a square kilometer of the land that was accounted as part of Diess City. And it was only one of the many, one of the smaller ones at that, and it was a hive of activity in the literal sense of the concept.

Thousands of personnel went about, rushing from place to place. Large supply trucks and dropships were everywhere, personnel in loadlifter power armor scurrying around them and filling them with boxes of many kinds. For any logistics officer observing the action, it would have been obvious that everything was being done hurriedly and the organizing of the operation was questionable.

Lieutenant Jason Ventris hated his job at the moment the most he had ever before hated. Any hate and disgust towards his job as a logistics officer he would have held before this day was dwarfed by the amount he had towards it now. Despite him being only a lowly Lieutenant in the logistics division that handled things regarding Depot #34, entire companies of troops depended on him for correct amounts and types of supplies. Which did not make him feel any more comfortable, knowing that even a slight screwup might result in a Company having no ammunition at all or double amount of food stuffs.

"No! No! No! Goddamnit, I want those fucking mark four's loaded up in dropships Sierra-Seven and Sierra-Eleven, not those goddamn supply trucks! What the hell are Mountain Rangers going to do with tactical nuclear grenades!? Get it fucking straight!"

He yelled over the multiple ongoing conversations going on at the same time to the supply personnel in their power armor, carrying large boxes marked with the text:

"Warning! Radiological Material! Mk.4 Tactical Nuclear Grenade"

The power armored figures complied, though Ventris was sure that they were silently telling the Lieutenant to buzz off. Ventris would not give them any slack at this hour however, as those nuclear grenades for example could very well help in the success or if absent, the failure of a critical defensive operation.

He stood on the loading dock that spanned the entire western and southern sides of the warehouse that stood at a height of seventy two meters, with each of its facets being hundred and five meters long. It was one of the many of the warehouses of such type that filled Depot #34, with each of them being separated by large loading areas for trucks to enter and aircraft to land. Elevators constantly brought down new stacks of boxes to the loading dock where personnel rapidly lifted them off to their designated transports.

As imposing and massive as the warehouse might have seemed from the outside at first glance, and no matter how big of a job Ventris thought he had, any glance to the sky allways helped him change his mind. Hundreds, of dropships filled the sky, and they were only those that had been the fastest to get off the ground. Lieutenant Ventris was only one of the many thousands of logistics officers who were doing their best to supply hundreds of thousands of Clairmontian ground troops with their supplies.

As he finished shouting new instructions, his datapad chirped, indicating new incoming data. Ventris quickly read the message sent to him, and his face went pale as he finished the orders.


"You gotta be fucking shitting me..." He only succeeded in saying.

Only moments ago he had thought of the task of delivering correct supplies to several companies worth of troops as a large task, and now some prick at the local HQ had seen it as a good idea to assign him with the task of supplying thousands of Vrakian ground combat personnel with Clairmontian made infantry hardware and weapons.

He sighed heavully as he accepted the fact of the matter. And soothed himself with the fact that it would still be atleast five or six hours before he would have to start worrying with the new task. He would be lucky to get two hours of sleep in the next forty eight hours.

He clicked open the channel in his communicator, and spoke, with the voice transceiver at the left side of his head picking up his words clearly as crystal.

"This is Lieutenant Ventris from the western loading dock, section six. I want you to inform Supply Sergeant Tyrell that I will require three thousand units of Mark Seventy and Mark Forty-Five Pulse Rifles. As well as two hundred boxes of Gee Twenty Handgrenades, and three hundred units of Hydra AT missiles."

He did not bother to start listening to any protests, and closed the channel, returning to supplying the three companies he had to worry about at the moment.


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Captain Eric McKeen CSN
Squadron Commander
32nd Jade Falcons

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Lieutenant Jason Ventris Protectorate Army
Logistics Oversee Depot #34 Storage #5

The soldiers looked with curiousity at the strange new weapons they were being issued, and paid careful attention to the Clairmont drill instructors. They surrendered their main weapon, the RPK-74, but still kept their Ort-2 semiautomatic pistols. Heavy machine gun, flamethrowers, anti-tank, and anti-air squads were not given the high tech toys. In fact, some questioned the wisdom of changing weapons before a major war, but it was felt that the newly armed troops would primarily wage a defensive war while the others, including the SOATs, would go on the offensive – such as attacking enemy dropships.

The tank and artillery battalions were issued their deployment orders and began to rumble out. Topographical information, access roads, and whatnot were all relayed to General Riouk who looked to Issard for the best advice on where to locate the Vrakian troops. His head bobbed and whiskers twitched as he received the latest information.

The SOATs, for their part, began to march out, their metal feet being covered with hard rubber soles that came along in the dropship in order to reduce noise.

The assault shuttle's approach had been undetected, but once the high powered lasers began to torch their way through the idea that the hapless crew now had to fight off enemy infantry assaults swept through the ranks.

Cullen himself did everything he could to check the identity of the shuttle - no small feat, given the extent of the ship's damage - but it was a sensor operator who first confirmed that it was, in fact, an allied Clairmont craft.

When the marines finally managed to cut a power-infantry-sized hole in the dense material and came through the opening in standard cover formation, Executor Cullen and a handful of crew waited for them.

"Executor Cullen of the JIL Mars battlecruiser, formerly of the 15th System Defense Group," he stated with an impatient salute. "Who are you and whose decision was it to cut another hole in my ship?"

The Marine Lieutenant returned the salute with the armored gauntlet of his Battle Armor, and eyed the condition of the crew he saw with the captain. Judging by the lack of any serious injuries among these men, they had to have some kind of emergency room allready operational.

He responded to Cullens' inquiry regarding the hole.
"Lieutenant Thomas Simpson, Royal Clairmontian Marine Corps. I would imagine it was Read Admiral Dansbury's idea to cut another hole to your ship sir. However, looking at the sorry state of your small-ship docking capabilities and your TAC launch bay, it was the only way."

He waited for his words to sink in before continuing.
"At the moment, our mission is to ascertain the status of the survivors aboard, and when ready, we will commence towing of this ship to Hephaestus in order to bring it in to a dry-dock for repairs."


March 22nd
Saturday
00.07 PM
The Asteroid field
Supporting Tappee ESUS Battlegroup

McKeen's eyes surveyed the findings of his scanner array, and noted quickly that the holding action at the asteroid field had met its end. The Imperial Fleet was now emerging from the asteroid field, their weapons blazing at the Tappee ESUS Battlegroup they now faced.

The fighters hidden in the asteroid field had done all they could to inflict as much damage to the Imperial fleet as possible, but in the end the damage they had done was largely equivalent to that of a bee strike against a lion, and now that lion was only much much more agitated.

As the linear catapults in the carrier hurled him out of the mouth of the ship, he began to call for his squadron to form up on his wing. True to their skills, the remaining Jade Falcon's rapidly formed up on him as they exited the carrier themselves. Angling towards the enemy fleet, McKeen was allready receiving priority targeting data from the lead carrier in their carrier group.

So were the hundreds of other fighters alongside him. The lighter Wolfhounds would act as a screen for the heavier Liberator's that would be giving the main punch against the enemy. As the Wolfhounds began to arrange themselves into escort formations around the several flights of Liberator fighters, the first Imperial fighters began to appear as well.

And in seconds, the space lighted up brightly once again as the artificial suns of nuclear weapons began to detonate.


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1st Lieutenant Thomas Simpson RMMC
Platoon Leader, 48th Royal Marines, 5th Battalion, 2nd Company

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/McKeen.jpg
Captain Eric McKeen CSN
Squadron Commander
32nd Jade Falcons

Towed. The word echoed briefly in his mind. He pushed away a stubborn, prideful protest and nodded.

"Hephaestus is still around, then," he simply stated. A hollow feeling crept up inside of him as he considered the answer to the next question.

"As for the status of my crew," he began, "We have nearly 850 walking wounded, and another 2100 who need medical attention."

Alexander Cullen didn't number the dead. The memories would do.

His ship had a crew of over ten thousand when leaving last port. Mars was literally more dead than alive.

He blinked rapidly. There were fires burning still in isolated sections, and smoke in the air ventilation system was hard to get used to.

"Lieutenant, I need to make several reports. I need access to a secure transmitter to report back to JIL command. I need to report to your highest officer in charge of the fleets in these parts. And I'd like to be briefed on the Action."

Lieutenant Simpson quickly acknowledged the number of survivors the Executor had given him, and concluded that the man would most likely have by now a very good idea of how many truly were alive aboard the hulk of the ship. He wasnt sure if he detected relief in the man's voice when he stated that the Clairmontian Shipyard was still intact.

"Yes sir. Hephaestus is still operational. I do not have all the details you most likely want to hear, so you have to converse with the Rear Admiral in command of our squadron. For that transmitter, we have to take you back aboard the Flagship of the squadron Sir. " He stated matter-of-factly, and on que at his last statement, pointed back towards the corridor where from he and his marines had come from, and to the waiting assault shuttles.


Meanwhile, Rear Admiral Dansbury had found something worth feeling better for. The extensive reconnaissance of the dead hulks of the former JIL battlesquadrons had revealed five more ships that were nominally intact and with survivors aboard. The most notable of the (in name only) surviving ships was a single Wastelands-class Dreadnaught that due to what could only be blind luck, had survived without being completely annihilated to space dust. Altough it had no weapons, no primary propulsion, and its main powerplant was down, there were definite signs of active power sources and heat signatures aboard the ship that strongly suggested nominal operational status. Despite the grievous damage wrought against the Superdreadnaught, Dansbury still considered it possible to bring the warship back into acceptable combat capability, and at the moment, every single Ship of the Wall would be badly needed.


March 22nd
Saturday
00.30 PM
Sector SG-45/D
Solar System Designation Gamma-Solaris-Alpha 549
Clairmont Space Navy 7th and 8th Fleets

The warsawski sails of the courier bled off transit energy in a spectacular display of blue lightning as it dropped out of hyper, to the solar system designated by Clairmontian Astrographic Survey Agency as GSA-549. It was a barren and completely worthless solar system on any imaginable comparison. Dominated by an F-Type White Star, the system held only its primary and the stars four orbiting satellites, all of them completely un-inhabitable for anything humanoid.

Despite the system being worthless in value for any civilian interests, it had been an acceptable and chosen option for the Clairmontian Admiralty as grounds for war games conducted by the 7th and 8th Fleets, as the solar systems backwardness would keep the fleets, and their massed numbers ranging in the hundreds, out of the sight of prying eyes.

But sending the ships away was a two-edged sword, and the catastrophic and completely unexpected attack by the 4th Imperium had proven how an opponent who could take complete advantage of the knowledge regarding the absence of the fleets, could commence their attack before anyone could even think of calling for re-enforcements.

As it was, First Space Lord Caparelli had tasked a single courier to immidiately dispatch a recall order for the fleets. Despite the relative closeness of the GSA-549 System to the Sol System, it had still taken the courier over six hours to reach the system, and doing so going far too close to the Iota-bands of hyperspace, than was seen as constituting an acceptable risk.

Immidiately as the courier dropped into the system, it was challenged by the picketing light units of the 7th and 8th fleets. As the courier delivered its message, it took only five minutes for the hundreds of ships of the 7th and 8th fleets to relay their vectors for the quickest route to the systems hyperlimit. Even so, it would take them a minimum of forty hours to return home, as the Superdreadnaughts and two bulky Supermonitors of the two fleets would slow them down immensely. Couriers, as they were, were far faster in hyperspace than the massive Superdreadnaughts and Supermonitors.

March 22nd
Saturday
00.30 PM
Planetary Defense Center #5

Despite the nature of the situation, Major George Higgins could only admire the tenacity, and skill of his opponents. As he had been informed of the attack against PDC #5 and the Vanguard Missile Base over six hours ago, his first company had been in the ground and in defensive positions only twenty minutes after the word came. And the defensive battle had been going on ever since.

Higgins had brought over five hundred marines to the ground, and yet the enemy had nearly breachead his perimeter several times, and doing so caused high casualties. And they showed no sign of giving up.

The first nasty supprise Higgins had had of the capabilities of his enemy, had been their ability to become nearly invisible by using their stealth equipment. However, it appeared that the stealth equipment was only used by small squads trying to breach the perimeter with subtlety instead of raw force of arms and numbers. Knowing that gave the Major little consolidation against the deadly risk the invisible enemy squads presented.

His marines were positioned in dozens of quickly dug combat positions where from they would have overlapping fields of fire over every possible approach towards the fortress at the top of the hill formation. Despite that however, the enemy had once again succeeded in supprising him. As the enemy main troops attacked, the support weapons that they had allways opened fire with indirect munitions bombardment , which Higgins had found out to be extremely accurate and effective. Under the suppressing fire of their support weapons, the enemy platoons made their approach, using the speed and durability of their power armored troops as the forward contignent, suppressing the positions of Higgins' marines and forcing them to tone down their fire.

Seven attacks had thus far been launched against Higgins' battalion, all of them had been repelled. Not without casualties. Not without difficulties, but repelled nonetheless. Higgins had estimated that the enemy had to have lost somewhere around two hundred troops allready, and yet they could continue on with their attacks. Early on to the siege, he had attempted to figure out how could anyone infiltrate Clairmont with so many personnel. But when he had began to consider the fact that Clairmont was a nation of over three billion, and the sheer amount of people moving in and out of the nation, and if the enemy had had a decade worth of time to prepare, it wouldnt be difficult at all to bring in the people necessary to do the job in the end, especially if this 4th Imperium was truly as good in such Covert Operations as he had allowed himself to understand.

He broke off from his course of thought as Captain Meyers, the commander of the 2nd Company of Higgins' Battalion, came in at a rapid pace and hunched low towards the position where Higgins and his Command Platoon were dug in.

Scampering over the edge of the crater dug with cratering charges specifically used for quickly creating firing positions, the Captain dropped next to the Major and saluted sharply. Before the Captain could say anything, Higgins was allready talking.

"Captain, I imagine you have a good reason to come over to me personally, so spit it out."

"Ofcourse Major. Im not sure if my worry is warranted or not, but our resident tech-head in my Command Platoon expressed his fear that our comms-links could be compromised. The reason for this, Im not sure of the technical terms and Lieutenant Jansky never explained them to me fully, would appear to be that Lieutenant Jansky discovered unexplainable wave fluctuation upon closer inspection, and then compared our comms-logs to the co-ordination in the enemy attacks. After seeing to his findings myself, I have to conclude that there is a high possibility that our comms-links are indeed compromised."

The Major slumbered into a thoughtfull silence for a moment. Generally, it had been taught to every commander early on in the Academy, and in the tech-classes of the basic training, that communications lines could allways be compromised. However, with the coming of the latest types of encryption to communications technology and new hardware security methods, many had began to relax, in the belief that the Clairmontian Military communications links could not be infiltrated. But Higgins knew better now than to take anything for granted with the 4th Imperium, and after a moment of silence simply nodded to Captain Jansky before speaking.

"Now that I think of it, this would explain a lot. Even though we dont have any concrete evidence, we have to consider the possibility that they have breached our security. For now, I wont trust any type of communication short of direct laser-comms and couriers. Go back to your company Captain, and establish a direct laser-link comms with the 1st company's nearest platoon. We will create a network of laser-linked comms between every position. "

The Captain saluted and scampered over the edge of the crater, towards his own command position. Only moments after the captain had left, as if to enforce the man's fears, mortar shells began to drop in blanketing formations. Rock fragments and soil was blasted off the ground in huge geysers as the high-explosive grenades dug themselves to the ground and exploded. Small fragments of rock simply ricocheted off from Major Higgins' armor as several mortar shells detonated near by. Despite the amount of electronic jamming that Higgins had ordered the battalion to use, the enemy could still launch their indirect fire very accurately. As evidence to their capability, a single mortar shell landed to the edge of a near by fire-position, detonating only a meter away from a marine private suited only in the heavully armored BDU standard for the Marines, instead of a Battle Armor. The concussion and shockwave from the blast threw the man like a toy, high-velocity rock fragments penetrating his helmet and blowing his head to ruin.

Higgins knew that there would be far more casualties to come as a result of the indirect fire, and yet more as the result of the enemy attack that they would soon launch under the assistance of their support mortars.

Confirming his assesment, only few short moments later, heavy fire began to erupt down-hill as the enemy began their attack once more. Return fire blasted at them, pulse rifles, grenade hurling support weapons and tri-barrels spitting back at the enemy.

Higgins sighed inside the confines of his armored helmet, and checked the ammunition indicator at the side of his pulse rifle. It showed full, loaded with HE armor penetrating rounds.

"For the Protectorate god-fucking-damnit..." He murmured and readied himself to fire.


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1st Lieutenant Thomas Simpson RMMC
Platoon Leader, 48th Royal Marines, 5th Battalion, 2nd Company

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Rear Admiral Walter Dansbury CSN
Commanding Officer BatCruRon #4

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Major George Higgins RMMC
Commanding Officer, 51st Royal Marines, 1st Battalion

The ground gently shook beneath Admiral Jensen as yet another warhead detonated near the Heaven Thunder. Via the HOLO display he watched as another one his ships momentarily became an orange fireball before being replaced by the black empty void of space.

In an epic struggle the two fleets had engaged each other at almost point blank range. From afar it must have looked like a beautiful display if color as both fleets unleashed a punishing volley from their energy weapon, it was a symphony of death and destruction. Despite his fleets incredible speed and maneuverability, they lack the ability to deal back the same amount of damage they themselves were receiving from the enemy fleet. Admiral Jensen had to face the fact the enemy was simply destroying his ship at a much faster rate then he was their, and it did not take a mathematician to figure out the out come.

Now he was faced with a choice, and his options were few and far between. Option A was stay and fight to the last man, but the enemy would ultimately break through and get to the planet. Option B was fall back and regroup, exposing his rear to the enemy meant he would take heavy losses, but if he turned and ran now he could save some to fight again later. His choices weighed heavily on his mind, neither was a choice he really wanted to make.

“TAC, issue the retreat order” finally said Jensen after a few tense moments “Have the lighter element of the fleet provide cover fire for the larger a slower elements” His voice was shaky and weak, that of a man how had accepted defeated.

Meanwhile aboard another ship taking part in the battle things were not as simple. The Terminus was a lightweight destroyer whose role was mainly heavy fire support for the lighter point defense elements of the fleet. However, by this point in the battle it found itself on the wrong end of the 4th Imperiums tremendous firepower.

The ship lurched hard to the right as it took another direct hit, sparks from an overloaded conduit fill the bridge. “Report” yelled the ships captain over all the chaos that was now taking place.

“Shield gone, hull at 30%, main power systems are down” yelled the ships TAC officer, desperately trying to answer the Captains question “We’ve got word that a full retreat has been ordered.”

Taking a moment the Captain pondered what to do for a moment, the ship was almost dead in the water, and would survive a retreat. With out hesitation he opened a channel to the entire ship “Attention all hands, this is the Captain speaking, abandon ship. I repeat abandon ship” Taking a moment he glanced over at a picture of his family that he had placed nearby, look of sadness came over him. “Helm transfer control over to my station”

Suddenly he noticed that none of the bridge crew left their stations, a bit confused he looked out over them “I GAVE you an order to abandon ship” he was stern in his tone.

Silence fell over the bridge for a moment, before the ships Helm officer turned to face the Captain. She could have been any older then 25 years old, her hair had been tied back but had become messy during the battle. “With all due respect Captain you can court martial us when this is done.”

A smile came across the Captains face, he had never served with a more finer crew “I just might do that he” he answered sarcastically “Helm set course for the nearest enemy ship, ramming speed!”

March 22nd
Saturday
00.43 PM
Near the asteroid belt

Captain McKeen watched his heads-up-display disspassionately as his sensors told him the tale of the Tappee Battlegroup commencing its retreat from the battle. It had been only a matter of time, but now, McKeen knew, there would be nothing between the 4th Imperium and their target, and the battle that would decide the fate of Clairmont would be fought in near-Earth space and on the soil of the Protectorate.

The battle was for all intents and purposes lost. And the Commander-Air-Group aboard the Protectorate Carrier Watchkeeper had allready noticed that as well, a conclusion made clear by the womans brisk command tone cutting thru the comms-link, calling for all squadron leaders under her command.

"Squadron leaders, return to the Watchkeeper immidiately. The carrier group is initiating an immidiate withdrawal to near Earth space."

McKeen called for his squadron to form up back on him as he vectored his fighter for the return trip back to the carrier. As much as he desired to go out in a blaze of glory, he knew that ultimately it would be futile. With grief pressing hard on his heart, he began the return trip to the carrier as his squadron-mates joined up with him.


But someone, he noticed, was adamant on going out in a blaze of glory. His sensors drew up the image of a single Tappee Destroyer detaching from their main formation, and commencing a hard acceleration towards the nearest 4th Imperium ship, a ponderous Monitor that had strayed too close to the battle and out of the protective screen of the Imperiums lighter combatants.

Even then, the destroyer had little chance of making it close enough to hit the Monitor, even as he observed, McKeen allready noted several flights of Imperial fighters vectoring in against the Tappee destroyer, like wolfs against a wounded bear.

And someone, had noticed the gesture the Tappee captain was about to make. From the midst of the retreating Clairmontian and Tappee fighters, a flight of seven Clairmontian Light-Attack-Crafts and a dozen fighters returned to the fight, and embraced the Tappee Destroyer in a protective envelope. The LAC's with their Counter-Missile launchers and Point-Defense lasers created a web of defensive fire around the ship, shooting down any fighters or missiles coming too close.

They were sacrificing themselves to allow the Tappee Destroyer to commit its final charge against the enemy. McKeen, nor any of the commanders of the Carrier Group spoiled the utmost honour of the action by attempting to call back those people striding to their deaths. McKeen only watched out from his cockpit, his right arm raising to salute those brave warriors.



Lieutenant Jodie Woods, and the crew of LAC 396 hadnt particularily been considered largely as the most courageous LAC crew of the LAC-Carrier Minotaur, but neither had they ever really seen real combat. As she had noticed what the Tappee Destroyer was about to do, all hesitation had cleared from her mind and she hard ordered her LAC to move to an escort position near the Destroyer. There had been no challenge of his orders, or fear on the faces of her small crew as she had made the order, only acknowledging nods.

In her own mind, she felt no regrets for deciding to end her life this way. Dying on a nameless battlefield would have been bad, but this battle would hardly be remembered as nameless. Perhaps she would get a school, or something like that, named after her. It wasnt a bad accomplishment for a lieutenant of only 23 years of age.

After only few short moments after she had ordered her LAC into escort position near the Tappee Destroyer, she noted that she would not be the only fool to participate in this particular suicide mission. Half a dozen other LAC's had joined her, along with a single squadron of Strike Fighters. Together, they had proceeded to envelope the Tappee Destroyer in their protective embrace. As the wolf-packs of the Imperial fighter squadrons had attempted to make their attack runs, they had met the furious defensive fire of the seven LAC's and dozen fighters protecting the Tappee ship riding to its doom.

Pinpoint fire from the LAC's PD Laser Batteries swept the space, turning Imperial fighters to quickly expanding debris clouds and detonating hyper-missiles dropping out of hyperspace and making their terminal attack run. But the Imperial fleet had fighters and missiles to spare, and the torrent of fire was unrelenting. As their target loomed ahead, the ponderous form of an Imperial Monitor, the return fire tightened for every light-second they got closer, and Jodie Woods could not ensure herself that her foolish act could accomplish anything afterall.


March 22nd
Saturday
00.45 PM
Manticore's Nest

First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli stared in silence down to the spacial operations section of the Central Command Center, from the heights of the High Command's residence room. Idiots, damn idiots they all are. What the hell do they think they can accomplish!? he thought in furious sorrow as the Tappee Destroyer and its Clairmontian Protectors strode towards their deaths.

But regardless of the stupidity of their action, Caparelli could only feel proud to have such men and women ,as those Clairmontians in the LAC's and Strike Fighters protecting the Tappee Destroyer, under his command. And he felt proud to have such allies as the captain of that Tappee Destroyer.

He opened the loudspeaker channel, and soon his voice boomed from the speakers in the massive cavern of the Central Command Center, grapping the attention of every man and woman there.

"Our brothers and sisters have chosen to make the ultimate sacrifice in one of the most honourable ways possible. Let us salute those brave warriors who stride to their deaths."

Almost as one, the men and women across the CCC stood up from their consoles. Right hands began to raise in salute, and Caparelli threw up his best parade ground salute, from the days of the Academy, so many decades ago. Hundreds of men and women were now saluting, and no-one uttered a word.



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Captain Eric McKeen
Squadron Commander
32nd Jade Falcons

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1st Lieutenant Jodie Woods
Commanding Officer of LAC 396

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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations
Clairmont Space Navy

Star Admiral Vanadis stared at the tactical hologram in the center of the command bridge of his Supermonitor, in what could have been interpreted to be supprise, and perhaps some awe. Concepts such as "honour" and "glory" had been long since abandoned, deemed as useless by the military. Altough Imperial officers still remembered the purpose of those concepts, they saw it pointless and utterly illogical to allow those concepts to dictate military action. And as such, what Star Admiral Vanadis witnessed here, the foolish suicide run of the Tappee Destroyer and the actions of the Clairmontian small craft that had moved to protect it, he was stunned by their actions. They were wasting materials and personnel over something ,that wouldnt in the end, make any real difference to the outcome of the battle.

Even if they would succeed, and the enemy destroyer would ram the Imperial Monitor that it most obviously was targeting, it would mean only the loss of a single Marathon-class Monitor to the Imperial fleet. Powerfull and valuable as Monitors were, Vanadis still had more than enough of them to spare and as such it would require a fool to think that the destruction of a single Monitor would make any difference at all. And yet, the enemy had embarked on their suicide run.


Vanadis however, did not allow himself to be stymied by the actions of the enemy for too long. And in seconds, he was allready spouting orders, fighter wings to re-vector and attack the suicide runners, capital ships to intensify their fire.

Meanwhile, as the small Clairmontian and Tappee contignent continued on towards his fleet, the remaining Tappee ships of their Battlegroup were forming up, and heading towards Earth, while the Clairmontian carrier group had allready retrieved its fighter contignent, and was also beginning to head back to Earth.

Even if they would escape, it wouldnt make much of a difference. True, when they would join their remaining numbers to those of the Clairmontians allready in geo-synchronous orbit around Earth, and their fortresses, the strength of their defense would be impressive indeed, and the number of casualties Vanadis would take in the course of his attack could be much higher than first estimated. But, the end result would be the same nevertheless. Those ships could escape, only to meet their end at the Battle of Earth. Few additional days in their lives could hardly make much of a difference. Vanadis did not worry, worry was something of an anathema to Imperial Officers. For the moment, he indulged himself in observing the last futile gesture of defiance of a single Tappee Destroyer, and its Clairmontian escorts.


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Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

The SOAT-bots silently took their positions, carefully hidden in the terrain. Beside them, main battle tanks with camouflage netting waiting patiently for the enemy to arrive. AA systems scanned the skies expecting the inevitable, while General Riouk calmly drank his third scotch.

The Vrakian forces deployed to Clairmont were, on paper at least, equal to the natives in regards to political wrangling. After all, were they both not members of the same alliance? But practical considerations took priority in this situation. Vrak was unfamiliar with the layout and followed Clairmontian direction in regards to battlefield deployment and the best way to counter the now realized enemy’s superior firepower.

The rocket teams familiarized themselves with the Hydra rockets and pulse rifles. These forces would be used in conjunction with the regular Vrakian forces using standard equipment. Riouk didn’t like sending men into battle with new-fangled, and therefore unfamiliar toys, but given the situation, it was felt that they could at least be used as a reserve. It would be a brutal defensive war and, more importantly, they had to hold the line.

The walrus decided that a final speech would be appropriate.

-Vrakians! We are called here to fight an enemy that is, in many ways, superior in terms of firepower. But, what they lack is the fighting spirit that is our heritage. Remember the odds that our ancestors fought during the Great Blood Wars. Awaken that fire that flows through your veins and let us lay claim to victory in this desperate hour. We stand with our brothers here in Clairmont. They are fighting for their very homeland. Can we do but less? Let us show them that Vrak will stay with them to the end. We are not alone in this struggle, for also our brothers in Tappee have already fought the enemy in space.

A brief pause, and then he continued.

-To the strong belong the victory. Let the enemy know that we are Vrakians, and that we shall win.

Oddly enough, he ended his speech with an ancient Order of Bok battlecry.

-Guide my sword to the heart of the enemy,
Let blood and gore spill the earth.
If I die today,
Let me find rest in the Strange.

The door knock was cold, methodical and precise as clockwork and as Major John Harrison of the 367th Barwhon Lancers went to the door, he allready knew what expected him.

He opened the door quickly, and faced the Clairmontian Army Corporal with the nametag J.Rice decorating the left chest of his battledress uniform.

"Major Harrison Sir! We are here to transport you to Fort Delas immidiately."

Harrison simply nodded in reply, he was allready suited in his uniform, with all the personal belongings he needed packed to the bag he carried. The first thing when his wife had woke him up at middle of the night to watch the emergency broadcast informing the nation of the apparent nuclear attacks conducted by terrorists, he had mentally began to prepare for what was about to come. Altough he was a reservist, and had been one for the last seven years, in times of war reservists were allways called back to service once more and immidiately after listening thru the news broadcast, he had known that a war was coming.

When the new broadcast informing the nation of the impending invasion had come, Major John Harrison had allready prepared and packed all he needed to return back to duty once more, and had only waited for the inevitable Army NCO to appear to his door and pick him up.

He stepped outside, and cast a cursory glance to each direction of the road next to which his house, and dozens more one each side were built. He was not the only one to leave at this hour however, out of particularily every house, men and women in different officer uniforms were appearing and loading up to the APC's that expected them, their engines humming in the middle of the road.

Harrison followed the Corporal to the lead APC, with his wife looking at his departing back from the porch. All that needed to be said had allready been said, and Major John Harrison had prepared his mind to face the battlefields once more.

March 22nd
Saturday
02.00 PM
Manticore's Nest

Motoko Kusanagi sat alone in the small officer's mess, taking a small sip of the coffee every once in a while. After the horrifying reality of the impending invasion had bored on the hearts and minds of the people populating Manticore's Nest, she had found herself and her entourage left outside the general events as the military of the Star Protectorate went into full gear.

He had followed the battle in space carefully however among the masses of officers in the Central Command Center. Altough she had remained near expressionless to any outsiders watching her, inside she had been in near turmoil. Watching helplessly the utter devastation and destruction that the 4th Imperium fleet wrought in space. Then, she had truly began to grasp the magnitude of the monster that the now orphan Stewart Trent had found during the course of his innocent curiosity.

She was no naval strategist, but upon observing the situation where the Protectorate Navy had been driven, even she could conclude that there was bot little hope, and options. All that remained now was to fight the battle at near-Earth Space, and defend the home soil of Clairmont. It horrified her to imagine the lives that the battles to come would lost, when the battles of the last few hours had allready cost Clairmont, and its allies in Tappee, thousands of lives.

She tried to find solace in the fact that atleast now matters were much more straight forward. The cloak & dagger foreplay of unimaginable intelligence and magnitude that had been the Covert Operations phase of the 4th Imperium, had been nearly impossible to fully comprehend. Now the only thing anyone needed to know was that there was an enemy at the gates, and to live meant fighting.

She had set her mind on what she would do allready. With the Section 9 allready organizing into a Military Special Operations force, she would grab a rifle and join the fight in the blood-soaked mud and ground. She was no stranger to combat, and she was eager to get to do all she could once more, but the image of the battlefields to come was enough to shake her up a bit.

She sensed motion at the entrance to the mess, and turned her head slightly to note Stewart entering the place and walking towards her table. Pulling a chair and sitting down to join Kusanagi, Stewart's expression had lost most of its sorrow and despair allready, it was cold now, with those blue eyes full of hatred.

"I'll be heading off to Fort Syrus today.." He simply announced, his voice a hush.

Kusanagi knew Fort Syrus, as she had trained there once herself. It was the relatively small home and training base of the 101st Drop Commando Regiment. Altough she herself had taken upon that training only after her Marine training, but it was possible for a recruit to immidiately train to a Drop Commando. Some did, and only 23% of the applicants who went straight away to Drop Commando training got thru. Kusanagi did not doubt for a second that Stewart would make it thru the training. The young man was now powered by raw hate and determination to pay back to his enemies. He had a strong and well built physique, and no physical conditions that would limit his performance. She only feared what would the battlefields do to the young man, it was very possible that he would turn into a machine. A cold-blooded killer, devoid of any emotion, and living only to kill those who once hurt him so badly.

"It will be damn tough for you Stewart, I've been thru the training myself and that was after the Marines...but I have no doubt you will make it. I just hope that you will not be fighting only to take revenge on the Imperium."

Stewart did not reply, but Kusanagi thought she detected a slight flicker in the young mans eyes, but it was gone before she could make anything out of it.

Coming into the mess hall Sigmund caught the end of the conversation, but he had caught enough to know what was going on. “Careful not to become what you hate Stewart” he casually remarked as he took a seat across Stewart and Motoko.

Letting out a brief sigh he took a sip of his water then looked up at Stewart “I promised your father before he died that I would take care of you. I lost my parents before I could remember them, so I know your pain. However I will tell you this, don’t be in such a hurry to join your family in the afterlife, you can’t avenge them very well if you were dead.” Pausing for a moment Sigmund looked long a hard into the young mans eyes “I know that I can’t stop you from going, and wouldn’t dare too, but you go then I will hold true the promise I made to your father and go with you.”

Stewart remained silent for a while before replying in hushed tones to both of the agents. His voice was one of determination, but at the same time there was a certain hint of pleading in that voice, pleading for understanding of what the young man had to do.

"I will not claim to you two that I wouldnt be fighting to get revenge, that would be bullshit. Ofcourse I am, but thats not the only reason. You can both bet on it that when the ground war begins, the need for ground troops will be enormous."

He paused for a moment, his head hunched and the pleading undertone in his voice became more obvious.

"I dont have anywhere else to go anymore. Sure, I could be sitting on my ass when others are fighting and dieing on the front, but I wont go into that as long as I can contribute. Besides, I turn nineteen this summer, it would have been time for my compulsory service next year anyway...."

Hearing Sigmund announce that he would come with him, Stewart turned his head to gaze upon the Tappee agent. In the short time he had now known the man, he had learned that Sigmund Xavier was a man who kept his word, he knew that the Tappee agent would find a way to keep an eye on him even if Stewart told the man not to come with him. As it was, he did not even bother to object.

"...thanks Sigmund. If you will come with me, be sure that you'll be ready to go in three hours. There is a scheduled transport going from here to Fort Surys then."



Meanwhile, in a secluded part of Manticore's Nest, the quadrant of the massive complex designed to act as an emergency Governmental center in the case of a large scale nuclear attack, two men who had the power to change the fate of the Star Protectorate, sat together in silence.

The VIP quarters designed for the use of the ruling monarch of Clairmont were massive and luxuriously decorated. Easilly four times the size of even an admirals quarters aboard a Superdreadnaught, the quarters were truly a house in their own right.

Benjamin Alexander, the current Protector and ruling monarch of Clairmont finished reading the datapad that the commander of his fleet had brought him. Shaking his head slightly, he turned his head to cast an observing look on Thomas Caparelli, sitting in a chair next to his.

"How long?" Alexander asked simply, knowing full well that Caparelli would understand what he meant.

"We dont know for certain yet, but judging from their movements and the leisurable pace they are taking with continuing the assault, I'd say thirty-six to forty hours at best. And before you ask, no our ground defenses wont be ready, not by a long shot. We will have some preliminary defense lines set up, the ACS will be in position and so on, but our full forces will not be in position and ready to fight when they do come." Thomas Caparelli, the Commander of Naval Operations of Clairmont answered simply. Altough he was not the commander of the ground forces, he knew the reality of the situation full well.

Alexander laid down the datapad and sighed deeply before he spoke, his voice grim and hushed.

"Will we make it?"

Caparelli looked at the younger man for a moment before replying to the question. "It....doesnt look good Benjamin. With the treachery of the JIL, and the devastation of a significant portion of our Home Fleet allready...I dont know if even the 7th and 8th fleets will be enough to allow us to survive what is coming. And you know what happens if we lose the fight in orbit and the Imperium gains high-orbital positions..."

As it was, Benjamin Alexander knew very well what that would mean. If the enemy gained high-orbital positions, they could bombard the ground armies of Clairmont with pin-point kinetic strikes.

Caparelli continued.
"And they have both the numbers and technology on their side. Sure, we have our ground batteries and fortresses, but they have what they need to overwhelm those and in a slugging match their superior numbers and ships will annihilate our mobile contignent."

Benjamin allowed himself a humorless laugh.
"You quite a bit underlined the 'doesnt look good' part there."

"Yeah.... I've allways favored the line 'keep it real'" Caparelli said and chuckled.

"No matter how grim the reality is..." Alexander said.

"Better to have the truth of the matter than have me sugar-coating it Benjamin." The First Space Lord answered.



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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

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Lord Protector Benjamin Alexander
Ruling Monarch of Clairmont

The afternoon brought with it first confusion then panic. As the news broadcasts went out, elaborating the state of affairs, informing the billions of people of Clairmont of the onslaught about to come, the civilian populace did what they allways did, paniced. Public order by the time of six PM afternoon was practically non-existant. People were running to stores, cleaning them empty of all supplies. With all reservists being called back to service and the movements of the tens of thousands of troops into positions that would allow them to protect the cities, only one word could describe what was happening, chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

There were riots, crime-rates went sky-high and general malcontent increased ten-fold in the span of only six hours. The National Police did what they could, the heavy powered armor of the police forces deployed, being completely invurnelable to the mere hands and clubs of the masses. But there were far too few of them to keep check an entire nation, and thus they only focused in protecting the crucial aspects of the infrastructure.

It was easy to understand the fear of the general populace. As Clairmontian news groups were brutally honest with the facts, the populace of Clairmont were laid out those facts plainly. An impending invasion, one that would with high propability reduce the nation to a cinder.

But at eight PM, the peoples minds were changed as the one man they trusted utmost made a live-statement. When the face of Protector Benjamin Alexander, the Ruling Monarch of Clairmont filled every civilian telecast screen in Clairmont, the people stopped at their tracks, and turned to watch at the nearest screen for the words their leader would utter.

People of Clairmont! I cannot even describe you my feelings at this hour, and thus I can only imagine how you all feel. This attack upon our nation is horrific in its cold-blooded and brutal execution. This attack came completely unprovoked, propelled forward only by our enemy's desire to wipe us out. They did not bother with an official declaration of war, but rather begun their offensive like cold-blooded murderers. Allready this first day into this fight tells us much of our enemy, and one of the lessons we today have learned is that diplomacy with them is utterly futile, they do not want anything else than to wipe us out and will do everything in their power to achieve their goal. So my brothers and sisters, fellow Clairmontians, at this hour I ask you to stand united against the darkness that we face. We face the greatest threat of our nations history... a long and proud history that begun over four hundred years ago with the end of the Succession War. So, will we allow all our work to be in vain? Shall we allow the legacy of our fore-fathers to have been futile? Or do we stand united? Shoulder to shoulder and face these would-be invaders? Our allies stand with us, ready to defend our soil with their own blood! Shall we allow ourselves to fall in shame, seeing foreigners fight for our country while we fight amongst ourselves? You are the people of Clairmont, you are what makes our great nation the magnificent entity it is. 'Against the storm, we stand united'. That is the phrase that has forever been the motto of our nation, the storm is coming my brothers and sisters. Let us face this great darkness united! As the Star Protectorate of Clairmont!"

By the final phrase, the crowds massed in open areas, watching the large public screens hunging from sides of buildings were cheering, and in the end that cheer had turned into a bloodthirsty roar, fists raised high into the air.



By the time the night approached, and the sun began to sink below the horizon, the mindsets of the people were fully geared towards war. Hundreds of thousands of volunteers had swarmed into Armed Forces recruiting centers, willing to participate in the fight. They all understood that they would barely have time to settle into their new training centers before the enemy arrived, and the chances of surviving the impending invasion were slim. They all knew it, and nevertheless for one moment they did not allow desparation nor defeatism conquer their minds



It was a sleepless night all over the nation. Frantic troop movements were common place as regiments and divisions gathered their strength, and began to move as fast as possible. But as it was, many of those regiments and divisions gathered their strength at the pace of a mere trickle as their personnel got jammed in the highways among the millions of vechiles moving from place to place. With aerial transport not being available in sufficient numbers, ground transportation was the only method for tens of thousands of Armed Forces personnel to reach their duty posts.


Even as the looming threat of the invasion became full reality, no-one forgot about the infiltrators of the "Khanate" organization. By the time of midnight, the National Police, several special investigation bureaus and military special forces had hunted the 4th Imperium infiltrators mercilessly, rarely bothering to take prisoners but rather killing any of the enemy they caught their sights on. Altough no-one knew the actual numbers of the enemy infiltrators, by midnight it was estimated that most of them had to have been killed by that point as the casualty counts for the "Khanate" organization piled up to top thirty-five hundred personnel, excluding those taken prisoners. The job was made easier for the law enforcement by the fact that once the enemy infiltrators began their assault in its full power, they allways came in large groups and executed rather direct assaults to their targets. While it was blatantly obvious to anyone that there still were many of the enemy infiltrators in hiding, their main striking forces had been neutralized. But not without terrible cost.

Thousands of armed forces personnel had died from the infiltrators' attacks, including hundreds of officers, Counter-Intelligence personnel and generally specialized military personnel. The most blatant reminder of the infiltrators were the several military bases that were now nothing more than craters, wiped out of existance with nuclear weapons.


The true great dragon of the past was awakening from its slumber as the Protectorate geared itself for war a total war, the kind of war no-one in the Protectorate had ever fought before, a war that would carry itself to the Protectorate's soil in only thirty-two hours.

The bridge of the Imperial Supermonitor was silent as the night shift had taken it over. Despite the extensive conditioning of Imperial personnel and their implant packages, regular sleep-cycles were enforced so that the personnel of the Imperial Battle Fleet could go into battle in a refreshed state of mind.

The large holotank in the middle of the bridge displayed the solar system in high detail, drawing up planets and their orbits, large asteroids and meteoroids and space installations and vessels into focus for the viewer. A bright red line glew in the holo, displaying the selected course of the fleet and their destination with the time-indicator being displayed next to the target.

Estimated time to arrival: 27:32:11

The fleet plunged onwards thru the eternal night of space towards their target. The hundreds of ships were arrayed in a complex, but thight formation and in the core of the formation laid the several dozen multi-kilometer assault barges that would be used to break thru the enemy defensive umbrella and land the Imperial ground forces.

Aboard their transports, the millions of Imperial ground combatants waited eagerly for the coming battle. They had waited in the cramped spaces of their transport barges for months, waited for the moment when they would be unleashed to kill their enemy. As the hours grew less in number, they grew only more eager. The Imperial Battle Fleet allways considered the ground forces to be more bloodthirsty than it fitted for the cold-blooded nature of the Imperial Armed Forces, but with the ferocity required in battle for the ground forces to do their job effectively, it was a simple side-effect.


