NationStates Jolt Archive

Circa 50 years after the Great March War…

Steven Kidwell nervously walks down the halls of Guardian’s Military Bureau Palace just off of the Liberation Square with a briefcase in hand. He comes to the office of Harold Watson, the current Liberation’s Bureau Chief of Technological Research and Regulation. Kidwell announces himself to the secretary who quickly lets him in.

“Hello… Steven, is it?” Watson greets.

The two shake hands.

“Oh… uh… yes, and you’d be Harold Watson?”

“Yes sir,” Watson replies lightly. “Now what brings you to my office?”

“Well, sir, um… yyyyou’re familiar with the Infantry Hive Mind called ‘Jason,’ are you not?” Kidwell inquires.

“Yes, my father was actually one of the ‘boys in the back room’ who worked on the system back in the day.”

“Well… sir… there seems to be a bit of a problem…” Steven hesitates a bit but then continues. “The other day… Tuesday, actually, we were running some diagnostics and came across some un-recognized text files within the programming. We opened them up and it was a saved textual conversation.”

Watson’s brow furrowed a bit and tilted his head. “Between who?”

“Well, we quickly identified one of them to be Susan…” Watson looked even further puzzled. “The onboard ship’s SI. And after a bit of figuring we soon found the other to be… Jason.”

“You mean to tell me that two SI programs were having a conversation.” Watson stated in a skeptic tone.

“No, no… Susan was simply replying as she would to any human… but Jason. He was inquiring… acquiring knowledge. It seems he’s been doing this for almost three years now, and that’s not all. He’s also been writing programs to entertain himself.”

“Programs?”

“Yes. So far there’s a chess program, a paint program not so different than one found on any common computer, and what looks like some sort of randomizer that we can’t quite figure out the function of.”
“And he’s been doing all of this on his own?” asked Watson.

“Yes… but those aren’t the reason I’ve come here today. Truthfully, those alone would be a reason to rejoice in a scientific sense because this would mean we would have created the Liberation’s first AI… but just earlier this morning we had to shut off Susan in order to run some tests on the ship’s computers and… Jason… well… he he tried to get out of the mainframe onboard and into the ship’s computer. When we ran an inquiry through the system for his status we just got the reply ‘Where is Susan?’ We then ran a system’s check to find any problems and got the reply ‘Susan is gone. Where is Susan?’” Steven paused. “To tell you the truth, sir, it scared us.”

Watson looked at Kidwell in disbelief. “What’s his status now?”

“We’ve got him under lock down and severed his physical and EM connections to any outside systems and the Infantry is currently acting on a backup system, but Field Marshal Hawking has ordered he go back online before the end of the week.”

“Do you know how to fix it?”

“The only thing we can think of is a full system wipe or re-write. Both of which would take years to rebuild a battle effective system… and both include destroying the Nation’s first and only AI.”

Watson bends over a bit and speaks sternly. “Alright, you keep this quiet. None of this leaves this room or the lab, ok?”

“Uh… certainly, sir.”

“I’m going to talk this over with Darius and see if we can’t get some more experienced heads in on this.”

They finished their discussion quickly and Steven was sent on his way. Soon after, Watson makes some calls and arranges a conference with Prime Guardian Darius.

A few hours later in the Prime Guardian’s Palace Main Conference Room… (tic toc tic toc tic toc tic toc)

Darius has aged much since the end of the March War, but is still in good health and mentally capable as ever. He sits in one of the chairs in front of his desk, rather than behind it, enjoying the view outside. Watson then enters the room.

“Excuse me, your Excellency, but we spoke on the phone earlier.”

Darius stands and looks at Watson for a moment before remembering him from Corporate Dinners and other occasions. “Oh yes, Watson. I received the information… this seems a bit heavy, now doesn’t it?”

“Yes sir, it does. I was wondering about the possibility of calling in some outside minds to help us out with this issue, maybe some specialists from Valinon or the Imperium… people with more experience with AI.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Darius exclaimed. “I already took care of it and the necessary papers have been sent to the necessary people. All we need to do is wait for replies.”

(OOC: Assume Information on the case has been sent to top specialists in this field in your nation, Vernii (if you'd like to play), Valinon (if you've got some spare time), and just about anybody else who feels like showing up and posting)

(OOC: This thread will never be used so I'm just posting random junk in it I want people to see. LNH SPOILER ALERT!!!)

The Morning Star System, New Hope, The Freed Palace in New Babylon, the Old Emperor's Hall

"YOU MONSTER!" Darius marches through the great oaken doors under the great beams of sunlight penetrating the hall's formidable stained-glass windows, finger pointed and clothes torn from grief, Cedric and OCO Special Agent Ha'nar following close behind. He carries too much rage to even think of crying. "YOU... you... you evil thing!"

Lucy twists a flower in her hand, admiring a huge golden suit of armor sitting beside the Old Emperors' great red, velvet thrown. She raises one eyebrow at her father, at the man who thought he was her father only a few moments before. She know's why he has come, but she keeps playing the game--she enjoys it so. "Oh, father. Whatever do you mean?"

"YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN!" He flies over to a priceless vase-on-display, throwing it to the ground. Its pieces explode across the marble floor. Cedric and Ha'nar look on, wide-eyed. Neither of them have the place to tell him to stop. "You know, you little fucking whore, you know!" He races back over to Ha'nar, grabbing the file from his arms. "You see this? You see it? They caught you. They know you did it."

She's toying with him, now. "Did what?"

"YOU KILLED HER! You fucking killed her you fucking whore you killed her..." the rage is slipping, now. Sorrow is close behind and his eyes well up. "... but... I... you..." he's mumbling and drops to his knees.

"Oh! Mother. Yes. I'll go ahead and answer the 'why' question--I know it's coming next." She skips over to him, sniffing the flower as she approaches, letting it's white peddles brush against her little-mouse nose. She leans over, tilting her head, and whispers, "I wanted to watch you die on the inside."

He feels like he's going to vomit.

Luci stares coldly into Darius’ eyes and says in her sweetest voice, “Dispose of them, Cedric.”

There is an awkward pause as Agent Ha'nar stares at Lucy, confounded. Cedric... Darius's personal bodygau--

The shot rings out from Cedrics gun and drops poor Ha'nar to the ground, knees first, then face. "Yes," Cedric agrees like a scolded child, head down.

Darius leans back on his heals, staring on in horror at Ha'nar's body. “Cedric… no. You can’t do this...” he whimpers. Cedric shifts the gun's aim over to his master, finger waiting on the trigger. Cedric licks his lips and takes a deep breath. His hand begins to shake. Darius shakes all over.

She sees his hesitation, “What are you waiting for. Finish him!”

Cedric tries, but his heart races, his fingers go loose. His mouth takes in dry, short breaths as his eyes, just as Darius's, well up in tears.

“Do it, Cedric.”

Darius, defeated, tries to reason with the man. He pleads. “Please… Cedric… For Your sake, how long have we known each other?”

She is impatient. Her hands ball into fists and hang downward and she screeches, eyes closed like a spoiled little child, “DO IT! Do it do it do it!”

“Please, Cedric. You’ve always protected us!”

Cedric’s hand begins to shake and the gun along with it. A tear rolls down his cheek and onto his chin. His breaths grow shorter, more shaken. His head moves slowly side to side “No… no…”

She tilts her head once more and puts on a an understanding face, exchanging it over the monsterous one she'd held just a moment before as she shifts gracefully towards him, draping her arms on her shoulder and whispering unheard promises in his ear. She His short, frantic breaths draw in her scent, making him docile, giving him confidence. He looks at Darius, the broken, defeated old man; his eyes sunken from stress and wide with fear.