The fleet crept onwards and onwards, its occupants eager to carry out their task, and embrace the destiny that awaited the Fourth Imperium.

March 23rd
Sunday
4.20 AM
Planetary Defense Center #5

The air was thick with smoke and dust thrown up by the dozens of explosions that had riddled the landscape. When added to the murky darkness of the night, 'poor' was utterly inadequate word to describe the visibility. And yet, fire from the defenders' position lashed accurately at enemies presenting themselves as a target, and the return fire from the enemy was atleast as accurate.

The smoke and dust nor the darkness bothered Major Higgins much as the visual enhancers in his helmet drew up the landscape into focus.

He glanced at the chrono superimposed to the upper-right corner of his view, and sighed deeply. Nearly a full day had passed since the enemy had begun their attack on the Planetary Defense Center. Nearly a day had gone by as the Marines under Higgins' had fought to defend the installation. They had been the first, and thus far the only, unit to succesfully deploy into defensive positions around the PDC. Command had promised them reinforcements, but Higgins knew that when taking into account the terrain in which the PDC was positioned and timeframe Command had to work with in order to establish defenses against an impending planetfall, the Marines of the 51st Regiment, 1st Battalion would be the sole defenders of Planetary Defense Center number five for a while.

Three attempts had been made to insert reinforcements for the defenders, all of the three assault shuttles had been blown out of the sky. The enemy had emplaced anti-air weapons into positions where they had a perfect overwatch of the entire sky.

Matters had been made much worse by the fact that the battalion could no longer use their standard comms net and had been forced to establish direct laser communications links between all the companies and platoons. That had ensured that there was allways a lengthy delay when the companies that had no line-of-sight to the battalion command post had to report something.

As it was, the defense line was stretched to a breaking point. The enemy had regularily pressed on with their attacks, hammering the Marines with everything they had, and Higgins knew that with one heavy push into one point of the defense line, the enemy would break it.

And the enemy knew it. They had been holding their position longer than they usually were, and Higgins was dead certain that the final push was coming.

As the enhanced hearing provided to him by his suit catched the faint screaming sounds of imbound mortar rounds, he grabbed his rifle and aimed it over the edge of the crater which he had chosen as the battalion command post.

The mortar rounds began to detonate overhead, showering the area below them with bomblets as the cluster munitions went off. Massive gouts of dust and rock shrapnell filled the air as the high-explosives went off. Despite the carefully chosen defensive positions, the raw numbers of the bomblets raining down on the defenders ensured that they would wreak casualties.

Some did not even have time to scream as bomblets tore their bodies into pieces at close range, while others lost arms and legs, shrapnell ripping thru the suits of others, penetrating lungs and organs. But the marines held fast, even as their comrades were torn apart all around them.

The assault wave came shortly behind the mortar rounds. Barely detectable outlines of enemy troopers moved swiftly upwards the hill, taking cover, firing and moving once more.

The support weapons teams of the marines opened up with their rapid-fire grenade guns and heavy tri-barrels, sending steady streams of rounds in their thousands down-range. The grenade guns turned the hillside into a maelstrom of fire, dust and shrapnell while the tri-barrels that could cut thru a warship bulkhead like a hypervelocity bandsaw, ripped apart anything that came in their way. Enemies struck by the tri-barrel did not simply fall over and die, they often exploded, sending bits of flesh and gore to cover the nearby terrain.

But the enemy proceeded rapidly nonetheless, responding to the defensive fire with their own grav guns and energy guns, couging at the defense line like a talon.

As they came closer and closer, grenades began to fly from both sides, except that the defenders were in fixed positions while the Imperials were not, and thus the effects of the grenade bombardment were one sided, wreaking even more casualties among the Clairmontian Marines.

In mere seconds after the grenade shower ended, the battle turned into a close-range slaughter as the Imperials swarmed over to the defensive positions of the Marines, drawing their foot-long combat blades in preferrance to their large rifles in close combat.

The defenders answered in kind, grapping their monomolecular combat blades from their scabbards, pitting blade against blade.

The melee battle was short, brutal and bloody. The highly experienced martial arts training of the marines paid back to them in full as they fought against their enemy at close range, sweeping kicks throwing enemy combatants to the ground, combat blades cutting throats, embedding themselves to the heads and stomachs of the enemy. However, the enemy troopers were no less prominent in close combat, slaughtering the marines in kind.

In the end, the numerical advantage of the enemy was enough, and they breached the defense line, hacking down the final marines obstructing their path and grabbing their rifles once more as they moved out from the remains of the defensive positions, leaving behind the bodies of their comrades and the marines.

As Major Higgins watched the defense line crumble where the enemy had penetrated it, he knew that the end had come. The battalion command post was a mere fifty meters behind the main defensive positions at this side of the mountain and the enemy troops were now rapidly closing the distance between them, the battalion CP and the Planetary Defense Center that stood proudly at the top of the mountain like a fortress.

He glanced to his side where his communications officer laid silently in the ground, the front of his battledress combat suit torn apart and the body behind it ripped to a mush by the grav gun rounds that had struck the young officer.

There was nowhere to go, no escape route, no way to stop the enemy. Higgins clutched to his rifle, and began to empty his clips downrange, sending hundreds of HEAP dart rounds at the enemy that crept closer every second.


March 23rd
Sunday
04.30 AM
Manticore's Nest

Field Marshal Erwin Broderick read the message transcript very carefully. Some other day he might have lashed back at the young lieutenant who had woken him up at the middle of night, after he had gotten only two hours of sleep in the last twenty four, but this day was like no other day and he had known that it would be something important for him to be dragged from his sleep at this hour.

And it had been. He laid down the datapad with the message, and began to don his uniform once more.

Down on the table, the datapad read very simply:

========================================================
Confirmed what is approximately 150 Kt nuclear detonation at the location of Planetary Defense Center #5. All communications have been lost to PDC #5 as well as all communications lost to 1st Battalion of 51st Marines, assigned to hold PDC #5 against all OPFOR in attempt to seize or destroy PDC #5. All evidence indicates that OPFOR succesfully has neutralized PDC #5.
========================================================

In the end, the relief column had simply arrived ninety minutes too late. The combined force of the 23rd Mobile Assault Regiment and 17th Mountain Ranger Regiments had been tasked with relieving the marines defending PDC #5. As they arrived, they found only destruction, the bodies of both Clairmontian Marines and Imperial troopers alike, and the burning remains of what had been Planetary Defense Center #5.

The relief forces had been fast enough however to catch the fleeting remains of the Imperial attack force. Falling down upon the enemy like avengin angels, the combined power of the Mobile Assault Regiment and the Mountain Rangers had wiped out the small remaining Imperial force in quick succession, there had been...no prisoners.

Broderick could not find any consolation in that fact, as the truth was that the enemy had succeeded in reducing the Anti-Orbital armaments of the Protectorate by a significant degree.

He glanced at his chrono. If the estimates were to be believed, the enemy would begin its assault in less than twenty three hours or so. Broderick checked the latest updates in troop movements. As the man responsible for defending the dirtside of the Protectorate, he knew that all the troops would not be in position, nor battle ready. The warning and deployment orders had simply come too late for the entire ground element of the Protectorate Armed Forces to mobilize and deploy in time.

The key-factor in the coming battle would be the first two days. If the defenses held with the troops available for that time, then the deployment could be completed. Broderick was not particularily and optimist, and he believed that no military commander should be. As such, he did not place much hope in the lines holding for those two days.

Having finished suiting up to his uniform, he left his quarters in Manticore's Nest, heading to Command Central.


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Major George Higgins RMMC
Commanding Officer, 51st Royal Marines, 1st Battalion

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Field Marshal Erwin Broderick Protectorate Army
Chief of Homeland Defense

March 24th
Monday
4.20 AM
Star Protectorate Of Clairmont

As the evening had fallen like a curtain of darkness to engulf Clairmont into its embrace, the people of the Protectorate geared to fight the true darkness approaching their home.

It was the calm before the true storm, and the nation waited for it to strike, holding its breath and preparing to face that storm, standing united. As the saying went, the wounded beast forced into a corner would be the one to fight the most vicious of fights, and the analogy fitted in this case perfectly.


High above Clairmont, in geo-synchronous orbit, the gathered forces of the Clairmont Space Navy Home Fleet had arrayed into a defensive position alongside the single Space Fortress and amongst the hundreds of Orbital Weapons Platforms. Amidst those ships the massive Supermonitors stood out the most. Their hundred million ton bulks floating serenely in space, bulging with weapons of ultimate destruction.

They stood poised and ready, waiting for their enemy to commence their attack.

As the faint echoes and electromagnetic ghosts of drive-signatures and emissions were caught in the grasp of the Space Fortress' ethereal sensor envelope, they knew that the time had arrived.


Space Fortress Damascus

Silence had hovered on the command center of the fortress for hours as the crew had waited for their nemesis to arrive. Now, the sensor ratings tasked in keeping watch of the sensor envelope of the Damascus, broke the silence.

"Detected inbound one-zero-two-zero contacts. Confirming, detected one-zero-two-zero contacts. Bearing at system ecliptic, course two-zero-seven-niner at six-six-seven-zero-zero kps." The sensor rating reported from his station, his voice hoarse and methodical.

The Commander of the Fortress acknowledged the report, and moved on with the procedure.
"Any identification on those contacts?"

The man who had first delivered the report checked his instruments, made some adjustments and responded.
"Affirmative sir. Contact drive-signatures match confirmed Fourth Imperium signatures."

The Commander nodded, the enemy had arrived and seemingly wasnt bothering with any cloak & dagger bullshit at this point. They were coming straight towards Earth, at a course that would bring them within geo-synchronous orbit around the planet, straight above Clairmont Island. They were coming in fast, and judging by their base velocity, they would reach extreme missile range in a bit over three hours. He moved on to the second phase of the procedure.

"Comms, confirm that HQ has recieved this data."


Manticore's Nest

As the icon representing the recently detected enemy fleet bore on at a straight course towards Earth, Admiral Caparelli's eyes studied the large holographic representation of the situation enfolding with keen eyes.

On the outside, he was a veritable sea of serenity and calmness, able to fool any ensign or lieutenant into thinking that whatever happened, the Old Man would be calm and composed, and acting with cold detachment and professionality.

They were sorely mistaken. Caparelli's expression might fool everyone except himself, he knew he was worried if not outright terrified, but he would not allow it to deter his judgement.

As it was however, the facts were that the incoming enemy assault fleet outnumbered the ships of the defense force by a margin of ten to one. Altough the Fortress, the OWP's and the ground based defenses would significantly balance the force disparity, Caparelli held no illusions as to wether he could stop the Fourth Imperium with what he had in orbit or in the ground.

As it was, the Seventh and Eight fleets had not yet arrived, and altough Caparelli was certain that they would have departed immidiately upon recieving the orders from the courier boat, by his calculations it would be atleast another four to five hours before they could possibly be in weapons range of the enemy, or in defensive positions alongside the Home Fleet. That meant a minimum of two hours to survive against the enemy.

He remained silent, observing the hologram. The defense plan had been ironed out a long time ago, and the defense forces in space knew what to do and had their orders to do it. But as the old axiom went, "No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy", and as such, Caparelli was allready sketching out the possibilities, scenarios and new defensive layouts for the time when the situation would require them.


CSN Fleet Carrier Reaver

The general quarters alarms were blaring alongside the repeating shipwide broacast as pilots and maintenance crews filled the hangar deck of the carrier.

"General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands man your action stations, this is not a drill!"

Captain Eric McKeen sprinted out from the lift carriage as it deposited him to the hangar deck. He had allready donned his flight suit and carrying his helmet as he ran towards his Liberator Strike Fighter perched in its place in one of the alcoves housing the fighters.

The ground crews were in the process of checking the proper attachment of the fighters external armaments and the capacity of its magazines and power cells as McKeen approached.

"She is all banged up and ready to go Captain." The Senior Chief in charge of the particular crew told the Captain as he came closer to the fighter.

"Give 'em hell sir!" One of the younger ground crew members shouted to him as he began to rise up on the ladder to the cockpit.

Dropping to his seat, McKeen immidiately began to attach the number of lifesupport related wirings to his flight-suit. Putting on his helmet, he commenced the pre-flight checklist.

The main digital screen in the middle of his console came to life, and began to list the results of checking all the critical systems while the fighter stirred up from its slumber.


Primary computer core boot.....OK

Life support.....OK

Avionics.....OK

Communications.....OK

Propulsion.....OK

Main Power......ENGAGED

APU.....DISENGAGED


As the computer concluded its checklist, McKeen checked his position in the launch queue. The Reaver carried a total of eleven squadrons, plus a number of spare Strike Fighters just in case. McKeen's Jade Falcons were marked as Third in the launch queue, with the launchings commenced to begin in thirty minutes.

He composed his thoughts. It hadnt yet been two days since he had last fought against the Imperium, and in less than two hours he would meet them again. McKeen considered himself a bit more gutsy than the average pilot, but the idea of facing the Imperiums deadly fighters and their pilots once more, but now in overwhelming numbers, was enough to give him jitters. There was a good possibility that he would not live for another three hours, and while the idea of death scared him, he did not allow himself to succumb to that fear. If he was to die, so be it. But he would by god defend his country, no matter what it took.

The minutes ticked by, and the time for launch came ever closer.


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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

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Captain Eric McKeen
Squadron Commander
32nd Jade Falcons

General Riouk tilted his great head as an exhausted messenger approached. Apparently, some old fashioned precautions were being utilized to deliver important news.

-Yes? What is it?

The soldier saluted and then replied.

-General. The first arrival of the Reichswehr Guards from North Germania are due to arrive within 12 hours. Dyelli Beybi has also been assisting them and us regarding logistics which means that the first deployment will number at least 50 000.
-What about the thermite bombs?
-They are coming with the first wave, along with some EMP weaponry. Here is the breakdown.

A flourish and a slim brief that was tucked under his left arm was neatly placed on the walrus’ desk.

-Thank you. You are dismissed.
-As you command.

Another salute and a quick departure. The walrus allowed a small grin as he pondered the latest news. It was good news, especially considering that North Germania has their own little wars happening. He put down his whiskey and relayed a brief message to his Clairmont counterpart and also sent a missive back to High Command, with a personal note from him thanking Reichschancellor Einheit

It will be…interesting.

All was quiet aboard the transport barges, perhaps too quiet. Members of the PeaceKeeper force (PK) did their best to keep occupied during the long voyage to Clairmont. There was a general unease in the atmosphere, one that was so thick that it came close to choking private Jones at times. He stood out on one of the expansive decks, breathing the fresh sea air. The openess gave him relief from the pervasive sense of claustophobia that threatened to take over him after long stretches below decks. No one ever bothered him about his problem, frankly, it wasn't really much of a problem. Psych profiling had already identified him as unsuitable for active combat back during basic indoc. But that didn't DQ him from serving in support roles. As one of the relatively few people who were combat qualified, but didn't want to (or couldn't in his case) serve on the front lines, he was allowed to join the combat logistics team. Few people who had the inclination to serve in the military found the idea of logistics to be.....glorious, and even fewer were suited for it - most that wanted to join were those seeking a "safe" fulfilment to their "obligation"; something to ease a troubled conscience.

While "combat logistics" certainly sounded safer than "frontline duty", it wasn't without its hazards. Although you weren't being actively shot at (most of the time), supply chains tended to be the primary targets for bombings and quick strikes; not exactly the ideal senario for one intrested in self preservation. Private Jones was willing to take his chances though; the pay was good, and statistically, it was still far safer being in an armored truck far behind the frontlines. By no means was he helpless either. Just because he was in logistics didn't mean he wasn't capable of fighting, hence the designation "combat logistics". Learning how to properly keep supplies moving during crunch time was easy, the two years of grueling combat training wasn't. It was standard training that everyone got, which meant that he was just as qualified to fight on the frontlines as the next soldier. A fact that wasn't lost on him. The term pinch-hitter came to mind, but so did the word unlikely. The pay may be the same, but regular troops got more training, deadlier equipment, and augmentations. If it came time to pull him to the frontlines, chances were that it wouldn't matter if he was qualified for combat or not.

His radio crackled to life, *third, fourth and fifith logistics teams report to the combat sims in five.* Well, I can't very well spend all day out here looking at the water I guess. Taking one last glance at the horizon beforing heading in, private Jones shook his head slowly. Its pretty out here.

Diplomatic note passed by special courier to the government of Clairmont
(appropriate flowery opening)
The Queen has ordered that the 1st Parachute Brigade, along with the 45th Light Attack Regiment and 709th Tactical assault regiment be deployed to your nation to assist in your defense against the 4th Imperium.

This action is part of a complex debt of honor owed to the nation of Vrak and is being carried out based on their forwarding of your appeal for aid.

The unit and its equipment have been placed on alert and even now are being loaded aboard transport aircraft for overseas movement. Respectifully we request landing clearance when our aircraft reach your airspace. In addition, the commander, Major General Johann Von Sturm, is prepared to act in full subordination of your commanders and is willing to undertake any missions that it is ordered to carry out.

ooc
Basically infantry equipped with post modern small arms and missiles (gauss infantry support weapons, hypersonic missiles, laser air defense vehicles and infantry is equipped with combat environment suits (full vacc and NBC protection) and light gauss and laser small arms.

Light attack regiment equipped with 60 stealth gunships equipped with lasers and gauss weapons and hypersonic missiles, and the airlift regiment has 60 transport versions of this same aircraft.

for best effect, request a counterattack role and a base in rugged terrain.

The Imperial Fleet approached the Clairmontian defensive positions at high velocity, deccelerating constantly in order to reduce speed in time for them not to overshoot the planet alltogether.

The ships strode in their formation with grace, their entire being radiating menace and deadly purpose. As they came ever closer to their enemy, weapons ports began to open, missile tubes began to poke themselves out from behind the protective screens of gunports. Fighters exited the launch bays of the larger ships in neatly arrayed formations, striding ahead of the main fleet to meet the enemy fighter compliment.

Admiral Tamara Nuvien of the Imperial Battle Fleet watched the might of the Imperial force display itself properly. The main holo-tank at the middle of her flag bridge displayed the icons of the fleet in a neatly arrayed formation, one that was optimal exactly for striking against an enemy in such position and disposition as the Clairmontians were here.

She reviewed the battle plan in her mind once more. The goal was basically to punch a corridor thru the enemy defenses, clearing way for the troop transport barges to deposit themselves to Clairmontian soil. Once there, the ground troops would move swiftly to neutralize the enemy ground-based anti-orbital weapons batteries and missile bases, and if possible, capture them for Imperial use. Once that phase of the operation was completed, the enemy space assets would be eliminated swiftly and decisively.

She glanced at her chrono, and that plan would be initiated within the next thirty seconds.

She noted approvingly that the ships of the fleet had allready finished their maneuvers to present their broadsides in order to bring their missile tubes within line-of-sight of the enemy combatants. Their defense shields at full power, defensive ECM poised and ready to jam incoming missiles, the fleet was ready for combat.

The targeting systems aboard the Imperial Battle-Line combatants sought out targets, creating telemetry links between them and the missiles in tubes. Feeding the missiles with flight-data and target aquisitional information, the fleet was ready to commence its strike against the enemy. Only the final order needed to be given to commit the fleet to action.


Star Admiral Vanadis allowed his gaze to circle the bridge before focusing on the main holo-tank, and the enemy icons burning in it.

"Chimaera Rising, execute."

And the fleet fired.


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Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien, Imperial Battle Fleet
Commanding Officer of 3rd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

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Fleet Starm Admiral Vanadis, Imperial Battle Fleet
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

March 24th
Monday
7.30 AM
Geo-synchronous orbit above Clairmont Island

As it was, the defense force simply waited for the enemy to come to them. Holding position steadily at a geo-synchronous orbit of 297,000 kilometers above Earth, the Clairmontian ships stood still, motioning for their enemy to come to them.

And the enemy did as expected. They closed within optimal range of their hyper-missiles with the CSN defensive force, and opened fire, while simultaneously the swarms of fighters strode forward ahead of the main enemy force.

Thousands of hypermissiles shot out from their tubes, disappearing shortly after their launch to hyperspace, only to re-emerge a scant few light-seconds away from the units of the defense force, homing in on the targets designated for them by their launching ships.

But the CSN had learned of its mistakes, and began rudimentary adaptations to counter the enemy hypermissiles best as they could. As it had been discovered, the hypermissiles re-emerged to normal-space from hyper at a low velocity, and they needed a moment to re-aquire their targets and build up speed for their terminal attack phase.

Since hypermissiles also reverted back to n-space allways at the same distance from their targets, and they came in at a straight course from their launching ships, it was possible to predict to some degree as to where the missiles would re-appear. The defensive force took full advantage of this weakness in their enemies missile design.

Counter-missiles departed from the orbital launchers and ships ,before the enemy hypermissiles had re-emerged, programmed to vector in towards predicted hypermissile appereance co-ordinates.

As the hypermissiles reverted to n-space, they were greeted by a storm of Clairmontian counter-missiles, allready homing in on the Imperial missiles when they were still gathering their bearings. Scores of Imperial missiles vanished as they were wiped out by counter-missiles that had succesfully aquired them, and scores more simply veered off as they never found their targets thru the electromagnetic blanket of jamming generated by the Clairmontian vessels.

But effective as the new tactic was, it was far from infallible. Over two thousand Imperial missiles succeeded in aquiring their targets and began their final sprint towards their prey.

The second-stage defensive measures of the defense force commenced action. Point-defense laser clusters fired coherent beams of light to strike at the inbound missiles, disabling or detonating them in flight. Point-defense grav cannons aboard the two Supermonitors delivered hundreds of miniature nuclear warheads to space.

Scores more Imperial missiles vanished as they were disabled either by the laser stilettos of the Clairmontian point-defense or the nuclear shells of the Supermonitors. But hundreds survived, and plowed towards their targets.

As the missiles reached their terminal attack range, the space around the defense fleet blossomed up with the light of hundreds of nuclear detonations. Many of the Imperial missiles wasted their nuclear wrath at insufficient range to penetrate the particle and radiation shielding of their targets.

Some overshot their targets slightly, wasting their fury against the empty darkness of space. But the laws of chance dictated that some detonated close enough of the Clairmontian ships to matter.

Nuclear fire scoured the flanks of warships, burning off sensor arrays, fusing shut weapons ports, turning weapons batteries to slag and boiling away armor plating. Orbital weapons satellites and platforms were turned to slag as the missiles delivered their armageddon.

Some missiles scored nearly contact-hits at their targets, the several hundred megaton warheads aboard the weapons turning a ship with anything less than the massive armor and shielding of a Dreadnought, instantly to a cloud of wreckage and stray particles.

Some of the Superdreadnoughts struck close by the Imperial missiles survived, their flanks scarred, blackened and burned, bleeding athmosphere and gases to space. Ignoring their damage, the massive vessels rotated on their axis to present their unharmed broadsides, continuing the battle.

As the first salvo of the Imperials finished battering the defensive force, the Imperials allready had closed the distance between themselves and their Clairmontian enemies considerably during the two-minute flight time of the first missile salvo.

As they closed, the defense force fired its opening salvo.

Hundreds of missile pods that had been seeded to space by warships and the massive fortress, released their missile loads simultaneously with the orbital missile batteries and the launchers aboard the fortress and the orbiting ships. An enormous volume of fire swooped away from the defense force, a veritable curtain of missiles seeking out the Imperial warships.

Far above the planet, the skies looked more like a giant swarm then a defending fleet. With the arrival of the ESUS division, both the combined defensive strength of Clairmont and Tappee had taken position over the planet.

A line had been drawn in the sand; the allied forces had sworn to hold the line no matter the cost, where the enemy was bound to cross it. In the coming battle live would be lost and hero’s would be born, for the crew now manning their stations failure was not an option.

Looking at his Holo Displayed Fleet Admiral Martac was both pleased and worried that Admiral Jensen and the remnants of his ESUS fleet had arrived and joined formation with the rest of the fleet. However, with the ESUS fleets arrival it meant that it would not be long until their pursuers would not be far behind. It was not long until his fear was realized as the enemy fleet appeared on his scopes.

In what only could be described as perfect military precision, the enemy fleet formed up, and launched a missile volley toward the awaiting defenders.

“Not on my watch?” said the admiral quietly under his breath. If they had learned anything in the previous battle, was the behaviour of the Hyper Missiles. Martac looked over at his TAC officer. “Initiate missile defence procedure TC alpha 3”

Upon the Admiral command, Tappee forces began a series of defensive manoeuvres aimed at limiting the damage inflicted by the enemy’s hyperspace missiles. Forward elements of the fleet began defensive measures by launched a wave of AECM missile. As the enemy missile moved past the AECM’s, a number of the enemy missile were ripped apart from the point defence weapons from the Clairmont Supermonitors and Tappee orbital defence platform. Then came the last line of defence, as the Clairmont forces initiated a massive nuclear detonation directly in the inbound missile path.

Brilliant lights lit up the sky as the warheads went off, it was so bright, that the night sky on the planet below turned to day for a brief moment. Following the detonation every thing seemed calm, but the calm was shattered as the surviving missile found their targets. In a heartbeat live were lost, and ship where destroyed.

Now it was their turn to deal death. Floating over the planet below, the Orbital Missile platforms opened their blast door, using their thrusters they quickly aligned themselves with their target, and like so many others launched the tools of their retribution.

Vanadis watched with detached and analytical gaze at the inbound wave of missiles. There were more of them than there had been hypermissiles in his opening salvo, but lacking the capability to travel most of the distance between them and the target in hyperspace, the inbound Clairmontian and Tappee missiles were far easier targets to intercept.

His fleet commenced their defensive fire plan. Counter-missile canisters flew to space, each releasing a salvo of four missiles that once out of their launch canisters, immidiately began aquiring inbound enemy missiles as targets. In thirty seconds, missiles from the joint Tappee and Clairmontian salvo began to disappear as the Imperial counter-missiles sought them out and destroyed them.

A large portion of the enemy salvo never found their targets as the far superior electronic warfare capabilities of the Imperium went to play, confusing and distracting incoming missiles from their targets, driving them away from their course at the fleet.

Hundreds of the enemy missiles however succeeded in avoiding incoming counter-missiles and maintained their target locks. They commenced their terminal attack run and the last ditch defenses of the Imperial ships opened fire. Defensive lasers sweeped the sky like scythes, cutting down scores of missiles in the scant few seconds of time when the missiles were within their range.

But alas, many survived the final gauntlet of defense and struck their enemy.

Space lighted up once more with the detonation of hundreds of thermo-nuclear warheads as the nuclear warheads carried by the Clairmontian missiles detonated, feeding power to the lasing rods carried within their warheads, each missile creating two dozen incredibly powerfull laser stilettos.

Light elements in the Imperial screen were struck terribly as their defensive screens were assailed simultaneously by dozens upon dozens of laser stilettos, their hulls punctured and torn to pieces by the lasers that punched their way thru the layers of armor and bulkheads, exposing the innards of the ships to hard vacuum.

The storm of nuclear powered lasers stabbed and gutted the forward elements of the Imperial fleet in the span of few seconds that it took them all to strike. Several ships lost their power as laser stilettos clawed away their drive nodes, more vanished in flashes brighter than the sun as their reactors went critical. But the fleet plowed onwards towards their targets, unrelenting and thru the clouds of debris created by their dead and wounded comrades.


Vanadis noted with slight pleasure that his losses had been lower from the first enemy salvo than he had first expected. Granted, the forward light elements of his fleet had taken mentionable casualties, and would take even more before his fleet got within energy weapons range of the enemy, but his primary elements were intact, the heavy Ships of the Line of his force practically untouched. Something that could not be said for the enemy, he thought as the second salvo his fleet had fired struck the enemy and his third salvo departed the launchers of his fleet.

He glanced at the ranges displayed in the tactical holo, the range between his fleet and the defenders had decreased significantly from the beginning of the battle, and he estimated that he would be hitting the optimal engagement range of the enemy heavy ground based launchers right about now.


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Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

Manticore's Nest

The command center was an incredible bustle of activity as the battle raged thousands of kilometers above them in the cold darkness of space.

The war room high above the floor of the central command center reflected upon that activity as the High Commanders of the Clairmont Armed Forces watched the battle enfold, the Field Marshals waiting for the time when they would have to command the ground forces in defensive action while the First and Second Space Lords oversaw the defense in space.

"Our opening salvo fell worse than we expected Tom, only seven-point-two percent go thru, and it takes quite a few strikes to cut down those Imperials enough for them to be considered mission-killed."

Caparelli listened to his friend and the leader of the Bureau of Planning give him the details regarding the opening of the battle.

"And at the same time our adapted anti-missile doctrines against those hyper missiles werent as effective as I expected." Patricia Givens yet added grimly.

Despite her razor sharp mind, Patricia Givens still lacked a bit of the extreme pessimism that inhabited Caparelli and had prepared him for the results that were far from hopefull.

"Yes Pat, I know your numbers and expectations were justified based on earlier data, but these Imperials are damn cunning and I have a feeling that they werent unleashing their full capabilities in the short few engagements two days ago, but keeping some of that capability hidden in order to make our attempts to adapt to their tactics less fruitfull."

Patricia Givens nodded, and observed the tactical holo hovering above the conference table. It drew the trajectory of the incoming Imperial fleet as a menacing red line, straight at the heart of the defensive force.

After few seconds of observing the holo, and gazing at her datapad she spoke her mind, her voice thoughtfull.

"Its interesting though, they are only using their missile capability to hammer us before approaching to knife-range. They arent even trying to go for a prolonged missile duel. Its kind of a blitzkrieg for them, they approach us at high base velocity, firing their salvoes in rapid succession and finally coming within energy weapons range to finish us off."

Caparelli studied the holo as well for a few seconds before replying.

"The one thing I've learned of the Imperials in these two days that something thei truly dont lack one bit is ruthlessness and cold blooded determination. They have set their minds on wiping us out and they will do it as quickly and thoroughly as possible."

They both watched the holo as the icon representing the enemy forces passed a transqluent blue border drawn by the hologram some ten centimeters away from Earth.

Caparelli picked up the intercom earset from the table and spoke a few quick words, his voice carried thru the communications center to the ground based missile bases of Clairmont.

"Commence launch procedures."


The serenity of the blue sky broke in the countryside as dozens of glowing objects began their ascent to the sky, contrails of smoke billowing behind them.

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The massive Icaros anti-space missiles rose up to the sky, ther first-stage chemical boosters carrying them off the ground while their launching stations fed them telemetry that would take them to the enemy.

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As they rose higher and higher, one after another, the horizon filled with the contrails of smoke as the harbingers of doom rose up to the sky, towards the space, headed at the enemy.


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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

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Second Space Lord Patricia Givens
Leader of Bureau of Planning

Now mere hours from Clairmont, the Sketchian transports were bustling with activity. On the enormous decks, smaller transports and escorts prepped for launch. Deep within the bowels, teaming thousands of soldiers underwent final preparations. Comm centers buzzed with chatter. Command bridges reverberated with commands. The time was soon approaching, when the call of duty would be answered.

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The hatch hissed open, seals popping as the atmosphere equalized between the pod and the cavernous chamber. Vapor pooled out from the low lip, indicating the frigid temeprature. From the pod a human shape emerged. At first glance, distinctly masculine, but missing all the telltale genitalia. Sheathed in an almost glow with its marble white skin, the figure had pale, almost translucent, hair and golden yellow eyes. The most striking feature was actually the unnatural lack thereof. Perfect skin; lacking in any blemishes, no body hair; save for that on the head, sculpted muscles; as if carved from rock, deep, full eyes; yet so souless and cold, it was all preternatural. Despite the cold, the figure emmitted no vaporous breath, infact, it looked as if it didn't breath at all. If it weren't for the moving, one could almost say that this.....thing was a statue. Throughout the chamber, dozens of pods opened, with similar creatures emrging from them.

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Five five four three six nine eight flexed his hand, he had decided that he was still a he; given that his original body was male, testing the synchronization of his new body. Not that it was necessary, or even effective; the diagnostics systems had already decided that everything was functioning within parameters. But it felt good just to test it out anyways. The transition from virtual world to real world always bothered him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the real world, that was far from the truth, its just that reality is so.....bland. After being immersed in a world where every sensation was fed directly into your brain, where every touch, every smell, every taste, everything, was so.....indescribable. Transitioning to reality felt as if one were locked in a dark room - the only sensation being those powerful enough to get through the thick walls. They called it sensory regression, all he cared was that he would acclimate within a few hours. In the meantime, he had to be satisfied with what he could do for himself.

Wasting no time dwelling on the pointless, he immediately began donning his armor; conviently located in an alcove next to his pod. There was no hurry or bustle as he, and others, went through their motions. Each individual had plenty of room for themselves; alternating batches were activated on fifteen minute intervals. Securing his armor in layers: a superweave bodyglove made from polymer emulating spidersilk; overlapping plasteel plates, protecting vital areas that still required a degree of flexibility; and a thick ceramite outer layer, designed to absorb or deflect whatever punishment the owner saw fir to attract; five five four three six nine eight had his "battledress" on within minutes. The armor was suprisingly low tech, lacking in any powercoils for strength enhancement, depending on the inherent strength of the user; which, as a full combat cyborg, was quite a bit more substancial than the standard power armor. Even the helmet contained no more than a few status monitors for the armor and the prerequisite communications and combat electronics. In stark contrast, everything a soldier could want, and more, was contained within five five four three six nine eight's body. Full spectrum sensors; sight, sound, smell, touch, taste; direct communications feed, status indicators, information databases; so much that anyone not fully trained for the experience would undoubtable be overwhelmed by the amount of information constantly streaming. For five five four three six nine eight, it was merely a matter of allowing it to flow and eb in his subconcious; pulling out only the required information when he needed it.

Putting on the helmet, he completed his uniform. Now utterly faceless behind his opaque transparisteel faceplate, he was whole again. Striking the activation panel, he opened the door which had separated them from the rest of the ship. The Wraiths were now ready to go to war.

Star Admiral Vanadis watched the red tracks of the inbound planetary launched missiles rise from the planet and begin tracking his ships. The range had been dropping steadily between the defending fleet and Vanadis' force. Mere five light-seconds now held the two fleets apart, and the 4th Imperium ships had allready slowed their base velocity to 3450 kps.

The need to slow down and the low range made this the most dangerous part of the mission. At this low range, the Imperial point-defense was only marginally as effective as it usually was. Counter-missiles were reduced to be fired at shorter ranges and the enemy fleet was close enough to help the inbound planetary missiles in scrambling the seekers of the incoming counter-missiles.

And yet, Vanadis was not overly worried of the danger the massive Space Denial munitions presented that were screaming down on his fleet. There were only 350 of the missiles, and even though they were far more massive than the regular space combat missiles the Clairmontians used, and carried more electronic warfare equipment for that matter, their number simply meant that they could not stop the 4th Imperium fleet.

The missiles finished their boost phase, exiting the confines of Earth's athmosphere and broke away from the constraints of its gravity well. As they reached space, their plasma torch booster rockets were silenced, and their impeller wedges snapped up. Immidiately they began receiving targeting telemetry from the Clairmontian warships and their Fortress in orbit, guiding the missiles at their prey.

And now they came in at Vanadis's fleet.

Electronic Warfare Officers did the best they could in scrambling the enemy missiles, but their massive sensor suites and tracking systems proved to be damnably efficient in burning thru the clouds of jamming enveloping the Imperial fleet. Only forty-eight missiles lost their locks on target and lost themselves to space, the rest continued on at their suicide run.

Counter-missiles began erupting from the Imperial ships, desperately seeking out the incoming harbingers of doom.

Ninety-eight of the incoming missiles disappeared from the tactical hologram at Vanadis' flagships bridge as the counter-missiles did their best. As the enemy missiles roared ever closer, the last-ditch defenses opened fire. Laser stilettos from the point-defense batteries stabbed at the incoming missiles desperately, scores of missiles were struck as the lasers found their targets, but over ten dozen of the enormous Clairmontian missiles broke thru the last defense line, and struck the enemy.

The space around the Imperial fleet lighted up in brilliant hellfire as the enormous warheads aboard the missiles began detonating. They carried the most powerfull thermonuclear warheads that Clairmont had produced, five hundred megatons of destructive energy and every single one of those missiles struck a different ship, and their targeting priorities had ignored the light combatants of the Imperial fleet alltogether.

Battlecruisers vanished in brilliant flashes of light as the massive enemy warheads tore the ships to so much space dust in an instant. Battleships were ripped apart and reduced to clouds of debris as if the hand of god itself had grabbed them and crushed them like toys. Several Monitors and Supermonitors also received direct hits, even their immensely powerfull defense screens and thick armor could not save them from the nuclear fury of the Clairmontian missiles, their hulls turned to radioactive slag, bleeding gases and debris to space where they had been punctured.

Every single ship that the planetary missiles had struck had either been destroyed or rendered utterly combat ineffective.

Vanadis gringed his teeth as he observed the status codes ,of the task forces and battlesquadrons comprising his fleet, changing. He observed the data regarding the losses, hundred-and-twenty-three ships either destroyed or rendered useless. Anger began to swell up in his throat, but the admiral quickly forced the anger to die down, and rational thinking took its place. Yes, the enemy had caused significant damage with their planetary missiles, but now they had expended them and the Imperial force was still very much combat effective, and still outnumbered the defending loyalists by a large margin. And soon they would be within energy range of the enemy forces, and they could begin bombarding the Clairmontian planetary defense installations from geo-synchronous orbit. After that, it would be a short sweep to finish the loyalists off.

Vanadis smiled thinly at the prospect of getting to pay back with interest the loss of ships he had endured, once he got within energy range. He glanced at the time display superimposed to the tactical holo, in five minutes he would break thru the enemy defense line.


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Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

I feel the sensations beginning to flow into me as my external sensors are brought online, and my status is raised to fully active. Power flows thru my veins as my fusion plant begins to steadily rise to full capacity. I calculate that in 145.324 seconds I will have reached optimal power levels. I turn my attention to my sensor feeds. I am in a large hangar structure, buried five-hundred meters beneath the earth. I detect multiple heat-signatures in my immidiate vicinity, their IFF transponders telling me they are friendly. I extend my scans further and my probings discover the presence of my comrade, Unit URL, in another similar hangar only one-hundred meters south of me. I send a quick greeting to my battle-brother who quickly responds to me in kind. 0.045 seconds have now passed since I was brought to awareness once more. I am curious as to why my full startup procedure has been initiated without any prior briefing or indication. Despite there having been multiple low-awareness initiations in the past few months, I have never been fully initiated as of yet. I ponder the matter for 0.072 seconds, attempting to conclude a reason as to why I and unit URL are being activated fully at this time.

2.31 seconds pass from my awakening as I begin to recieve a flow of data. I check the security of the data flow, prodding it for any possible malcontents for my system. I find none, it is a direct link data-feed from the central-computer of the base and I accept it.

Terabytes of data flow to my memory banks and I study the information carefully. As the data-update finishes, I take 0.065 seconds to analyze it, and another 0.045 seconds to conclude the reason to my activation. I immidiately form a link to Unit URL, and we begin to draft deployment and engagement plans that fit the current scenario. Our purpose is clear, we are going to war.


Manticore's Nest

Caparelli allowed himself a thin smile as the casualties of the enemy fleet were confirmed. The enormous Icaros Anti-Space missiles had done their job superbly, but it was not enough.

The Imperial fleet kept on boring towards the defense line, their formation hinting to Caparelli that they intended to simply punch thru the defense line like a spear, while pouring broadsides of energy fire to the Clairmontian ships around them. And once they had passed the defenders, their lead elements would begin hammering the ground installations and the planetfall operation would commence.

And at that point the space battle would degenerate to the brutal slaughter of energy-range combat, and the visuals he had recieved from the Battle of Ramilius had told him very well what would that battle look like against an Imperial force.

The Admiral glanced at the time display on the tactical holo, in a few minutes the final phase of the space battle would begin. He began issuing orders as his mind re-forged the defensive plan to blunt the tip of the Imperial attack.


The planetary operations section of the Central Command Center buzzled with activity as the hundreds of officers relayed the orders of their High Commanders to the ground units, co-ordinating the defensive effort.

Field Marshal Broderick looked over them to the massive wall-screen, grim expression dominating his face. The defensive situation was anything but good. Only fifty-five percent of the available forces had reached their assigned defense zones, leaving huge gaps in many parts of the nation, while in some places the lines were stretched extremely thinly.

His ear caught the voice of Lieutenant Tedrik behind him, and he turned to face the young man who acted as his commo officer.

"What?" He questioned the young man bluntly.

The lieutenant did not even flinch at the harsh tone of his superior, and simply delivered his message.

"Sir, we have recieved word that the Sketchian Transport barges are closing on our borders rapidly, and they should be ready to deploy in a few hours from now. We have also been informed that we will be recieving several regiments worth of re-enforcements from Klatch, notably the New Shironese two regiments and single brigade as well as several divisions worth from North Germania. The commander of the New Shironese expeditionary force, Major General Johann Von Sturm has submitted himself to our command and would need a liaison officer assigned once they arrive."

Despite Brodericks grim thoughts, he could not help but begin grinning as the information filtered to him. He grabbed the datapad that Lieutenant Tedrik handed him, quickly skimming thru the given capabilities of the arriving re-enforcements. He checked his wrist chrono for the approximate time the New Shironese would be arriving, it would be soon and the Sketchians would be landing in a few hours as well.

He handed back the datapad to the lieutenant and spoke quickly.

"Allright Lieutenant, I want the Sketchian Commander informed immidiately of their assigned deployment zone, and I want a liaison officer assigned to them the earnest. Also contact the New Shironese and relay the High Commands utmost gratitude at their assistance, also inform our aerospace control of the transponder numbers of the incoming Shironese transports and have them clear those transports to our airspace once they arrive."

The Lieutenant saluted sharply as he took the datapad and acknowledged the orders. Broderick watched the young man go and turned back to gaze upon the wall screen, the grimness of his expression having lighted up a bit.


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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

Via the main view screen Fleet Admiral Martac watched as the Imperial fleet made its way through the blast zone, a glance over at the Holo display told him that the enemy fleet had taken casualties, but not nearly enough to turn the tide. Based on the enemy fleet formation it appeared that it would soon come down the firefight, as the enemy attempted to pierce through their defensive formation.

“Those arrogant bastards” said the Admiral under his breath “They think that this is going to be an easy fight” anger swelled in side him, the very though of losing a battle such as this in his own backyard was incomprehensible to him. Now it was a matter of pride to him, Tappee had promised to protect Clairmont, and with the inability for Tappee to send ground troops, Martacs force was the last line of defence.

If this 4th Imperium wanted a fight, then that is what he going to give them. Quickly he began barking order. “Bring Primary weapons system online, prepare to engage the enemy at point blank range. Initiate close combat protocols.”

Within mere seconds of the Admiral order, Tappee’s forces across the board jumped into action. Fighters launched out of their launch bays and swarm of craft made their way from the planet below, fighter and bombers alike, all tirelessly hunting new targets. With the fighter craft out to provide point protect from fighters a missiles, the Tappee Fleet itself gained speed rapidly closing the distance between them and the enemy.

Aboard a number of ships boarding parties prepared to make the dangerous jump to an enemy ship for ship-to-ship combat. It would not be long now till death reigned supreme if the space around the planet.

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2nd Carrier divison

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6th Tactical Assult Divison

Just moments away from the Clairmont coast, the massive transport barges suddenly broke formation; each heading off to a specific destination assigned to them by the Clairmont high command. Gliding several hundred meters above the ground, a casual observer could see various hanger doors opening and prepping to disgorge troops and vehicles. Aboard the expansive flight decks, smaller troop transports prepared for deployment ops to other locations that didn't require the troop numbers carried by the barges.

Corporal Thomas fingered his rifle for the hundreth time since crossing the border. Combat.....this was his first real combat tour. All those other times he had drawn the lot for rear support. This time, he was designated for frontline duty. Rather, not him individually, but his unit. Looking around at his peers, he wondered what was going on behind the faceless masks which separated them from the rest of the word. Some of his comrades sat in what looked like utter calm, others, like him, showed similar signs of nervousness. For the most part they sat in silence, enveloped in the ever pervasive hum of the transport's drive system. Every once in awhile, the combat leader would update the group's intelligence data, popping up yet another tidbit of informtaion that had to be assimilated. Provided in the data feed was all sorts of information that they needed to know; everything from tactical maps to liason units to preliminary deployment areas, and other necessary items. Feeling the disapproving stare of his seargent burning through his armor, coproal Thomas set his rifle aside for the moment. Plenty of other things to occupy himself with that were less observable, for now.

One barge stood out from the rest, marked singlarily by its relatively smaller size in comparison to the rest. Roughly a quarter of the size of a normal transport barge, it flew faster and lower than the rest, transporting its cargo directly to the heart of Clairmont. Unlike corporal Thomas, the occupants of the craft exhibited no signs of nervousness; or life for that matter. Arrayed in perfect rank and file, thousands of warriors stood like immobile statues within vast hanger bays. The Wraiths, an elite unit within the Sketchian military, were given no specific deployment designation. Rather, they would be held in reserve and deployed where most needed on a case to case basis. Excessively trained in the killing arts, each Wraith was a multi-tour combat veteren with several war's experience. Prefering to work apart from other units, the Wraiths were exceedingly well suited as shock troops or rear guard action; often allowing many a field commander to avoid an otherwise disastarous senario.

The Imperial Formation had now fully formed into a massive arrow of ships that strove forward towards the Clairmontian and Tappee defensive line. Even as the lead elements of the formation took heavy fire, they continued onwards and as the range dropped below a single light-second, and velocities dropped to levels suitable for combat in near planetary space, the slaughter began.

The arrowhead of the Imperial formation passed the nearest enemy ships at a range of less than five thousand kilometers, practically spitting range in terms of space combat. Missiles were no longer erupting from their tubes as the range was simply far too low for the missiles to be of any use. Energy batteries began spitting beams of graviton energy at the enemy ships, contemptuously punching thru Clairmontian sidewalls, rending and tearing their hulls apart at molecular level.

As the entirety of the Imperial formation began punching thru the defense lines, the full weight of fire the eleven-hundred ships could bring to bear was unleashed. Every single one of the offensive energy weapons the Imperial ships carried was firing, and the space around the arrowhead of the Imperial formation became a killzone of unimaginable proportions. But energy range combat was hardly one-sided slaughter, and the Clairmontian Warships returned fire with their massive GRASER and Laser batteries alongside the Tappee ships pouring fire on the Imperial formation.

Despite the disparity in technology, an energy broadside from a Clairmontian Superdreadnaught was enough to quickly disembowel and tear apart even the battleships of the 4th Imperium, with only the enormous Monitors and Supermonitors being capable of resisting that fire for some amounts of time.

Ships on both sides quickly disappeared in blinding flashes of light as their overstressed reactors gave away, the volatile Anti-Matter powerplants and warheads aboard the Imperial vessels losing containment, and the superdense fusion bottles of the Clairmontian vessels releasing their reaction to consume the ships around them.

Hundreds of fighters were among the slaughter, the thirty-five hundred Imperial Parasite Fighters moved gracefully within the zone of destruction, hunting their Clairmontian and Tappee counterparts. Occasionally, some were inevitably caught in the path of a Clairmontian energy weapon, and there wasnt a Space Fighter in existance that could have withstood the power of a Ship of the Wall energy battery. The space around the main warship formations had turned into a dogfight of epic proportions as thousands of fighter-craft clashed.


Fleet Captain Gaeriel Chizon veered her Avenger-class Parasite craft sharply to the starboard, avoiding the incoming stream of laser pulses from the Clairmontian fighter with contemptuous ease. Throwing her fighter to a vector that would bring it past the enemy fighter, she turned the bow of the parasite craft to face the enemy and triggered her energy guns.

The enemy fighter came apart in an instant as the graviton weapons tore into its lightly armored frame with ease.

Having dispatched the immidiate opposition, Chizon glanced at her HUD, checking the positions and status of her squadron. Two craft out of fourteen were down, but they had also cleared the immidiate area of enemy fighters and now their course towards the main Clairmontian formation was clear. As Chizon's squadron returned to formation and headed towards the Clairmontians, three other squadrons formed alongside them.

As they closed with the Clairmontian ships, the tactical computers aboard those ships began to prioritize Chizon and her Imperial comrades as priority targets. Defensive fire lashed from the ships, hundreds of pinprick laser stilettos from the point-defense batteries aboard those ships sending beams of coherent light against the Imperials. Eight of the parasite fighters vanished as the enemy defensive fire found their targets, but the rest broke thru the defense.

Chizon brought her fighter straight towards the bow of a Clairmontian Battlecruiser, her squadron tightened the formation significantly and prepared for the strafing run.

Despite the edge that the Imperials held in fighter-carried energy weapons, the graviton guns in the Imperial parasite fighters were still nothing more than throwing pebbles against the Clairmontians' sidewalls. As it was, the only methods of using fighters effectively against those ships was either the succesfull deployment of high-yield nukes, or slipping thru the open after or fore aspects of the Clairmontian ships, as those aspects of their ships lacked the protection of sidewalls.

As it was, Chizon did exactly that. Reducing the velocity of her craft significantly, she slipped along with her squadron inside the Clairmontian Battlecruiser's sidewalls and Impeller wedge, and due to the physics of sidewalls and the wedge, there was room to maneuver.

She triggered her energy guns once more, sending screaming demons of graviton beams to couge at the Battlecruiser's hull. Her twelve squadron mates followed suite. The beams struck at missile-tubes, energy weapon ports, sensor arrays and anything that lacked the thick hull armor that covered most of the battlecruiser's hull.

As her squadron broke away from the battlecruiser in a few moments, she glanced at her displays, her sensors giving her an estimate of the damage they had caused. When she noted the percentual drop in the battlecruisers combat capability, she allowed herself a thin and vicious smile before breaking away from the main Clairmontian formation, and heading back towards the dogfight.


As the Imperial fleet slowly crawled its way thru the outer defense perimeter formed by the Tappee and Clairmontian ships, constantly pouring fire all around them, their formation began to change as the single task force in the Imperial formations core that carried the invasion troops began its course towards Earth's athmosphere, at a vector that would carry it straight to the Clairmontians home.

Admiral Vanadis though knew very well that the enemy still had several defensive elements to use. The massive Space Fortress and its adjoined scores of Orbital Weapons Platforms still stood at the Imperials way, along with one of the damnable Clairmontian Supermonitors. As the range between the Imperials and planet Earth had allready dropped to two-hundred and fifty-thousand kilometers, Vanadis prepared for the hardest part of the fight. In a few moments, the Imperial fleet would be pinned both between the remaining Clairmontian and Tappee ships as well as the significant Clairmontian Surface Based defenses. He had the numbers to annihilate them all, but the losses would be high, no matter how well he had planned the tactics of the impending situation.

As the range between the planet and the lead Imperial ships dropped to two hundred thousand kilometers, the final brutal butcher of the space battle commenced.


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Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

After 231.325 seconds of tactical analysis and playing scenarios with Unit URL, we have solidifed our deployment plan and engagement tactics. As our Commanders review our plans, we recieve our orders and confirmation to execute those plans. We have now been brought out of our underground hangars to the morning sunlight, and I bring my sensors to full power, without yet going active. I quickly recieve confirmation and positioning of the enemy space assets rapidly approaching the planet, and I calculate that within 137.44 seconds they will be in optimal range of my main armaments. My Commander grants me authorization for full Battle Reflex Mode, and I accelerate to 130 kph. I observe the readings from my drive-train and track systems carefully and to my pleasure detect no overheating or structural stress beyond the optimal parameters.

Unit URL is now 23.3 kilometers to my south-east, both of us departing upon our pre-planned defensive zones. The vast expanses of un-urbanized plains suiting our purposes perfectly. As I wait for the enemy to come within my reach, I commence a number of diagnostics routines to confirm my systems are fully ready for the impending battle.

221 kilometers south-east of me, I detect the discharge of numerous Mk. 700 Planetary Defense Grav Cannons. Their 105mm rounds exit the weapons at no less than 20% the speed-of-light, and they leave in their wake a fiery ionized tunnel as they burn thru the athmosphere to strike at the approaching enemy vessels.


Planetary Defense Center #4
Hyacinth Plateau

One after another the massive Grav Cannons of PDC #4 sent relativistic depleted uranium arrows upwards to the heavens. The rounds escaped the planets athmosphere and gravity-well with contemptuous ease, they punched a hole through the atmosphere so fierce that it stripped the electrons from the atoms of gas and turned them into ions. The energy bled in their travel was so high it created a shock front of electromagnetic pulse. Then, after it passed, the atoms and electrons recombined in a spectacular display of chemistry and physics. Photons of light were discharged, heat was released and free radicals, ozone and Bucky balls were produced. The major by-product was the tunnel of energetic ions indistinguishable from lightning.

The rounds took less than four seconds to strike their targets, and against anything less than a Battleship, their effects were spectacular. Destroyers were struck amidships by the rounds, punching thru their defensive screens with contemptuous ease, tearing their hulls in half and reducing the ships to little more than a cloud of wreckage. A battlecruiser lost the entirety of its forward quarter as a single round impacted it in a high angle, releasing its kinetic energy equivalent of over three and a half megatons in a violent impact that shredded the battlecruisers forward quater to pieces.

But the rate-of-fire of the guns was slow. It took them twelve seconds to cooldown, recharge the capacitors and load a new round. Combined with the fact that the accuracy against the Imperials was only 50%, every person capable of mathematics knew that the guns would do their best but it would not be enough.

Colonel Erwin Danas watched the tactical hologram of the command center in the heart of PDC #4 with interest. The area of space that PDC #4 was targeting was illuminated with a green cone with its tip against the holographic representation of Earth and the PDC's exact position on the planet. The cones end indicated the area of engagement. Danas could only smile humourlessly as he compared that piddlingly small area to the vastness of the attacking Imperial fleet.

He glanced over the fifteen men and women who were with him in the command center. He knew that they all had to be on the edge, for this was the first time in the Protectorate's history that the Planetary Defense Centers were fired in anger, and were filling the purpose for which they had been built. Those fifteen officers had been trained for this, and they knew how high the stakes were. They went about with their tasks like professionals, selecting new targets, slewing the guns on those new targets and firing until the targets were gone. This initial opening fire from the PDC's was still the calm part, Danas knew, when the Imperials would start dropping their invasion troops, then it would be time for the hard part. And that moment was only minutes away, judging by how the enemy was re-arranging their formation.

The grav guns fired once more, sending their relativistic arrows to hammer at the enemy forces marshalling above Danas' home.


Fort Stalwart Aerospace Base

Lieutenant Nikkol Fukkai figured he should have been happy, as this was exactly what he had been wishing to do for the time he had been stuck to the confines of a mere athmospheric fighter. As he climbed to the cockpit of his SA-15 Super Sylph Strike Fighter, he was again where he had destined to be.

The higher-ups had quickly reversed their decision to put Fukkai into the athmospheric flight wings as the attacks against the officer corps of the Protectorate Strike Fighter Wings had reduced the number of available pilots.

Fukkai's squadron was one of the last to depart to the sky, most of the planetary based Strike Fighter squadrons had allready taken off to orbit, to try and slow down the enemy advance, and meet the enemy fighters that would undoubtly begin attack runs against Clairmontian Military installations on the surface.

That particular battle was allready beginning to brew as the forwardmost wings of enemy fighters closed in with Earth.

The Lieutenant initiated the quick startup of the fighter, the sleek craft beginning to purr under him as power flowed to its veins, its systems initializing. The screens in Fukkai's console came to life as the fighter gradually awoke from its slumber.

As seconds passed in the startup, he stole a glance to the horizon. Black specks were rising high up to the sky as fighter squadrons from the bases near Fort Stalwart made their way to space. And in the horizon were visible the distinct lines of silver lightning as the Planetary Defense Centers sent their fire up to the sky.

He tore his eyes away from the sight and noted to his pleasure that the fighting machine beneath him was now in full readiness. He opened the comm channel, and informed the flight control of his situation.

"Virulent Two, ready for take-off."

After a few seconds, the voice of a young woman replied to him.

"Virulent Two, your runway is Two-Niner. Queue place is six. Good luck and good hunting."

Fukkai closed the channel and applied the throttle slightly. The fighter moved over the runway ceramacrete to the runway that had been assigned to him, and behind the line of other fighters waiting to take-off from the ground.

Every three seconds a plane rose up to the sky as the squadrons based in Fort Stalwart and that had yet to launch took up from the runways. As Fukkai's turn came, he increased the throttle roughly, the thrusters of his plane sending the craft speeding forward at rapidly accelerating pace. After a few seconds, he pulled gently back on the stick, and the massive fighter lifted up from the runway with ease. Far up in the sky, outside the confines ot the athmosphere, he could begin to see the pinpricks of fighter-launched nukes beginning to appear as the Clairmontian Planetary Squadrons made contact with the enemy.

The massive bulk of the transport settled in the middle of the cleared area with a grace belying its ponderous size. No sooner had first contact been made with the ground, great armored doors flew open, unleashing swarms of armored troops; all rushing out in an eriely silent fanning formation. From the looks of it, they were securing a perimeter, despite the fact that this was deep within Clairmont territory and the ground war had not yet begun. Approaching officers coming to greet the Sketchian commander were quickly headed off by perimeter troopers, citing that they should wait for their own safety. While that was most obviously not the case, as nothing untoward was readily visible to the casual observer, it was just as obvious by the level of activity that, at the present moment, outsiders would merely hinder the rapid progressing of what appeared to be a base setup. In what looked like almost a freezeframe video, a command center slowly developed, evolved and expanded from the base of the transport. An unending stream of vehicles and manpower continued to pour forth from the gaping maw of the transport; bringing with it ever more materials. As the Clarimont troops watched on, they noticed a peculiar lack of command figures running the show. Save for the occasional figure redirecting the perimeter troops or crate, there seemed to be no central command in charge. A lack of detectable communications, either audible or via radio only added to the puzzlement. It seemed, from the seemless clockwork and the smoothness of operation, that these troops have done this hundreds of times before.

Within a few short hours, what had been a simple clearing with a lone transport in it, was now an entire base camp, complete with all its trappings and cleverly camoflouged against visual aerial observation. While such arrangements would doubtlessly fail against more advanced sensory equipment, it was simply the most basic of basics; there was other equipment to deal with the more advanced items. Now that the preparations were complete, the previously bustling mass of troopers disappeared. All that were left were the ones on the perimeter, maintaining a silent vigil over their Clairmontian counterparts. The Laison officers, having waited so patiently, was not so much invited, as asked brusquely to accompany the troops to the command center. Inside a large room within the prefab building, conspicuously barren except for a sterile looking conference table and chairs, stood ten troopers, flanking the table on both sides. Like the imposing statues of ancient wargods, they stood unmoving, faceless behind their transparisteel masks; a cold, emotionless menace. At the very end stood a lone figure, whose armor bore no distinction from the rest; his person indentical to the rest save for the singular fact that he stood alone on the end. In a smooth, motion, he tapped his left shoulder pad with a single gauntleted hand, causing it to glow a solid, brilliant scarlet red. This caused a chain reaction as the previously immobile statues each tapped their own shoulders simultaneously, each illuminating two scarlet bars. In a cold, toneless voice that carried despite its lack of emotion, the lone trooper spoke.

We are the third Wraith legion, sent here by lady Jagara to assist you in repeling the invaders. I am the force commander and these are my captains. That, beside you is trooper five four eight five three two four, he will be your liason during our operations here.

Stepping foward from behind, a trooper activated his own patch, a gentle green, and adressed the liason officers. The first noticable difference was the tone and general friendliness of demeanor, much different from the cold, business like manner of the encounter thus far.

I am your designated liason, you may refer to me as trooper Jarvis if you find my designation hard to use. It will be my task to keep you informed of our actions and accompany you during our operations. There will be others under my command who will be assigned to the rest of you. For now, let's get you up to speed on our facilities and capabilities. If you will follow me, I'l have you taken to our data center where we'll upload your intelligence information into our communications array.

Facing the force commander, trooper Jarvis briefily dipped his helmeted head, by you leave sir, and abruptly, without waiting for reply, spun about on his heel. Right this way gentlemen.....

Looking back on the room as they were being led away, the Clairmont liasons would notice that none of the shoulder patches glowed scarlet anymore. Some wondered if they would see them again.

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

All around various points on the Island nation of Clairmont, the Sketchian transport barges were coming in to land. Being so large, most had to put down in ports or clear out sections of wilderness to accomadate their massive bulk. With so many troops and vehicles aboard, the barges would take the better part of the day to empty, and setting up a base camp would take even longer. Contacts with the Clairmont liasons made matters easier as accomadations were made for housing and temporary command centers. Communications went smoothly as liason officers were well met. Some of the other commanders, just recently made aware of the further involvement of Klatchan forces, requested meetings to discuss force integration. When asked later on the borderline rude nature of the Wraith unit which had landed much earlier, the Sketchian commanders would dismissively wave it off with the words - oh, them.....they're always like that. Don't let it bother you too much. They always get the job done.

Fukatoa Plains
231 Kilometers South-East of Irmansul City

Battalion Sergeant Major Tomas Karamazyck watched with the usual blank mask on his face as the Sketchian troops made the finishing touches to their base camp.

The armorplast shoulder of his Battle Armor held four silvery starbursts, each and every one of them indicating a decade of service in the Military. Despite his four decades of service however, of which two had been spent in the Royal Cadre, he could not help but admire the perfect co-ordination of the Sketchian Special Forces as they quickly deployed their strength from the transport and set up the base camp without any visible Command Staff. It had taken no more than a minute for him to realize that these troops were hard core specialists of the best kind, and grudgingly he had admitted to himself that they were well and truly colleaques of the Royal Cadre troops. Ofcourse, there were far more of the Sketchian Spec Ops Troops than there were the specialists of the Cadre with the maximum strength of the Cadre just and just topping ten thousand at the current times.

He interrupted his course of thought as few of the perimeter troopers of the Sketchian force approached the four Lieutenants and Captain's Meyers and Jones of the liaison detachment. Without showing any real external sign, the five Cadre troopers who had been acting as escorts prepared themselves for anything. Their rational minds told them that there was no danger to them or to the Liaison Detachment, but decades of training and experience had been honed down to their instincts, and they did not go away easilly. The dark green forms of the five troopers clad in their Vindicare Power Suits stood unmoving at their places, but instinctively were ready to act at any moment.

Karamazyck grunted in approval, and he was certain that the Sketchians would have detected the slight stiffening in the postures of the Cadre Troopers as well. Professionals meeting professionals, this is our courtesy to each other. He thought.

As the liaison detachment soon disappeared to the base camp, Karamazyck gazed back at the faceless figures of the Sketchian troops, and felt the cold certainty that he would get the chance to work with the fellow professionals very very soon.

Karamazyck gazed up to the sky, the pinpricks of nuclear light telling the tale. The Sketchians had truly arrived in the nick of time, as the ground war would be starting in less than an hour, he roughly estimated. From the belly of the beast to armageddon, how fitting. he thought to himself as he and his escort force began to depart, leaving the Sketchians to handle their business.

Hephaestus

The remainder of Broadstreet's command was gathered at the station. As impressive as the original fleet wasn't, this was even less. The Mars, first of her class and a scarred, embittered survivor of hopeless conflict, was slowly brought to fighting order and her crew tended to - some with medical services, many with burial services. Two other Mars class battlecruisers, Dark King and Executor Vilovo's Razorblade, had also escaped total destruction, but were unlikely to be battle-ready anytime soon. Two Sword of Damocles frigates were being repaired as well, but both now lacked crews. Ditto for two Fidus support frigates.

An Informis destroyer and a Pepin fleet tender filled out the potential combat strength salvagable from the ambush.

In the "damaged but active" category, there was one Sword of Damocles - named, naturally enough, Lucky Arrow - three support frigates and two Effector gunships, as well as Executor Cullen's battlecruiser. Cullen himself, commanding officer of the ragtag hulks, having learned at last of the High Imperator's betrayal and the Imperium's invasion of Clairmont, despaired at the thought of further warfare against unsurmountable odds.

The station began picking up contacts. First several, then many, approaching from scattered locations throughout the asteroid belt. The signatures were not hidden - at least, not by this time - and were easily identifiable as JIL warships despite the usual large amounts of space traffic. They were ships of the CSF which had not participated in the disasterous ambush of the 1st IWBS, and which had not converged on Mercury as per the High Imperator's rebellion - the only thing the sensors would not show is their allegiance...

OOC: My apologies to everyone for the delay in this RP. I just returned from vacation, and previously my driving lessons and school had reduced the time I could use for NS. But I intend to get this thing back on the road and going as soon as possible, and hopefully get to the really interesting parts of the story.

His Majestys Space Station Hephaestus

Admiral Joshua Hughes glared out of the viewport at the battered remnants of the JIL battlesquadron with an aura of sadness as well as determination surrounding him. His gaze went over the grievous battle scars and wounds the ships had received, and he could only stand and wonder how those ships had survived at all, so horrifying was the damage they had suffered.

One of the massive Mars-class battlecruisers was in the process of slowly being towed to a construction slip where the personnel of the shipyard would go out with their maintenance drones and construction suits and begin the overhaul and repair of the stricken ship.

Hughes had to remind himself that the JIL designated its ships differently than the CSN. The Mars-class was the equivalent of two Clairmontian built Warlord-class battlecruisers, the JIL made vessel massing third again as much as the Clairmontian BC's, even though it was otherwise smaller. All that damn armor and weapons Hughes reminded himself.

The construction slip took the wounded warship to its tender care as the docking umbilicals and arms snapped to place.

Atleast we have all we need to make them fight again he thought as he watched the work crews beginning to swarm around the ship in their bulky construction suits along with swarms of drones they controlled. All those years ago, it had been decided that the Hephaestus would act as a fleet base for the JIL, providing support and logistics when necessary. As such, the capabilities of the yard had been designed so that components on JIL warships could be replaced quickly, and now Hughes blessed that long-sightedness. They would have the JIL ships operational as fast as they would have any Clairmontian ship.

Not that it matters a whole fucking lot by the looks of things he thought glumly as he stole a glance to the holo-tank that represented the Sol system, and at the clusters of red icons that assailed the ever lessening numbers of green icons around Earth, and above Clairmont island. As the battle was going, the Imperium would have total orbital superiority in less than two hours, and then it would all be over. The last bastion of Clairmont in that point would be Hephaestus, for all the good it was going to do....

A flight of five Liberator Strike Fighters zoomed past the viewport, their gracefull lines stealing Hughes' gaze back from the holo-tank and to the cluttered space beyond the viewport.

His reverie of thoughts came to a sudden conclusion as the sensor tech from the primary sensor control station called out for him.

"Admiral, I have positive identification of numerous CSF ships that are converging on our location."

Hughes's head whipped around to the holo-tank, sure enough there were several new contacts on a direct intercept vector with Hephaestus, the question was, were they hostiles? Having learned of the High Imperators rebellion, the Admiral had issued a general order to restrict the Hephaestus control-zone to Clairmontian traffic only, with special permissions granted as situations requiring them arose. He had trusted Executor Cullen, as he had witnessed the extent of the damage his forces had sustained, and all that in attempted defense of the Protectorate. The 1st IWBS and its remnants were loyalists, of that Hughes had no doubt, but beyond that, he did not know who in the CSF he could trust.

"Comms, I want you to challenge those ships. Demand their identification, assertation of intentions and loyalties."

The communications officer obliged without hesitation, recording and transmitting the challenge to the approaching CSF vessels.



Hyperlimit of Sol System

The fabric of space was torn apart at the simultaneous transit of the ships of the 7th and 8th fleets back to normal space. The massed numbers of warsawski sails of the over two hundred and fifty ships crackled blue lightning as they bled transit energy to the space surrounding them. After a few seconds, almost in unison, the circular disks of the warsawski sails re-configured back to Impeller Wedges, and the fleets began their decceleration. As it was, the ships of the two fleets were heading towards the battle at nearly .3c, their base velocity from hyperspace having remained with them.

As it was, they would reach Earth orbit in seventy-nine minutes, and they would be coming directly in the midst of the fight. They continued on towards the heart of the storm.


Clairmont Island

The time has arrived, my sensors indicate to me that the forward elements of the enemy fleet, those that I also determine to carry the invasion force and its support elements, has reached optimal range of my main armaments. I engage my main targeting array without going active on my targeting sensors, the enemy is giving out enough emissions to grant me a lock. I take 1.3 seconds to filter thru the impressive jamming the enemy vessels are putting out, I determine that these jammers are approximately 500% more powerfull than their best Clairmontian counterparts, it does not matter.

I bring my number one turret to bear on the enemy ship I have chosen as my first target, I commence the firing sequence on my main armament, a 150cm Hellbore. The sequence commences, in less than a second, the cryo-H cartridge is heated to fusion by lasers and the resultant plasma is ejected out of the guns bore by its own pressure, guided along by packing it in a bubble of electromagnetic fields. The resultant fusion bolt leaves the barrel of my number one turret at approximately .4 cee. The results are promising, the defensive fields of the enemy vessel succeed in resisting the fusion bolt for approximately 0.032 seconds before failing, atleast 40% of the original 2.3 Megatons per second strike the enemy vessel dead center, cutting it nearly in half. The vessel is completely mission-killed. I detect Unit URL's smaller 100cm Hellbore commencing firing as well. I concentrate my capabilities on selecting a new target and once more filtering thru the jamming. I fire my secondary turret while my primary turret goes thru the 7 second cooling and re-charge cycle.

I detect the first signs of the planetfall vessels commencing their re-entry run. They are massive spacecraft indeed, each nearly twelve-hundred meters long, and they are each accompanied by half a dozen smaller vessels, which I determine to be either fire-support or escort vessels. As I detect the beginning of the planetfall, I ready my heavy VLS launcher to fire. I load up two of my stealthed Shiva Orbital Denial Nuclear Munitions, I calculate that based on earlier observations of Imperial Defense Field durability, their 75 megaton yields should be sufficient to eliminate a planetfall vessel. As I do this, I also detect the first squadrons of enemy fighter-craft breaking thru the defensive fighter screen in low-orbit.


Manticore's Nest

"What the hell was that!!?" Caparelli yelled as the hologram floating above the war-room table displayed the bright red line that had connected with an Imperial Cruiser and wiping the enemy vessel out of existance.

Patricia Givens was by his side, studying the data in the datapad she held.
"It wasnt a Grav Gun round, if these readings are accurate, that was a damn fusion bolt moving at about point-four-cee."

Caparelli glared at the hologram, only one weapon he knew could produce a fusion bolt that could take down starships in orbit. But that project had been cancelled he kept telling himself.

"A Hellbore..." He half whispered.

"But those weapons were only designed to be put on..." Givens began before Field Marshall DeSilva cut her off mid-sentence.

"To be put on Bolo Continental Siege Units, yes, and that is exactly the kind of unit that carries the weapon that shot down that Imperial ship" The Field Marshal stated simply.

Both Givens and Caparelli turned about to glare at the Field Marshal whose ice blue eyes glared steadily back.

"That project was cancelled, not a single unit was ever built" Caparelli stated, his voice low and judging.

The Field Marshal allowed himself a pointed laugh before answering.
"Admiral, the Defense Department saw the strengths of the Bolo CSU's, so did the military. The project was canned because of fear, because of political reasons. We could not allow the possibilities of the project slip away because of those unfortunate reasons, so we continued it secretly. Our goal was to produce two prototypes, introduce them officially and allow the Government to judge when they saw what they would lose if they did not accept the project. Those two units out there are those two prototypes, a Mark. XXI and a MK.XXVII, now they will show what they are capable of, altough I never imagined I would have to prove the viability of the CSU's this way."

A half a minute of silence hovered in the war room before Caparelli spoke again.

"Field Marshal DeSilva, were it any other time than this, I would have you relieved of duty and jailed at the spot, however, seeing as your Bolos have allready wiped out two of the enemy ships, and I can hardly dispense of you at this hour, the acts you have committed will not be looked upon now, but rest assured, this matter will be thoroughly investigated."

The two men glared each other in the eyes for a minute, neither yielding a bit before the voice of Patricia Givens broke the silence.

"Admiral, it seems that the Imperials have commenced their planetfall." She stated and Caparellis head whipped around to gaze at the hologram. Several individual formations were detaching from the main Imperial force in orbit above Clairmont island, their vectors indicating that they were coming in for a re-entry. Several squadrons of fighters had allready entered athmosphere, and were descending straight down to the skies of Clairmont Island.

"And so begins the final chapter...." Caparelli muttered to himself.

Admiral Martac let out a brief sigh as he watched the events unfold before him; to say the battle was going badly was an understatement. Allied forces were being pushed back across the board; ships were either being destroyed or withdrawing all together. Judging from the enemy’s current fleet position, it would not be long until planet fall operation began. When that event occurred then the Clairmont forces would be on their own.

“Attack pattern Delta Omega three seven Gamma” barked the Admiral impatiently over the chatter of the command room “Engage those ship at point blank range” He may not be able to help them on the ground, but he was going to buy them as much time as he could.”

“Sir we are reading a massive energy build up” there was brief pause as the technician did a few calculation “2.3 Megatons” the mans voice falter has he realized the full scope of what was going

Martac’s mind began to panic, it was well known that the enemy had a technological superiority, and if this was their doing, then the battle was soon to be over. “Origin and target” yelled Martac desperate for answers. But looking over at the TAC display, his questions were soon answered.

Via the TAC display he watched as a red blip made it’s way from the planet connecting squarely with an Imperial battleship, the impact tore the unsuspecting ship apart. Martac mind began to race as to what this actually meant, to the best of his knowledge such a weapon did not exists, and if it did why had no one brought it his attention. His thoughts were interrupted by the only words he feared.

“Sir the enemy has began planet fall operations”

He quickly spun around in response “launch fighters to intercept”

Star Admiral Vanadis glared at the real-time visual feed in something acking to supprise, his eye brows raised high as he had seen that lance of fire come up from the planet and so easilly gut one of his cruisers. The analysis had been made, it had been a plasma weapon of immense yield and in the span of the one minute that had passed from its first firing, another such weapon had joined the fray on the surface of the planet. Altough even those plasma weapons could not penetrate the defense fields of battleships and upwards with a single shot, they had allready together racked ten kills. The methodical and calculating fashion at which they cut thru the Imperial jamming and engaged made Vanadis think if whatever carried those plasma weapons was human controlled at all.

His reverie came to a halt as the real-time visual feed displayed a flight of Tappee bombers strafing one of his Cruisers. The cruisers' point-defense slashed at them, and several of the bombers turned into fireballs as their internal air supplies fueled that fire. But several broke thru, and released their payloads at the vessel. Its defense screens held to the last second, and then the starboard screen came down, and volleys of missiles scorched the bare armor of the cruiser. Altough they werent capital scale missiles, they were brutally effective in cutting thru the armor of the ship.

Vanadis did not worry about it, casualties were acceptable, and his casualties were still below 30%, while the Clairmontian defense force had been battered to wreck, their Supermonitors still stood their ground, their fortress survived along with perhaps a battlesquadron worth of ships, but their casualties allready exceeded 50%. He had not requested an analysis of the casualties the Tappee allies of the Clairmontians had suffered, but a gaze at the holo-tank told him that they had been brutally beaten as well.

And soon it would not matter at all, he watched the holo-tank with a slight smile as he noted the detachment of the planetfall vessels from the main formation in Earth orbit, they were rapidly commencing their re-entry thru the gaps in the enemy fighter-screen that the forward fighter elements had cleared for them. Thru those very same gaps, dozens upon dozens of Imperial fighters were allready descending to the airspace of Clairmont Island to hammer away at the defenses before the troop transports arrived. The game was entering its final phases.

As the commencement of the planetfall became obvious even to the enemy, flights of fighters began to depart the Tappee contignent, headed directly to intercept the transports of the planetfall contignent. Vanadis could only admire their courage, those vessels were under heavy escort, breaking thru those escorts would cost the Tappee fighters heavully, they had to know it, and still they kept coming. It didnt matter, they had only ten minutes to do their work anyway, after that the transports would allready be hitting the soil of Clairmont Island.


Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus observed in satisfaction the imminent defeat of the Protectorate of Clairmont. Once the troop transports would reach the ground, the war would soon grind to a halt. But there was still much to be done for that goal to be achieved. He turned to gaze his flag captain.

"Captain, signal the eight and eleventh battleship squadrons to execute their bombardment."

The captain obeyed instantly, ordering his communications officer to relay the message. In less than a minute, two and a half dozen ships in the forward element of the Imperial fleet had configured themselves to planetary bombardment mode, and began to strike at planetary targets to soften the opposition the ground troops would face. But planets being what they were, there was all the space anyone would need to build jamming devices, and as such the only targeting method the Imperial ships had to go by was visual, and their accuracy left something to be desired. Nevertheless, missiles began to descend down to the ground from the orbiting ships as they found targets and opened fire.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Vanadis.jpg
Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Fastus.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Morian Fastus
Commanding Officer of 2nd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

5,600 Kilometers Above Clairmont Island

The Super Sylph buckled and heaved under him as he jerked it around in maneuvers that brought the machine to the very limits of its endurance. He knew he was risking inertial compensator failure with the maneuvers he was pulling, and if that happened he wouldnt even have time to notice anything, he would be a red paste splattered all over the cockpit in a second. But he couldnt worry about it, either take the risk of dying or die certainly at the hands of the Imperials, Lieutenant Nikkol Fukkai knew he was screwed anyway.

Most of his squadron had been blown away, his HUD still showed him that four of his wingmates lived. How long that state of affairs lasted, Fukkai did not want to guess.

The situation was very thoroughly FUBARed at this point. Several enemy fighter squadrons had broken thru the intercept screen the Clairmontian planetary based strike fighters had erected, and the only thing stopping them now would be the Anti-Air defense networks, Fukkai did not want to guess how well they would fare.

His comms equipment crackled to life as the voice of his squadron leader came thru the speakers in his helmet.

"Virulent-squadron, I have been informed that the enemy has began their planetfall and their transports are already heading towards us at a re-entry vector. We have been ordered to do whatever damage we can to those transports. Rendzervous in the following co-ordinates, and form up on my wing."

Easier said than done Fukkai thought glumly as he triggered his under-fuselage cannon once more, dispatching an Imperial fighter that he had been dog-fighting. He did not doubt that the five fighters carried the ability to hurt, or even destroy one of those transports, the pylons under his wings carried two FRAMs on both sides. That meant that the five fighters together carried ten FRAMs, for a total of 95 megatons.

It wasnt a long way to the transports, his HUD drew reticles around them as he approached within one thousand kilometers of them. In unison the flight of five fighters began their firing sequence. Their targeting computers sought out the elusive transports and their signatures, filtered thru as much of the jamming as possible, and fed the targeting data and telemetry to the FRAM's the fighters carried. In unison they ripple-fired their payloads, ten FRAMs departed from the five fighters, their drive fields snapping to full power immidiately as they cleared the safety distance to their launching fighter set to their computers, as their main drives came up they sprinted towards their targets at over three-hundred-thousand gees of acceleration, the flight time was less than three seconds, the Imperial escort ships had the time to fire a single point-defense laser, it missed.

Four of the FRAM's missed alltogether, the range had simply been too low for them to correct their course and they had overshot their target. Six of them found their mark. The first four of the missiles spent themselves to batter down the defense screen, the trailing two struck the hull of the transport in a contact detonation. The transport was blown apart to space dust in the span of a single second, its occupants not even having time to realize they were dead.

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/bscap210.jpg


"YEEEHAAA! Eat that you motherfuckers!!" Someone yelled over the squadron channel, and choruses of screams followed it.

"Cut it three, they are pissed now and we are out of fuel and out of ordnance. Return to base for now, lets hope that we still have a base to return to." The squadron leader cut the chatter short over the channel.

The flight of five began their arduous journey back to their base on the ground, the five pilots uncertain whether they still had a home base at all.


Barwhon City
Air Defense Post #55

"Holy shit sarge, will you look at that?" Private First Class Wanderman exclaimed as another fusion bolt cracked thru the athmosphere to strike at the Imperials.

"Yeah, thats no mark seven hundred all right, looks more like a plasma gun of some sort, guess the higher-ups had a few aces up their sleeves after all, not that Im supprised. But now get the fuck off from admiring the view, we've got incoming" Sergeant Anston exclaimed.

All over the small air-defense post, personnel had allready prepared for the incoming enemy fighters. The post had a total of three anti-air weapons, two Defender Anti-Air Guns, and a single Sky Piercer Surface-To-Air vechile. The guns were controlled from the ceramacrete bunker in the middle of the post, while the Sky Piercer had its crew inside it, Anston knew how vurnelable the three men inside that thing felt.

The radar screen began drawing up the contacts as they closed, their altitude and distance dropping rapidly. They were still too far out for the AAG's to reach, but well in-range of the Sky Piercer's Viper Three missiles. The SAM platform emptied its launcher, volley firing all of its four missiles ready in the launcher. They closed the distance to the enemy rapidly, but allready from the vectors of the missiles Anston could determine that three of them had lost lock and would not be hitting anything at all, one found its target and turned the Imperial fighter to a rapidly expanding fireball. The distance continued to degradate, and three of the Imperial fighters detached from their primary formation to attack Air Defense Post #55.



Anston activated the automated sequence, no fool would try engaging targets such as these manually. The targeting computers on the Defender Anti-Air guns sought out the data the main radar of the compound fed them, in unison the two guns opened fire immidiately as the Imperial fighters came close for them to reach.

Each of the guns spat two-hundred and fifty rounds per second, with every twentieth round being a tracer, at that rate of fire they looked like beam weapons going off. In the distance, dozens upon dozens of similar tracer lines were sweeping the sky as the rest of the Air Defense Posts opened fire as well.

The Imperial fighters evaded the fire in tight maneuvers, but there were simply too many rounds in the air for them to avoid being hit completely. One stream of thirty-millimeter rounds travelling at four thousand meters per second found the fuselage of an Imperial fighter. The heavy armor-piercing rounds tore thru the fighters relatively thin armor as it had been tissue paper, and the craft disappeared to a bright fireball. But then, their luck ended.

The energy guns aboard the Imperial fighters snarled, blowing apart the AAG guns with laughable ease. One of the fighters concentrated on the Sky Piercer, and the crew of three had only a moment to realize they were doomed as the energy guns ripped the vechile to pieces. The resultant explosion was mostly anti-climatic.

Then the fighters overshot the Air Defense Post, having not bothered to waste their missiles, saving them for the targets that were truly important.

Sergeant Peter Anston emerged from the bunker, gazing over the burning Air Defense Post to the horizon were the number of tracer lines coming from other air defense posts had been reduced in number. Either two thirds of the Air Defense Posts had been destroyed, or the men manning them had gone off to grab a beer. Anston would have hoped that the latter was the case, but he knew better.

Private Wanderman came out of the bunker to stand beside him.
"This gives a whole new goddamn meaning to FUBAR sarge."

If he could have laughed to death and carnage, he would have laughed now, but he could not avoid understanding the fact that the Private had laid out, Fucked-Up-Beyong-All-Recognition, indeed.

It has now been 934.222 seconds since I and unit URL engaged the enemy. We have allready accounted for 56 enemy kills, some of the enemy vessels requiring more than one hit from our Hellbores to be mission killed. We are now forced the re-target our fire at the enemy troop transports that have allready entered the athmosphere. Only our Hellbores remain for us to use against them, I and unit URL having expended our loadout of Shiva Orbital-Denial-Munitions.

The return fire from the enemy has been only marginally effective. With the ground-based jammer installations working at full power, distracting enemy targeting and detection sensors, and our speed constantly allowing us to rapidly change firing positions, the enemy is having a difficult time zeroing on to our co-ordinates.

I continue the engagement, working in conjunction with unit URL and targeting the troop transport nearest to our positions. I fire both of my turrets with unit URL firing his single main turret at the same time. Three fusion bolts strike the enemy transport dead center, its defense fields fail, and its hull disintegrates under the concentrated assault.

As I begin targeting another transport, my sensors begin to scream in alarm. The enemy has positioned 16 battleship-sized vessels into orbital bombardment positions and I detect inbound missile fire from the vessels. Apparently, the enemy cannot utilize its hyperspace capable missiles in this instance, either because of the low range or the presence of athmosphere in the target area. I bring my secondary batteries online, the Infinite Repeaters appear from behind their gunports and slew towards the incoming missiles. Unit URL follows suite and we commence anti-missile procedures. However, I allready calculate that even with the assistance of ground based defense installations, some of the missiles will get through our defense.


Minette city

The sky was filled with explosions of dying Clairmontian and Imperial fighters alike. Missile contrails and tracer rounds made the sky look like the chaos it was. And now, the chaos became joined by the anti-missile defense network commencing its fire. Point-defense lasers opened fire from strategic positions in the outskirts of the city and in the surrounding countryside, their heavy beams stabbing upwards to the sky and through the athmosphere.

Missiles began disappearing as the lasers made contact with them, reduced to debris and shrapnell as the high-powered lasers struck them. As the remaining missiles got ever closer, the defense got more desperate. Projectile guns began to fire, adding their attempts to those of the anti-missile defense stations.

In the end, Murphy's Law simply dictated that some of them got thru no matter what. The citizens of Minette city had exactly ten seconds to see the first fireball appearing in the horizon jagged by the mountains before their harbinger of doom came to collect their lives.

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The twenty-megaton warhead reduced the city to a cloud of ash in an instant, the lives of twelve-million people disappearing in the very same instant.


Drachenfalls city
Southern Pass


"Oh fuck, oh fuck! They nuked Minette!"

"My cousin lived in Minette......fuck those bastards goddamnit!"