“Cedric… she already took Talia from me… my Talia… not you. Please; don’t let her take you, too.”

…Talia

Cedric’s hand steadies and his eyes dry. He knows what he is to do. He takes a deep breath, and gives a mighty cry as he throws his arm to the right, tossing the girlish thing that held him to the ground. She catches herself on her hands and sits crouched like a cat about to strike; rage fills her eyes. “Coward!”

Cedric stands, arm extended and sidearm aimed for Luci, heat coursing through his veins, deep and violent breaths pumping through his lungs.

Darius calls out, “Shoot, Cedric! Pull the trigger!”

“Treasonous pig!” she hisses.

“Hurry, Cedric! Pull the trigger!”

Once again, Cedric Hesitates, his fingers going loose once more. “… Darius, I'm so sorry… I can’t.”

Darius, the optimist, sees his turned table and cheers from his knees, “Come on, Cedric! The day is ours!”

Still down on all fours, she reaches down the side of her dress.

Cedric trembles at the sight of what has been his Goddess. "She still has me!"

"No she doesn't!"

With the tips of her fingers she finds it, her Glock.

“Now, Cedric!”

She slips her fingers around the handle, placing her index finger on the trigger.

“I’m sorry!”

Slowly she slips the weapon out of it’s holster, bringing it to her side.

“Now!”

She brings up the weapon and takes aim at the old man.

--BANG! --

Smoke flows from the barrel of Cedric’s gun and the rage melts off of Luci's face, quickly replaced by fear and confusion. The blood flows in short pulses from her new wound near the throat, piercing it’s way to her heart and staining her white sun-dress. She drops to her chest and stomach, allowing her face to hit the hard floor with an inappropriately comical thud. Cedric and Darius stand there silently, the old guard’s arm still extended, the old man’s eyes still wide, the smoke whisping upward.

“Its over.”

A remarkable day.

The Lazurus City didn’t shine that day, the blinding glare of the Morning Star captured by an odd creature that lazily sat above and amidst the now-gloomy towers of industry that, somehow, presently showed their true selves, not able to hide behind their gleaming silver frames. Gentle, lovely gems fell from the unfamiliar gray beast, shattering on the window, intoxicating the view of any who might set their gaze through and onto the lonesome, crowded keeps of the city.

“I’ve never seen the rain,” trickled into the room over the gentle drops’ tapping on the wide glass.

“I’m sorry?” Lucy had been submerged in the scene, the soft call from across the room dragging her up from the depths.

“Oh…” the voice from across the room excaped from it’s owner’s lips. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s no bother,” Lucy told the window. She turned to see the source of the voice, a thin face beneath dark, discheveled hair. From the rest of her hung a plain yellow uniform, the type seen on maids and attendants almost anywhere. Her arms clasped together to hold a pile of white silk sheets stacked halfway up to her chin. “Come, sit.”

Turned back to the window, lucy dived back into the striking dullness outside the window. She noticed that as the yellow-clad girl sat down that somewhere between the door and the window the stack of sheets had disappeared. The two of them sat for a long moment, the girl in yellow politely studying the peculiar site and sounds with hands folded in her lap.

“It rains all the time in Babylon,” Lucy kept on to the window, “I’d swear it rains every day…”

More silence highlighted the tapping on the window. “Every day?” the girl in yellow asked, trying to think of something to say.

A smirk went across Lucy’s face. “Well… it only seems like it.”

“I grew up north of Samson,” the girl in yellow began, Lucy noticing her willingness to be forthcoming.

She must have no-one else to tell.

“It hasn’t rained there in fifty years… at least that’s what they say.”

“How old are you?” Lucy asked, becoming more aware and interested in her new companion, but still looking out the window.

“Oh, I’m twenty-three.”

Before the girl could say much else, Lucy continued her interview, “Did you go to a university?”