The defense position was filled with the terrified and angered screams and shouts of the soldiers as they watched the two mushroom clouds beginning to rise in the horizon. Drachenfalls was the city that stood in the center of the Southern Pass into the higher land center of Clairmont Island and thus would be the plug against any possible attacks from the outside. Minette city was only seventy-six kilometers south east of Drachenfalls.

"There's no time for crying or shitting your goddamn pants now, the higher-ups have reported that the first enemy transports will hit the ground in less than two minutes! We will have one landing estimated approximately twenty klicks south of us, which will be occurring in three minutes!" The sergeant yelled over the general ruckus, his command voice snapping the soldiers back into focus, and to concentrate on the coming battle.


The defense line had been built centuries before, and had been upgraded regularily. It was a kilometers long chain of ceramacrete bunkers and firing positions for Infantry squads. Dug-outs with ceramacrete lining had been made for tanks to get into hull-down positions, delivering fire at any incoming enemies, camouflaged Gatekeeper defense guns sprang up from the ground every two hundred meters. It was a defense that had been designed to hold out against divisions of tanks and troops, with minefields, artillery with conventional and tactical nuclear rounds providing support fire to the troops in the line itself. And yet, not a single trooper could feel secure after witnessing the destruction the Imperium had allready wrought. They knew that death was a likely proposition in the face of the onslaught that was coming, but terrified as they were, they faced what was due to fall on them.


Manticore's Nest

Caparelli read the message transcript from the datapad dispassionately, it was a compliation of reports from surveillance stations, fighter squadrons and forward scouts, and the message content told him what he had known would happen ever since the battle began.

"Thats it then, their first transports have hit the ground." First Space Lord Caparelli stated unnecessarily to the gathered high commanders.

The two Field Marshals nodded grimly and DeSilva spoke first.
"Our first objective is to attempt bombardment of their landing zones with SheVa nuclear rounds, however at this point it appears that a lot of the landing zones have been calculated so that they are out of reach of our SheVa guns in their current positions."

It didnt take a military genius to understand what that meant. The SheVa guns themselves were little more than giant self-propelled artillery pieces. They had no dedicated anti-infantry, anti-tank or anti-aircraft weaponry. Behind the defense lines they were relatively safe, protected by the multi-layered defenses, but if they were brought out into the open in order to engage the landing zones, they would be exposed to aerial assaults and ambushes by forward enemy ground troops. As the SheVa guns represented a critical part of the defense plan, they could not be afforded to be lost.

"There is another alternative however. A large-scale air raid on those zones. As it is, the enemy wont have the time to emplace their anti-air defenses before we strike. Their transports however are heavully armored and armed. They will be affected by our jammers on the ground however." Field Marshal Broderick said as the high commanders contemplated the options.

Patricia Givens gave the plan a quick thought, her analytical mind going thru the suggestion, and she did not like the odds.
"The casualties will be enormous however...but I agree with Field Marshal Broderick, a large scale air assault would give us better results."

DeSilva broke into the conversation with his own thoughts.
"We carpet nuke the zones with heavy loads of smaller tac nukes in the five to ten kiloton range. It will give us a better footprint on the ground and larger area of effect."

"Delivery?" Caparelli asked simply, as the First Space Lord, he was not as thoroughly versed in the minute status of the Air Forces of Clairmont than the Field Marshals were.

"We'll use Hammerfall ground-attack jets and our remaining squadrons of Vector bombers." DeSilva stated analytically. Broderick nodded in agreement.

Caparelli also nodded in agreement, but he could not help but fear what was about to come, while the extensive inclusion of tactical nuclear weapons to the ground combat doctrine of Clairmont Armed Forces increased their combat effectiveness significantly, what would be the outcome when the nukes would be used everywhere by both sides. Would there be a Clairmont left to be saved after the first week? Allready the enemy had wiped out several smaller cities with strikes from orbit, the vidcap that a forward recon force had fed to Manticore's Nest had shown the annihilation of Minette city in gruesome detail.

But it had to be done, and it would be done.

"Do what you have to do gentlemen." The First Space Lord said simply to the two supreme commanders of the Clairmontian Ground Forces.

As the Field Marshals began delivering the orders down the chain of command, Caparelli returned to his thoughts. Only the third day into the war, and allready tens of millions of Clairmontians had perished in the face of the Imperial Warmachine. He had no doubts that millions more would die, and the situation in orbit did not grant him much hope of light in the end of the tunnel.

High Orbit above Clairmont Island

Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe, Commanding Officer of Clairmont Home Fleet, watched the tactical holotank in the middle of the bridge detailing the inevitable defeat that would end his life in less than an hour if he was mildly optimistic about it.

The remnants of the Home Fleet were a battered and beaten force of less than twenty Ships of the Wall, about a dozen battlecruisers, sixteen heavy cruisers and the savagely mauled Supermonitors Eternal Vigilance and Macharius. Beams and projectiles still smashed into ships of both sides, neither willing to give the other a single inch of ground, the difference was that the Protectorate Forces would lose that gauntlet.

Rowe's face was the dispassionate mask it allways was, betraying no emotion whatsoever to his underlings. It gave him a certain aura of calm and certainty that had helped his career as a commander tremendously as his subordinates allways knew they could trust their Commander, this time though, Rowe doubted he could bring the men and women under his command through this fight alive.

"Order the Irbanis and Benjamin Alexander to concentrate their fire on those two Supermonitors at the edge of their formation, co-ordinate our fire with them." He instructed his flag captain who obeyed without hesitation.

Less than a minute after he had given the order, the Superdreadnaughts Irbanis and Benjamin Alexander began a furious energy battery bombardment of the two Imperial Supermonitors, Rowe's flagship, the HMS Eternal Vigilance opened fire with them, its massive main guns and energy weapons spitting fire at the two ships. The fire concentration was too much for the two Imperials, their defense fields failing and hulls being torn apart under the fury of GRASERs and nuclear projectiles.

It was a minor consolation, Rowe thought, the enemy had plenty of Supermonitors left.

"Captain, I have a whisker-laser communication incoming from a stealthed recon drone, its carrying the crypter of the 7th fleet." The communications officer reported to the captain of the Eternal Vigilance.

Rowe overheard the announcement, and allowed himself a slight glimmer of hope. If the 7th fleet was here, then the 8th was as well, if they could take the enemy from behind and by supprise, then maybe...

"What does the message say Lieutenant?" He addresed the comms officer directly.

If the young man was by the least stymied by being addressed by a Fleet Admiral, he hid it extremely well.

"Admiral, I'm relaying the message to your screen." The lieutenant said, and in a few seconds the message transcript appeared on the screen protruding from the armrest of Rowe's chair.

======================================================
To: Fleet Admiral Rowe
From: Fleet Admiral Bartholomew

~Message Begins~

The cavalry has arrived Alex, Im not sure if we can actually save you from this mess though. I intend to strike the enemy from their rear, cutting off their escape route and pitting them between Earth and us. We are currently coming in ballistic, our wedges at the lowest possible power, and so far the enemy hasnt shown any sign that they would have detected us. We will be coming in directly to energy range, and our current e.t.a to effective firing range is twenty-nine minutes. Hold on there Alex.

~Message Ends~
=====================================================

Rowe smiled very slightly as he read the message from his old friend, atleast he would soon be fighting alongside a man he had known for three decades, one who could trust, no matter what.

What good it would do, remained to be seen.


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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

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Second Space Lord Patricia Givens
Leader of Bureau of Planning

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Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe
Commanding Officer, CSN Home Fleet

General Riouk calmly sipped his third whiskey as the invaders near. While the other FKC forces gave defacto overall command to him, he left their respective generals in charge of their own forces. In truth, he didn’t have much to do except to follow the plans laid down by the Clairmontians.

Engage the enemy by playing to your strengths. Simple really. But yet, the enemy had proven themselves to throw surprises that they didn’t even fathom and, therefore, didn’t account for. It was troubling and costly to say the least.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard of the arrival of Tappee and Sketch. He even allowed himself a grin when the bloodthirsty North Germanians and the honourable New Shironians lent their strength of arm to a nation they didn’t even know. Even the Dyellians supported the war effort in logistical matters. Still…

The loss of Planentary Defense station #5 was disheartening. His forces had not been assigned to that particular station but it could happen elsewhere. He told his troops to stand firm. Meanwhile, the two projection fleets could not do anything yet. Their guns could not shoot up and their AA systems were held in reserve once their became a target. Still, they could do something once the invaders landed. The aircraft, pitfully outclassed according to the latest intel reports, nevertheless fired up and one by one, cleared the flight deck from the two aircraft carriers. The nearest estimated position of the enemy landing ships were fed to Riouk and he passed it along to the other FKC forces. The nearest Vrakians would engage the enemy with merely modern tanks and infantry, but hopefully lead them into the several ambush points were concentrated firepower could be brought to bear. After all, didn’t the English army managed to successfully engage the aliens in War of the Worlds? Here, one would see if fiction could play out in real life.

The SOAT-bots, 1500 in all, crouched low. While small in numbers, it was hoped that they could make a dent in the juggernaut that was faced. After all, it was too late now for any reinforcements to arrive.

OOC: Go here to find a map of my island which will help you in orientating where stuff is happening etc. http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Info.htm

IC:

Location: 100,000ft above Clairmont Island,
200km North of Ft. Neal AFB
Time: Day 1 of Ground War , 03.23 PM

"Coming up on waypoint marker zero-three, adjust course to three-three-six."
The navigator exclaimed from his station behind the seats of the pilot and the co-pilot.

Captain Vincent Frakes acknowledged the course correction information, and banked the B-8 bomber to point on the proper bearing. He stole a quick glance at the airspeed indicator projected to the HUD of the bomber. At their leisurable pace of Mach 2, they would be reaching their target area in another twenty minutes or so.

"Weaps, confirm payload release status please." He stated calmly to the intercom.

The weapons officer, the fourth person in the cockpit went over his screens once more, checking methodically that the payload of fifty-two bombs would be ready for deployment once the bomber reached its target area. After a few short moments he gave the all green judgement over the intercom.

"All fifty-two bombs are a go Captain."

Frakes only nodded, concentrating on the flying. The B-8 was the stealthiest atmospheric craft that Clairmontians had produced. Its shape had been designed to represent an absolutely minimal radar cross-surface, its airframe was made out of plastics, composites and stealth materials that could absorb radar rays like there was no tomorrow. It left very little atmospheric disturbance in its wake, and the heat signature would be difficult to find for anyone. And yet, Frakes held no doubts that to the Imperials the bomber would be like a christmas tree on their sensor screens.

He glanced to his left and out of the window, two more B-8's were flying in formation with his lead bomber, and he was aware that about twenty thousand feet below him, there were two squadrons of Hammerfall ground-attack jets heading for the same target as they were.

As his flight approached the estimated aerial surveillance perimeter of the landed Imperial transport vessel that they were about to bomb, the sensor screens on the B-8 began lighting up with new signals. Frakes took only a few seconds to recognize them, fighters and ground-launched missiles were headed to intercept them.

He held his nerve, and his bomber on course while the weapons officer engaged in his task, activating the electronic warfare systems of the bomber in attempt to confuse the missiles. But Imperial seekers were far beyond their Clairmontian counterparts, and only a very few of the missiles veered away, over a dozen still heading for the three bombers. As the missiles approached more, decoys detached from the bombers and the last line of jammers was engaged. Ten more of the missiles lost their target and either headed towards decoys or the ground, three held their lock on Bomber #3 of Frakes' flight.

The three missiles reduced the B-8 bomber to a massive fireball, shrapnel and debris escaping the fireball at massive velocities. But the bombers had held a loose formation, and the shrapnel and flying debris failed to damage the other two bombers in the flight.

Frakes did not allow himself to grieve, not yet, there would be time for that. Behind the missiles came the Imperial fighters, rising from below the clouds like bird predators. As the escort fighters for the bomber flight aquired the approaching agressors, they dove steeply to engage them from above.

The escort fighters quickly went past visual range, and soon Frakes could only see fireballs beginning to blossom thirty-thousand feet below him as the escort fighters began buying the bomber flight the time they needed.

Five minutes passed as the bomber made its way closer to the target area. As they ever came closer, the weapons officer began his preparations for the release of the ordnance carried by the bomber. His screen displayed the target area in brilliant red, with the bomber being on a straight line course towards and over it.

"Commencing weapon release" The man stated calmly as he switched off the safeties, and armed the bomb-load. The bay-doors for the bomber opened at the last moment, and the payload of death began raining down to the necks of the Imperials.

Fifty-two freefall satellite guided bombs dropped towards the ground in a pre-programmed carpet pattern. Joined by the payload of the second surviving bomber in the flight, the bomb load continued towards the ground at its speed determined by the laws of physics.

As they dropped more altitude, the Imperials began their attempts of firing the munitions down. Point-defense lasers stabbed the sky, trying to hit the inert bombs. Despite its capabilities in space, the point-defense of the Imperials had never been designed to shoot down freefall bombs that wouldnt be coming in under power. Only a pitiful dozen of the bombs disappeared, the remaining ninety-two hit exactly the points assigned to them.

Each of the bombs was a Mk. 71 Tactical Nuclear Device, with a yield of 3 kilotons each. Nuclear fireballs engulfed the ground, their primary blast zones overlapping each other for maximum effectiveness over the target area. Imperial vechiles and troops that had had time to disembark from the grounded landing ship were vaporized as the hearts of suns consumed them. The transport ship itself disintegrated under the repeated hammering of dozens of shockwaves and the intense heat of the nuclear weapons.

Frakes glanced at the video feed from one of the under-fuselage mounted cameras. Zooming in on the target area, he could see that dozens of mushroom clouds now hovered over what had been the Imperial Landing Zone.

He brought the plane to a new bearing, back towards the base where the mission profile called for the flight of bombers to land. Frankly, he had had his doubts whether he would live to see that part of the profile unfold, he had been listening when they briefed him on Imperial capabilities in the air.

Perhaps he would live to fly another bombing mission afterall.

As the screens in the cockpit of the bomber began to scream in warning, he had a split instant to realize that he would not have that chance. The flight of five missiles struck his bomber from above, burning the large plane from the sky in a few short seconds.

The two bomber crews had never had the time to see the Imperial transport ship and its escorts coming in on a landing vector from above them.


Location: 113km North of the City of Charon
Time: Day 1 of Ground War , 03.41 PM

The Imperial Transport had landed smack middle of the thick growing forest that dominated the higher lands north of the city of Charon. Why on earth had the Imperials landed within an area where from it would be immensely difficult to move armor and vechiles to strike at the nearby cities and bases.

Sergeant Thomas Halloway didnt think of himself as a brilliant strategist, but he was no idiot and he knew for sure as hell that the Imperials werent either, so what was the point in their selected landing spot.

He glanced over the area where the 5th company of the 635th Ranger Battalion had dug in. He could only approve of the selected points for the fire support teams and the company's support weapons. He had first had his doubts about the capability of his new Company CO when he had replaced the old Captain Sears as the man went to retirement. But it was all well and good if one knew the theory, and knew how to set up defenses, how the man would hold up under fire was another question altogether.

He hefted his M18 pulse rifle a bit, the aiming reticle that the HUD of his helmet displayed shifting as the small camera in the weapon told the HUD where the gun was pointing now.

He opened up his visor, and grabbed for a smoke from one of the pockets attached to his armored BDU. Altough the dangers of smoking were practically eliminated entirely by Clairmontian medicine, smaller percentage of people smoked these days than it did hundreds of years ago when the threat of lung cancer was still very real with cigarettes, maybe it had something to do with the danger of smoking that made it interesting, Halloway didnt think it was but he was no philosophist and rather wouldnt start guessing.

He drew deep lungfulls of the smoke from the cigarette, savoring its taste. As he smoked the cigarette, his eyes went over the dug-in Tactical Armor only thirty meters behind his forward position.

He had allways questioned the feasibility of bipedal combat machines as their inventors and the higher ups wanted to call them, to him they were mechs and nothing else. They presented a damn tall target afterall, and recoil limited the size of weapons they could carry. Regardless, he had to admit that the six Havoc Tactical Armor suits that were accompanying the company had moved thru the thick forest with impunity, and their operators had handled the things very well. It remained to be seen how much good they would do in combat.

Right now the things were dug in at their own foxholes with only their upper torso's above the ground, weapons pointing to the direction where the Imperials would be coming from.

The helmet speakers came to life as the company CO decided to announce something he felt important, Halloway thought.

"Confirmed enemy movement, 2 klicks north of our positions. "

Halloway didnt need to be told what that meant, he sealed up his visor and got down to his foxhole, aiming the weapon over the edge of the hole. To anybody who didnt know what was coming, the forest seemed as serene as ever, it was the calm before the storm and as the sounds of animals ended, Halloway recognized the absolute silence before the battle.

The silence was broken as explosions began to blossom in the general area where the company had set up their defensive perimeter. Mortars Halloway guessed, and remembering the briefing on Imperial optical camouflage, turned on his infra-red detection. The HUD began methodically drawing up the shapes of enemy soldiers in among the trees, bare hundreds of meters away from the defensive positions. The company support weapons opened fire, Grenade Machine Guns spewing grenades at rapid pace at the general direction of the attackers while platform set-up tri-barrels began chewing the forest ahead of them apart. Soon the tactical armor units joined them, their hand carried 120mm autocannons began to spill high-explosive death while their torso mounted CIWS weapons joined the fray.

Anyone who wouldnt have the amount of visual enhancers a Clairmontian ground trooper carried, wouldnt have been able to see anything else than dirt flying, explosions and dust as the combined firepower of the company chewed up the general direction of the attackers. But Halloway had his enhancers, and he could see that the Imperials were still progressing, changing positions in rapid sprints faster than any marathon runner could hope to match and returning fire.

Grenades and anti-armor rockets flew thru the air as the Imperials returned fire. A foxhole with two men disappeared as a trio of grenades landed squarely in the middle of it. A Tactical Armor took three direct hits from Imperial AT weapons, deep craters in its thick armor smoking as it absorbed them but continued firing. But its continued existence was a short one as a salvo of large tracer rounds tore thru the forest, and struck the upper torso of the TA. Ceramic plating and battlesteel shards flew away from the impact points as the rounds tore gaping holes to the armor of the unit. As the short salvo ended, the tactical armor slumped down, smoking thick black smoke.

Halloway increased the magnification in his HUD, attempting to see what had shot that burst that had torn apart the most heavully armored Tactical Armor that the Protectorate had like a tin can. His eyes caught the shape of a bipedal machine, 8.3 meters tall according to his HUD, with two massive eight-barreled guns attached to both of its arms. Behind it came hovering vechiles, that by their design looked like a cross of IFV and APC. He caught screamed reports over the company com as other positions began reporting the appereance of enemy armored units.

Another long burst of tracer rounds cut thru the air as the enemy mech he had detected began throwing up high-explosive shells to the positions of the company's 1st platoon. Lines of explosions cut thru the ground as the guns on the enemy mech sought the foxholes where the Clairmontian Rangers were holding up their resistance.

The rampage of the enemy mech ended up short however as one of the Clairmontian TA's blew it apart with a well placed ATGM. Behind the ruined enemy machine, the vechiles began a gradual approach towards the Clairmontian positions, holding up a steady amount of supressive fire from their hull mounted weapons.

Halloway emptied his clip, the armor-piercing SABOT rounds cutting down a single Imperial trooper who had gotten up from his cover to fire.

The sergeant hunkered down and ejected the spent clip from the weapon, and rapidly reloaded his weapon. He didnt want to think how many times he could reload anymore, with the Imperials closing at the pace they did.

Location: Manticore's Nest
Time: Day 1 of Ground War , 03.50 PM

"We may have a chance afterall then..." Caparelli whispered to himself as he read the message transcript that Fleet Admiral Rowe had relayed to the Central Command Center.

If the massed ranks of the 7th and 8th fleets could take the Imperial fleet with complete supprise from the rear, straight from point-blank range, they could cause massive casualties before the Imperials could answer the challenge. And yet, Caparelli could not help but think if it would be enough. If the enemy on the ground would have time to seize one of the PDC's, as well as set up his own anti-orbital defenses, then even if Clairmont won in space, the ground war would go on without orbital support for either side. And the prospects of that war did not look too encouraging.

His gaze strolled to the situation screen placed in the conference table. Yet the enemy held territories were quite tiny, the blood red that represented those areas being tiny specks in the sea of Clairmont Blue that held the rest of the Island. But the red areas were growing, as the enemy troops disembarked from their landing ships and began to head towards nearby strategic locations. A few of the initial landing sites had been wiped out by carpet bombing them with tactical nuclear warheads, and others had been destroyed by SheVa artillery rounds. But the majority of the enemy landing sites were intact, with troops constantly spilling out from the massive landing barges.

All of the landing sites were in the coastal plains, none of the still coming barges or those that had already landed had attempted to breach the inner sanctum of the Protectorate, not that it would matter in the end game. It would make the defense easier but the outcome would still be mostly the same.

Caparelli's eyes went over the situation map several times, sometimes hanging over in the names and icons of units that were marked to be in contact with the enemy. Hundreds of icons littered the map all over the island nation, signifying cities, bases, troops, bridges and strategic locations. And soon, many of those icons would either be dead or captured by the enemy.

But it would not happen without a fight, Caparelli thought.

"The enemy forces from landing zone twelve are heading south, it looks like our Vrakian comrades will be seeing battle very soon, along with those Sketchian Special Forces." Field Marshal Broderick thought out loud.

Caparelli glanced at the landing zone the Field Marshal had mentioned, quite true, a significant contignent of the enemy troops from that transport was heading straight towards Medusa city, east of which was located the assembly area where the majority of the Vrakian forces had been instructed to assemble, and further south from the city was the field base for one of those Sketchian contignents. The Vrakian and Sketchian commanders would recieve word of the new development in a few minutes.


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First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

-Here, and here. Then…
-General! Dispatch from Clairmont Command!
-Well? Out with it!
-General! The enemy is moving towards Medusa city. We have been instructed to shore up the city’s defenses.
-Very well. Carry on.

The aide disappeared. After receiving confirmation, that is, they didn’t want the enemy to be laying them false messages, the walrus shook his head gravely.

Medusa…100 km away. Ah….

He turned to his colonels and then began speaking quickly in Vrakian.

-Have the SOATs move out and perform recon. As well, set up ambush points along the main corridors, since the enemy will most likely try to push to Fort Jansei if Medusa is taken. 2/3 of our entire forces will aid Medusa while some will be in a fall back/ambush position. Set up some artillery on the nearby hills here and here. We won’t be able to counteract any orbital strikes, save for keeping our heads down. As of now, keep chatter to a minimum and use mil level one Vrakian. I doubt the enemy can understand us, even if they can hear us. Contact the projection fleets. Have them engage any and all enemy forces along the shoreline. We may be technologically outgunned, but I still think a Soyuz III main gun…what are they…17 inch…can hurt someone. You have your orders. Move out.

====

The two projection fleets, having been anchored at Harrington Naval Base, pulled anchor and began steaming towards the coastline outlying from Medusa. Fighter craft were primed, missiles and shells were loaded, and some of the men sang the death chants of Bok.

Location: 18 Km north of Medusa City, Able Defense Line
Time: Day 1 of Ground War , 05.30 PM

The main approaches to Medusa city from the north were largely level coastal plains with little elevation changes along the way. There was a good amount of hills, which however due to their low height provided little help for the defenders of Medusa city.

All in all, the City was difficult to defend from an invasion coming from the coast, and the Imperials seemed to know that very well.

The hastily constructed first defense line consisted of a minefield, foxholes for fire-support teams and infantry with overlapping fields of fire. Main Battle Tanks and IFV's positioned hull down in their own dug ins. Artillery would be providing support fire from Medusa city.

It was mainly meant as the kind of defense that would probe the enemy's strength and capabilities and slow them down a bit rather than something that could realistically stop them.

Colonel Graham Burton laid down the electro-binoculars from his eyes as he finished checking the positions where he had setup the 34th Rapid Reaction Brigade. To his left and right were the 55th Ranger Brigade and the 12th Mobile Infantry Brigade, a total of seven thousand, six hundred and fifty men and women with one hundred and fifteen vechiles.

Burton wondered how many of them would live long enough to retreat back to the 2nd defense line, he didnt want to think about it that much.

As the earpiece of his communicator came to life, he listened to the quickly delivered report from the troops that held the rear of the defense position. He raised the binoculars back to his eyes and turned around to see the newcomers on the road approaching the defense line. The binoculars zoomed in enough for Burton to recognize the markings and equipment of the coming re-enforcements.

"Captain Anders" He called over his comm.
"Yes sir?" Came a quick reply from a young sounding voice.
"We have some Vrakian help coming in, I want you to instruct them to set up a command post here, one they can move quickly."
"Yes sir!"

Burton closed the comm with a click, and took another look at the approaching Vrakian column. It was approximately two brigades worth of armor and infantry, with those SOAT Combat Bots with them. The main body of the Vrakian troops was most likely at the 2nd, and main defense line, they being aware of the defense plan and knowing that bringing all the troops to the first line would be a largely futile effort.

Burton had his doubts, severe ones in fact about what kind of help could the Vrakians truly offer in the battle that would be beginning in another thirty minutes, but he also knew that they were trying, and that was all he really knew. The Vrakians would get to prove themselves very soon.

As if speaking of the devil always called him to appear, Burtons comm came to life again.

"Colonel, Recon three-one-one just reported that they had detected an enemy column moving directly at the defense line here. Sergeant Chan in command of the squad estimated that the enemy would reach our positions in twenty-seven minutes."

Burton thanked the Lieutenant who had delivered him the news and brought up a map of the area to a large datascreen on the large table that dominated the hastily constructed command post. He had done his best in positioning the troops, now it remained to be seen if his best was enough.


Location: 322,476 km away from Earth
Time: 05.30 PM

"Admiral, we estimated that we will be able to approach within one hundred thousand klicks before they detect us, at our current base velocity that is about four minutes." Captain Lauren Preston reported to her CO.

Admiral James Bartholomew, commanding officer of the CSN 7th Fleet simply nodded in understanding, wondering whether he would be too late to save his friend from going down with his ship.

The massed strength of the 7th and 8th fleets had been approaching the Imperial attackers currently duking it out with the Tappee and CSN Home Fleets for a good while. With their Impellers down, all active sensors down and full stealth mode engaged, they had been able to approach the Imperials as they concentrated on hammering the remaining Clairmontians and their Tappee allies to bits. Soon they would be paying for their overconfidence.

The Order of Battle of the 7th and 8th fleet totaled one hundred and twenty-five ships of the wall with adjoined three-hundred and ten lighter vessels all the way down from Battlecruisers to Light Cruisers and destroyers. Within the bellies of the carriers of the two fleets laid five-hundred LAC's and over two thousand fighters.

The two fleets constituted three quarters of the total number of hyper capable combat vessels of the Clairmont Space Navy, and it would be hitting the Imperials from the rear, with complete suprise on with the Clairmontian side.

Bartholomew glanced at the large tactical holo that hovered above the deck of the command bridge. Ahead of the hyper capable ships of the icons representing the gathered mights of the 7th and 8th fleets was a massive wave of smaller icons, each of them representing a fighter or an LAC squadron. Launched half an hour ago, their task would be to deliver the first punch and disorient the enemy before the gathered four hundred and thirty five ships of the two fleets would strike at the Imperials with all their energy batteries combined at point blank range.

The fighters and LAC's were heading towards the Imperials with their drives and all active sensors down, with only their passive systems running and maintaining the target locks on the enemy ships.

"The commander of the air group of the HMS Julian reports that they will be commencing strike in sixty seconds." Captain Preston told the Admiral as she recieved the report from her comms officer.

Silence hovered for a moment on the bridge before the Admiral spoke.
"Our strike will commence exactly thirty seconds after they have delivered their ordnance. You all know what to do, and you know the stakes in this battle. Our victory or defeat will mean the survival or downfall of our home, and if we lose, there will be no one to pick up the torch for us. We constitute three quarters of our navy's total combat strength if we cannot bring victory, then Clairmont is lost."

He was a poor man for doing speeches and he knew it himself, but all he needed to know was that he got the point across. And judging by the looks on the faces of the men and women on the bridge of the Supermonitor HMS Illustrious, they understood the point.


The last seconds felt like an eternity, as the gathered icons of the fighter squadrons and LAC's approached the enemy icons on the holotank. As the counter came down to zero, the hammer of god descended upon the Imperial armada.

Twelve hundred Liberator Strike Fighters that were part of the attack carried under their wings FRAM's. As they released their ordnance, a total of thirty eight hundred insanely fast, dedicated anti-ship missiles lashed away from the fighters. The range to the rearmost elements of the Imperial force was only one hundred thousand klicks, the FRAM's covered the distance in seconds.

Behind the FRAM's the LAC's began their attack runs. Their massive GRASER's tearing at the Imperials, missiles emptying from their magazines.

The rear of the Imperial formation simply disappeared as thousands upon thousands of nuclear torches came out of nowhere. Low yield as the FRAM's were, and as such incapable of destroying any of the Imperial ships with a single hit, there were enough of them to cut thru the Imperial rear like a scythe.

Light Cruisers, Destroyers and Battlecruisers of the Imperial Battlefleet were turned into little more than clouds of gas as in some instances as many as a dozen FRAM's struck them simultaneously. Monitors and Dreadnaughts were became torn-apart, lifeless hulks as the FRAM missiles battered down their defense fields and their following brethren struck the bare hulls of the great ships.

The LAC's dealt no less grievous damage. Each of them carried a single Battlecruiser scale GRASER. Alone they were incapable of dealing much damage against the Imperial defense screens, but as a dozen of the small ships concentrated on the same vessel, the results were.....notable. The energy beams tore thru the hulls of the lighter Imperial vessels as if they had been tissue paper. Blowing apart weapons, drives and armor with contemptuous ease once they had gotten thru the defense fields, the LAC's yet further hammered the already savagely mauled Imperial rear screen with their missiles and energy armaments.

In less than fifteen seconds, the entire light Imperial rear element had been battered to pieces. As futher seconds passed by, the Imperials began re-orienting, weapons coming to bear on the new attackers, point-defense firing at the fighters, as they turned their attention to the first punch, the hammer blow descended upon them as the combined might of the 7th and 8th fleets reached their pre-set engagement limit.

As the broadside energy batteries of over four hundred ships spat fire, the destruction wrought by the initial strike became insignificant in comparison.

Star Admiral Vanadis' head whipped around in barely controlled horror as sudden shouted and screamed reports told him of the attack coming from the rear. Out of nowhere, massive numbers of contact icons displaying the colours of the Clairmontians had appeared on the tactical Holo, and they were plowing thru the rear of his fleet to its heart while laying down devastating amounts of fire from their broadside batteries.

Casualty numbers began streaming in as the computers and analysts in the Battle Data Center of Vanadis' flagship made their estimates.

Two hundred and five ships lost in their first strike, and many more were being ripped apart every second. In a single stroke, the Clairmontian re-enforcements had reduced Vanadis' force to six hundred and fifteen ships, with the numbers going down every second.

Vanadis quickly made the connection of the origin of the new Clairmontian vessels. Intel had confirmed that the 7th and 8th fleets of the Clairmontian Space Navy would be conducting excersises when the Imperials would strike, but apparently either Intel had made a mistake when they confirmed the location of those excersises, or they had made a mistake in regards to when the two fleets were bound to return back home. It didnt matter much now, all that matter was that those two fleets were here now, and they had the potential to change the outcome of the battle, as they had already tipped the scales significantly.

With the new arrivals, the planetary defenses and the remains of the Clairmontian Home Fleet combined, their chances of repelling Vanadis had increased exponentially. But there was still a chance that this conquest would be carried out, and all of Vanadis' training as an Admiral of the Imperial Battlefleet rebelled against simply retreating.

"Order Admiral Fastus and Admiral Nuvien to engage the flanks of the Clairmontians attacking our rear, once they enter deeper into our formation. Have the third Carrier Group re-task its fighter complement to engage the Clairmontian seventh and eighth fleets."

As the initial shock caused by the Clairmontian surprise attack faded, the Imperials began to re-orient to counter the new threat. Fighter wings began to clash with the Clairmontian strike craft and LAC's while the heavier elements of the Imperial fleet began to concentrate their fire on the main formation that was plunging to the heart of the Imperial force. Casualties began to mount within the collected ranks of the 7th and 8th Fleets of the CSN as volleys of Imperial energy fire and missiles battered their ships.

The battle was far from decided.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Vanadis.jpg
Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

“Admiral, We’ve got multiple contacts inbound!” yelled one of the many TAC officer aboard the bridge. “Missiles coming in at the enemies rear.”

Martac spun around in his chair in the general direction to which the voice had come. “What?” he glanced over at the HOLO display, which had lit up the incoming missile. Almost the entire enemies rear flank flashed as the incoming missile tracked in on their perspective targets. In the blink of an eye a number of the red icons in the HOLO displayed disappeared, mean that an enemy ship was destroyed.

There was brief cheer on the bridge, at the sudden turn of events. Martac however, could ill afford to give himself such a luxury, the battle was still far from over. “Have we identified the source of the attack?” he suddenly inquired.

“Senor tag identify then as the CSN 7th and 8th fleet sir” was the answer that quickly came.

In truth Mnartac welcomed the help, but it was a dual edged sword, it meant that reinforcements were no longer coming, it would still be at least six days before the Incol fleet would arrive and the battle would long be decided before then. Via the HOLO he could see that the enemy fleet was quickly repositioning it self to counter this new immerging threat. They now had them got between two force, and hopefully they could now deal some real damage.

“Have the fleet concentrate its fire on the two closest enemy ship, let them know that they haven’t finished with us yet.” Barked Martac. “After the move the fleet within point blank range, let give the new CSN force some time.”

Location: Geo-synchronous orbit above Clairmont Island
Time: 05.37 PM

"The Hierophant and Daedalus report Code Omega! Lexington and Michael Alexander report heavy damage!" Yelled the Comms officer from her station as the reports from the casualties the Imperial Fleet had begun inflicting started coming in.

Destroyers and Light Cruisers went down at an atrocious rate, so there was simply no time to report each of them that was lost or grievously damaged. As such, the Comms officer was passing on only the reports that told the Flagship of another Ship of the Wall going down.

"Order the 47th and 62nd Superdreadnought Division's to tighten up on our flanks!" Admiral Bartholomew yelled over the general ruckus of the command bridge.

On que, the four Superdreadnaughts immidiately formed up on the flanks of the flagships of the 7th and 8th fleets, their energy batteries firing port and starboard at the closest Imperial ships worth of their massive firepower. The two Supermonitors that carried the CO's of both of the fleets spat fire with their enormous armaments. Energy batteries belched gamma-ray lasers, main projectile batteries fired nuclear shells at relativistic velocities all the while point-defense guns sent hundreds of miniature nuclear munitions to space.

It was the brutal butcher of point-blank range combat between two massive fleets, the tactics stepped aside in the face of a slugging match and slowly and first uncertainly, the balance began to tip.

The Imperial Fleet was under fire from three sides, the 7th and 8th fleets had penetrated to its core while the remaining ships of the CSN Home Fleet and the planetary defenses hammered at them from the front and the Tappee fleet from their flank. Ships became torches of nuclear fire as warheads struck them or beams rended their powerplants apart.

It was complete chaos. Fighters and LAC's zipped amongst the hurricanes of death that the fleets threw at each other, firing at every target that represented itself.

Admiral Bartholomew grinned wiciously as a pair of massive Imperial Monitors blew apart under concentrated fire from one of the Superdreadnought squadrons attached to 7th Fleet while only thousand kilometers to port from his flagship, two Imperial Battleships were torn apart under a fusillade of fire from the Tappee Fleet.

The tactical holo tank was a confusing soup of icons, and every few seconds some of them vanished as the CIC aboard the Illustrious determined which ships and squadrons had been destroyed or neutralized. At the moment, it was a balanced rate of attrition between the Allied forces and the Imperials, but slowly, the loss rate began to turn into the CSN's and Tappee Forces' favor as the assault from three different directions began to seriously hammer the response capability of the Imperial Fleet.

Bartholomew did not want to get optimistic, but it was very slowly starting to seem as if they could push the Imperials back, and win this fight.


Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe, Commanding Officer of the CSN Home Fleet, or what was left of it, allowed himself a slight and subtle smile as his friend began to show the difference his appereance made to this fight. The Imperial Fleet was now turning its attention towards the greatest threat, the CSN 7th and 8th Fleets that hade made their entrance to the battlefield such a devastating blow for the Imperials.

But the outcome of the battle was starting to become clearer as Imperial ships died in droves under the three-pronged fire. CSN and Tappee ships went with them, but the loss rates were starting to look better.

The air scrubbers were working hard to clear the bridge of Rowe's command ship from the smoke and stench of death. At one moment, he had already expected to die as a single pinprick thick beam from an Imperial energy gun had punched thru to the bridge, exposing it to vacuum. Splinters had flown thru the bridge like razors, and cut two men in half and ripped apart three more. Luckily, it had been basic naval policy from the get-go that Fleet Personnel wear air-tight skinsuits during combat, so that in the event of depressurization due to battle damage, the entire crew wouldnt die of asphyxiation. Some navies in space might see that as an archaic habit, Rowe viewed it as basic common sense.

"Admiral! Look!" Rowe's Flag Captain yelled, bringing back the Admiral from his thoughts. Rowe turned his attention to the holo tank, and his gaze widened. Impossible....

The front Imperial rank was pulling back to the formation, and the entire Imperial Fleet began to shift into a different formation, this one's purpose to give a fleet the best chance for a fast and secured retreat.


Captain Eric McKeen, Squadron Leader of the 32nd Jade Falcons could not believe his eyes. As he had launched to fight off the invaders, he had lost most of his hope that he would live to see another day, much less to see the CSN and its Tappee Allies winning this fight. But it was happening, the Imperial Fleet was preparing for a retreat. Already its forward elements had withdrawn back to the main formation, and the heavy ships of their Fleet were throwing all the fire they could muster at the CSN 7th and 8th fleets in order to secure their retreat.

He checked his HUD. Only three of the fourteen pilots he had had in his squadron were left now, and his own fighter was a barely flying piece of wreck after the close misses by Imperial Fighter Nukes and the energy beams that had achieved glancing hits at his fighter. He wanted to go after the Imperial fighter squadrons now pulling back to join their fleet, or returning down to Clairmont Island to the landed transports and under the protective guises of the shields projected by those transports.

But altough many of McKeen's friends had a habit of calling him a little bit insane, no-one could claim that he was an idiot. He was running low on munitions with no missiles left and his powerpacks nearly depleted. Reluctantly, he prepared his fighter for an athmospheric re-entry, as the Fleet Carrier that had served him as his home for so long was space dust, thanks to an Imperial Capital Missile that had struck it squarely in the middle.


The massive underground cavern that was the Central Command Center buried deep inside Manticore's Nest erupted in cheers as the beginning retreat of the Imperial Fleet became a more and more obvious fact. First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations of the Clairmont Space Navy wished he could share much of his subordinates exhalation. Yes, it was an amazing event. The 7th and 8th fleets had made all the difference, their first blow making their presence in the battlefield known in a terrible way.

And yet, the war was far from over. 89% of the Imperial Troop Barges had made succesfull planetfall, 7% of them had been destroyed by quickly deployed air-strikes and SheVa artillery. Which left 82%, or in other words four fifths of the total ground combat capacity that the Imperials had sent. And so far the progress the Imperial troops were making was far too good for Caparelli's taste.

The problem was that he could not simply order his ships in orbit to nuke the Imperials to oblivion. The transport barges had erected shield umbrellas that would withstand anything short of a full strike with heavy kinetics or nuclear weapons. When accounting for the fact that the transports were spread out, wiping them all out would constitute a nuclear holocaust for Clairmont Island. On top of which, the transports had apparently been designed to act as planetary defenses as well. The 71st Battlecruiser Squadron had found that out the hard way when the heavy dorsal batteries of three transports had annihilated them.

So, it still boiled down to ground troops, and before every last Imperial on Clairmont Island was a corpse, there would be no true victory. Clairmont had bought time with the victory in space, nothing more.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Bartholomew.jpg
Fleet Admiral Bartholomew
Commanding Officer CSN 7th Space Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/alex.jpg
Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe
Commanding Officer, CSN Home Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/McKeen.jpg
Captain Eric McKeen
Squadron Commander, 32nd Jade Falcons

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Caparelli.jpg
First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

As an Imperial Officer, Star Admiral Vanadis could only detest the fact that changed tactical realities had forced him to give the order to commence retreat.

Battle Fleet did not train its officers to die to the last man if the battle was lost, but it did train its officers to rarely need to resort to retreat, which was considered the last option imaginable for every commander. And in this case, it was absolutely the last option.

His executive officer and the Battle Data Center agreed with Vanadis, there was no way now to win the fight. They could go down and do whatever damage they could but in the end the entrance of the Clairmontian 7th and 8th Fleets to the battlefield had turned the balance of the fight with their first blow hammering the Imperial Fleet badly.

Now all that remained was to salvage as much of the Fleet as possible, retreat beyond the hyperlimit and drop out in the nearest Fleet Base and call upon re-enforcements. Meanwhile, the ground troops that had succesfully made planetfall would make their best effort for conquering the heart of the Star Protectorate of Clairmont. And Vanadis was confident of them. With the CSN being incapable of providing orbital suppression fire due to the orbital denial weaponry in the Transport Barges and their shield umbrellas, the fight would boil down to planetary forces.

"Admiral, all Battle Squadrons report that they are ready to commence retreat." His Executive officer told him. There was no emotion in his voice that would have betrayed his thoughts, but Vanadis knew his XO well, and he knew that the man detested the Admiral's decision to retreat.

"Very well, you have my order to commence retreat. We will proceed to sector four-one-eight, and jump to hyper at the earliest convinience."

The XO acknowledged, and as he passed on the Admirals Order, the remaining three hundred and eleven ships, none of which were undamaged, began accelerating rapidly away from the third planet of the Sol system, and from the gathered strength of the Clairmontian Space Navy and its Tappee allies.

Of the original five battlesquadrons that had went to the battle, only two survived to retreat, both of which had lost over 50% of their combat strength and ships.


Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien could not believe the fate she had been gifted with in the end. Barely over two days ago she had hammered the first CSN forces that had met her into oblivion, and now her then proud Battlesquadron was nothing more than eleven butchered ships floating in space with their drives destroyed and most of their weapons gone.

She did not detest Vanadis for deciding to retreat, it was the only logical option left, neither did she detest the Star Admiral for leaving her and her battlesquadron. The Imperium had Senior Fleet Admirals to spare, and now it was more important to save what was left of the 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet rather than risk it trying to save eleven doomed ships and a single Senior Fleet Admiral.

The logic behind it all did not make her any less angry of the facts behind the situation.

"Admiral! Battleship Tethis has been destroyed, the rest of the squadron reports complete loss of combat capability!" Came the shouted report from Nuvien's Flag Captain.

What were the Clairmontians waiting for? The ten remaining ships of the 3rd Battlesquadron were dead in space, all the CSN needed was one nuke on each of them to blow them to space dust. And yet, they refrained from doing it.

Two of their Superdreadnaughts were now only five hundred kilometers away, floating silently in space their energy batteries trained on the Imperial ships and yet they did nothing.

"Admiral....I'm picking up launches from those Superdreadnaughts...Small-Craft Admiral! They are sending assault shuttles and pinnaces!"

Then, Nuvien understood. They did not want to kill the Imperials, they wanted to capture what was left of the ships and take their crews prisoner. Ofcourse, she could not allow it. She had absolute faith in all the personnel under her command, they would not utter a word at the loyalist scum. But they necessarily did not need to. There was no time to rig the powerplants to blow, nor enough time to remove the safeties on the remaining warheads and detonate them inside their magazines. All she could do now was to try and purge the computers aboard the ships of her battlesquadron. Whether that could be done or not depended on how long the remaining Marines could hold off the boarders.

"Sound alarm, prepare for incoming boarders. Commence main database purge!"


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Vanadis.jpg
Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Nuvien.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien
Commanding Officer of 3rd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

Two of the nearest enemy battle ships buckled as the combined might of the Tappee fleet hammered down upon them. However, the 4th Imperium did not let such an action go unpunished.

Admiral Martac was force to grab the arms of his chair as nearby light battleship blew apart, in the blink of an eye the energy of a small star return back to the universe that had created it.

“That was a touch to close” said Martac to no in particular. All around him alarms were sound, as more of his fleet took damage. This had degenerated into nothing more then giant slugfest, and it was taking it toll on his fleet. Despite the losses that the Tappee was taking, Martac and his force pressed onward, there was too much at shake to do anything else.

Watching the HOLO display Martac noted a change in the Imperium formation. It was a standard retreat formation.

“Sir!” called out the TAC officer “Enemy forces are beginning to retreat. What are your orders.”

A wave of relief came over Martac, he had feared that this new enemy would fight them to the last man. It was now clear that at least for the time there would be some respite for his men and him. “Do not pursue the enemy force, have the fleet regroup near the planet” Truth was he simply could not afford to waste the manpower chasing after the enemy. There was also the slim chance was that they leading him into a trap. His best coarse of action was to regroup and prepare his force in the off chance that more imperial forces were on there way.

He wanted to position his forces in such a way to help with the ground war that had now enveloped the ground, but at least for the moment space was not yet under their control.

Location: Geo-synchronous orbit above Clairmont Island
Time: 06.15 PM

The assault shuttles latched themselves on to the two largest Imperial vessels. Each of them carried two platoons of Marines in Battle Armor, and they discorged out of the small-craft in an orderly fashion, and began to board the vessel thru airlocks and maintenance hatches.

Most of the outer levels of the two ships were de-pressurized due to battle damage, but only a few bodies were seen lying around. Lieutenant Thomas Sheffield could only spare a momentary curiosity towards the low number of corpses before he returned his concentration to securing the ship.

"We have a pretty good idea where their engineering and command sections should be, Im updating those general locations to everyone's HUD maps now."

Simultaneously, the thirty members of Sheffield's platoon received the update, and they knew somewhat where they should be heading.

"Geller's team takes point, Chung takes the rear. Be on your guard people, they most certainly wont allow us a free ride to their bridge."

And the Imperials didnt, the platoon hadnt been on the move more than 3 minutes when a heavy base of fire landed upon Sergeant Geller's team from the darkness of a corridor that had lost its lighting. Grav guns snarled, energy guns sent invisible graviton beams at the Royal Clairmontian Marine Corps troopers. The point man died instantly, his body riddled with three dozen grav gun rounds while an energy gun blew his head apart.

"Fire fire fire! Get those goddamn tri-barrels up and firing!"

As commanded, Sergeant Leiry's fire support squad took up positions, and began hosing the general direction of the incoming fire with tri-barrels and grenade launchers. The three heavy tri-barrels were devastating in the tight confines of a warships interior, coupled with the grenade launchers, they finished off the enemy fire position quickly.

As the incoming fire died under the concentrated assault, two marines from the point squad crept closer to the defense position. Shortly a confirmation came thru the com that the enemy had been neutralized.

"Proceed forward." The Lieutenant ordered.

As they moved on, he could hear sounds of gunfire echoing from elsewhere as well, obviously the other assault shuttles had discorged their loads of Marines succesfully as well.


As they came closer upon the command areas, the resistance stiffened. Five more men from Sheffields platoon died in ambushes and at the hands of defenders. But on the way he had linked up with two other platoons who had been tasked to take the bridge as well. Altough the other two platoons had suffered casualties, they still had combined 77 Marines in Battle Armor, and most of the enemy Marines and Crewmembers who opposed the boarders seemed to lack Powered Armor, only a few of them seemed to have had time to suit up.

After full twenty two minutes of fighting thru the cramped corridors, the three battle depleted platoons arrived to a pair of gleaming bronze and gold coloured doors which had a huge three-headed dragon, holding a starburst in its paws, embossed in the middle.

"Can we blow it in?" Sheffield asked quickly

"Yeah, I think so. But I figure it will take atleast seven or eight plasma breaching charges." One of his corporals replied.

"Do it."

Two men began rigging up explosive charges one by one on the door in a quick and professional manner. In two minutes, every charge was set.


The doors exploded inwards as the plasma charges vented their fury on them. From the smoke and darkness outside the bridge, battle armored Marines began storming the large command bridge, pulse rifles and heavy weapons firing at every armed threat that faced them.

The bridge had been full of bridge officers for the most part who had only some sidearms, only a few marines in combat armor presented the real threat. They moved faster than any normal human could, firing their weapons at the Clairmontian Marines. Half a dozen went down before the last marine fell.

Sheffield caught the sight of a woman, about the age of 30 at the middle of the bridge, she donned the most decorated uniform at the bridge, and her seat also helped Sheffield to understand that this woman was someone with authority.

"Take her alive!" He snapped to his platoon.

But the Imperial Admiral seemed to have no intention of being captured alive, her hand grabbed her sidearm in the blink of an eye, and in a second it was sending hypersonic exploding rounds at the Marines.

Stun guns snarled, sending energy bolts that could completely lock down the nervous system for a moment, but she resisted them, for a moment atleast. As the fourth round struck her, she went down and the Marines moved in amongst the bodies of the bridge crew and enemy marines to secure their prisoner.


The space above Clairmont Island was a sea of dead and radioactive wreckage. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships had died there, and the corpses of millions of Clairmontians and Imperials alike floated in space or in the dead wrecks of ships that had become their tombs.

Flights of fighters and warships zipped amongst the wreckage, conducting Search & Rescue operations, finding for anyone alive in the scene of destruction. But space combat was dangerous to the extreme, and very few survivors remained to be found.

No one dared to go close to Clairmont Island as the Imperial transports made sure with their anti-orbital batteries that anyone foolish enough would be vaporized in short order, unless ofcourse they were ready to annihilate the very nation they were trying to protect.



Location: Clairmont Island
Time: Day 1 of Ground War, 06.32 PM

Stewart Trent joined in on the cheering in the camp high up in the mountains of Clairmont. The news of the victory in Geo-synchronous orbit had spread like wildfire, and now morale was quickly rising thanks to it.

But on the ground, matters were much much different. The Imperium had quickly established a beach head, and they were moving outwards from their landing sites at a rapid pace, taking or burning the territory they came upon.

Stewart wanted to be there with his comrades who already were fighting and dying while trying to halt the Imperial advance. But the rational side of him always told him why it would be most unwise for him to go there. Quite simply, he knew jack shit about real war. Sure, he had played a lot of video games, he considered himself quite a militarist and so on but reality was much different. When they had handed him his issue M18A2 Pulse Rifle, he hadnt had a clue how to field strip it, or maintain it in working order, and he still didnt, that hadnt been taught yet. He didnt know much anything about infantry tactics, nor real combat techniques. So, if he really wanted to stay alive long enough to actually deliver some payback to the killers of his family, he had to learn how to fight first.

He glanced around the compound and wondered were Sigmund had went. The man had been true to his word, and had accompanied Stewart to Fort Syrus. The Tappee Agent had been carefull not to interfere as Stewart went about with his new life in the Armed Forces Training Center, but he was certain that the First X agent was watching his developments, keeping his word to Stewarts dead father.

He glanced at his chrono, five minutes left in the resting period and then it would be time for another scheduled excersise. Four more months, Stewart told himself, and then he would get to kick some ass. It would have been eight months, but they had quickly shortened the training period to get as many trained hands to the field as possible, and judging by the developments of the ground war, they would be needed.


Location: Ft. Thunder

Major Motoko Kusanagi felt like it was the old times again. She stood on the podium at the front of the briefing room, her casual clothes replaced by the forest camouflaged Battledress Unit, the three golden pips in her collar and both shoulders signifying her rank to everyone present.

She knew most of them, Special Operations Personnel each and every one of them, hardcore professionals who would get the job done.

After being on the civilian side of the game for nearly twenty years, returning to the armed forces felt strange, and here her rank would be more than just something her subordinates would use as her nickname.

As the last pair of officers who had been called arrived to the briefing room, Kusanagi dimmed the lights and operated the remote for the podium floor planted holo emitter.

A large hologram, over two meters wide sprang up from the emitter and hovered in mid-air, representing the entire planetary domain of the Protectorate.

"You all know why you have been called upon. If you didnt atleast have some kind of clue as to why you are here, I wouldnt want you here. As you very well know, the Imperium is currently proceeding at rapid pace in every front. They have not yet captured any major cities, but that state of affairs wont remain for long. It is time to start doing the job we were trained to do people."

The room remained silent, no-one uttered a word.

"Allright, our main goals at the moment will be to conduct first hand recon and if at all possible, strike at the enemy supply lines in their flank. At this point, their supply lines are hard to cut as they can cover them adequately due to not having advanced to the point where the logistics lines start stretching. However, we currently lack any real first hand recon of the enemy main objectives, their numbers and combat capability. This will be our main job."

She manipulated the remote again, and now deployment points and areas of operations appeared on the map with unit designation tags listed for each one.

"The 471st Ranger Recon Company has been tasked here, your job will be to investigate the deployment zones and landing site of the Imperial Troop Barge at your AO, you will mainly...." Kusanagi continued on with the briefing, as the eyes and ears of sixty seven elite commanders caught his instructions precisely.

"Sixty-eight minutes to the hyperlimit." The astrogator reported emotionlessly.

Vanadis nodded in silent reply. He didnt want to hear how long yet it would take from him to leave this accursed Star System, it would remind him of a defeat he had suffered.

But he was an Imperial Officer, he accepted defeat, and he already was putting together the pieces what had gone wrong. Ofcourse, it mostly wasnt his fault. The Office of Central Intelligence had delivered incorrect information on basis of which the Supreme Commander of Naval Operations had based his plans on. The execution of the plan had been, for the most part, flawless, the basis of that plan had simply been wrong.

It hardly mattered. The Clairmontians had bought themselves two months at best. It would take Vanadis about two weeks to cross the two hundred lightyears between Sol and Vobeirunei Fleet Base, the nearest Imperial Battlefleet Base. He had already reported the failure of the Operation via Hypercom to Birhat and the Supreme Commander had assured him that sufficient re-enforcements would be massed to Vobeirunei to finish the job. It would take five weeks to gather the forces, or so the Supreme Commander had told him, and three weeks for them to reach Sol. So, Clairmont had two more months to live.

Vanadis would not be the one finishing the job however, his remaining battlesquadrons would go straight to the hands of the shipyards, where they would be returned to optimal combat condition. The fact that he would not be the one finishing the job did not appeal to Vanadis, but he would be glad as long as the pestilence of the remaining loyalists was wiped out of the universe.

He leaned back in his command chair, his eyes gazing deeply in the tactical holo tank in the middle of the bridge. The Clairmontians had opted not to pursue him, and rather decided to lick their wounds instead of getting more of them. The Tappee Fleet was doing the same, and at the moment the light codes of the two enemy formations were falling far behind the retreating Imperials. Vanadis was certain that they could not see him any longer. His fleet had gone to full stealth, and they were already ten light minutes out. Atleast the enemy wouldnt know the vector he would use to leave the system.

"Admiral....Im getting something weird here, most likely a hardware glitch due to the battle damage but I'm not sure."

Vanadis turned his attention to the Sensor Officer who had made the report.

"What is it?" He asked calmly.

"Im not sure, but it looks like a lot of LIDAR and Radar would be hitting our hull. But I traced back the source and there is nothing in there, absolutely nothing."

Vanadis thought about it for a moment, there werent any enemies in here, none that his sensors could see anyway.

"Are you sure Lieutenant?"

"Positive sir. The Defender and Ghost are reporting the same anomaly, they arent seeing a source either. No wait... BDC reports a 15% possibility of a weak Impeller source at the source of ....."

"ALL MISSILE DEFENSES ACTIVE!!! DO IT NOW!!" Vanadis screamed as the realization hit him, but he was an eternity too late.

The Ghost Rider recon platform had painted the entire fleet, transferring targeting telemetry to the ship that had sent it, that relayed it to its compatriots. Missile pods deployed to space belched fire, as three hundred and fifty of them sent their missiles underway simultaneously with every onboard launcher of the enemy fleet. A total of forty four hundred missiles screamed towards the Imperial Fleet at a total acceleration of over ninety thousand gees.

The range was a piddling eight million kilometers, the Imperials were heading straight at the launchers of the missiles at forty percent of lightspeed, and the missiles had been launched from an initial velocity of forty percent lightspeed. There simply was no time, no time to evade, no time to mount an effective anti-missile defense.

Five hundred of the missiles lost lock due to Imperial jamming, but the rest remained on course. Counter-missiles raced frantically to wipe out as many of the massive capital ship missiles as possible, but their best efforts wiped out only six hundred of them. Point-defense lasers did all they could, mutilating another one hundred and fifty. The rest struck home. Three thousand, one hundred and fifty Clairmontian Mk.30 Multi-Drive Missiles struck home.

Nuclear Weapon pumped x-ray stilettos ripped at the hapless Imperial ships. Stripping them of their defense fields, tearing their hulls apart in an inferno.

Star Admiral Vanadis died in an instant as a salvo of x-ray lasers tore thru the hull of his ship, reducing the Supermonitor to a cloud of wreckage.

Of the three hundred plus ships that had remained of the Imperial fleet, three ships survived the inferno, no-one had simply bothered to target three piddling frigates and they got away from the claws of the Clairmontians who had slaughtered the rest of the Imperial fleet.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Vanadis.jpg
Fleet Star Admiral Vanadis
Supreme Commander of 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

The bridge of CSN Superdreadnaught Fearless was silent as the CIC reported the near total destruction of the retreating Imperial fleet force.

The 5th Fleet, that had been deployed to the Orion Sector for the duration of the Steel Butterly civil war, had returned. Shock and horror had struck the crews aboard the ships as the reports from home had arrived to them once they dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the system.

During that time, the battle had been in its most terrible point, and victory had seemed impossible. But the 7th and 8th fleets had saved the day, and all that had been left for the 5th fleet was to deliver all the revenge they could on the fleeing Imperials. She had devised the engagement plan with care. First positioning the 5th fleet on a direct intercept vector of the fleeing Imperials, then accelerating and shutting down her Impellers to minimize the drive signature. She couldnt see the Imperials at first, she had had to rely on the data received from the fleet units at Earth Orbit for the initial vector, the Ghost Rider Recon platforms deployed by the fleet had done the rest. The Imperial's EW however was hellishly efficient, and she had had to use the recon platforms to relay targeting telemetry for her missiles to achieve a good lock on them. It had worked, luckily and the result for the Imperials had been catastrophic.

Admiral Honor Harrington, CO of 5th fleet did not feel satisfaction or joy for having butchered some hundreds of thousands of people. But she did feel completion, and sorrow. Sorrow for the people whom she commander for she had promised them a peacefull return to home. Sorrow for those millions who had died in the hands of these invaders already, and sorrow for her home.

She had expected to return to a home that would welcome her with open arms. But now, she returned to a savagely beaten home, attacked by an enemy the Protectorate knew very little of. She had only received the random reports sent by Hephaestus and the garbled messages from the battle above Clairmont Island. She didnt yet know the full details. But she was eager to hear them, most eager.

Her people had returned home from a war, only to enter a new one. One where the stakes would be far more personal, far more serious. But it was a war she would fight for all her strength to win, for the option was to perish.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Harrington_2.jpg
Fleet Admiral Honor Harrington
Commanding Officer, 5th Fleet, CSN

Location: Clairmont Island
Time: Day 1 of Ground War, 06.32 PM

From afar Sigmund looked down at the young Stewart Trent, it didn’t take a psychic to see the torment deep down in the young mans soul, after all the 4th Imperium had taken everything away from him.

Despite the young mans hate and anger, Sigmund couldn’t help but wonder if Stewart was prepared to face the horrors of the war that all had been forced into. It was still rather early into the conflict, and the loss of life in space was already to much stomach.

No matter where young Stewart was sent, Sigmund would hold true to his promise to look after the young man.

Location: Incol System

With her arms folded Fleet Admiral Dodalla looked out her fleet, the concerned looked could be seen across her face. Due to her rank she was but a handful of people that knew the truth of what was actually was happening in the prime system.

Within moments of the initial attacks, a communication blackout was put into full effect to all the colonies, and well as all none level ten-clearance military personal. As she looked out she knew that the truth would utterly crush the moral her troops. So far publicly that blackout had been blamed on a communication rely malfunction.

Her forces had just returned back from the Orion, a war that had tested the very resolve of all those under, as well as her self. Her task force accounted for over 80% of Tappee combat strength, including several Marine and the Rapid response divisions. Instead on returning home the triumphant heroes, they found a new conflict awaiting them. Dodalla could not simply jump blindly into yet another conflict, logistically it was impossible, not to mention the fact that her crews need time to rest. For the time being, that was the one thing that she could give them.

“What’s the current situation back home” asked a voice from behind her.

“Not good” quickly spat Dodalla in response. It wasn’t that she blamed Commander Jeffery’s for the situation, she just felt a tad helpless. As result she landed up taking her frustration out on Jeffery, a close personal friend. “Martac’s and the ESUS fleet have suffered nearly 80% losses. Thought the Enemy fleet has been destroyed, enemy ground forces are ravishing the island.”

Field Commander Jefferys prided himself for being a patient man, and he could understand Dodalla’s mood. It was a short time ago that both Clairmont and Tappee forces had been fighting side by side against the former oppressive regime of Steel Butterfly, but now due to logistical constraints they had been sideline, as Clairmont was now being pounded by a new enemy. While they stood there in relative safety, those that they once called allies, no friends stood alone as the dark abyss came screaming at they. “How long until we’re are backed up to combat status” Jefferys eventually asked.

“Most of the extremely damaged ship are being transferred out, and replaced by those from the Incol fleet. Were are looking at minimum 2 weeks for resupply and basic repairs, then 2 two days transit.” Answered Dodalla after thinking for a moment. Once they were ready then they could supply a large round force to help support the ground war.

“So at least 16 days then” said Jefferys in a sombre tone. Both of them knew how long 16 days could be for those fighting in the trenches. “when should tell the troops?”

“When the time is ready, we shall give them their moment for the time being.” Dodalla never turned her attention away from the window. “Let us pray that we get there in time, and those that fall forgive us”

Location: Clairmont Island, 43km North-East of Port Arthur Naval Base
Time: Day 2 of Ground War, 07.42 AM

The grenade launchers coughed, anti-tank missile launchers spewed arrows of flame, tri-barrels and infantry weapons filled the air with hypersonic rounds as the understrength 23rd Infantry Division did everything in their power attempting to stop the incoming Imperial troops.

The hovering Imperial warmachines, tanks, troop carriers, recon vechiles and monstrous 10 meter high moving fortresses along with their bipedal combat robots, moved forward, facing and moving thru the best efforts the defenders could throw at them.

Imperial Infantry moved alongside their vechiles, in inhumanly fast sprints from cover to another, while firing with accuracy no normal human could have achieved on their best day.

The 23rd had done all they could to prepare defenses, but the main approaches to Port Arthur were not defensible enough. Light wooding and very little elevation and terrain cover had required the Infantry Division to dig their own defensive works. for the little good they were going to do.

Brigadier-General Franches Toombs watched the live-feed from the forward recon drones with detached resignedness. He knew that Port Arthur was as good as lost, and it would hardly matter. As the Space Navy had become the prominent force projection arm of the Protectorate some two hundred years ago, the wet navy had lost much of its purpose. Yet, it still had remained intact, altough downsized quite a bit, for the Admiralty had recognized the fact that for the purposes of Operations on Earth's surface, the Navy might yet be needed. As such, Port Arthur had been mostly empty. A few Drathar-class attack boats and the Ariel-class sub St. Alexander had been docked there at the time of the attack, now they were gone and the base had been mostly evacuated. There was no need to defend it any longer and Toombs knew it, and he would obey his orders and pull his troops back in another....thirty minutes. And this time, it would be a complete retreat. He had already pulled back his positions five times during the evening and the night as the Imperials just kept coming, but this time they would pull out for good for the purpose of this battle was gone.

The sixteen artillery pieces, Judgement Self-Propelled Heavy Artillery platforms, that had been attached to the 23rd Division roared 500 meters behind his position as another fire mission from the forward positions came thru the comm-net and relayed to the artillery pieces. Rapid salvoes of rounds flew overhead to hammer the incoming Imperials with anti-tank munitions, snowflake clusters and all kinds of nasty shit designed to give the enemy a world of hurt.

It wouldnt help much in the end, but all the casualties they could cause here, would detract from the troops the Imperium could send elsewhere. And for all the casualties the 23rd caused to the Imperials, the Imperials would cause to the 23rd. And every man and woman in arms who died here would be one more off from defending a more critical position elsewhere.

Thinking of defending critical positions brought the situation at the Balamb/Xanadu area to his mind. As he had fetched the latest update off from MilNet, the news hadnt been good. Four of the Imperial Transport Barges had landed near the Space Port and committed their entire troop complements on the attack against it. If Xanadu fell, Fort Peril would quickly fall after it, as would Geminon city. High Command understood the situation as far as Toombs had had time to think about it. The entirety of the 3rd, 5th and 8th Corps had been designated for the defense along with a single SheVa artillery Battalion as well as the 1st and 3rd ACS Divisions. And how could Toombs forget, one of those supertanks of which's existance no-one had known until yesterday was headed there as well. The General didnt like the idea that someone had developed those things under a total veil of secrecy, but after seeing them in action, he could not go without appreciating and being gratefull of the help they could provide. As it was, over a quarter of a million troops, fifteen thousand armored vechiles and the assorted air support were defending the Xanadu front, but what they faced was as far as the best estimates went judging by recon data, easilly over half a million troops with fifty thousand assorted vechiles.

The outset most certainly seemed grim, and without orbital support that the Imperials had denied the Clairmontians so cleverly of, it seemed as if a miracle was the only thing that could keep Xanadu and the territories within its defensive zone under Protectorate control.

His grim thoughts stopped as a hail of missiles screamed overhead as the Imperials fired another of their counter-battery responses. Toombs didnt bother to duck, thus far the Imperials hadnt zeroed in on the command point, and were seemingly just popping missiles at random whenever they felt like it.

The Brigadier-General glanced at his chrono, it would soon be time to start pulling the forward troops back and begin the retreat. The Imperium would have Port Arthur. Its loss wouldnt matter, but the Protectorate was bound to lose many bases which really mattered.


Location: His Majesty's Space Station Hephaestus
Time: Day 2 of Ground War, 09.10 AM

The space outside Hephaestus was crowded to the extreme with warships mainly from the Clairmont Space Navy, but dozens Allied vessels also were present, all waiting for their turn to recieve the repairs they so desperately needed.

Many of the ships that had been combat incapacitated had been doomed for scrapping. There simply wasnt enough resources to repair the ships that had taken the most grievous of wounds when those that could still be returned to combat capacity in reasonable time took the first priority.

Every single repair and maintenance slip was occupied, Superdreadnaughts, Cruisers, Destroyers and Carriers rested in their embrace, the tiny figures of zero-g workers and their maintenance and repair bots scurrying over their hull, ripping off destroyed plating and components, replacing them with new.

But no-one had ever anticipated that Hephaestus would have to repair such a heavy mass of ships at the same time, and as such there were not enough slips for all of them. Temporary measures had had to be taken, many of the ships that hadnt received a slip from the shipyard were surrounded by the beginnings of improvised re-locatable shipyard slips.

Small-craft ranging from cutters to pinnaces and assault shuttles and fighters zipped between the massed ranks of warships like insects scurrying about large beasts.

Admiral Joshua Hughes, CO of HMSS Hephaestus gazed out of the armorplast viewport to the crowded darkness of space outside his command with dreamy eyes.

It all seemed so unreal. The war hadnt lasted yet for a week and this was how things were at the moment. It most certainly didnt bode well for the rest of the war, especially now after the boarded 4th Imperium vessels had been towed to Hephaestus and were being brought thru the process of being ripped apart and studied. What had been found from those ships....wasnt encouraging.

The Hephaestus had practically become the most important base of the Protectorate in this war, now that the entry to Clairmonts planetary domain was extremely restricted by the 4th Imperium's anti-orbital batteries. And as such, all the research and studies from the salvaged 4th Imperium vessels and the interrogation of the surviving personnel was Hughes' job.

He glanced at the report at his table. It was a quick and dirty overview of the initial findings from the Imperial vessels, and it was full of miracles. Not only, had the boarding teams captured a true flesh and blood Imperial Fleet Admiral, they had also gotten a partial recovery of the Imperial databases. And the dissected Imperial corpses had also told Clairmont much.

No wonder the fuckers could move like superhumans, and were strong as hell, they were pumped full of biotechnics of the kind Clairmont was still only theorizing of making some day. The doctors who had dissected a couple of bodies had told the Admiral that a basic Imperial with their enhancements was about 500% stronger than a normal human, 300% faster and could actually interface with their computers using the neural-enhancements in their brain.

And if their biotechnics were something to worry about, only a good examination of their ships had given Hughes the proper admiration of their technology. By the R&D folks' quick estimation, the 4th Imperium was atleat 150 years ahead of the Protectorate in terms of technological advancement. But hopefully, that could change. As the R&D division aboard Hephaestus had begun taking apart the Imperial Hypermissiles, they had told Hughes that it wouldnt necessarily take long before the Protectorate could start reverse-engineering the stuff that made the 4th Imperium so deadly on the battlefield.

The good question was whether or not the Protectorate would have that time. The partial recovery of what had been the Fleet Flag of 3rd Battlesquadron of the 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet of the Imperial Battlefleet had brought news that were far from encouraging.

As far as the eggheads could tell from the data they decrypted and recovered, the Imperium controlled fifteen primary star systems, of which four were major fleet bases. And one, an utter monster of a star system in terms of defenses, the capital of the Imperium, Birhat. But that was where the richness of data ended. There was very little data on the size of Imperial Battlefleet and their Armed Forces in general. However, there had been data suggesting that the Imperial Battlefleet had three or four Expeditionary Invasion Fleets.

That had been enough to give Hughes the jitters. The Protectorate along with their Tappee allies had beaten back the attack by just one of those fleets with extreme difficulty, and not without heavy losses. How on Earth they could deal with three more, Hughes didnt know, but the only option was to try.

He abandoned that course of thought, it would only lead to desperation. Now, it was time to start thinking how to proceed from now on. The war continued, and the Protectorate had to think of a strategy that would bring it victory.

Hughes was certain that in the next few days, Hephaestus would be housing a conference for the major Alliance Military Commanders in order to discuss the continuation of the war.

Hughes knew the Chief of Naval Operations of CSN personally, and he knew how Admiral Caparelli would continue the war. It was the only logical answer, a Counter-attack. A campaign with the combined might of the CSN and its allies against the Imperium. It would drive the Imperium to the defensive for a change, and take off the pressure from defending the Protectorate's holdings in the Sol system. If they just stood and waited for the Imperium to come again, this time with more forces, the end result could only be defeat.

The Admiral could only hope that the Protectorate had what it needed to take this war to the Imperium.

Hephaestus

Long-range sensors aboard the Mars detected the incoming warships, but as the battlecruiser was undergoing extensive repairs - she had sat out of recent action, despite the protests of much of the crew - the signal was routed to the CSN networks. This had caused a stir in command circles, what with the Seraphim Military's entire withdrawal, or rebellion, or whatever it was, and these ships coming from CSF-occupied Mercury. Later they discovered the truth, after several close-calls between the massed fleets, and after more and more of the CSF vessels began trickling in from the inner system.

The Seraphim Military was crumbling. From what Executor Cullen could surmise, the High Imperator couldn't pay the bills, and was trying some wacky corporate feudal system using mega-acres of land on Mercury in lieu of payment. It wasn't working, and despite the tough training of the crews, few men under the High Imperator's reign had been prepared to abandon their homelands and nations - and definitely not without pay or adequate entertainment.

Executor Cullen had conferred with the Clairmont leadership and they'd agreed, he was to be in charge of accepting and reviewing all traitors-turned-loyalists, much to his dismay. It was an ugly job, sorting through files, drama and intrigue, to discover who'd been lured with false promises and who could be recirculated back to duty. He began to hate it, and his anger at the High Imperator who'd sent him and two whole battle squadrons into an ambush, who'd collaborated with the enemy, made him sorely tempted to recommend every one of the incomings over to Judiciary.

But he couldn't do that. And the Order needed the manpower.

Slowly, the numbers increased, straining Hephaestus's capabilities to the limit. Few of the Mercury ships needed anything more than some maintenance and resupply. They were basically ready for combat, and together they formed at least two and a half battlesquadrons - though lacking in the larger, Heavy Combatants, whose commanders had undoubtedly been bribed shamelessly. But there were plenty of primary combatants, and now more than ever, Cullen wished for his chance of revenge. His crew had not been merely slain in action. They had been murdered.

But he manned his desk dutifully. And sometimes found himself gazing distantly at the wall, in the direction of the Inner System, and Mercury, and the murderer who called himself High Imperator.

Location: Manticore's Nest
Time: Day 3 of Ground War, 02.11 PM

Manticore's Nest had been designed purposefully as a command center that could house the entire government in the case of a crisis, and as such it had been designed so that the country could be run from within its halls.

And now, the massive base was fullfilling its purpose. The large government conference room was packed to the limit, with the large table being occupied by the civilian heads of the Government and the High Command of the Military. Behind them were hordes of aide's and assistants, waiting in silence as their bosses discussed the future of the nation.

Admiral Thomas Caparelli, Duke of White Haven, First Space Lord and the Chief of Naval Operations allowed his gaze to stroll around the table. All of the seven Space Lords were personally present as well as Field Marshals DeSilva and Broderick, Lord-General Horus in charge of Fleet Strike (the CSN's own ground force), Field Marshal Ninhursag in charge of the RMMC. Then there were their civilian overlords. Chief of Staff Ursula Weiss of the Clairmont Army, First Lord Charles Sorin of the Admiralty Board, Minister of War Sean Lawson, Minister of Foreign Affairs Yvonne Daumer, Minister of Domestic Affairs Jacques Charon, Head of Treasury Department Jonathan Parson, Director Samuel Nixon in charge of the Office of Internal Security ,Prime Minister Eloise Descroix and finally, the one man whose authority was absolute over them all, Sword Protector Benjamin Alexander III.

As Caparelli returned back from his thoughts, he had just enough time to catch Minister Daumer asking something about the possibility of a diplomatic solution. Caparelli fought down a bitter chuckle, oh how he wished that was possible.

"Minister, I believe that you wont find a single participant from this conference who wouldnt wish a peacefull solution to this conflict. But, I think that the Fourth Imperium has at this point displayed just how willing to talk they are." He answered the question dryly.

Daumer was one of the Liberal party, whose selection to her place had been a compromise that the Protector just had to deal with, or otherwise the Liberal party would have thrown a spanner to the workings of the House of Lords in a way that...would have been less than ideal for Benjamin Alexander's purposes.

Caparelli didnt really despise the woman, he just disliked her. As it was characteristic of the Liberal party, they had fought tooth and nail against the Military Buildup Bill twenty years ago when it had been brought up, and they had nearly succeeded in thwarting it, screaming of "Imperialistic Expansion Policies", "Clashing the saber" , "Preparing for war in a peacefull world", all the kinds of shit that Caparelli had heard from the Liberal's mouths for so long. He thanked the perseverance of the Centrist and Crown Loyalists for staying adamant in their support of the military buildup bill, otherwise, none of them would be talking here today.

"Admiral Caparelli, I understand the military's stand in this case, I really do. However, I believe this is not the time to start acting on revenge, but instead consider how we may resolve this conflict without causing further destruction." The woman replied, and there was no irritation or anger in her voice, but rather it was as if the Foreign Affairs Minister thought she was talking to a petulent child, and it annoyed Caparelli. He fought down a chuckle once more and replied.

"Perhaps the Foreign Minister would like to go and have a chat with the head of that Imperial invasion army that is in the process of wiping our cities out as we speak?" Caparelli said softly, and hid an inner smile seeing the Foreign Minister's face heating up dangerously.

"Admiral I.." She never had time to finish the sentence before the Protector stopped her.

"Thats enough Yvonne. At the moment, I am not even considering pursuing a diplomatic resolution and the Imperials have displayed a general unwillingness to accept one. Right now, we need to decide how we continue the war. And what is the current situation within our own borders."

The Minister of Domestic affairs was quick to catch on to the torrent of discussion, recognizing the indirect question shot at him.

"Your Highness, you may have a reason to feel slightly optimistic, even though we paid a massive butchers bill to get where we are now. The estimates are still going around, but a rough take it and run estimation of civilian casualties is upwards in the hundred million range. That does not take into account those who have received a deadly dosage of radiation, and the wounded. These casualties are mostly from the coastal plains, from the cities the Imperials were able to wipe out with orbital strikes. However, if there is a positive side to this, and it shakes my spine even to talk about it, but most of our infrastructure is still intact. Diess City is practically completely unharmed discounting a couple of attacks by the 'Khanate'. So are our other major factory cities. The major ground-transportation lines are unharmed and none of the major Space Ports were hit. Essentially, we lost a lot of people, but the damage to our infrastructure was neglible."

The participants of the conference followed every word the Domestic Affairs Minister uttered with what was partly horror at the face of such devastating amounts of dead, and partly optimistic relief that their nation was still running full steam.

"The general populace however, they have taken the casualties not with horror and shock, ofcourse there is some of that as well, it would be impossible not to have it, but mostly with rage and the urge to strike back. It is as if this crisis has brought our people together in a way that we have never witnessed before."

As Charon finished his brief, there was silence, and Benjamin Alexander, the Ruling Monarch of Clairmont smiled, smiled because of the pride he felt for the people he had the honor to rule. After a moment of silence, that lingered on like hours, the Protector spoke again.

"Morale and spirit are a critical part of what keeps us going, but that is not all we need people. Right now we need our sword sharp if we are to continue fighting this war with success. What is the current shape of our Military?"

The Seventh Space Lord, Admiral Neo Loarrnoke, head of Bureau of Medicine that held the responsibility for Armed Forces Medical Care, was the first to speak.
"Suffice to say Your Highness, we were hurt bad during the last week. The supprise attacks of the 'Khanate' caused over a hundred thousand dead, among which are dozens of high ranking officers. But if that was bad, what followed was infinitely worse. During the two days that the Imperium conducted their Space Operations in the Sol system, we lost roughly two hundred and twenty thousand Navy Personnel. And during the last few days as the Imperials have progressed from their landing zones, we have lost another fourteen thousand during defensive actions. Currently, all of our Fleet Hospitals are stuffed to their limits with injured, but we are coping with it."

The Sixth Space Lord, Admiral Talya Gladys, head of Bureau of Training, which answered the manpower needs of the fleet, opened her mouth as she noted that it was time to add her two cents to the game.
"The losses in themselves arent a problem Your Highness, we can cope with them. We have more than enough personnel in our reserve to fill the gap and the next batch of cadets from Saganami and Hayward Academies will be ready for their deployment in another month or so. The problem is, that all of our manpower is down here, while the need is up there. While we are training sufficient amounts of personnel to crew our new construction coming off the yard, it will be difficult to get them to where they are needed as the Imperium is keeping a tight watch of our airspace. There are gaps in their surveillance network, and we can use them, but freighting all the personnel to space will be slow. "

"As Admiral Gladys already touched the subject of our new construction, I would like to bring up the current situation at Hephaestus. Currently, we are running at our extreme capacity to maintain, repair and construct. There are simply so many damaged ships that we lack the capability to deal with them all quickly enough. We are patching them together as quick as we can, and from what I hear the repairs of the Home Fleet have gotten off on quite a good start. The situation is, that we have to expand Hephaestus in order to meet the needs of this war, and we have already begun with temporary building slips and other quick improvised solutions to the problem. But the fact is that the current fifty-two construction slips simply wont suffice for what we will need. At the moment, we have eighteen Invictus-class Superdreadnaughts, along with ten Warlord-class Battlecruisers, Fourteen Star Knight-class Heavy Cruisers, three Majestic-class CLAC's and seven Minstrel-class Destroyers. Those will go directly to bringing the Home Fleet back to full strength, altough their screening element will still be far understrength." Admiral Gerald Hatcher, Third Space Lord, in charge of the Bureau of Ships, told the gathered people sternly.

"Admiral, you can be certain that the Government will approve any suggestion you feel is necessary to maintain our Armed Forces in fighting order. However, how will our economy take it Mr. Parson?"

The head of the Treasury Department seemed to ponder the issue for a second or two before speaking.
"It will take it if it must Your Highness. Currently, our export market is essentially completely shut down due to the invasion but as Minister Charon stated, our infrastructure is essentially intact. The taxes will go up, that much we can already say, but as the economy has been supporting the buildup of the Fleet for the past two decades, I feel confident that we can handle it now."

The Protector smiled at the old man. Even with pro-long, the effects of old age were starting to show on Parson's figure. Hair greying and wrinkles appearing were the signs, but for anyone who did not know of pro-long he would have seemed about sixty, while in reality Jonathan Parson was one hundred and sixty three years old.

Caparelli readied himself, for it was time for him to take the stage. As if sensing his thoughts, Protector Alexander turned his gaze on the Admiral.
"Admiral Caparelli, knowing you I am rather certain that you have the preliminaries of a strategy regarding how to continue this war."

"Yes, Your Highness. Basically, I intend to launch a full-scale counter-offensive with all of our available forces apart from the Home Fleet itself. This is absolutely necessary in order to change the momentum of the war, for if we remain at defensive we cannot win. I will now outline my reasoning, firstly...." As the Chief of Naval Operations of Clairmont Space Navy began to explain how the holocaust of war would continue, the gathered people listened how the return punches would be dealt at the enemy.


After four exhausting hours, the Royal Cadre sentries standing at both sides of the dual-doors went to parade-ground attention as the doors opened and the assorted Ministers and Military leaders began streaming out.

Caparelli sighed as he gathered his hard copied documents to a folder and began his way out. Catching a young Lieutenant on the way, he handed the man a datapad as the youngster listened to every breath and word of the Admiral with the utmost attention.

"I want this sent to our Allied Military Commanders at once Lieutenant."

The young man acknowledged the order, saluted sharply and trotted away as Caparelli began a mental checklist of issues he would have to discuss when he met the Allied Commanders personally. He wiped those thoughts away, the conference was still two days away and he would have ample time to think about it. Now, he had a meeting with the head of BuWeps, for Fourth Space Lord Samantha Jessyk had sounded rather intrigued when she had asked Caparelli to meet with her. Not that there was anything bad with that, it was just that the woman had so much energy, and she represented her ideas with such ferocity that sometimes those who she represented those ideas to hesitated to decide when it sounded as if they had come from the mouth of a lunatic. Fortunately, Caparelli knew Jessyk personally, and he was certain that she wouldnt have anything too insane gobbled up this time.


======================================================
To: Allied Military High Command
From: Clairmont, Admiralty Board
Subject: A Council of War

This message is addressed particularily to the CSF High Command, the Tappee Military High Command and the Sketchian Military Organization High Command. As the Sol System is now secured of the 4th Imperium threat, the need arises to discuss how to continue with this war. As Clairmont cannot face the 4th Imperium on their own ground alone, we will require all the support our allies can provide us. The purpose of this conference is to determine who will assist Clairmont in continuing this war, and the course of action required to fight this war succesfully.

If convinient to the recipients, the conference will take place 48 hours from now at HMSS Hephaestus.
=====================================================

Admiral Jensen and Martac waited patiently as the lights in the room dimmed, and a holographic images of several members of Tappee’s military command appeared. There was General Robert Williams, who was in charge Tappee’s Army, as well as the Rapid Response Division. Next was Sky Marshal Adam McKinley who was in charge of the Air force. Lastly there was Fleet Admiral Emily Dodalla, Commander of the entire Space fleet as well as the marine division.

A sombre mood filled the room; the previous battle had pushed Tappee’s military forces to the brink of what they were capable. Following the assignations of a number of Tribunal members as several other members critically injured as power vacuum had been created. Though President Anerton was in charge, they were now in state of war, and until a new tribunal could be established they were free to deal with this new threat as they saw fit. With the defeat of the 4th Imperium, they now had to decide how best to proceed.

“Admiral Martac, what’s the current situation?” asked Dodalla quickly, finally ending the silence that had fallen.

“Nearly 80% of the fleet has been either destroyed, or severally damaged.” They had to face the harsh reality that though that had technically won, they had done so just barely. They had paid a horrible price for their victory. He had ordered Tappee’s only ship yard in the Sol system, the Vanqulis, to help aid in the repair of the fleet “However, with the beating that we’ve taken, it has simply been overwhelmed.”

“How long until we can get the fleet back in some semblance of order?” asked McKinley.

Admiral Dodalla quickly answered his question “The FA and myself are currently accompanying four Mobile repair docks to the Sol. Once they arrive we can quickly start bring the fleet back to full strength. We should be arriving in the next 20 hours.” Subtly the holographic representation of the Admiral turned her attention to Admiral Martac. “Admiral Martac, I want you to order any ship that can make the trip, to head to the Incol system for repairs there.” A long time ago the main base of operation for the Tappee fleet had been moved away from Sol to the Incol system. A number of the largest ship yards were there, as well as the resources needed to make the need repairs.

“Would that not leave us defenceless here though?” asked General Williams. He was under the impression that only a small fleet was coming back with the mobile repair docks, and not enough ship to defend of another attack. “Should we not worry more about securing the system then repairing or ship.

“How are we going to secure the system if we do not have ships that are capable of defending it” spat Dodalla in return. “Judging the enemies technological strengths and their tactic I believe they thought that they would achieve victory in the first battle. However, they under estimated us, and don’t have the forces ready to keep pushing forward. We need to get the fleet back to combat strength as quickly as possible, because another attack in coming, like us they need to regroup.”

Admiral Jensen nodded in agreement, he felt the same as Dodalla, if another attack was coming it would have already arrived. It was never a wise idea to give your opponent time to regroup. “Other then rebuilding where she we go from here?” asked Jensen quietly

“I’ve receive word from the Core that the government of Clairmont has requested a meeting of military commanders aboard the Hapaestus, which I’m planning on attending.” She glanced around the room looking at all the other members “It is believed that they are going to request our assistance in offensive operations.”