The girl in yellow had to sit and think for a moment, not to remember whether or not she had, more to be puzzled over Lucy’s sudden interest. “No, I moved here to the City a summer after trade school. I started working here at the palace three years ago.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Oh… yes… You’re Luciphon, Darius’ daughter,” the girl said with a proud smile, sitting up as if she had just earned a treat for her bit of trivia.

A small laugh almost made its way out of Lucy’s closed mouth. “And who are you?”

“I’m Sarah. Sarah Najad.”

The ball was lavish. Every servant in the New Guardian’s Palace was in full formal attire, as was every guest. The men wore the expected military uniforms--white and black and tan dotted the dance floors and tables bordering them—and tuxedos of various color, while the women came clad in every designer dress, whether it be large and modest or small and skimpy. Every decadent food imaginable was available in the buffet, in the menu, or on the platters carried around be servants.

Infectious music flowed over the crowd. Years of product testing had led to an electronic pulse that got near anyone up on their feet and dancing, and in the Palace that was no exception. Party lights stood out amongst the otherwise dim lighting, pink and green and blue flashing over the room in all directions, from the incredibly high ceilings to the crowd on the floor.

All around the ball room were barely covered dancing girls, a staple to any Homelander ball and a testament to the rampant chauvinism of the Homeland. They could be seen gyrating up against nearly anyone who’d pass them by and, on occasion, slipping off to some corner with some lonely politician. There were no cameras, and even if the public knew there would never be a scandal for something so common.

Amongst all the noise, movement, and visuals the honorable First Admiral Murphy was finishing a quick dance with another officer, a younger commander; she forgetting her’s and the admiral’s rank for the party just as he was forgetting her’s and his own. As he bowed out he turned to spy something thin and white in the corner.

His curiosity piqued, he began to approach, his site unveiling strands of rich brown hair atop a thin, innocent looking face. Below the face was a slender neck, pale as was the rest of her, leading down to a high-cut dress which flowed down to her slender ankles. Her figure was girlish, as were her slender fingers, wrapped around a gin and tonic which she sipped from politely as she watched the crowd. It was Lucy, the daughter of the beloved Guardian, standing along side the party seeming lonely.

Murphy had known the girl since she was a small child, always sweet and chipper, and cute too (Murphy had never liked children but had taken a special liking to Lucy who always made him smile). He hadn’t seen her in years and how she had grown.

“Are you alright?” Murphy shouted above the noise as he reached her, tilting his head forward and down a bit to get a glimpse at her down-turned eyes.

“Oh, I’m fine… just needed a break from the party is all,” she responded, shouting, too, in her light, youthful tone.

She looked so very down, Murphy couldn’t help but want to cheer her. “Well this is hardly a ‘break’ over here. Follow me to the garden for a moment. I need some fresh air. We’ll have a walk.”

She hesitated a moment, then agreed and the two headed for the door to the left, stepping out into the cool, clear night air.

Several others dot the large garden lit by lights up on strings across the whole span, couples, groups, the occasional lonesome soul walking about. Murphy extends his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and Lucy takes it, revealing a small smile. “You’re so tall!” Murphy remarked, “The last time I saw you, you were about yeh high,” he declared, extending his other arm to about his waist’s height.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” she responded quietly, staring at the red and orange flora as they pass.

“I feel terrible… so caught up in the fleet that I’ve hardly been planetside long enough to visit you or your father.” He glances over, seeing her looking off at the flowers. She doesn’t respond. “What have you been up to in all this time?”

“This and that…” she replied, trailing off.

“Any boys around or has Darius kept you all to himself?” Murphy thought himself rather clever for striking the topic of boys, as he expected Lucy to be at the age to obsess over them.

“I’ve never really been into them, I guess…” she trailed off again.

Oh, the bitter confused teenage years. I’d nearly forgotten them, he thought to himself, still trying to navigate around her emotional blockade.