“They can’t possible ask us to help them fight this” Interrupted McKinley again “We just finished up in the Orion War, and can’t possible fight another war.”

General Williams who had been unusually quiet up until this time spoke up, the a touch of anger could be heard in his voice “We can, and we will. Let us not forget that Clairmont was the only Order member that came and helped us during the Orion War, not to mention that are our ally. I will not sit idly as by as a nation that would consider a friend fights alone, not on my watch!. This 4th Imperium hit us as well as them, and I for one wouldn’t stop until they burn for what they have done.” As he finished he slammed his fist on his desk.


”Agreed” said Dodalla as she nodded with approval. “I will attend the meeting, and let them now that they have our full support. In the mean time, I fill that it should that it should be our highest priority to cleanse Clairmont of the foul vermin that have suddenly taken up residence there, what are our the options?”

Admiral Martac shifted about for a brief moment. “So far enemy ground forces have set up planetary shields, and ground based artillery. Given the current state of the allied fleets a no fly zone has been created of the sky of Clairmont. So orbital support is out of the question.”

Williams jumped in “Now that the threat of in invasion of Tappee no longer exists I’m preparing what ground forces that I can to help aid in the effort in Clairmont. However, from the report that I have received things on the ground will not be easy.”

“How long until we can expect to have a ground force ready?” inquired Jensen.

Since the first Terrorist attack Tappee had fully mobilized it military forces, and now that thing had settled somewhat Tappee had forces that it could spare. “I could have forward elements of the of mobile division in Clairmont with the 72 hours. However, it will take the bulk of my forces at least two before the can be in Clairmont and begin operations. Skies above Tappee are clear, and I’m sure that there are still some area’s in Clairmont that we could establish a breach head.” One of the few things that they had going for them was the fact that Clairmont was so close, it was not like they had transport their force to another planet or anything like that.

For a moment Dodalla feel silent, anyone who knew her could tell her from the look on her face, that a plan was forming. “Very well, let create a base of operation on the island of Clairmont.” She looked over at McKinley “I want to you coordinate with both Clairmont Command and General Martac. Try to keep the air our forces in Clairmont clear, as well see if well can eliminate some of the enemies artillery. In two week the rest of my fleet should arrive.” He gaze shifted away from McKinley. “Once General Martacs and my forces are in position we will launch a two pronged attack from both the ground as well as space, with the Air force providing support for both battle groups. Once Clairmont is secure then we can proceed with offensive operations. Can we agree on this.”

There was little hesitation from the members as they all quickly agreed on the plan. All that was left now was for Admiral Dodalla to put the proposal forward at the allied meeting

General Hobbes gazed out over the tactical holo-display, seemingly mesmerized by the refresh lines playing across the three D terrain and the swirling dots of troop movements. Small hand movements activated unseen controls as Hobbes zoomed in on various sectors, focusing on this particular unit deployment, or that particular bit of terrain. Like a chessmaster arraying his pieces, so did Hobbes. Little pawns, for the whole army was but pawns in battle, marched across the map, ready to fight for what they could only assume was a valid purpose. In truth, every fight was critical; for every loss was an enemy's gain, and every such gain was a greater foothold for the enemy.

Disengaging himself from second sight; an optielectric interface which fed information directly into his brain, Hobbes allowed himself a tired sigh. The past few hours had been spent re-deploying the entire Sketchian force. Given the considerable number of troops, such was a daunting task indeed. The original plans had called for a basic seige defense with highly mobile strike forces running missions from a well established base of operations. It was a standard strategy used against an invading force; easily adaptable, and basic. The particulars called for securing areas of strategic value for an invading force intent on conquering a nation and using them as strongpoints in defense network. Such targets included spaceports, military bases, industrial centers, and large civilian sectors, as in cities. Since the Clarimontians have already taken care of nearly everything else of strategic and tactical importance with their home forces, that left a few large population centers left for Sketch to defend. That, and large swaths of potential landing zones to over. Thus, while the space battle raged overhead, the Sketchian forces busied themselves with digging in and fortifying areas around the cities, planning forays into potential landing zones, and preparing for an enemy assualt that was sure to come.

All that planning and work was for naught however, rendered pointless and tactically harmful as nuclear arms literally leveled a series of cities. Suddenly, the entire backbone of the plan was gone, leaving it as potent as an arthritic. Clearly the enemy had no intention of capturing the population alive. This was no conquering of peoples, this was an exterminatus.

A whole different kind of war was at hand. Generally, neither side would wish to initiate the use of such a destructive force as nuclear arms. The far reaching consequences of such being more than what any victor would want to deal with in the aftermath of battle. There was also what was generally considered an "rule" of warefare, if war was to have rules, that civilians were not to be targeted for the sake of being targeted. Of course, there are plenty of examples to draw from indicating otherwise, but there are relatively few such blatant violations in the vast history of conflict. To use nuclear arms to eliminate whole cities, such ran counter-productive to goals of national conquest. For once a war was over, the victor would need the industrial and labor capacity of the conquered nation to replace resources expended in the effort. At the very least, one would want to retain as much production capacity as possible, to keep a newly aquired territory from being a drain on the master economy.

The wonton destruction brought about by nuclear devices further impedes the goal of recovery. For not only does one wipe out great portions of production capability, but the land itself is also poisoned against future development. The victor shall inherit a veritable wasteland - useless and inefficient.

However, the fight, as far as Sketch was concerned, did not involve the future usability of the land or the potential capacity of the nation, but rather, the prevention of enemy success. Which ultimately translated into helping the Clairmontians eliminate the threat at hand. It was more to the Sketchian military leadership's chargin than dismay that the Fourth Imperium decided to initiate the ground war with nuclear arms. With the original battleplan in complete disarray, before first contact had even been established, command was forced into a reactionary stance - a dangerous situaion in the dynamics of warfare.

Fortunately, not all was lost. The Sketchian forces, equipped with NBC gear as standard, were not effected at all by their relative close proximity to the nuclear detonations. Far outside the destructive range of the devices, troops closest to the destroyed cities were able to shrug off the deadly radiation now infusing the area. It was merely the process of re-deployment which was the headache. The massive transport barges, long since gone to ground, hidden away from prying eyes, originally intended as foward bases for rapid assualts on enemy positions, were now primary bases. New secondary bases had to be established, the question remained - where?

Military intelligence struggled to provide answers. With the Cliarmontian forces busy carpet nuking enemy drop zones as fast as they could, logical landing areas were dwindling fast. Hot zones were popping up everywhere on the massive island nation. Even with NBC gear, these were not places that commanders would want to send their troops. This created a new senario, one which greatly disturbed General Hobbes - what if the enemy was able to fully utilize the hot zones? With hard radiation scrambling sensor readings and all the hospitality of a radioactive wasteland, there was a minefield of blindspots liberally spinkled across the Clairmont landscape.

This would have to be brought to the attention of the others, that, Hobbes was sure of. In the meantime, he would need to take care of some more details before attending the strategy conference aboard the HMSS Hephaestus.

Location: Outskirts of Barwhon City
Time: Day 5 of Ground War, 05.31 AM

"Fire Central!"

"Acknowledge. Data?"

"Fire concentration, six-six-zero-seven-niner-five. Armored Column!"

"Acknowledged. Ranging in fifteen"

The scout breathed rapidly, counting the seconds as if they were an eternity, waiting for the salvo that could still save him if he was very very lucky.

"On the way, one-six-two rounds, splash in sixteen."

The scouth muttered a silent prayer for the briskness of the artillerymen as the salvo screamed at the co-ordinates he had transmitted.

"Its on the way! Get the fuck down!!"

The range to the mass of armored vechiles, their bronze and golden hulls gleaming in the dawning sunlight, was over a kilometer away, and only the helmet mounted optical enhancers allowed the scout to see them at all. And yet, knowing full well the capability of the artillery he had called upon on those vechiles, his own death as well as that of his five squadmates was a distinct possibility.

On que, the other five troopers hunkered down between the boulders of the rocky ridgeline as the screams of artillery rounds going overhead came stronger and stronger.

And the waiting ended. The approaching armored column disappeared within dust clouds as dozens of explosions of the kind that man could have once achieved only by nuclear weapons ripped the ground, throwing up topsoil, blowing craters as deep as two men to the ground.

Gaping holes appeared to the column as the hovering Imperial vechiles were blown apart by the artillery fire. Some where thrown around like toys as the nearby miss of a round caused a shockwave sufficient in power to toss around the Imperial warmachines.

As the last round in the salvo detonated, the scout leader cautiously urged the small hovering recon drone next to him to take a peek over the ridgeline. As the drone cleared its line-of-sight for a good view with its opticals, it relayed the data back to the scout leader.

The Sergeant grinned savagely at the sight of atleast thirty burning and beaten wrecks of Imperial vechiles, with several more having been tossed around and damaged as a result of close misses. Having confirmed the casualties the Imperials had suffered, the scout team withdrew from its position, jogging down the ridgeline to their ATV.

In the end, they knew that their contribution wouldnt stop the Imperial push towards Barwhon, for as it was, atleast three hundred thousand Imperials along with what had been estimated to be eleven thousand assorted vechiles. At the moment, it was all about mobile warfare. The armored battalions of the Protectorate were conducting hit&run strikes against the Imperial forward echelons with scouts calling in artillery and SheVa nuclear strikes wherever possible. And yet, the effect was far worse than it should have been. In the first few days, the Protectorate Army had learned the deadliness and accuracy of Imperial Counterbattery fire. A lot of good artillery pieces had been lost against well placed counterbattery salvoes, and Imperial Anti-Air capabilities had made air-strikes with close support aircraft extremely difficult.

As the ATV's electrical engine hummed up to full power , the vechile darted away towards Barwhon city. The enemy was now only fifteen kilometers from the forward defense line and its chain of bunkers filled with anti-tank and anti-personnel weaponry. At the speed they were progressing, the Imperial spearhead would strike like a hammer upon that line in another thirty two hours.

He hadnt heard much about what was happening elsewhere, but the newsies and higher ups werent being optimists. Xanadu was under a massive assault, Medusa as well as Charon were under siege. Amd soon, Barwhon would join the list of cities under siege. It certainly did not look to be a bright future for the citizens of the Protectorate.

Location: HMSS Hephaestus

The brightly lit strategy room of the shipyard-fortress had been prepared for the upcoming meeting with meticulous care. The large table at the middle of the room had a folder filled with hardcopy placed at the places of each seat, and the walldisplay had been updated with the current situation at Clairmont Island.

At the moment, the room was empty but in a couple of hours it would be filled with Clairmontian and Allied military personnel, all there trying to settle for a unified strategy on how to continue the war.

Fleet Admiral Honor Harrington watched from the docking gallery at the battle scarred hull of HIMS Imperial Birhat the sleek lines of the Imperial Supermonitor, the stubby energy batteries and gaping maws of missile tubes, the entire four kilometer hull was a sight of gracefull deadliness. It represented her enemy so perfectly. Sleek, massive and deadly.

She sensed the approaching presence of another person. As this particulary gallery had been sealed by security, she could guess who the person was.

"I always wonder, how something quite so beautiful can at the same time be so terrifying." Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe said softly as he stepped beside Honor.

There was a stretching silence of atleast a second before she replied.

"I never imagined that I would have to give my crews this kind of homecoming...." She said quietly.

"You are not the one to blame for what they received Honor, remember that." Admiral Rowe replied softly, but with underlying strength in his voice.

"When I saw what they had done to your ship I....." She left the phrase unfinished, the hard armor protecting her conduct cracking for a moment, revealing the passed fear for the man she cared for.

Rowe brought her arm around her as they two gazed into each others eyes.
"Its something we both must come to accept Honor, we are frontline commanders and we may very well die. But I cant say that dieing without you is a prospect Im too fond of." He said softly and kissed her while embracing the woman he loved in his arms.

Honor returned the kiss and embrace fondly as the longing for her lover blossomed. Thirteen months it had been since they had last seen each other, and some times Honor cursed the love she had for the man.

As their lips departed, Rowe grinned wickedly, his tone silent.
"You know, Caparelli told me that we have atleast two more hours before we need to get started on the conference..sooo..." He left the sentence unfinished and Honor's face lit up in an answering smile.

"Ooh.. I think we can manage." She replied.


The interrogation room's battlesteel bulkheads felt awfully close with the room having only a single table and a sturdy chair bolted to the decksole. Despite her best attempts, the Imperial Admiral, now known as Senior Battle Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien, hadnt succeeded in ripping apart her restraints despite her bioenhanced musculature.

"Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien, CO of 3rd BattleSquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet." The ONI Lieutenant in a Black on Gold uniform of the Clairmontian Navy said matter-of-factly as he read from the folder.

"Was that supposed to be a question Lieutenant?" The Admiral asked pointedly, receiving only silence as a reply.

"It looks like your Battlesquadron doesnt exist anymore Admiral, now what would your High Command say to that?" The Lieutenant asked, his voice dripping of sarcasm.

"Not that it matters really, because the only place where you will see them from this point onwards is in your mind. Or, if you are very very lucky, you will see them when we conquer Birhat."

At that, the Fleet Admiral was silent for a few seconds before she exploded in laughter. She laughed for ten seconds straight before calming down enough to face the calm face of the ONI Lieutenant again.

"I'd like to know Lieutenant, with WHAT are you going to take Birhat? You have a bit over six-hundred effective hyper-capable combatants in your entire Navy and at best a couple of thousand more combatants that your allies can contribute. But thats it, if you know as much as you let me on, you also know that you are stepping into a conflict that you cant win."

The ONI Lieutenant simply smiled thinly.

"Oh Admiral, in the coming months you will start to understand that you greatly underestimated the enemy you made as well."

With that, the Lieutenant left the Admiral in solace.


Duke of White Haven, First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli piled up the sheets of hardcopy back to the folder as he made sure that he had everything he needed for the coming conference. Satisfied that everything was there, he made his way out of his quarters to the corridor outside. The marine sentries snapped to attention as he stepped out and headed to the Command Center of the shipyard-fortress.

The allied commanders should be arriving soon.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Harrington_2.jpg
Fleet Admiral Honor Harrington
Commanding Officer, 5th Fleet, CSN

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/alex.jpg
Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe
Commanding Officer, CSN Home Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Nuvien.jpg
Senior Fleet Admiral Tamara Nuvien
Commanding Officer of 3rd Battlesquadron, 4th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Caparelli.jpg
First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

Slipping out of hyperspace, the small Tappee fleet made its way back into normal space. It would not take one long to realize that this was not a battle fleet, but instead at the moment would play a much more important role. Several mobile repair dock were being accompanied by Tappee’s flag ship, the Dauntless, a small flotilla of other craft. They were here to provide a much-needed boast to the logistical capabilities of the allied fleet. Their arrival would now meant that the damaged ships could now receive the repair that they needed to fight this new war.

Though the bulk of the combat fleet was still being prepared back at the Incol, and would not arrive for some time, there were still a number of preparation that need to be worked out in the mean time.

Admiral Dodalla rushed down one of the many corridors on board the Dauntless, they were running somewhat behind schedule, and Dodalla more then anything hated to be late. The coming allied meeting would ultimately determine the general direction that the war would take, and it was there that Dodalla would put forth Tappee’s commitment to its allies. But first she had to get there.

Turing a corner she made her way into the shuttle bay, her personal shuttle had already prepared for launch, and it was just waiting for her.

“Admiral Jensen and Martac are already on route and will meet you there” Said one of Dodalla’s aid’s as they made their way on to the shuttle.

“Good” proclaimed Dodalla as the door sealed behind them “How until we are scheduled to arrive?”

“We should be there in about an hour ma’am” quickly answered the aid.

Just under an hour later two Tappee shuttle under a complete fighter escort rendezvoused at an assigned point in space. One shuttle carries Admiral Dodalla, while the other contained Admirals Jensen and Martac. As the two groups meet each other, it changed formation and started off in a new direction. It was not long until the group made its way onto the HMSS Hephaestus.

Quickly the pilot of the lead shuttle opened a channel “This Admiral Dodalla’s flight requesting permission for landing aboard the Hephaestus”

HMSS Hephaestus

The Command Central of Hephaestus resembled a massive rounded flight control tower, with its personnel ten times that of even the largest airport in the entirety of Clairmont. Flight-controllers sat at their consoles, directing inbound and outbound vessels on lanes that would take them safely thru the crowded space surrounding the shipyard. Sensor technicians observed the data fed to their consoles from the surveillance drones and Hephaestus's own sensors. They had detected the Tappee contignent the moment they entered normal space.

As the Tappee shuttles transporting their participants to the conference entered the Hephaestus control zone, their request of permission to dock came in crisp and clear.

The flight-controller tasked with bringing them in charted a safe course thru the assembled warships, afterall a small-craft hitting the active impeller of a warship wouldnt leave much for any investigation to worry about, the woman worked with methodical care and called back to the lead Tappee shuttle pilot.

"This is Hephaestus control, clearance granted. Come in at approach vector one-one-two-zero-three. Transmitting course data now."

Following the instructions that were given, the pilots of the two shuttles skilfully guided their craft into the waiting docking bays.

There was a gentle thud as Dodalla’s shuttle touched down in the bay. She was forced to impatiently wait as the final landing procedures were finished. “Ma’am you are cleared to go” said the pilot after a few minutes.

There was a gentle hiss of air as the door opened, a result from the slight pressure difference between the two ships. Across the landing bay Admiral Dodalla could see that Jensen and Martac had already made their off their ship and were waiting to be greeted, all she could now was the same.

OOC: If you dont mind Tappee, Im gonna speed this a bit by assuming some of the things your group does.

HMSS Hephaestus

As the two Tappee shuttlecraft hit the deck of small-craft landing bay #25 and their VIP passengers departed the shuttles, the entry doors to the landing bay sweeped open and an entourage of several Lieutenants and a Captain entered the bay alongside their Marine escorts.

The Captain approached Dodalla with confident steps, and saluted once he got within convinient speaking range within the noise filled landing bay.

"Admiral Dodalla, Captain Joseph Wolfe at your service. If you follow us please, we will show you the way to the conference room."

Having exchanged the formalities, the Captain escorted the group of Tappee Military Officials thru the bowels of Hephaestus's central hub which housed the Administration of the shipyard, Living quarters as well as Command & Control. The immense size of the central hub meant that the trip took the better part of twenty minutes before the double-battlesteel doors of the War Room of Hephaestus slid open and allowed the Tappee Officers to enter.

Already present were most of the High Command of Clairmont. The First and Second Space Lords were in the process of discussing something over a holographic presentation of the solar system. Every Fleet Commander of the CSN was also present. Fleet Admirals Harrington, Rowe, Bartholomew, MacIntyre and the commander of the recently formed 3rd Fleet, Fleet Admiral Thomas Theisman. Of the two Field Marshals in charge of the Ground Forces, only DeSilva was present. The Commander of Fleet Strike, Lord-General Ezekiel Horus was standing with a datapad, inspecting the figures burrowed within it. None of their Civilian Overlords were present, this would be a purely military conference.

As the Tappee Officials entered, everyone in the room turned to look at the new arrivals. Thomas Caparelli's face lit up in a warm smile and he greeted Dodalla, Jensen and Martac.

"Its good to have you here Admirals, I'd like to wait for the Sketchian representatives before we start the show but we can look over some preliminaries already."

Location: 327km North-East of Xanadu Military Space Port
Time: Day 5 of Ground War, 12.02 AM

"Fall back! Fall back!" The scream of the Infantry Lieutenant echoed in the helmets of his squad leaders, who obediently began falling back the remnants of their squads from the face of the coming Imperial onslaught.

The small town of Ghaston had been turned to a smoldering pile of wreckage in quick succession as the 56th Infantry Division had chosen it as the defensive strongpoint against the coming Imperial troops in this sector.

However, strong as ceramacrete and plasteel were as construction materials, under the merciless fire from Imperial Armored Vechiles and Infantry, the buildings of Ghaston were turned into piles of rubble and melted plasteel as the Imperial weapons wrought their destruction against them.

Detecting the fall back of the defenders, two platoons of Imperials in armored battledresses and Combat Armor sprang up from their cover, and began sprinting as rapidly as they could with the full assistance of their bioenhancements. Streams of tracer began to cut them down as tri-barrels began to fire and grenade launchers coughed explosives. Half a dozen of the Imperials went down, then another ten as the heavy weapons spat destruction, and the Imperials had another hundred meters to go.

With another fifty meters left to go, and half of their number fallen, the Imperials dove for cover in artillery craters, behind boulders and within the outermost buildings of Ghaston. As they got themselves behind cover, heavy countering fire began to erupt against the defenders of Ghaston.

Sergeant David Winslow took a peek at the Imperial forward element thru the hovering recon drone that the forward recon squad had released. The small fist-sized drone was heavully stealthed, and the only way of spotting it effectively would be via Mk.1 Eyeball. Thusfar the Imperials hadnt detected it, and the small spy examined the enemy with all the care it could muster.

Suddenly, the drone began painting new detection signals to Winslow's HUD. The clear and strong emissions signatures of Imperial armored vechiles were coming thru the forest two klick's south-east of Ghaston, and from the looks of it there seemed to be heavy tanks among them as well. Winslow sighed in quiet sign of desperation, the Able Company holding Ghaston had nothing that they could use to stop heavy armor.

As he slumped down to sit in the corner of the room in the house his squad occupied, the floor seemed to vibrate visibly as a coffee cup on the table began to shake. Winslow instructed the recon drone to take a look around, and the sight shocked him to the core.

A gigantic armored mountain, or a tank to some maniac was approaching Ghaston from the south-east, headed directly for the approaching Imperial armored vechiles. It was still six kilometers out, but from between its two turrets, missile trails began rising up to the sky, by a rough count WInslow estimated there to be two dozen of them. Simultaneously the forward turret spoke.

The fusion bolt sped past Ghaston to strike directly at the approaching Imperials, the shockwave generated by its passing shaking the buildings and ripping leaves from trees like a vacuum cleaner. Three of the Imperial vechiles vanished in the resultant explosion.

It is now 1.244 seconds since I fired my main VLS tubes, the missiles will reach their targets in another 7.29 seconds. I opted to utilize conventional warheads in this instance to avoid collateral damage to friendly forces occupying Ghaston. The enemy is firing its own anti-tank missiles, their Superheavies discorging half a dozen of them each. I use 0.31 seconds to assign my infinite repeaters their targets, and the enemy missiles begin to vanish. My forward battlescreen absorbs hits from three heavy Imperial Energy Cannons, insufficient firepower to penetrate it. I respond with a burst from my 40cm mortars in saturation pattern, inflicting hits sufficient to mission kill the vechiles on two of the Imperial MBT's.

I am now 2 kilometers away from Ghaston, my roadspeed at the moment 100 kilometers per hour. I note with satisfaction that my drivetrain is maintaining optimal temperature levels despite the sustained high speed. It has now been 9.27 seconds since I engaged the enemy, and my number one Hellbore has been cooled and recharged, I target and fire.

Having gone through the extensive approach and landing procedures, general Demito was finally able to step off the shuttle and into the cavernous hanger bays of the HMSS Hephaestus. Taking in a deep breath, his face bore a satisfied look as he savored the crisp cleanness of the air. One could tell the level of attention to detail just by smelling the air of a military facility, especially the hanger. Even with atmospheric scrubbers, there was always the everpresent scent of oils, fumes, and chemicals. To keep such contaminants at bay required constant maintenance on the part of the environmental controls; not something that was exactly a priority during wartime. He was a firm believer in military professionalism, and respected the fact that the Clairmontian military ran as tight of a ship as Sketch's.

After several crisp salutes and a few handshakes and prerequisite greetings, Demito learned of the arrivals of the Tappee Admirals Dodalla, Jensen and Martac. While it seemed unusual that there'd be so many more stars attending from Tappee, it was to be expected. They were, after all, bringing the greater portion of their fleet to help fend off the Imperial forces, whilst General Demito was merely overall in charge of the half million or so Sketchian ground forces. Naval forces normally enjoyed a greater proportion of ranking officers than ground forces traditionally anyways.

As he was escorted to the meeting, General Demito wondered if he would see the Vrakian and other FKC representatives as well.

ooc: decided to go ahead and just do the arrival and what not in one post. Never liked the "thunder.....flash" approach anyways.

1st defensive line

Brooom! Brooom!

The long range artillery, at least long range by Vrakian standards roared at the enemy positions. Well, not truly long range since the mobile rail-mounted artillery guns could not be brought to this war theater quickly enough. And besides, those guns weren’t made to be transported.

No, the self propelled artillery platforms would have to do. Besides, they could reach nearly 60 kilometers depending on the shell. Beside them were the Smerch MLRS systems, expending all of their tubes while the support personnel rushed frantically to reload. As well, and hoping to take advantage of mobility, the artillery and MLRS systems would move after a brief session of firing to hopefully make it harder for the enemy to find them. It remained to be seen if this tactic would work.

“Target those enemy columns! I want nothing left of them!” roared General Riouk through the headpiece to the artillery commander. Still, when the situation became untenable, the artillery would retreat to the second line. The rest, well, they would be ordered to delay the enemy, which meant they would sacrifice themselves.

2nd defensive line

The main battle tanks rumbled to life while the remaining MLRS systems were activated. Meanwhile, two brigades of mechanized infrantry plus two full divisions of regular infantry waited patiently. Here, some of the troops were equipped with the pulse rifles and hydra rockets that Clairmont had been able to spare.

General Riouk, now clad in full battle armour, waddled up and down the line. The armour was basically ceremonial but did have a headset, concealed under a horned helmet, that enabled him to communicate with the main command post. He received the message to attend the allied meeting but declined, preferring to send one of his trusted aides. No disrespect was intended but, like all of his kind, he was beginning to feel the insatiable hunger for battle welling up within him.

At the back of his mind, he wondered why he couldn’t communicate with the other FKC states. Perhaps the Imperials were able to disrupt comm traffic after all?

Medusa City

Within Medusa city itself, a full infantry division waited. It was uncertain if the Imperials would level the city with nukes like they did to Minette or if they would actually try to capture it. If the Imperials did try to move in, well, it would be house to house fighting. Still, they did not exactly welcome the prospect of possibly being nuked.

Further in

Meanwhile, the SOAT-bots split up into groups, each being roughly 750 bots not including their controllers. They were to penetrate as deeply as possible and disrupt Imperial logistics and, if possible, to report back

Too bad the infiltrator models weren’t up and running yet, thought one King’s Own. He recalled how Dolze used them to devastating effect against the Klatch, since they looked exactly like flesh and blood soldiers. One managed to waltz right into a Dukratian command post and nearly killed a general. He looked at his squad of bots that were in quad mode and climbed aboard one, much like a man riding a horse. With a jerk, he headed off along his odd mount.

To Ft. Jansei

Along the road to Ft. Jansei, a brigade of tanks was strung out along the road and hidden in camouflaged netting. With them, two brigades of mechanized infantry also blended into the terrain as best they could. All of them were ready to pounce upon the corridor, hoping that the Imperials would actually come this way. Up on the mountain to the south west of Medusa were the towed artillery, specifically the 152 Giansint.

On the coastline north of Medusa

What the Admiral found odd was that the Imperials did not target his ships yet. He allowed himself a grim smile. Perhaps they don’t think of us as a threat.

“Launch everything we have. Target their nearest ground bases. I intend to…annoy them.”

Several battle-proven Cyclops UAVs, a Klatchian product, were launched first and headed for the coast. It was only a matter of time before the ships themselves would join the battle. For some reason, some of the UAVs had graffiti sprayed on them colourful phrases such as "KILL THE IMPERIALS!" and "YOU SUCK FLIPPER!". Several lewd sexual drawings were also done, mostly with an Imperial caricature being at the short end of the stick.

Hephaestus

Having hitched a ride with one of the space capable allies, Colonel Lok Prag was silent. It bothered him that Vrak could not do more in this battle, especially in the space theater. He only hoped that Vrak's much vaunted R&D would finally produce results. In fact, he felt humiliated in having to hitch a ride to this meeting. The Vrakians were, after all, a proud race.

He nodded briefly at the other gathered officials, feeling slightly out of place due to his rank. He made sure to communicate that General Riouk meant no disrespect in not coming, but "he's the kind of walrus that likes to knock heads". He also would again reaffirm Vrak's promise to help as much as possible and, on his General's authority, could place a call to the High Command to see if more could be done.

Location: Medusa City, 1st Defense Line, 50 kilometers from the city

The cannons of the dug-in Main Battle Tanks spat hypervelocity SABOT rounds at the incoming enemy armored vechiles while Anti-Tank teams fired their Hydra ATGM's as fast as they could reload at the enemy that was still two kilometers away. By the standards of the weaponry employed, two kilometers was more than close enough.

Fountains of dirt erupted amongst the advancing Imperial formations once more as Vrakian artillery rained down upon them. Some of the MLRS rockets the Imperials simply shot down with their vechile mounted point-defenses, while some got thru that defensive umbrella. Against the main armor of the Imperial force, their massive Superheavy Tanks and their Main Battle Tanks, the Vrakian artillery could only hope to score kills with multiple direct hits at the same time, and achieving that against a target without ECM or active Point-Defenses and Defensive Screens was hard enough, against the Imperials it was vanishingly rare. However, the artillery provided a nice way of suppressing the enemy lighter elements, and of that Colonel Graham Burton could only be thankfull as he watched the battle thru the visual magnification provided by his battledress helmet.

He was thoroughly amazed that the Able Defense Line was even fighting at this point. He had expected it to hold for a day at most, but against all odds they had fought off the Imperial attacks, until now atleast. Now the Colonel held no illusion that they could hold the Imperials here any longer, with their strength being what it was, with so many of the 34th Brigade's Armored Vechiles being little more than blown apart wrecks, they simply did not have the capability to stop the Imperial Armored Support.

The general fallback order had already gone in and the the remnants of the three Clairmontian Brigades that had defended Able Defense Line were loading up to their ground transports. The Vrakian contignent that had accompanied the Clairmontians in the fight had been sent the same information, and they would all fall back together in another thirty minutes when the Clairmontian Artillery in Medusa would fire a massive barrage in saturation pattern at the incoming Imperials while the 71st Tactical Armor Brigade would provide mobile covering fire for the retreating forces. Burton admired the tenacity of the Vrakian commanders who had insisted they would remain behind, however he had been adamant. The Vrakians could fall back among the rest, they should live to fight another day.

Baker Defense Line

General Sharon Issard, the commander of 2nd Combat Corps stood poised at her command post, observing the data flowing in from the Able Defense Line. The general retreat had commenced, and the curtain barrage provided by the artillery was slowing the Imperials down enough so that they could not run down the retreating three brigades.

The Baker Defense Line was thirty kilometers behind the first one, and behind Baker laid only Medusa city. Issard went thru the positioning of his four divisions with meticulous care. The disposition of armor and infantry as well as the flexible Tactical Armor's had been planned carefully to provide maximum effectiveness against an enemy with heavy armored support. The terrain favored Issard heavully. The only good approach route's for the Imperials were the two highways that passed thru the defense line to Medusa city, and those had been extensively mined and artillery assigned to hammer at any Imperials that would use the highways. The terrain was dotted with the occasional house along with patches of forest and rocky outcrops. The populace of the area had been evacuated in the face of the coming onslaught and thus Issard was free to engage with everything in her disposal.

She glanced over at General Riouk. The Walrus was busy shouting orders thru his headset. In the past days, the two had made a good team, both understanding each other in how the defense should be handled and Issard was glad to have the Vrakian with her.

"General, we have more reinforcements coming in." Informed her Chief of Staff.

She patched in to the multitude of recon drones running over the defense line, feeding data to the command post. From the south-west, a column with several massive tanks and troop transports was approaching the defense line rapidly. Issard gasped as she recognized the tanks and the unit insignias on the troop transports.

The tanks could be no other than the brand new M-380 Hexapuma Superheavies, while the troop transports carried the Protectorate's elite. The Royal Cadre Drop Commando's, a full battalion of them. Issard's defense line had just recieved a significant boost in combat capability.

Hephaestus

As the Vrakian representative joined the group as well, Caparelli decided to formally begin the conference. Seeing everyone getting seated, and beginning to go thru the folders of hardcopy provided at each place in the table, he spoke.

"Its good to see all of you here and I hope you did not have as difficult of a ride as we did. Getting thru the Imperial Aerospace defense setup they have put together is, suffice to say, quite a task indeed."

"The point of this conference is to discuss how do we continue this war? The Protector has already authorized me to utilize whatever plan we will put together here today. As I see it, with the Imperials having committed such atrocities and displayed the general unwillingness to co-exist peacefully, I intend to plan for nothing else than the complete defeat and invasion of the Imperium."

At this, Caparelli could see slight signs of disbelief in the eyes of the allied representatives and he could guess what they were thinking. How could they actually invade an enemy that so nearly had beaten the Protectorate and those who stood with it into submission? But they listened nevertheless.

"For this purpose, I propose we commence offensive operations as soon as possible, preferrably within a month. From the captured Imperial vessels, we have learned the area of space and solar systems that the Imperium controls."

He manipulated a remote, and a large spherical hologram came to existence two meters above the table. It was displaying the sector of the Milky Way galaxy where Earth resided. As Caparelli further operated the remote, the hologram changed, lining up the area of space occupied by the Imperium and displaying the names of the star systems they held as well as the distance between Sol and Imperial space.

"As you can see here, the Imperium controls fifteen primary star systems that are the basis of its infrastructure. There are also numerous minor star systems where they conduct resourcing operations, they are however largely irrelevant to the actual war effort. From what we have gathered, they have a total population of a bit over sixteen billion, of which a full quarter resides in their Home System of Birhat."

The allied commanders were listening carefully to Caparelli giving them the brief.

"Now, there are only two outcomes in this war. Total defeat of the Imperium or the death of Clairmont. As it is, remaining on the defensive will give the Imperium time to mass up a new force and strike again. The only viable option would be a large-scale counter-offensive. That atleast is the result to which I and my staff have come to, but the point of this Council of War is to reach a general consensus, so speak your minds."


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Issard.jpg
General Sharon Issard Protectorate Army
Commanding Officer 2nd Combat Corps

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Caparelli.jpg
First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

Star General Aphraziel sat at the depths of his command tank and observed the retreating Clairmontian forces from their first defense line. He had been supprised at the tenacity of their defense. They had been able to inflict quite notable casualties to his forward armored elements and infantry during the five days that had passed, but now they had been forced to retreat and the only thing that stood between Aphraziel and Medusa city now was the primary loyalist defense line.

The High Command had deemed the larger cities of Clairmont as targets of capture rather than annihilation and the Star General understood the logic. They needed the factory capability to replace certain materials. While the troop transport barges had limited fabrication capabilities, they were mainly tasked with producing the kind of technical parts that the Clairmontian infrastructure couldnt.

However, the smaller cities had been deemed worth only of annihilation in the eyes of the Imperium and thus many of them had been turned to clouds of vapor under the power of nuclear weapons. What had also supprised Aphraziel however had been the quick nuclear retaliation of the Clairmontians. They had done nothing less than carpet nuked several landing areas, and they had displayed no hindrance to deploying nuclear weaponry elsewhere on the ground theatre. One reason obviously was the fact that the Clairmontian nukes were extremely clean. While every nuke produced radiation, the Clairmontian nukes left extremely little background radiation due to the efficiency at which they used up the fissile material in the warheads.

That when coupled with the level of NBC protection the Clairmontian and Imperial troops alike considered as standard for their footsoldiers, nuclear weaponry wasnt such an outrageous thought in ground combat as it once had been.

The Star General observed the general situation map of the sector of the loyalist island that had been assigned to his contignent. Most of his forces were currently hammering away at the defenses of Medusa city, however he had slipped three companies past the enemy defenses and to the rear, they would use the Clairmontian Highway to scout the way to Fort Jansci. Preliminary recon drones hadnt revealed any emissions sources that would have been a sign of Clairmontian forces along the highway. And once that task was out of the way, those three companies would start tearing things apart in the Clairmontian's rear.

The display suddenly changed, now it was painting angry red lines coming towards the landing sites of the Transport Barges that had discorged Aphraziel's troops as well as the forces of five other Star General's. There were a lot of the inbound traces, however their velocity and source told Aphraziel their origin. The Vrakian fleet off the coast.


The missiles that approached the transport barges met a target they had never been designed to strike against. Jamming signals confused their onboard computers, point-defense lasers shot them down and the remaining ones struck the erected shield umbrellas of the transport barges turned fortresses. The forward bases and command posts the Imperials had set up however had only a fraction of those capabilities, and the swarms of missiles wreaked havoc among them.

The Imperials had largely ignored the Vrakian ships, not counting on actual wet navy vessels being capable of inflicting any damage. Now their stance towards the ships changed.

The transport barge's discorged squadrons of Parasite Attack Fighters while missile launchers aboard the barges themselves cycled their magazines, inserting missiles to the tubes. Forty-eight missile tubes spoke at the same time, firing four dozen Imperial Surface-To-Surface missiles. They lacked the capability to travel most of their distance to the target in hyperspace like their hypermissile brethren, however their drive fields gave them velocities ranging at upwards to ten times the speed of sound. They were arrows of depleted uranium coated with graphite, and within their hollow cores they held anti-matter charges that would turn the arrows once they hit to the equivalents of 3 kiloton nuclear weapons.

“I whole heartily agree with you” answered Dodalla to Caparelli’s question “However, I think that the before we can begin offensive operations against the 4th Imperium we should secure the island of Clairmont first. Doing so would allow us to free up considerable amount of resources that could more effectively used for offensive operations.”

Admiral Jensen slid a data pad across the table towards Caparelli “The information of that data contains details of our proposal to begin military operations to cleanse Clairmont of the remaining 4th Imperium forces on the island” carefully explained Jensen. “As we speak the Tappee taskforce that we used in the Orion War is currently be re-supplied, and is scheduled to arrive in system within the week. When they arrive we want to begin planet fall operations on the island itself.”

“Our plan is as follows” quickly added Admiral Dodalla. She want to make sure that they were all on the same page as to what Tappee had planned, of course the plan had to meet with Clairmont approval first. “We are intending for a two pronged attacked against the enemy ground forces. Forces operating out of Tappee are going to attempt to establish a breach head behind enemy lines, while at the same time our Space Force will attack from directly above them. Add to that your forces, and we will be hitting them from three different points.” Dodalla looked around the room as the rest of the allied commanders pondered their plan “We understand that we suffer substantial losses during the plant fall, but we feel that they are considered acceptable losses. Sooner we can secure Clairmont; the sooner we can push forward with offensive operations against the 4th Imperium. As we speak the bulk of Tappee’s forces are being mobilized, including all our reserves, and they should be ready for deployment in just over a month.”

A brief silence fell over the room. “What do you all think” asked Admiral Martac “Secure the island first then move against 4th Imperium, or should be split our forces in two.”

Admiral Caparelli examined the datapad carefully before returning his eyes to the Tappee Military Commanders.

"I wish we had that option gentlemen, unfortunately, we dont. Our main problem currently lies with the amount of Imperial anti-orbital firepower they have set up on the ground beneath the shields of their landed transport barges. We have already done some preliminary calculations, and we estimate that we cannot breach those shields at their current configuration with anything less than two hundred megatons at each transport. With there being over eighty transports, that would effectively mean turning Clairmont Island into a nuclear wasteland. Ofcourse, that does not yet even account for the losses we would sustain against our Space Forces in this assault."

He waited for a moment, observing the expressions on the faces of the gathered allied commanders before continuing.

"The painfull fact is, that the Imperial Ground Force will just have to be dealt with with the assets we have on the ground. The counter-offensive against the Imperium itself must commence within a month at maximum or otherwise they will have time to re-organize a new fleet force. Me and my staff, along with the joint chiefs are confident that we can hold the Imperial Ground Invasion at bay for the duration of the campaign against Imperial controlled territory. However, we simply lack the time to commit our fleet at purging our home first and we cannot risk significant losses to our combat strength before we even engage the Imperium at their own turf."

"And while it pains me to say so, we do not strictly need Clairmont Island in order to effectively fight against the Imperium. Our ship construction and maintenance capabilities are all here in space, and the factory ships and fabricators here at Hephaestus can deal with the supply issue."

The Admiral felt the weight of responsibility weighing in on his shoulders. He hated having to leave his home to deal with the invaders alone, but for the life of it he could see no other option. However effective the attack against the Imperial Ground Forces at Clairmont Island would be, purging them out even with the help of the Tappee ground forces as well and the space arm delivering tactical strikes would take several months at minimum. You just couldnt clear out millions of enemy troops with superior technology as if it were a milk run. And if the fleet waited here for that long, the Imperials would surely have gathered a new attack fleet, and then the war would soon be effectively over.

To say that Admiral Dodalla was less then thrilled about Caparelli decision not to secure the island of Clairmont before moving against the 4th Imperium was an understatement. The idea of leaving an enemy position to their rear was inconceivable to her. In her mind as long as the 4th Imperium had troops on the planet they posed a direct threat to Tappee itself, a notion that did not sit well with her, though she could see his reasoning. However, this meeting was as much about politics as it was military planning, and she would be forced to abide by Caparelli decision.

“Very well” answered Dodalla in agreement, ignoring the looks that she quickly received from her follow Admirals “If that is how you feel, then that is how we will proceed. However, please allow us to deploy elements of our army to Clairmont itself to help aid in its defence. Though much smaller then our Naval Force they still pack a punch, and will in no way reduce the logistical strength of any offensive operations.” Dodalla quickly glanced over at Martac and Jensen “Once our fleet has been fully mobilized we launch offensive operations against the 4th Imperium”

Colonel Lok Prag silently took in the information and let out a gasp at striking the Imperium directly while enemy forces still freely marched across Clairmont itself. Though, he had to admit, Caparelli’s decision to strike the Imperium directly was bold. But, he felt it had too many unknowns.

“Admiral Caparelli, I respectfully submit to you that we don’t know what waits for the Order forces in Imperial space itself. That is, we don’t know what size of force may be encountered, but if we error on the side of caution, we should expect them to be even greater than what we are dealing with now.”

He paused in order for that to sink in.

“Our supply lines would be stretched and we still, as far as I know, have no effective counter to their ships. Mind you, I am but a simple ground pounder, but it bothers me to leave Imperial forces here on the ground. We don’t have them contained and they are able to perform rearguard actions which could sap our strength.”

“If we could but force the surrender of their ground forces here, then that would free up manpower for any type of counter strike. We ought to at least have some semblance of containment.”

Another pause.

“Do the Imperium ground forces have weapons that can disrupt our space craft in orbit? How secure is Hephaestus? I…”

Here, he threw a flipper up in frustration.

“…aahh…we have no intelligence on them in their space. Their assets, their force distribution, anything. Sending ships deep into their territory would be suicidal, but then if we close ranks and wait for another assault it could mean the end of Clairmont and by extension, the rest of us. Still, striking them now would utilize one key advantage. Surprise.”

“I don’t know what role we can play here. We have roughly 10-15 troop transports that we bought from Tappee that can hold 8000 troops each…” here a nod of thanks., “but I suspect that we could be better utilized in fighting the Imperium here on earth in a ground war.”


OOC: More coming later today.

Caparelli understood the Vrakian and Tappee representatives perfectly, and he detested the decision he had to make. But it was the only logical course to continue the war. From a purely military standpoint, Clairmont Island would not affect the offensive operations of the Navy too much. Most of the expendable munitions, repair and construction work were conducted in space, and the Imperial Ground Army did not have any warships they could use to start striking against the CSN's space infrastructure. As it was, the fleet could commence offensive operations and leave the Imperial ground forces to their rear for the Imperial Ground Force lacked any real force projection capability in space.

As Colonel Lok Prag brought forth his concerns, Patricia Givens, the head of Office of Naval Intelligence and the Bureau Of Planning answered those concerns.

"Colonel. From the captured Imperial vessels we have learned much. We know the size of their territory, we know its location. Now, the data we have puts a strict upper limit to the size of their fleet. Judging by the information we obtained, the assault force that our joint Tappee and CSN forces smashed in space represented a major formation of the Imperial Battle Fleet. While we do not have any solid data, the best estimates I and the Office of Naval Intelligence have generated are that the Imperial Battle Fleet has four to five other main fleets such as the one we defeated. This would mean five to seven thousand ships. Ofcourse, this does not account for the defenses we will meet when we go against their solar systems."

She allowed that to sink in and concentrated on the second point Colonel Prag had brought up.

"And when it comes to countering their ships Colonel Prag, it is mostly a matter of tactics. We have already modified our missile defense doctrine to better be able to defend against the Imperial hypermissiles, and several other tactical doctrine adaptations are already being implemented. While we are technologically inferior to them, that state of affairs most likely will not remain for long. As we speak, there are research and development teams aboard this very shipyard picking thru salvaged Imperial equipment in hopes of reverse engineering some of it. In essence gentlemen, we arent fighting a phantom here, we can hurt them, we know where they are."

As Givens finished, Caparelli also decided to bring up his thoughts.

"Our dilemma here is that we must take the initiative, drive them to the defensive. The CSN is ready to embark upon that task, and since we keep most of the ground strike element of the fleet up in space at all times, a full ninety five percent of our Fleet Strike personnel is already gathered here, and seventy two percent of the Royal Marines are here as well. We have sufficient strength to fight. However, by no means do we intend to leave our home to its own devices completely. Not at all. The full strength of the Clairmontian Army and Air Force will be concentrating on defeating them on the ground and any troops you can provide to assist in that task will be greatly appreciated."


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Givens.jpg
Second Space Lord Patricia Givens
CO of Bureau of Planning

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Caparelli.jpg
First Space Lord Thomas Caparelli
Commander of Naval Operations

Prag grunted heavily at the information from the Second Space Lord. He thought to himself how much stock could be placed on scuttled ships and wondered if it all could be misinformation. This foe did prove to be clever and he was reluctant to place too much emphasis on intelligence. Still, if what she said was true, then it would be an ideal time to strike.

“I cannot say that I am entirely at ease with everything so far, although my doubts have subsided. We do face a foe that have proven to be resourceful and cunning but,” he let the words hang, “not invincible. I have heard that even our own wet navy, outclassed as it is, was able to inflict damage upon their transports. This should give us all a reason to press forward.”

He straightened himself up. Even at full height, a fully-grown bull walrus would not be as tall as an average human. But his bulk managed to convey his seriousness.

“If we really did destroy a significant portion of their fleet, and by this I mean no disrespect to the fighting that has gone on, then it would seem that we could actually tilt the battle into our favour. As for our role, I believe that we can best help out in containing their ground forces here and providing troops to fight a ground war there. Unless you plan to destroy all of their assets from orbit which would, to be perfect honest, a much more effective approach. Occupying them would be a headache.”

He thought back to the Neo Tyr debacle that has bogged down the FKC in that little known war.

====

The Vrakians grudgingly obeyed the retreat order, although some beserkers, still chanting the death chants of Bok, charged into the oncoming foe with guns blazing. It made for an exciting memory and served uplift Vrakian morale, but little else was gained. In all, the Vrakians received roughly 75% losses at the first line.

====

General Riouk looked at the gigantic tanks that were offloaded. He growled in satisfaction and began to bark orders into his microphone. Nearby, the MLRS began to launch their volleys at the enemy. Only one had EMP warheads so it should be interesting to see what would be the result.

The infantry tightened their grips on the machine guns. This was it. Save the city or at least take as many as those bastards as you can.

Meanwhile, the division within Medusa itself did their final checks and crouched into position. They were hoping that they would be able to surprise the Imperials should they make it this far.

====

“Direct hit!” shouted one pilot as his fighter jet swooped away. But his excitement turned to horror as he saw the point defense systems swat down so many others while the remaining ones hit some kind of…shield?

Disbelief. Shock. Horror. Those were his three emotions before an incoming Parasite Attack fighter turned his plane into a fireball. Some did managed to escape while others turned to foolishly engage this new threat. They were hopelessly outclassed, for the enemy had superior speed and maneuverability. They could only hope to get lucky.

“Incoming!” reported the crewman hunched over his monitor, “speed…Mach 10”

“Jam them. Jam them!”

“Incoming fighter craft. At least 4 squadrons!

The control rooms in the fleet were alive with activity. Anti-air missiles roared out of their respective VLS tubes while the electronic counter attack equipment tried to jam the incoming missiles. Closer in, the missiles and fighters would meet a variety of perimeter defense, most notably 30 mm chatter from the phalanx-type guns.

But, they would fail of course. Once again the enemy technology was easily able to circumnavigate the ECM suite. Perhaps a lucky anti-ship or anti-air missile would find their mark, but the chances were slim. Only the two Hamas-class battleships might have a better chance of survival since they were more advanced than the escort cruisers and destroyers.

In all, the forty eight missiles found their mark, obliterating the smaller frigates and destroyers while heavily damaging the rest. It would only be a matter of time before they sank to the bottom to converse with the fishies.

Still, one battleship the VNF Screecher lived up to its namesake and fired all of its WOTAN cruise missiles at the nearest transport. It was a desperate act, but not the final one.

Lurking several kilometers offshore sat the small accompanying submarine fleet. Most of them were attack subs and therefore really could not engage the land targets. But the cruise missile and the more deadly Typhoon subs could. Authorization was received and the six Oscar IIs released their first wave of six missiles each. Each missile was a 500 kiloton nuclear warhead.*


----
*500 kilotons. Hmmm, I dunno. That’s what global security said. And the WOTAN has a range of 300 km with a 1000kg conventional warhead.

“One of ours?” asked the soldier nervously to his companion. Both blended in to the dreary Clairmontian landscape and his buddy was peering out with a pair of high powered binoculars. They did not see the enemy drone that passed overhead but so far, they haven’t been moving at all. The Vrakian tanks were still and the artillery high up were silent for the moment.

“No. Enemy. One…two companies…”, he whispered back.

He slightly turned to his nervous partner who swallowed and then crept back to the radio post. A quick encoded message was sent and then a silent prayer to hope they weren’t detected.

Closer. Closer.

Barooom! One small battalion of artillery opened up, which meant that 42 artillery pieces rained 152 mm shells down on the Imperial forces. The nearest tanks roared to life and set off on a mad dash to engage the enemy, foregoing all concerns of utilizing cover and stealth. Speed and surprise was the key here and the Vrakians hoped that it would be enough.


Further down and closer to the Imperial assembly area, the SOAT-bots galloped over the ridge and straight into the nearest enemy area. It was not known if they would hit anything of importances or if they would be ground up like hamburger since information was scant this far (that is, this close to the enemy). But the robots in quad mode would revert to bipedal mode and eat dirt to lay down suppressive fire from their built in heavy machine guns.

Most likely, the final result would be 1500 SOAT-bots and their 200 plus handlers ground up into dog chow.

Aphraziel grunted in annoyance as the Vrakian EMP warheads bursted among his lead armored columns. The electronics of Imperial Ground Warfare equipment were well and truly shielded from EMP, however they did have the effect of jamming and confusing the sensitive targeting and sensor equipment the Imperials used for moments, and at the ranges they were commencing their engagement against the main loyalist defense line, the temporary effects of the EMP proved very dangerous indeed.

Armor-piercing SABOT rounds erupted at ranges upto eight kilometers as Clairmontian tanks opened fire. They punched thru the Imperial Tanks defense screens to strike at their thick plating. Some simply bounced off as the superbly sloped armor defeated the last bits of momentum the rounds had left after using so much of it to penetrate the defense screens.

But some of the tanks were not so lucky. As two of the superdense armor penetrating arrows struck an Imperial tank nearly simultaneously, its armor was torn apart and the tank plunged to the ground as its contra-grav drive field disappeared with the rounds having destroyed the tanks powerplant. Crew began to disembark rapidly, however their efforts proved futile as the ammunition of the tank cooked off, turning the armored vechile into a rapidly expanding fireball.

Several other Imperial Main Battle Tanks met the same fate as accurate fire tore them apart, even a few of the massive Imperial superheavies got destroyed as repeated fire from the defense line tore them apart. But the Imperials took their losses, their armored spearhead continuing to advance despite the casualties with their Infantry Fighting Vechiles and APC's following in the wake of the tanks. As the harmfull effects of the EMP warheads subsided, explosions began to blossom in the defense line as the advancing Imperial armored elements opened fire.


Aphraziel shifted his gaze to another screen, noting with pleasure that the Vrakian missile attack had been defeated, and the return strike by the landing barges had inflicted serious damage. His expression remained stony however as the sensors he was relying on detected the incoming missiles from the Vrakian submersibles and the single battleship that had released its payload of missiles. His sensors told him that the missiles launched by the battleship were conventional, however the radiological alarm told the tale of the missiles from the submersibles. The Star General licked his lips and requested the targets of the missiles. The last desperate volley of the Vrakian battleship was coming directly at HIMS Whirlwind. The transports shields were up and their anti-missile systems were already dropping down some of the inbound missiles. Many of them disappeared from Aphraziel's screen before hitting the Imperial transport, some of them got thru the intercept envelope however and rained down destruction on the parts of the base surrounding the transport that were unprotected by the shield.

The more dangerous nuclear missiles however were still coming, all thirty six of them. Even if they all would hit the same transport, they carried insufficient payloads to get thru the shields of the transports. Even though the Clairmontians had wrecked some landed transports with smaller tactical nuclear weapons moments after the transports had landed, that had been solely due to the fact that the destroyed transports hadnt had time to re-initialize their shields after re-entry. Now however, all the Imperial transports had their shields functioning.

But the Vrakians apparently had thought of that, and the flight of three dozen missiles was heading directly at Imperial Army Group #72 of the 3rd Ground Invasion Army that had grouped together after disembarking their personnel and equipment from their transport.

Parasite Attack Craft went up to shoot down incoming missiles, anti-missile defenses did their best. Only three of the incoming missiles survived, but against an unshielded ground target, they were more than enough.

Three new suns blossomed as the warheads struck the valley where the Imperial forces had been preparing for moving out. With so few of the total salvo surviving, large gaps persisted in the missiles area of effect. But as the miniature suns vaporized Imperial personnel and equipment while the expanding shockwaves threw Imperial vechiles and Parasite Craft like toys, the fact that only three had struck was a minor cause for relief in Star General Aphraziels mind.

Quick estimates came in, and the Imperial general gringed his teeth. Atleast forty two thousand personnel and seventy two hundred vechiles had been incinerated. While it was a mere fraction of the total strength of Ground Invasion Army Three, it was a fraction that could not be replaced. Instead of allowing shock to affect his performance, Aphraziel immidiately tasked two of his Lieutenants to develop and put in effect tactics for shooting down likely future nuclear missile attacks against Imperial ground troop formations.


Star Captain Hirsoa sat in his APC and at the data relayed to him by the small reconnaissance drones that were checking the road ahead of the two companies.

They had been tasked by Aphraziel to strike at the enemy rear, at their logistics and artillery if possible. And at the moment it seemed as if they would succeed. Most of the Clairmontian troops in this quadrant of their island were too busy defending against the main Imperial invasion coming in from the north to notice only three hundred and twenty men in their rear. They would pay a dear price for their ignorance.

"Warning, warning incoming indirect fire"

The cold monotone of his Command APC's computer announced as Hirsoa's screens began to draw the trajectories of incoming artillery rounds. There was no time to actually do anything before they began landing among the Imperial column. Fountains of dirt erupting from the ground, the heavy artillery rounds ripping apart the ceramacrete road. Shock fronts threw foot soldiers around like rag dolls, lightly armored Imperial vechiles vanished to fireballs as some were hit directly by enemy artillery rounds.

At the same time as the last round struck the ground, the surrounding terrain exploded to action as Vrakian troops began charging up on the two Imperial companies from both sides of the road. Behemoths of armor steel and composite rumbled on their tracks, their guns spitting fire at the Imperial vechiles while Vrakian infantry concentrated on the Imperial footsoldiers.

Despite the element of supprise the Vrakians enjoyed, the Imperials quickly began taking cover, squads rallying to their squad leaders, fire support teams opening up with heavy weapons and missile launchers, the light APC's and recon vechiles of the Imperials adding their weight of fire to the fray. They were surrounded, outnumbered and had less cover than the Vrakians, and yet Hirsoa would make certain that the Vrakians wouldnt come out of this fight without knowing they had been licked.


As Star General Aphraziel had himself advocated the usefullness of striking against Imperial logistics lines with small groups of main combat forces, he had anticipated the possibility of the loyalists and their allies attempting a similar strategy. It was difficult however to try and predict the exact point where an attack might come, and as such the attack by the Vrakian SOAT bots at one of the quickly assembled Imperial logistics and repair centers met little in the way of resistance. Two companies of Imperial Marines met them, with the support of a small number of the towering 8 meter OGRE autonomous bipedal combat units.

The Star General however relied on air cover and its quick mobility to rapidly lend support against possible rear area attacks. Imperial Parasite Attack craft took off from a nearby transport, and headed towards the threatened logistics center at their best speed.


The siege of Medusa City was beginning as the Imperial troops assailed the defense lines without remorse. The millions of human beings that habited the city watched from the skyscrapers that touched the skies at the horizon where the Imperial Warmachine came ever closer to them.

“Hold the line!” roared General Riouk at his troops, “HOLD THE LINE!” He had to maintain a brave face else the troops would be overwhelmed with sinking morale. They were uplifted at the Clairmontian super heavy tanks tore into the Imperial lines but were disheartened to see the Imperial shields thwart the attacks.

It was simple, really. The Vrakians would concentrate on the infantry or, if the opportunity presented itself, an advancing Imperial IFV or APC. But that would necessitate a volley of determined fire and in this ever-flowing battlefield, the chances were rare.

The one MRLS with EMP warheads had run out and was scrambling for a reload. The last remaining elements of the self-propelled artillery were still firing while the T-90 tanks began to close the distance with the enemy. This open plain was horrible for combat since the Vrakians were outranged. It was hoped that some cover fire from the Clairmontians would enable them to get close enough. Losses were mounting at an exponential rate and soon they would have to retreat to the city itself, if they were given that choice at all.

====

The lone Cyclops UAV managed to transmit the results of the barrage from the submarine missile attack as well as the complete ravaging of the three groups. It would go down as the single worst naval fight in Vrakian history. It soon ran out of fuel and crashed into the peaceful countryside.

Another larger volley of 72 cruise missiles with nuclear warheads were sent against the Imperial troop formations. But it was a given that the Imperials were resourceful so it was unknown if this attack would be successful. At the end of the second volley, the submarines would dive to their maximum crush depth and retreat with all due speed away from this particular theater. Surely there would be other enemy forces to strike at all along the coast.

====

Although the SOAT-bot frame and computer brain were quite advanced, they still wielded modern weapons and were no match for the resistance they encountered, especially against the awesome 24 foot fighting machines. It was lucky that the SOAT-bots did not know fear and fought on despite mounting casualties else they would run away like most sane people. Their handlers, arguable the softest targets were killed off quicker so the skeletal robots reverted to a simple “friend/foe” recognition program and would execute simple tactics such as concentrating fire on the biggest threat.

It was a suicide run, but Command hoped that it would deal a psychological blow to the Imperials. Half of the force was already decimated.

====

In the rear, the engaging Vrakian tank battalion took heavy losses. More elements were called in to deal with the threat but they did not want to commit everything to fight the Imperials. After all, they might have to dig in at Fort Jansei or hopefully surprise other Imperials.

The artillery continued to pound away indiscriminately, now increasing friendly fire dramatically while two more tank battalions were called in from their hiding spots. The accompanying mechanized infantry battalion was likewise mowed down but as the Imperials advanced, the more entrenched positions would open up with heavy machine gun fire, RPGs, and small mortar fire.

====

At Fort Jansei itself, two super cargo haulers landed and additional reinforcements marched out. Two full mechanized brigades along with a handful of towed artillery spilled out and hastily assigned to where they were needed the most, which was likely to defend Ft. Jansei itself.


====
OOC: Just so I can keep it straight here for me. Two mechanized infantry brigades along with one brigade of tanks are strung out along the Ft. Jansei road to Medusa. One brigade = 4 regiments = 16 battalions. One mechanized battalion has 432 combat personnel along with appropriate APCs or IFV to bring them to the front line. A tank brigade is arranged in the same manner. A tank battalion has 44 tanks, 21 anti-tank systems and 21 anti-air systems (short range mostly).

OOC: I'll start to slowly tie up this first part of the war saga. Im going ahead and finishing the conference aboard the Hephaestus and other stuff. After this I'll open up Part II which takes place some years after this one.

IC:

Location: HMSS Hephaestus
Time: Day 7 of Ground War, 09.12 PM

Admiral Caparelli watched the final VIP shuttles departing from Hephaestus. The conference had been brought to a succesfull conclusion, altough the allied commanders were hardly thrilled by the decisions that had to have been made.

Three weeks from now, the allied force that the CSN was calling The Grand Fleet would depart from the Sol system, their target the Imperium. Most of the fleet comprised of units from the Tappee Space Navy and the Clairmont Space Navy. But there were also elements of the CSF and JiL present, elements that had remained loyal or turned their backs to the High Imperator. Caparelli by no means was certain of their loyalty, but they were ships that were badly needed and he accepted any help he could get at this hour.

The question that always came back to haunt him asked whether it all was enough. The numbers of their enemy were greater, and their technology better, their territory larger. By all accounts, anyone with a drop of sanity would have deemed the coming campaign a suicide. While Caparelli recognized that the odds were against him, he also felt cautious optimism. They had defeated a superior Imperial force once now, all that was required was to repeat the feat. Which sounded far simpler than it truly was.

He glanced up from the datapad he was holding to the viewport and saw a black and gold mountain of battlesteel drifting past his quarters at a distance of barely a kilometer. It took Caparelli only a moment to recognize the ship as one of the Invictus-class Superdreadnaughts. He watched the ship drift away from his line of sight before returning to reading the telltale of the datapad.

The report back from home was far from optimistic. The Imperial contignent at the northern plains of Clairmont had pushed the joint Clairmontian and Vrakian forces back to the outskirts of Medusa city. Fort Ixion and Harrington Naval Base had been obliterated. The defenders of Diess city were locked in a stalemate with attacking Imperial formations and Caprica city had already fallen to Imperial forces.

Casualty numbers flowed in and Caparelli grimaced at the brutality of the reality of ground war. Some twenty-two thousand had died in the last three days, Imperial casualties were largely unknown.

He sighed and laid down the report. He didnt know how he could ever forgive himself for leaving his home to fend for its enemies alone. Part of his soul cried out for him to send the fleet to attack the Imperial forces on the ground. But he knew why he had opted not to do it, why his Government had agreed with him. None of it eased his guilt.


Location: Fort Syrus

Private Stewart Trent let loose another stream of rounds with his M18, all of them puncturing the target board at a distance of 300 meters, the cluster was still well off from the center of the board.

"You wont be killing a single goddamn Imperial with that kind of shooting Private Trent!"

Stewart muttered something to himself as the Drill Sergeant yelled behind him. In a real battle, he would have the aid of his BDU aim assists as well as the optical and digital sights of his rifle. Now he had nothing but his eyes and the iron sights in his rifle.

"The reason you bunch of scumbuckets need to learn how to shoot without the help of any fancy techno-junk is simple, what the fuck will you do when your equipment is jammed or malfunctioning?"

Stewart grumbled at the explanation, that didnt account for opticals which couldnt be jammed. But he decided not to be a smart ass, he had tried it once, and the lesson he had learned was to never be a smart ass again to his superiors.

The rest of the day was nothing short of hell. The drill sergeants took savage joy from putting his platoon to a cross-country running march up a hill, with sixty five friggin kilos strapped on them. AT mines, ammunition, rations, and plenty of junk that they wouldnt carry with them to a real fight. Stewart had figured himself to have great physical fitness, here in Mobile Warfare his fitness was average at best. After twenty five klicks, the torture was over.

Stewart dragged himself back to the barracks, exhausted. After arranging his gear back to where it belonged, he slumped to his bed, ready to fall asleep. The rest of his platoon soon followed suite.

Despite the gruesome nature of the training, the amount of quitters was extremely low, and even those who quit rather just transferred to a unit of the Combat Arms that they could handle better. All of the men and women in the unit had something driving them, like in Stewarts case, it was often lost loved ones. It was the need for retribution that drove him forward. Made him face the hell of the training program and fight thru it.

Every day as he read the news from the frontlines, his urge to fight grew. But he remained a realist, there would still be plenty of Imperials left to kill after the time it took him to complete his training. With that thought, his consciousness departed, allowing Stewart to sink to uneasy sleep.


Location: Outskirts of Medusa City

General Sharon Issard wiped sweat from her forehead as the final Imperial armored unit turned to pull back. The last Imperial assault had very nearly breached the final defense line, as the Imperial Infantry had begun to stream from their APC's and their tanks had fought to punch a hole in the line, she had thought it was all over. Swift action from a Tactical Armor unit and a company of Cadre Commando's however had annihilated the Imperial attempt while Vrakian Tanks quickly attacked the flanks of the Imperial force.

She turned to face General Riouk.

"It looks like they have had enough for the day General."

The last Imperial troop carriers were now out of the effective range of the Clairmontian direct fire weapons, and dusk was settling down as night approached to embrace the battlefield. The lights of approaching vechiles illuminated the roads that lead to the defense lines as both Vrakian and Clairmontian re-enforcements came forth from the rear. Among them were the columns of supply trucks. Munitions, spare parts, rations and fuel. Despite the Imperial's attempt to cut the logistics line from Fort Jansei to the defenders of Medusa City, the supplies were still coming, thanks to the brave efforts of certain Vrakian troops.

Issard knew how horrible the casualties that the Vrakians had suffered in eliminating the Imperial Companies at the Highway from Medusa to Jansei had been. But the deaths of those brave soldiers had made sure that the defenders of Medusa still had what they needed to fight and Issard uttered a silent prayer for the souls of the deceased.

As Clairmontian artillery began to rumble in the distance, sending volleys of high-explosive death at the Imperial lines, she got the feeling that she would be uttering a lot of prayers before the end of the year.



A fusion bolt from my primary turret dispatches the last two Imperial Armored Vechiles within my reach. The rest of the Imperial forces have fallen back fifty two kilometers from our defensive position. It appears they require to re-consolidate their formations before attempting a new attack.

After taking 0.21 seconds to confirm no further Imperial presence near my position, I stand down from full battle reflex mode and initiate a self-diagnostic. The results are hardly optimistic as my human masters would say. My forward-left tracks have suffered several hits, as a result my mobility is down by 12%. My forward battlescreen is operating at 60% and there are several deep couges in my armor plating. Two of my infinite repeaters and four of the anti-personnel batteries are out of action. However my VLS launchers and mortars are undamaged.

After cataloging the damages and forwarding the report to Logistics central. I shut off the self-diagnostic. I take full 2.18 seconds to analyze today's combat. While succesfull in thwarting the Imperial offensive, the defensive force took significant casualties causing future defensive capability being impaired. While one of my flesh and blood creators might be emotionally distressed by this fact, I am not. I devote several seconds to optimizing my own efforts in future defensive actions to compensate for this fact. Despite my best efforts to minimize the possibility, my destruction in the defense of Xanadu Space Port in the near future is a high propability. It does not concern me, I was built for this.

As my human crew commences their sleep-cycle, I continue drafting battle plans.

Location: Ft. Thunder
Time: Day 8 of Ground War, 04.13 AM

As the Assault Shuttle deposited Major Kusanagi and her platoon back to their base, she couldnt remember when she had last felt so tired. They had retreated to the landing zone under fire, the Imperials pursuing them persistant on reducing her and the thirty men and women under her command to slabs of dead meat.

Despite their best efforts, Kusanagi and twenty-three of her troops had escaped, seven had not been so lucky. Doctrine would consider it acceptable losses, when considering the amount of intel they had gotten on the Imperials. The fact that in terms of doctrine, the mission was a success, did not make Kusanagi feel any better for having lost those seven men and women.

She walked across the base to her quarters. With the last driblets of energy she had left, she squirmed out of the Battlesuit she had worn for the last three days and arranged her gear back to the locker. Only then did she allow herself to fall asleep.

Location: HMSS Hephaestus
Time: Day 10 of Ground War, 20.12 PM

Major Michael O'Neal, 1st Fleet Strike Regiment, 32nd ACS Battalion walked in to the bar with confident steps. As he entered, he scanned the large, well decorated open space once for any familiar faces. Failing to find any, he walked over to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks.

First Sergeant Ernesto Pappas took one carefull glance to inspect the gathered officers from a multitude of the branches of Clairmont Combat Arms, as well as some foreign Armed Forces officers. Men and women. Marines, Fleet Strike and even two Royal Cadre Majors sitting in their own booth. The athmosphere in the bar was gloomy. There was none of the usual humour and casual chatter as one could have expected from such a place in any other time.

"I wish I could say it feels good to be home Major." The old First Sergeant grunted as he took a gulp from the pint of beer before him.

O'Neal scanned the crowd from a moment more before replying.
"I share your sentiments Top. Not the best kind of homecoming from the Orion Sector War."

As the fleet under Admiral Harringtons command as well as the Fleet Strike contignent had returned from the Orion Sector, O'Neal had gone thru a literal circus of military byrocracy. In the end, the higher ups had figured to promote him to Major and give him his own battalion. O'Neal understood the reasoning, they needed all combat experience in Fleet Strike that they could get their hands on and as such the Orion Sector war veterans were becoming the core of the Fleet Strike contignent that would be heading over to fight against the Imperials on their own turf.

O'Neal tasted his own beer, failing to savour the taste of the brew as he usually would have. A youthly voice of a woman made him put down the beer.

"It looks like I will get to see you two old dogs a lot more in the coming months." Sergeant Major Melissa Mao announced with only a fraction of the usual casual cheerfullness that was part of her character. Saluting sharply before ordering, her mood seemed no better from that of the other patrons of the bar.

"How so Sergeant Major?" Ernesto Pappas inquired.

As the bartender handed the Mao her beer, she tasted it and shrugged.

"Just got the word that I've been transferred over to 1st Regiment and wonder of wonders, to the 32nd Battalion"

"I havent heard anything about this." O'Neal stated.

"Yeah, I got the word an hour ago so you will propably get the official word tomorrow." She explained casually. Everyone had gotten used to quick personnel changes from one unit to another after the fleet had returned from the Orion Sector.

"Looks like they are shaping the thirty-second to be babysitters for fresh ACS troops with this many ACS veterans in one battalion. Hard to understand the logic though, would be smarter to spread the veterans to as many green units as possible." Pappas commented.

O'Neal took another gulp from his beer before replying.
"Well, I for one wont be complaining. Not when I have people I can count on to atleast find their asses with their both hands and a map."

Mao and Pappas chuckled a bit. They had all known each other for a long time, and the trust O'Neal had on Pappas' and Mao's skills when it came to Armored Combat Suit operations was absolute. A moment of silence followed before the Sergeant Major spoke.

"So Major, I heard from some vacuum suckers that we will be departing in less than three weeks? Any truth to that rumour?" She cautiously asked O'Neal.

The Major gave it a moment of thought. He knew quite well when the campaign was supposed to commence, and Mao knew he knew. The question was whether to tell her or not. The Admiralty had opted to keep the exact commencing date of Operation Striking Justice on a need-to-know basis to avoid it getting into the ears of possible Imperial infiltrators. However, he knew he could trust her. He spoke in hushed tones as he replied.

"Eighteen days from now, we will be departing Sol."

Mao only nodded in reply, and returned to her beer. The trio consumed their beers in silence. Contemplating silently the uncertain future that they would travel to meet in less than three weeks.


http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Kusanagi.jpg
Major Motoko Kusanagi, Fleet Strike
CO Blazer Team 3, Special Warfare

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/jayne.jpg
Major Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike
CO 32nd ACS Battalion

http://sivut.koti.soon.fi/villerainamo/Smaj.jpg
Sergeant Major Melissa Mao, Fleet Strike
32nd ACS Battalion

TOSS Karnos Location: High Orbit over Tappee

Through the window Admiral Dodalla looked out over the fleet that was now gathering near Karnos station. Karnos station was the main space station was in orbit directly over Tappee, and served as the main Military staging area for Tappee Naval force. However, in the past few days it had over whelmed with the amount of ships that were coming both in and out of the station. Dodalla had never seen anything like this before, not even during the Orion War, had there ever been a gathering of Tappee task force this size and magnitude. Nearly 80% of the fleet would eventually rendezvous here with units from all four fleets scheduled arrive. Such an event was unprecedented; once again she found her self-making history, history that in truth she wanted no part in.

It proven to be nothing short of a logistical nightmare, simply coordinating ship movements had proven to be more troublesome then originally anticipate, though there was a lot empty space out there keeping the assortment of ship in tactical efficient manner was a tad difficult. Then there was the supply issue, though each fleet got their supplies from the their base of operation to re supply the home fleet was a tedious venture, supply ships were leaving the surface at the pace of one every minute, not to mention the small armada of supply ships that were bring in resources from other sectors to help aid in the war effort.

All this had pushed Tappee logistical capabilities the max and beyond, there was little doubt in her mind that they could not keep this up for long. Opening days of the war would quickly decide the fate of this war. Best-case scenario was; they could quickly take some enemy territory, some thing that they could use to help with their war effort. Then there was the option that lay on the opposite end of the spectrum, a thought that Dodalla quickly put out here mind, thought it was still strong possibility.

As she scanned the over the gathering fleet Dodalla became aware of another presence standing over behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she could see General William standing in the door. “By all means come on in” she waited for a moment before turning to make her way over to her desk. “They hadn’t told that you arrived.” Given the state of things she wasn’t surprised that someone hadn’t told her of his arrival.

General Williams took a seat directly across from Dodalla, his movements were calculated, he still hadn’t adjusted to the stations artificial gravity yet, took keep troop strength up gravity of all Tappee vessels was slightly higher then that of normal gravity. “Thought that I would come see you personally” Answered the General casually “I have grave concerns over the Operation: Waterline, concerns that wish you convey to you personally. Mainly the lack of approval over this.”

Annoyed Dodalla crossed her arms and sat back in chair “Well if they knew, then there is a chance that they might reject the plan. Besides I don’t see what the big deal is”

“You are talking about sending a military force in too allied territory, and action that they said they don’t want” shot William back quickly.

Dodalla let out brief sigh “They said they didn’t want the support of our Space force, they didn’t say anything about the Army, it not like our Army could help with this campaign that the have planned anyways, so we might as well be of some help to us.” According to Tappee military doctrine, both Tappee Army and Air Force were limited strictly to operation on the planet; any thing off the planet fell to the space force. In comparison both the Army and Air Force were far smaller in size then the space force, though well armed as they were the last line of defence for the planet.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two, they had both been friends for some time, and William could that she had this look in her eye, and there was no way that he convince her to do otherwise, and truth be told on some level he even agreed with her. “Just for the record, I’m not going to be the one that responsible when shit hits then fun.” He could see her nod in agreement “Beside, do you even think that this is going to work, its only been tried under controlled conditions, and that was nearly three years ago.”

“I’ve been assured that we can pull this off” answered Dodalla quickly “These things were designed to work in zero atmosphere environment, and all the modifications are being completed as we speak.” She let out a brief chuckle “They will not see it coming”

Williams could see the logic behind her statement, they had never tried anything like this before, and he could only hope that it worked as well in real world as well as it did on paper.

THBS Dauntless Location: Ten Miles off the Tappee Cost

A wave of water made its way over the ship deck, despite all the technological marvel, they were still a natures mercy. Captain Harkon was force grab a nearby ledge to steady himself as the ship lurched beneath him.

It had been two years since he had last stood on the Dauntless’s Command deck, two years since the ship had last been out of the open sea. Two year ago military command had decided to scrap Tappee’s wet Navy all together, a bulk of the fleet had been either sold or turned into scrap. However, in its wisdom command had decided to keep a single task force in dry dock in the off change that a Wet Navy would be need. It seem that day had come, within hours of Imperiums forces landing on the Island Clairmont the remain ship had been pulled from dry dock, and quickly brought back to combat status.

It was now up to Harkon to lead this small task force to Clairmont were they would give this new enemy a special gift that they had meticulously prepared.

Location: Shirlan Heights, 215 km South-West of Diess City
Time: Day 11 of Ground War, 03.31 AM

The terrain was lit by ghostly green light as the nightvision equipment in the primary sight amplified what little light there was. The shape of the Imperial Main Battle tank was crisp and clear as the Fire Control Computer recognized it immidiately, calculating a firing solution, taking into account everything from barometric pressure to air temperature. Sergeant Tom Harrison manually entered the ammunition type, selecting an APFSDS round. The autoloader obligely loaded the round to the chamber.

The range was absurdly low, a pathetic fifteen hundred meters. Spitting range in terms of the capabilities of Clairmontian Main Battle Tanks. However, the Armored Units of the Army had soon learned that against the Imperials, going face-to-face in tank duels was a suicide. Their defensive fields and heavy armor left the Clairmontian tanks in heavy disadvantage while their energy guns could achieve kills even against the newest Manticore MBT's at ranges upto six thousand meters.

So, it came down to shooting and scooting and ambushes. Thanks to clever use of natures gifts and powering down all active sensors of the tanks, one such ambush seemed likely to succeed even at the moment as Lieutenant Owen Sanders checked the firing solution from the screen displaying the data from Harrison's sight while the integrated datalink provided him with a status view of the platoons other units as well as a topographical map of the ops area. One by one, the small icons of Manticore tanks in the datalink screen indicated that all of them had aquired targets.

"Open fire!" The shouted order of Captain Anielewicz came over the comm. And Sanders promptly relayed the order to his gunner.

The firing of the massive 160mm tank shook the tank as a three foot long fin-stabilized arrow of depleted uranium shot out of the barrel and towards the Imperial tank hovering six feet above the ground at a velocity of over four thousand meters per second.

At a range of less than fifteen hundred meters, fire against the side armor, even an Imperial tank couldnt have survived. The depleted uranium arrow hammered thru the tank's defensive screen in a display of blue pyrotechnics, slowing down to just over two thousand meters per second before hitting the armor. Huge splinters of the tanks armor flew off the impact point, the thick battlesteel torn apart by the delivered kinetic energy of the SABOT penetrator.

The enemy tank lurched, one of its secondary grav gun turrets flying to the air as the anti-tank round struck thru the side armor, burrowing itself deep inside the vechile. The drive field holding the armored vechile in the air died, and it ploughed to the ground in its death throes.

The rest of the platoon was almost as succesfull. Out of the eight enemy tanks targeted, five were destroyed outright. One heavully damaged, and the other two had lost their main armaments. But the element of surprise was now lost, and the Imperials reacted to the ambush at alarming speed. The hovering armored behemots turned, presenting their forward armor at the attackers while some began flanking maneuvers, using terrain cover to get themselves into hull-down positions.

Even before the eight Main Battle Tanks of 2nd Platoon, 1st Company, 13th Armored Cavalry Battalion could begin to withdraw from their ambush positions, the first carefully aimed burst of destruction wreaking graviton beam found one of the tanks, tearing thru its armor like a sledgehammer thru a ceramic tile. The crew of three in Unit 5 of 2nd Platoon didnt have time to scream as the beam tore them apart. The night lit up in yellow fire as the tank disappeared to a fireball. Its fuel storage and ammunition cooking off at the same time.

"Shit! Gallant, get us the fuck out of here! Retreat back to point zulu!" Sanders yelled thru the intercom of the massive tank.

Corporal Elazar Gallant was only happy to oblige, his digital screens drawing the waypoint up on the HUD while the camera's outside the tank fed the screens visual from the outside. Like with Harrison's primary sight, the view was ghostly green as the nightvision equipment did its work.

The 78 ton metal monster lurched backwards, retreating thru the foliage of the forest where it had been hiding while presenting its strongest armor against any possible incoming fire. Streams of tracer rounds cut the night as the Imperial Tanks used their secondary guns to send high explosive harrassing fire at the ambushers. Another friendly icon disappeared from Sander's datalink screen as accurate Imperial fire found its mark before the Manticore tank could retreat behind cover.

Twenty more seconds that felt like an eternity followed before Sander's Unit two had gotten into cover from the Imperial fire. Sweat drippled down from his forehead as he checked his screens. Eight units of 2nd Platoon had gone in, five remained to return back to the base. There was no time to mourn his lost comrades, for unless they got out of the area quickly, the Imperials would catch them. Sander's training took over, and he snapped orders to the driver.

"Get us back to position Bravo Gallant."

The remaining units of the platoon formed up, and commenced a retreat at their best speed towards the defense lines of Diess city. Harrison hadnt been too happy when the Captain had told them about today's op. Going against Imperial armor outside of the fixed anti-armor defensive positions was risky under the best of circumstances. But unless they struck this prong of the enemy Army attacking Diess, they would have had a shot at Fort Stalwart, which would have denied Diess the firepower of the Aerospace Base.

And by contrast, the air cover for SheVa's #7, #10 and #11 as well as the
65th Artillery Battalion would have been lost. And at the moment, without the firepower of all those guns, the Diess defense line would crumble in the span of a few days, and nobody needed to be told what would happen if Diess would fall.

The primary factory of Mithril Heavy Engineering corporation resided in the town, as well as dozens of other major armament production centers, without the tanks and guns produced by Diess, the chances of the armed forces winning the ground war were slim.

Harrison knew his duty, which made it no easier to take on the Imperials head on. He didnt envy the Tactical Armor units that were constantly running skirmishes against the Imperial's in every bit of rough terrain where the agile bipedal combat machines could use their agility to its fullest. They were also the primary targets for Imperial Anti-Armor forces along with the Clairmontian Heavy Armor. Sitting in seventy-eight tons of armored target could be stressing someone had told him before he had decided to try and get to the Armored Corps. If the sheer absolute terror that only his training allowed him to overcome could be described as only "stressing", he didnt want to know what real pressure was.

"Juliet Six to Unit. New orders just came in. We are to link up with the 131st Tactical Armor Battalion for a new operation to be conducted at 0700. New course data coming now. Juliet Six out."

The new data flashed over the Integrated Datalink to Harrison's screen. He relayed the new course over to the driver's station. Atleast with luck the unit would have around three hours to relax a bit before anyone would be shooting at them again.


Location: Manticore's Nest
Time: Day 12 of Ground War, 01.30 PM

"While I didnt believe it first Tom, it looks like we can actually salvage the Avalon. The Imperials gutted her bad. And the initial surveys of the damage indicate that around 80% of her weaponry has to be replaced completely. The only reason why there is any point in fixing her at all is in the fact that the primary hull assembly is mostly intact. Sure, it has several hundred holes in it, but nothing we cant fix and her reactors went to emergency shutdown as planned and three of them can still be repaired to operating conditions." The Third Space Lord explained enthusiastically.

Admiral Thomas Caparelli took the offered datapad from Gerald Hatcher and inspected the data on it quickly. In truth, he still was uncertain whether there was any point in repairing and overhauling Supermonitor Avalon after the beating the Imperials had given her. But when it came to organizing the construction of the Clairmontian Space Navy, Admiral Gerald Hatcher was the right man for the job.

After a while of reading, his initial skepticism faded. It was true that the actual hull of an Eternal Vigilance-class Supermonitor was the biggest job. The meters of armor and the decks took immense amounts of resources to construct and time to put together. But as Hatcher had told him, the hull of the Avalon could be repaired, its weapons replaced, and it brought back to life again.

He handed Hatcher back the datapad.
"How long?" He asked simply.

"Eight months, atleast. Closer to nine. With the new construction schedule I've been putting together, the construction of the 3rd Fleet takes a lot of our manpower. But considering that building a new one takes twenty-six months..." The Third Space Lord explained and shrugged.

Caparelli thought about it. No-one could deny that the Supermonitors represented a massive power projection platform in themselves. Their Command, Control and Coordination facilities made them excellent flagships. A full minute passed as Caparelli stood in silence, thinking it over before turning back to Hatcher.

"Okay Ger, you have my green-light to go for it."

The Third Space Lord allowed himself a slight smile before disappearing from the Command Room. But Caparelli's solace with the strategic map table was short lived as Field Marshal DeSilva appeared beside him.

"We just got word that a Tappee surface fleet is heading over here with help for the ground front." The Field Marshal said simply. While it wasnt absolutely necessary for him to say anything about it to the First Space Lord, Homeland Defense being his and Field Marshal Broderick's domain, it was best to have all the information and not need it, and not have it and need it.

Caparelli nodded while inspecting the 2D strategic map of Clairmont embedded in the table. "Well, we sure need all the help we can get. Hope that they can make a difference."

DeSilva was about to leave as Caparelli stopped him.
"I still think that you should be brought to court for developing those damn things under the veil of secrecy Field Marshal, but I cannot deny that those's Bolos you built have been effective. The question I have for you now, is that can you produce more of them?"

DeSilva knew the answer, as the man who had been in charge of the black project for years he knew everything there was to know about building the continental siege units. The moments hesitation passed quickly.
"Yes, but being a secret project our production facilities are very limited. At the moment we are building two other units in addition to Gabriel and Uriel and they will be completed in another two months or so. After that however. building a new unit will take in the area of twelve months atleast." DeSilva said, using the nicknames derived from the designations of the two units that had quickly grown in with the troops as they had fought alongside the two Bolos.

Caparelli didnt respond in any way for a moment.
"I need two of those units to go with The Grand Fleet Field Marshal. What are the chances of completing the two units being constructed, transporting and loading them to troop transports at Hephaestus in sixteen days?"

"Well, with a couple of engineering battalions I can finish them in time. But the transporting will be a bitch of a problem with the Imperials watching our airspace as well as they are." DeSilva stated. He had anticipated the question some time ago already. He knew Caparelli, and despite the First Space Lord's loathing at DeSilva's actions, he wanted all the aces in his sleeve in this fight.

"Understood, the transportation can be arranged, just get them ready Field Marshal." Caparelli said simply.

DeSilva nodded, and left the Chief of Naval Operations alone.

Caparelli removed his glasses and rubbed his weary eyes. Another forty eight hours had passed without him sleeping a minute, and it was taking its toll. The stims and coffee helped a bit, but being just a human his body screamed for the sleep it had been deprived of for a long time. The problem was, the sleep he could get in the first place was not the kind of solace one could have thought. The nights of the First Space Lord were riddled with nightmares as the responsibility for the fate of the Protectorate depended heavully on his decisions.

On the other hand, if he didnt sleep then he was more likely to make a mistake and in a war against the kind of opponent the 4th Imperium was, mistakes would quickly kill you. The old man sighed heavully, and took his leave from the confines of the planning room to his suite in the belly of Manticore's Nest.

And the Execution Hour crept closer with only a bit over two weeks remaining before the most massive Campaign in the history of the Protectorate would commence, the one campaign where the stakes were annihilation or victory.

It was amazing that the line held at Medusa city, for the military planners had expected that city to actually fall to the enemy. Taking advantage of the lull, the Vrakians regrouped and redeployed their assets, however meager they were at the moment. But Riouk learned that much more reinforcements were on the way…

Ft. Jansei

The seemingly non-stop flights of the Tappee cargo haulers deposited troops and equipment in a steady stream. Most importantly, much needed logistical supplies were off-loaded and quickly pressed into service. Portable TDP tech platforms set up at various points and began to churn out water and other materials from refuse and, more grisly, corpses. At least the Vrakians were respectful of Clairmontian and other allied cultural concerns and made every effort not to grind up war dead that were not their own. Trucks laden with medical supplies scurried to their intended destinations while the now familiar clink clink of the SOAT-bots expertly marched out of the cargo bays into formation.

In short, Ft. Jansei became a massive staging area for the Vrakians and any Klatchian allies.

Seemingly out of place, a sleek hypersonic jet descended bearing the markings of the Vrak Diplomatic Corps. Once berthed, a representative quickly contacted a high ranking Tappee officer.

One day out from Clairmont

Four massive Blue Dragon aircraft carriers formed the bulk of the battlefleet that left the sinkhole called Neo Tyr. Along with these carriers, four much smaller Kreml class tagged along. Together, these eight carries along with their escorts should prove to be a formidable defense should any enemies of Clairmont learn of their present tragedies and seek to take advantage of the situation.

The previous submarine force that scored a victory on the Imperial transports were relatively unscathed, and linked up with the incoming fleet for resupply. Strangely, the bulk of the Vrakian submarine fleet was not deployed to this particular theater, which led Riouk to speculate that their may be trouble on the domestic front.

====

The necessary Order comm protocols were dutifully followed and informed the Clairmontians of the incoming fleet and suggestions on where best to be deployed. Another message was sent from the Vrak High Command asking as to what war materials would be most needed could Vrak make for the upcoming push.

Commander…. Commander… sir wake up

Commander Arttillas shot up from a dead sleep, it took a moment for the world to come back in focus. A glance at his watch told him that he had only been a sleep for about an hour. Arittillas went to move but his, but his body moaned in protest.

He had long ago pushed his body to and beyond its limits, as the commanding officer for the Tappee forces in Clairmont; as such he was rather busy. With the short of man power he often found himself force to partake in most of the missions that he and his men were assigned by Clairmont command.

“What’s wrong” asked Arttillas, his was still groggy from the lack of sleep, he rubbed his face in a vague attempt to wake up.

“Sir we’ve been contacted by the Vrakian’s they want to meet with a high a high ranking officer… which would be you.”

Arttillas sighed “Do we know we know what they want.”

“Not really” quickly answered the aid.


”Alright, just lead the way then”

Chief Envoy Kong-il Kwarliu exited his massive walrus frame from the hypersonic transport and surveyed his surroundings. He had never been in a war zone before and was, quite honestly, stunned. The sight of wounded soldiers, the frantic pace of men and equipment being hustled out to the front lines, and the visible worry and fear of the civilians as they were being escorted to safer parts of the country filled his heart with dismay. How could anyone do this?

Vivid tales of the Great Blood Wars in his homeland were suddenly remembered. He wasn’t old enough to experience that time but he did hear stories from his grandfather and great grandfather of those days. Unconsciously, he began to draw up parallels between the two. His towering six foot nine bodyguard quietly whispered something…

-Chief Envoy? Commander Arttillas of Tappee is here.
-Wha? Oh, yes.

Kwarliu straightened himself out. Like all good Vrakians, he did put in his military service but after that duty was completed chose to enter the diplomatic corps. It had been a long time since he was in these type of circumstances. He focused his mind at the issue at hand. When Artrillas drew near, he gave a deep bow and then began.

“Commander Artillas? I am Chief Envoy Kong-il Kwarliu of Vrak. The Diplomatic Corps heard of your desire to hold a conference to discuss the Mercury situation. I have been fully briefed but, well, I’m sure there are some gaps of my knowledge of the entire situation. I apologize for this roundabout way of meeting you, but the VIS thought this would be the best way. As well, we have no spacecraft of our own at the moment so we also cannot physically reach you should you decide to hold this conference off planet.”

"The fighting on the Xanadu front has been extremely fierce today as elements of the thirty-first Infantry Division and fifty-second Armored Cavalry engaged attacking Fourth Imperium forces on the Yveslau Heights. Casualties continue to climb but thus far the combined forces are holding back the Imperial advance."

The reporter kept a slight pause as a digital map illustrated what she had just told and continued after a few seconds.

"The Armed Forces High Command is confident that the line will be held, with re-enforcements from the third Cadre Drop Commando battalion as well as the Bolo-unit GBR arriving by nightfall. In further news, succesfull defensive actions at the Diess, Medusa, Barwhon and Cadia fronts have been fought throughout the entire weekend. Despite this however, the Imperial advance succeeded in capturing Virgon-city with hundreds of small towns already having fallen to the enemy. The Government wishes to assure the citizens behind enemy lines that they have not been forgotten and plans are underway to begin offensives to Imperial held territory."

Another digital map came up, displaying the current frontlines of the war. Several major cities now resided in the red painted areas signifying occupied territory while somewhere islands of green signified towns or cities still holding in the midst of Imperial forces.

"In other news, at Hephaestus the preparations for the offensive near their end as the fleet assembles for final checks and planning for the remaining three days before Operation Striking Justice. Our hearts and minds will be with the eight million of our brothers and sisters who are about to embark on the offensive. Furthermore, in a public announcement made yesterday, the Bureau of Shipbuilding declared that the Supermonitor Avalon shall be repaired and restored to active duty and it shall signify the will and determination of the Clairmontian people in our time of blight."

The image of the reporter was replaced with live feed displaying the gathering of hundreds of ships near HMSS Hephaestus as well as the construction work underway around the charred and beaten hulk of HMS Avalon. Strike Fighters and Utility Vessels zipped around the gathering like insects.

"That concludes our War Report of the day. This is Clairmont Daily News and I'm Shannon Baker."


Location: Barwhon Defense Perimeter
Time: Day 25 of Ground War, 11.19 PM

"I dont give two goddamn shits if you havent gotten the fucking release from Local HQ! I want those goddamn SheVa's firing at the co-ordinates I provided or this fucking sector of the defense perimeter is going bye-bye!"

The crackle of gunfire and explosions was nearly deafening as Major Leslie Vancetti tried to bang some sense to the sorry bastard who was in charge of the shift in Fire Central this evening.

"Thats a negative on the request Nike-Six. As per protocol six-dash-niner, release of Area Denial munitions has to be provided by Local Commander."

An armored personnel carrier to Vancetti's left exploded in a fireball as an Imperial Light Artillery round landed squarely in the middle of it. Some small fragments that had been the twenty ton APC bounced off from Vancetti's Battle Suit.

"Listen to me you rear-echelon fuck! If they get over the river and thru us, you wont need to worry about getting a goddamn release because you will be dogmeat! Assign that fire support now!"

There was silence over the com before the voice came back.

"Acknowledged, ranging in twenty. Four rounds, forty kilotons."

Vancetti closed the link and gazed to the river laying five kilometers downhill from his position. The engineers had blown the bridges, but the Imperial APC's, Light tanks and Recon vechiles had no problems crossing thanks to their high-hover capability. The Imperial Infantry was proceeding quickly over the open plains behind the cover of their armor while fire support from the opposing bank was raining down on Vancetti's men. Occasionally a green beam would touch an Imperial armor, lighting it up in a fireball as the eight Tactical Armor units under Vancetti's command sprinted from position to position, firing their Plasma Beam Rifles as they went.

The Imperials had already penetrated three of his five defense zones, and it was evident that without the hand of god, they would get thru Vancetti and with bad luck they could roll up the entire western perimeter of Barwhon if they did. But the hand of god came. The automatic nuclear warning signal started announcing its imminent arrival.

"Warning, warning. Incoming nuclear artillery, clear primary blast zones. Impact, in zero-three seconds."

Vancetti hunkered down in his command post, his helmet visor already automatically polarizing in preparation. Precisely thirty seconds from the end of the warning, four miniature suns blossomed six kilometers north-west from Vancetti's position and the mushroom clouds of superheated air and dust began to rise up high to the air.

Not two minutes had passed when the Imperial advance stopped, and their frontline began pulling back over the river. A large portion of the two Imperial battalions having been vaporized among which a motherlode of their heavy armor, they obviously sought to consolidate and try again on a better day.

"Major, they're pulling back across the board." Came a relieved announcement over the battalion com.

"I can see that Captain Steele. This however is a mere moments respite." Answered, despite feeling relieved himself. The Imperials by no means would allow that respite to stretch for too long. Tomorrow, or very soon in any case, they would try again, this time with extensive air support and counter-battery fire standing by.

Often he wondered how much meat the Imperials had to throw to the grinder. No-one had anywhere close to accurate estimates of how high their casualties were, but the analysts thought it to be atleast sixty-thousand by now, in retrospect, eighty-two thousand Clairmontian soldiers had already fallen in defense of their homes. While the casualty ratio was skewered in the Imperials' favor, cold hard math told Vancetti that Clairmont could throw more meat to the grinder while the Imperials had a very finite supply of war materiel and personnel. Which, didnt make the prospect of the ground war lasting for years any less grim.

For a moment Commander Arttillas was taken aback, he was aware of the situation regarding mercury, but was surprised that they were talking of here of all places. However, when he stopped to think about, there was no better place then here, at least here they were away from prying eyes.

“No need to apologize” offered Arttillas sincerely, he gave a subtle gesture for Kwarliu to follow him “You’ll please follow me, we will fid a more appropriate place to which we can talk.”


Point Alpha: Location of the Tappee Wet Fleet 3 Km off the coast of Clairmont
Time: 17:37 Tappee Standard time (TST)

Captain Harkon stared out at the open sea, the vantage point from the Dauntless Bridge gave an impressive view, today it was calm sea. Harkon could not help but see the irony of the situation, here they were on clear a clear day, a like things so often did in the sea, by the end of the day he knew that they would be rough waters, one way or another.

“Captain” said Harkon’s first officer interrupting his thoughts “But we have just received word that Water Log, and Thunder and Lighting are now in place.” The officer paused for a brief moment “Now all we are waiting for in your orders Sir.”

Harkon allowed the officer to sit in silence while he considered his response. For too long had Tappee sat on side lines while the one its closest allies were ravaged by an enemy force, all that was about to change today. “Very well, begin phase one and two of Operation Waterline” his words were clear and confident, even though he may not have.

No sooner had the words left his mouth when his crew, and the crew of the entire fleet jumped into action. Alarms started going off, and people were running about. A voice came over the intercom All hands to battle stations, all hands to battle stations, this is not a drill

The mighty guns of the Dauntless and the other ship of fleet swung themselves out facing the island. For a moment they sat their poised to strike, as the water was pumped to various part of the ship, if they didn’t shift the weight of the ship then the power of the guns could actually overturn the ship. As soon as the transfer was complete, the ships main guns let out a defining roar. One by one the guns fired in a designated pattern, After the first round was fire missiles stream out of the missile bays. The target of this attack was not the main Imperium facilities, but instead its air defences.

Point Bravo: Orbital Defence Platforms 3 and 6 in High Orbit over Tappee
Time: 17:39 TST

Gas was expelled from the platforms positional thrusters as it realigned itself. Almost since Tappee creation it feared an attack from a nation the planet itself, as such had developed orbital platforms designed to shot down at the planet, platform 3 and 6 were two such platforms. Within mere moment each the platform unloaded its entire payload of Orbital Descent Multiple Warhead Missile (ODMWM), all and all a total of ten were fired. However, upon re-entry each warhead would break apart into ten smaller warheads. Each warhead carried a high yield non-nuclear warhead.

The ten missiles cut through the inner reached of space, after seven the began approaching the reaches of the Imperium planetary gun dubbed no mans land. Moments before they hit this invisible line each missile broke apart, now a total 100 warheads started falling towards the surface.

Point Gamma: 8th Orbital Carrier division High Orbit just outside No Mans Land
Time: 17:48 TST

A total of six carriers sat in waiting, as soon as they picked the ODMWM’s begin their decent the order was issued to deploy fighter. These weren’t Naval craft though, these had been Airforce fighter that had been faired up earlier in the week. Wave after wave streamed out of the carrier. They could have been launched from Tappee but want to give the Imperial as little notice of their arrival as possible.

There was a wide assortment of craft ranging from fighters, interceptors, fighter-bombers, and tactical bomber. Each had their own objective, fighter and bombers were to tie the Imperial air force, while the fighter-bombers hit the air defence, while the tactical bomber hammered away at the Imperial ground force near Medusa City.

As they crossed into no mans land the crafts rolled pointing their nose down at the surface trying to come in as fast and hard as they could.

Point Alpha: Location of the Tappee Wet Fleet 3 Km off the coast of Clairmont
Time: 17:49 Tappee Standard time (TST)

Harkons second in command walked over to him and gave a quick salute “Sir we’ve just received word that ‘Thunder and Lightening’ are inbound.

Looking up at the sky Harkon could see grey streaks in the sky as the fighter hit the atmosphere, thinking were preceding as planned, they were attacking the Imperial from a number of different points. “Good, time to move to phase three and four. Deploy the Serpents, once they are clear contact Water Log and have them proceed. Then prepare our point defence system for incoming assault.

On board the Carrier Ithica and any other ship capable of carrying Cobra and Viper gunships watched as they jumped of the deck using their grav engine and start their way towards that cost. When it came to infantry support and killing tanks, nothing was more adept then the ‘Serpents’. Extremely quiet they used the terrain to their advantage, moving and waiting behind cover they would pop out at the right moment a strike, only to quickly disappear. Today a total of 60 Serpents were making their way to the coast and eventual to Medusa City hoping to strike against unsuspecting Imperial tank division.
Point Epsilon: 100m off the coast of Clairmont
Time: 17:55 Tappee Standard time (TST)

One by one the waves crashed against the shore as they had done since the creation of the planet, but today there was some thing a bit more dangerous making it to the shore.

From beneath the water a small antenna started to makes it way out from under the water and up into the sky. Slowly it became bigger, until more was eventually revealed. Water splashed over the top of the Hunter Super battle tanks turret as it rose up from the depth of the sea. Gradually more and more tank broke the surface on their journey to shore.

With nearly half of the tank finally out of the water is stopped. It mighty turret swung in the general direction of a believe Imperial position, it water cap swung open moments before it announced its arrival. For a brief moment it was if God himself had parted the sea, as the concussion pushed the water to side. No sooner had the tank fire when others joined in as well.

After silence finally returned the 100 tanks quickly started their journey to Medusa City, their objective was simple, cut the Imperial line to the city in a vague attempt to buy the cities defenders much need time to further reinforce the line. The tank division coupled with the air support of the Serpent could pack a serious punch, but no one hope that this little attack would actually win the war. To put it simply it was a suicide mission, but hopefully one that could in the end turn the tide of the war in their favour.

Location: TSBS Furious Angle, flagship for the Tappee Space Navy
Time: 17:59 Tappee Standard time (TST)

Admiral, Operation Waterline has been commenced said the voice on other side of the intercom.

“Thank you” answered Dodalla as she turned off the intercom. She sat alone in her office, they were only a few days away from the one of the larger military campaigns in history and she had just gone and moved against an Allies wishes and deployed ground forces on the island of Clairmont, furthermore she done so with out the approval of her government. Though those forces were never slated to be part of the campaign, she had little doubt in her mind that this would hurt or even jeopardize her career, but deep down she knew that it was the right thing to do.

HIMS Akatsuki
430km South-West of occupied Caprica City

The holographic representations of the Imperium's soon to be domain on the planet Terra cluttered with new signals and icons as the sensor suites of the landed transport ships and detection stations relayed their findings to the Imperial command center via subspace datalink. The inbound tracks of hundreds of missiles, fightercraft and detected icons of Tappee tanks on the northern shores of Clairmont filled the screen.

Grand Warlord Visceros was highly displeased. The Tappee Commanders had picked up a bad time for their attack, atleast bad time from the Imperials point of view. The latest assaults against the Clairmontian cities hadn't succeeded too well. While the loyalists and their allies still couldnt meet the Imperials equally trooper to trooper, tank to tank, aircraft to aircraft, they knew their tactics and had learned how to use their hardware to the best effect against the Imperials' otherwise superior technology. And now, they were trying to decapitate the Imperial air-defenses outside the protective shields of the transport ships, an action which if succesfull would remove approximately fifty-six percent of the air-defense envelope that restricted all Clairmontian aircraft flying in the coastal plains to nape of the earth altitudes.

A loss which in turn would allow the Clairmontians and their allies to start pounding Imperial ground forces with their extensive air support, which in the end could with a bad twist of fate doom the entire ground invasion. But the battle was only beginning, and Visceros was already countering every prong of the Tappee attack in his mind.

"Launch parasite wings. Maintain only minimal reserves. Primary targets are the inbound enemy aircraft."

"Contact Star General Aphraziel, he must not allow the enemy tanks to give the defenders of Medusa city time to reinforce their forward line."

He snapped orders to his subordinates, and inspected the strategic hologram once more. His attention was drawn to the incoming missiles from orbit, there was no radiological alarm, which basically meant that those things did not carry nukes. While they couldnt penetrate the shields of the transport barges, they could annihilate the planetary guns that did not reside inside the transports.

"Commence anti-missile procedures. And shoot down those launchers in orbit."

While the enemy carriers were out of range of the ground based anti-orbital weaponry that the transport ships carried, the same could not be said of the enemy orbital weapons satellites. Every single transport barge that had landed now joined in a datalink that connected all of their defensive fire control together, they would fight as a singular cohesive entity, feeding each other sensor- and targeting data.

Pinpricks of laser light began to strike up to the sky as the fire control that controlled them gave them targets. Degraded as the performance of point defense was in athmosphere, the Imperials had done their best to compensate the inefficiencies in their hardware since the landing and many of the point-defense lasers connected with inbound missiles, wiping them away from existance. The missiles from orbit were the easier targets, for there was nothing to obstruct line-of-sight, however the missiles fired by the Tappee naval vessels presented more of a problem.

Simultaneously, the energy weapon batteries on two of the transports tracked the satellites that had released the rain of death. Backtracking the ballistics of the incoming missiles, and calculating the rough position in orbit where the launchers had to be, the fire control behind the energy weapons soon found them. Graviton beams slashed thru the athmosphere, at the enemy weapon satellites while hundreds of parasite attack craft began to discorge from their launch bays, heading up to the sky to meet the incoming Tappee fighter wings.

The last fleeting moments went past as the enemy missiles connected with their targets. 85% of those fired from orbit had been shot down, but that left the remaining 15% and multiple anti-orbital weapons batteries outside the transport barges vanished in fireballs of destruction as the missiles wiped them from the face of the earth.

The performance of point defense was much worse against the missiles coming from the sea. Programmed to fly nape of the earth, they were extremely difficult to shoot down once they reached the shore, and with no fighters available for that task, many of them got thru the defensive fire to strike at anti-air emplacements. Dozens of missile launchers and anti-air gun batteries vanished as the Tappee missiles lighted them up in brilliant displays of pyrotechnics.

Large gaps had been torn to the air-defense grid that maintained the grip the Imperials held on Clairmontian airspace.

370km North-East of Medusa City

Star General Aphraziel's blood red combat armor gleamed in the sunlight as he strode thru the Imperial Field HQ towards his command tank. The word of the Tappee attack had reached him in the command bunker, and the orders from his commander had followed soon after.

He climbed on top of the massive supertank that served as his mobile command post and descended to his position. Switching on the battle management and datalink systems, he began to review the data of the Tappee attack.

Thus far, only 100 enemy tanks had been confirmed heading towards Medusa City, and while those tanks were certainly massive and undoubtedly well armed, they were facing sixty-seven hundred Imperial Armored Fighting Vechiles. Aphraziel could not believe that the enemy had no idea how heavully the numbers were against them, which made him believe that they truly believed that those 100 tanks were enough to cause significant damage to Aphraziel's 3rd Expeditionary Invasion Force. A case in point which would soon be tested. Orders went thru the datalink, and in a few short moments the 32nd and 21st armored brigades were on their way to meet the incoming Tappee tanks.

The 2nd Imperial Interstellar Army had no intention of allowing anyone to break their grip on the throats of the loyalists the 4th Imperium had sought to destroy for so long.

Location: Allied Expeditionary Force, Sol System
Time: Day 28 of Ground War 12.00 AM, Zero Hour of Operation Striking Justice

The mood was somber on the bridge of Supermonitor HMS Eternal Vigilance. The fleet flag of the Clairmontian part of the Allied Expeditionary Force nicknamed Grand Fleet was a mountain of battlesteel bristling with weapons, filled with crew full of killing energy wishing to deliver it to the Imperials who had struck such a grievous blow to their home. After four weeks of rushed planning, organization, logistics and personnel transfer, the fleet stood poised and in formation, ready to commence their journey towards Imperial controlled space.

"Comms, I want a fleetwide channel." the man in the seat reserved for the admiral on the bridge spoke. A few short seconds passed before the Comms technician gave the all-green sign. The man enclosed within the uniform of a full Fleet Admiral stood up ceremonially, and began his speech.

"Men and women of the Expeditionary Force, this is Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe. The moment you have all been waiting for, preparing for, and hearing rumours of has finally arrived. After nearly a month of the attacks against our homeland, we are finally poised and ready to take the fight to the Imperium. I know your feelings for leaving our brethren on the ground to fight on their own, but for there to be a future for our nation, this is the one and only course of action. The hopes and dreams of billions of people are directed to us. Each and every one of you knows your duty, knows what is at stake and the only thing asked of you is for you to fulfill that duty. We are about to embark on a massive campaign, and not all of you will be surviving, perhaps none of us will. But we make our own destinies, the keys to our fates lie within our grasp, it is our task to reach for those keys and make our future. I have confidence in each and every one of you. Say your goodbyes to your homes now, for you will not be seeing them in a while. But keep them, and your loved ones in your hearts when you face the true darkness of the night which we are about to meet." The words came from his mouth unpracticed, but they didnt need to be as they came straight from the heart. They were words filled with unyielding steel, warmth straight from the fusion furnace of a star and unquestioning confidence. They were aimed directly to each man and woman in the fleet, Clairmontian or otherwise. Rowe knew how low morale would be in the coming months, and in order to keep the fleet in fighting order, he would need men and women who would absolutely give their all.

On cue, the comms technician cut the fleetwide channel with the flick of a slender finger. Rowe sat gracefully back down to his command seat.

Altough such final speeches were hardly traditional in the CSN, Rowe had felt that the situation required it. The millions of men and women who were going to be so far away from their homes, possibly for years, would need all the encouraging they could get in order to stay sane in the first place.

As he had said, he knew the feelings of those in the fleet, his countrymen especially, for leaving their home especially now when the Tappee Ground Forces were striking the Imperial Invasion force, and there being a chance of a breakthrough in the ground war. However, even the most optimistic projections called for a minimum of two weeks of delay to commencing Operation Striking Justice if the Allied Expeditionary Fleet were to assist, and that was simply too much. He shared every feeling of regret, anger and sorrow for having to leave his people fighting on their own. But they needed to seize the initiative before the Imperium could attack once more. He hated the logical juggernaut that drove forward the argument for commencing the operation at this time, for he could not defeat that logic.

The decision that he would be the Fleet Commander had come in relatively late down the line. A simple fleet hardcopy letter, through the usual chains of delivery. Who the hell had decided it, Rowe didnt specifically know, most likely Caparelli who had suggested him to the Tappee Fleet Commanders as well. While the hapless Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe who had been handed the massive responsibility had officially expressed his gratitude and feeling of honour for receiving the job, in the inside he felt like there was full two million tons of responsibility weighing down on his shoulders. He supposed it was only good that he was feeling like that, atleast from a certain perspective. It didnt make the responsibility any easier to bear.

A bullet of voice punched thru the barrier of consternation that he had erected around his being. "Astrogation has calculated the course Admiral. We will be emerging from hyper approximately five lightyears from the Imperial border system of Qualtren."

Rowe lifted his gaze from the decksole to Captain Baumer, CO of the Supermonitor that carried the fleet flag. He simultaneously inspected the tactical holo hovering above the deck in the middle of the bridge. All of the icons of fleet were drawn into formations and ready to engage their FTL drives.

Rowe remained in silence for over a minute before speaking, his voice cold and dry, emotionless.

"Commence jump to hyper, signal allied units that we are jumping now."

In groups of dozens, the Clairmontian ships began to break the barrier between normal space and hyperspace, commencing their seven day journey towards the Imperium.


Location: HMSS Hephaestus

Large masses of the personnel aboard the shipyard had gathered around viewports with a line-of-sight to the fleet perched outside and watched silently as the hundreds of ships disappeared from space as if they had never been there.

The general air was one of uneasiness. With the thirteen hundred plus ships gone, the space around Hephaestus seemed empty, with only the far away, uncaring beacons of stars and planets filling the view. Everyone with a set of working brain had pieced together that their continued existence laid in the hands and successes of the Expeditionary Force. If they failed...well the rest didnt need to be mentioned.

Slowly the people began to disperse, returning back to whatever they had been doing before coming to see the fleet off. They continued their work with fervor, knowing that each ship, each weapon, each fighter and each missile produced at Hephaestus would be vital to the war effort.

Location: Manticore's Nest

The silence in the Central Command Center was total as the fleet disappeared to hyper. Everyone knew that in the end, even if the ground war was won, if the fleet lost, it would all be over. No one would think of that possibility however, not here. Their goal and only reason to exist at this point was to win the war. Not for themselves, but for the billions of souls that inhabited the land of Clairmont.


The conference room reserved for the use of the Government's High Officials was empty apart from the ruling monarch of Clairmont, and the CNO of the Clairmont Space Navy. Benjamin Alexander sighed deeply, the uncertain future and the responsibility he carried for guiding his people making him look physically far older than he was.

"There they go, and our hopes go with them." The words dropped out of his mouth with an undertone of sadness, but a glimmer of hope in the background.

"I have faith in them Benjamin. Our boys and girls couldnt be going to face hell with better commanders leading them. They wont fail, they wont allow themselves to fail." Caparelli stated simply.

"I hope so, for we have put all our eggs in one basket this time. The face of the enemy we face though, doesnt exactly encourage me to feel optimistic. Its double or nothing Tom. Either we defeat the Imperials both here and there or we die."

The CNO nodded. It wasnt exactly the best possible poker hand one should've used to go for the jackpot. But as it was with everything, you played with the cards you got, in this case quitting and cutting your losses wasnt a possibility. So much in this war would hinge on luck and chance alone that it would have horrified any experienced military commander. But this time, there simply was no other choice, well there was if some moron actually would have considered laying down and dieing or surrendering to the Imperials as an option. Luckily, so far no one had voiced such opinions.

Caparelli figured that atleast the majority of the populace knew that, and for what he had read of the reports coming from the civilian population centers, the morale in fighting the war was high as the Imperium was seen as the ultimate force of evil that the righteous people of Clairmont (though Caparelli despised that description quite a bit, it was overtly arrogant and it made one nation sound like a bunch of religious fanatics) would fight them with all their power. He stopped that line of thought, and noticed that his boss and long time friend was offering him a cigar. He took it, lighted it and sucked a lungfull of the stuff.

"Truth, truth indeed. Its a do or die situation allright. But Rowe has it in him to win. He's good, really good. With Harrington, they make a damn good team. And the Tappee Commander is a real pistol himself, after viewing some of his files, I dont have much in the way of doubts about him either. Though, I must admit, that Admiral Dodalla would have definitely been my preferred choice for the Tappee Fleet Commander." The CNO said between puffs of smoke that he exhaled.

Not sharing his friends taste of cigars, the Monarch settled for a glass of cognac, and sat down to a chair opposite to Caparelli's.

"Yeah, I know you would have rather wanted her, but what I heard from Tappee, she caught some real fucking flak for commencing that operation to help us. If you pardon my french." Alexander chuckled as he remembered too late that he solemly swore.

"They are allowing politics to replace common sense, not like that would be a rare occurrence with politicians, present company excluded ofcourse." Said Caparelli with a thin smile and returned to his rant.

"I seriously hope they wont string her up too badly though, I have a funny feeling in my gut that in the course of this war we will need the likes of her."

Alexander didnt reply immidiately, instead he took a carefull taste of the drink he had poured himself before replying.

"I share your sentiments on that. Shit Tom, this war is already so unbelievably fucked up that I have a hard time believing still that it isnt a nightmare. You know what that idiot Haydens was complaining to me about the other day? She was whining that since the government had ok'd the free use of tactical nuclear weapons in the ground engagement, the environment would suffer massive damage. She completely had missed the fact that if we didnt use them, and the Imperials sure as fucking hell dont seem to care about the environment when using nukes, she wouldnt soon be around to care. I swear Tom, I cant guarantee that I wont have these liberal party idiots shot before the end of the year if they keep throwing this bullshit at me." The words shot out of her mouth like arrows of ice, tipped in venom. There was little love lost between the current Government and the liberal party.

"Or, we could simply use them as cannon fodder for the Imperials. Hah! In all seriousness, they dont know jack shit about our nuclear arsenal. The fact that the low yield of our tactical weapons, and the nuclear weapon design itself leaves very little residual radiation, kinda downplays the potential dangers of poisoning everyone with radiation. By the way, I assume you have read the "Territory loss" reports DaSilva and Broderick should have delivered to you." Said Caparelli.

The monarch thought about the question for a moment, and then recalled the reports his friend must be referring to. His face twisted, for he remembered those reports very well and the contents had filled him with horror.

"Is it really as bad as they predict? I mean, I've heard the estimates come up three weeks ago already but shit, I just cant believe it." Alexander queried the CNO, his tone dark as midnight.

"They got it pretty much on the spot. We will lose the coastal plains Ben, all of it. The current plan calls for several heavully fortified positions to be held, but the majority of it will go to the Imperium. The problem is, no one still has a good clue of how many troops the Imperials brought with them. The initial estimate was around fifteen million, that was far too low. The current numbers pit them at around thirty two million, and now we are starting to get pretty close to how many they really brought. Dont ask me how the hell did they transport that many troops, they must have had them in cold sleep or something to save space in their transports, we dont have a clue. But the fact is, they are here, and we sure as hell cant hold the plains against an Invader of that size." Answered Caparelli, his words devoid of emotion. Sometimes, he himself thought he sounded like a damn robot, but sometimes there was little in the way of choice. To stay sane and do the decisions that had to be done in this line of work, it was a necessary trait one had to take at some times, especially a commander.

"My god. You know I have fait in the capabilities of our military Tom, you know I do. But that kind of odds? " Said Alexander, having hard time to comprehend how it would even be possible for the people he had worked so hard to protect to have a nation left after a year.

But Caparelli had spent the better part of nine decades in the military, while the traditional military axiom went "Expect victory, plan for defeat", he would not consider defeat in this war, he refused to devote a single second of thought to such possible result of the conflict.

"I dont know about God Ben, but I do know we can and we will win. We will hold until the Fleet comes back and blasts those bastards to kingdom come. Until then, we will dance with the devil."

Location: Fort Brandenburg

The troopers of 2nd Platoon, Charlie Company, 325th Battalion had crowded to the west end of their barracks around the single HD wall-screen that was delivering them the news of the fleets departure. There were obvious signs of disappointment among the young men and women. Many would have wished to be there among the troops that would be the ones to deliver the first punch to the Imperiums gut, but the situation being what it was and the transport capacity of the fleet being what it was, many of those who would have wished to go remained in Guard units.

Stewart Trent however, was not disappointed. The killers of his family were here, on his homeland. With millions of other murderers of the 4th Imperium who were aiming for nothing less than total eradication of his homeland. He was more than glad to be fighting for the survival of the land where he grew in.

The basic training was over by now. It had been shortened from the original six weeks to three and a half due to the need to get as many able bodies to the field as fast as possible. Stewart finished unpacking his bag to the locker assigned to him by the Quartermaster and got seated on the bunk.

From the people he had trained with at Fort Thunder, there were only three that had been accepted to the 325th. They accepted only the best to the ACS and Stewart along with the three others had gotten 95% or higher in their Physical and Mental Exams, which had got them accepted to the ACS training. Another four months, two hundred hours of training in a suit, and Stewart would finally get to the field and do the job he so badly desired to do.

As the weeks had passed, he sometimes wondered how was the Tappee First-X Agend Sigmund Xavier adjusting to the situation. He was rather certain that the man was still observing Stewart's progress, and had quite likely followed him to Fort Brandenburg. Brief smile and warmth crossed his face. The man was true to his word to Stewart's father to look after his son.

A tear almost broke from his eye at the thought of his father, his mother and his two brothers. All victims to the Imperium. But before it could break out, self-control slammed into place and a shield of ice surrounded his soul once more.


OOC: I intend this to be the end of the first part of this RP, so guys put in your finishing posts and write them in consideration of the beginning of the next part in mind. The next part will be starting several years after this one, with the war still continuing. So write and plan accordingly.

TSBC Furious Angel, Flag ship of the Tappee fleet.

Admiral Martac, like so many other listened silently as Admiral Rowe gave his speech. This was an allied operation, and Rowe had been appointed the allied fleet commander, as a result the Tappee fleet was under his command, and he felt that hid people had to hear what he had to say.

As he listened Martac wondered how he had gotten here, he had just recently been promoted to fleet Admiral. At the last possible moment he had replaced Admiral Dodalla as the Tappee fleet commander, Dodalla had been relieved of her command and recalled to Tappee. He couldn’t help but think that it had something to do with her decision to deploy troops in Clairmont without the Tribunals approval.

As Rowe wrapped up his speech Martac glanced over at his Comm officer who quickly opened a channel to just the Tappee fleet. “For some of you it would seem that the only thing we soldiers are destine for is war, we have returned home only to be thrown into another conflict. However, we have entered into both these wars not for glory or conquest, but instead to aid an ally who is besieged by evil. An evil that seems to want nothing more than to wipe everything that we have worked to create from existence, s evil that if left uncheck would eventually come to claim us as well. We all must fear evil men, but fear the indifference of good men more.

As most of you may know elements of both the army and air force have commenced operations on the island of Clairmont. Though we cannot aid them in their struggle, we can make sure that their efforts are not wasted. On this day we will strike fear into the hearts of the enemies, and avenge the needless deaths of our loved one.” With that the transmission was cut.

“Admiral” called out the FA’s Tac officer “the fleet is making the jump into hyperspace”

Martac spun around in his chair “Very well order to the fleet to make the jump.” There was slight hesitation in his voice. There was little doubt in his mind that in the next few hours many people would die, she could only hope this was not a suicide mission.

The Core, Tappee Central Command

Via the Holo display Tappee President Jon Anerton watched as the fleet slipped into hyperspace. His glare shifted away from the Holo display, too the women sitting across from him. From the look on his face, it was obvious that he was angry, “Dodalla is the best person to be leading the fleet, and you know it.”

Sitting across from Jon was a woman known simply as Abigail, and for the time being was the most powerful person it Tappee. Following the terrorist attacks in Tappee at the outset of the war all but one of the Tribunal members had, and that one remaining member was currently in a coma. As result Abigail was not in charge until a new Tribunal could be created. “She didn’t follow the chain of command Jon, the military answers to the Tribunal, not the other way around. Her actions set a dangerous precedent; an example needs to made of her. Jon, don’t let your personal relationship with her cloud your judgement.”

“She did what you were not willing to do” shot Jon back in anger. “Unlike you she was not willing to stand idly by as Clairmont stands alone.!” He paused for a moment to bring his emotions back into check “If Jade was running things, we would have deployed force within hours of the imperials landing, instead Dodalla had to sneak them in.”

“Well Jade is not in charge anymore, I am” now it was Abigail’s turn to get angry “and this discussion is over.”

SLAM…rang out as Jon rammed his fist into the desk. Jon clutched is his fist in pain, as he slowly rose to his feet, he had enough “Jade will wake up, and when she does she will deal with personally.” For as long as Jon could recall both Abigail and Jade had been enemies, and this would be the boiling point of that relationship.

Fort Brandenburg

Sigmund made the final adjustments to his tactical combat armour, he had used his position within the First X get it send out to him.

Now that his adjustments were finished, it now felt like the armour was now a part of him. The word Armour could loosely be applied to what he was wearing, Sigmund was now more of a walking tank than a soldier.

His MkVII Tactical Armour was the most advanced armour that Tappee had, it provided the freedom of movement of light armour, its advance outer layer is extremely resilient, while its specialized hydraulic gave him almost superhuman strength. Equipped with the very best in optical technology he could see almost anything. However, given what he had heard about Imperial technology it didn’t make him feel any safer.

It had been sometime since he had been of the field of battle, and he could feel his nerves growing. It wasn’t that he was worried about himself, but instead about the life of a young man that he had promised to protect. Wherever the young Stewart Trent would go, he would follow.

The Council Chambers were somewhat on the chilly side, and altough it might have been more dramatic had the lighting been toned down to significantly lower levels, being present before the inquisitive thirteen pairs of eyes was something that no one wished, especially when those eyes sought to blame you for a failure. Those cold eyes, and the one pair coldest of them all, seated at the highest seat.

"Grand Overlord Dyranus, do you have any explanation to redeem yourself in the eyes of this council and the Emperor?" Asked the one who sat at the right side of the said Emperor, the second most powerfull person in the entire Imperium.

Dyranus kept himself kneeled, his head bowed down and facing the floor. There was nothing he could say. Everything had been planned, everything had been perfect. The analysts had all agreed that the Clairmontians would fall within few days and yet it hadnt happened. One of the mighty main fleets of the Imperium had been annihilated completely, and there was no word as to the fate of the Ground Invasion. It was illogical, it didnt make any sense and yet it had happened. He swalloved the mounting bile of fear, fear for his life. Altough most of the Imperial Military Might was for a large part immune to such fears, thanks to medical and psychological modifiers, the Higher Echelons most certainly were not, they were entitled to that much of their own persona. Sometimes, times like this, Dyranus wished this wasnt the case.

Silence hovered over the chamber for a few moments before Dyranus spoke.
"I have no explanation My Lords. This defeat defies all reason and logic. The degenerates were outnumbered, outgunned, were taken by surprise and yet they prevailed. Not before our mighty forces struck at them a grievous blow however, but prevailed nonetheless." He spoke, calmly, his voice even and controlled.

"Then someone made a mistake! Is that not obvious? The might of our fleet should have annihilated those...those pathetic loyalist descendants like bugs but only a grave mistake would have prevented them from doing so!" Screamed Arch Inquisitor Tremore patriotic zeal and hatred for those who had dared to strike the mighty Imperium this badly dripping from his voice.

Dyranus bowed his head down more before speaking.
"And yet, I doubt that is the case My Lord. Our Commanders had trained for this for months, the Admirals planned the details for over a year, the ground work and infiltration started over a decade ago."

The Inquisitor stared at Dyranus, angry at the man who had dared to question his view of the matter.
"Be very careful Overlord, as if those men and women are absolved from quilt, only you are left to blame along with your staff. Perhaps it is time for this Council to take your life and..."

But then, the raising of a hand silenced the zealot, and everyone else in the room. The Emperor lowered his right hand, pleased at the silence and observed the man kneeling at the floor. If he truly wanted his life, the snap of a finger could take it. One of his two dozen guardians in the room would glide upon the Overlord and remove his head, but that would not be his fate and Emperor Hecate doubted that it would improve the state of things to any degree.

"Overlord Dyranus. What is your opinion as to how this war should be continued?" He questioned. He had his own view, and as an Emperor he was intricately versed in the art of war, but he preferred those who devoted their entire life to that art to actually create the strategies.

"My Emperor. We should immidiately prepare another Invasion Fleet to strike at the loyalists. Double the force this time and assemble it at the Fleet Base in Qualtren System. The loyalists have been gravely wounded to the very least, if we strike quickly and decisively, they will not have time to heal their wounds." Dyranus explained. He had hesitated to propose this plan. Not only did it suggest sending a full quarter of the entire navy against the loyalists but also risked exposing parts of Imperial space for attack.

The opinions against and in support of the plan were evident from the Council Members' faces. No one dared to say a word however, when the Emperor spoke, his voice would reign supreme unless he specifically expected a reply. The Council would speak at the Emperors whim.

"I agree with this plan Overlord." The Emperor said finally.

Dyranus inconspiciously breathed out a silent lungfull or air that he hadnt even noticed he had witheld.

"Thank you My Emperor. I took the liberty to assemble the forces to Qualtren two weeks ago. They can be ready to depart in three more when they are resupplied, maintenanced and the plans have been sketched out." He said.

"Good. The man who is responsible for the Fleet must have initiative. Now go, and this time bring me victory Dyranus, or your life shall be forfeit." The Emperor said, a certain undertone of finality in his voice. He was a man who gave a second chance. Not to many, and never a third chance.

Dyranus rose up from the floor, bowed deeply and made an about face and finally strode out of the Council Chambers. Once out of the Palace, he strode for the awaiting assault shuttle in the Palace Grounds. The flight back to Fleet Central was far from relieved. He hadnt expressed his personal thoughts to the Council, that would have called for a certain execution, and the brandishment of him as a traitor.

Had he, had the Imperium awoken the true Dragon from its slumber when they decided that the last memory of the 3rd Imperium had to be wiped away from the universe in a rain of fire and blood? He had nightmares. He had feelings. Nightmares of defeat and total destruction, feelings that destiny was coming and that destiny would promise nothing but oblivion to the 4th Imperium. He washed away that kind of thoughts from his mind, and concentrated on creating a new strategy to annihilate the Clairmontians, but the voices, the silent and dreadfull voices kept whispering at the back of his mind. Whispering him promises of doom, promises of death.

And Star Overlord Dyranus of the Imperial Battle Fleet knew the meaning of fear.

~OOC:~

And thus ends the first part of this story. The second will be starting very soon. The second will also be the final part of this RP and I hope that everyone who took part in this will also participate in the second. I also promise right now that the next part wont last so damnably long. There were a lot of real life issues that I had to resolve and both my time and willingness to write were really in the gutter. I hope you all liked how this begun, and I hope you will like how it ends. See you on the flipside.