Then, suddenly, the Admiral’s blood began to boil. In an instant his heart started racing as he felt a profound feeling rushed upon him, stopping him in his tracks as if he'd suddenly be buried by hot desert sand. Flashes of images before his eyes, terrible images… Lucy. He clenched his fists, resisting the terrible urge to reach over to her, even look over to her.

She noticed his sudden change, his sudden… tightness. Her brow furrowed, eyes widened. “S… Sean…?”

“I… I have to go, Lucy,” he said, panicked and beginning to turn around.

“W… What’s the matter? Sean? Where are you going?” Oh no… not again… no… She ran to him, grabbing hold of his arm, only making his condition worse. He nearly threw her off.

“I have to go, Lucy. I’ll talk to you later.” He remained staring the other direction even as he stood there and spoke to her. “Give your father my regards.”

With that he marched off into the garden. Lucy’s pale skin against her dress became a bit more pale. Her eyes reddened, tears began streaming down. I don’t understand… why does this happen?. Wiping her eyes she sprints off into the night to the other doors to the garden and eventually to her room. What’s happening to me?

Meanwhile, deep underneath the Emperor’s Basin, Darius confronts the problems of his nation…

“Next,” a sallow, raspy voice declared from only inches above the surface of a fine wooden desk. Darius no-longer wore the Guardian’s tunic but instead dawned a casual collar shirt and slacks, along with five o’clock shadow and dark circles below his eyes. One arm loosely flips a worn-blue pen back and forth slowly while the other braces his head from falling onto the hard wood surface before him.

Another man wearing similar attire along with a loosened red tie looks down at his mobile-com and then up to a larger screen on the wall. “The next issue is a vermin outbreak in the south east hemisphere.” With the click of a button, an image arrives on the screen: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v251/redarmyagent/rabbot.jpg

“This is Walter Sobeczek of Tempher City in the Garrison district. In his hands is what he claims is one of two dozen of the animals that have taken up residence in his home.”

Puzzled, Darius raises his head however much he can and asks “What is it?”

“Obviously some sort of mammal. The outbreak is probably the result of unregistered breeders. We did a bit of research and found it looked pretty similar to something called a… rabbit.”

“A mammal, so it’s from earth,” Darius replies.

“Yes. Apparently they’re very popular as pets… on earth, anyway. In any case, local security has found the best way to clear them out is gas.”

“Oh, well that’s good.”

Days later, in the Collective Offices in Trinidan…

Darius stood in front of his sculpted mahogany desk. Behind him, Trinidan glowed golden through the window, cheerfully illuminating the walls of the office, lined with a library of books. Behind the desk, to the right of the window stood Cedric in a tasteful forest green suit, as always, with hands folded. Darius was staring at the door intently. He was waiting.

In through the door marched First Admiral Sean Murphy. Clad in full formal uniform he was a bold, dashing figure; intimidating even. The hard, deep black material of the uniform fell behind fiery red trim and gold medallions. His hardened looks added to the whole package, though they were usually lightened when he greeted the Guardian. Usually.

Murphy glanced around and immediately noticed something was amiss. One eye squinting, he looked to Darius and shook his hand. “Greetings, Sir.”

“Hello, Admiral.”

Murphy wasted no time. “Where’s Lucy?”

“That’s actually why I called you down today, Sean.” Darius extended the other arm and placed it on his old comrade’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. “She’s gone. We’re free.”

“Gone… free… what?” Murphy’s jaw dropped in confusion, brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘she’s gone?’ Where is she?”

“She’s dead, Sean. She’s dead, along with all the evil…”

Murphy pulled his shoulder away from the Guardian’s grip, stepping back in horror. “Evil?!”

Darius attempted to plead with the Admiral. “Yes, Sean. Evil! Did you not see it?!”

“What are you talking about, Darius? She was your daughter!” Murphy declared, raising his voice to a righteous shout.

“That thing was not my daughter, Sean.”

“This is insanity!”

Darius continued, trying his best to stay calm, “She’d been dealing with Kuma-Adad.”

“No!”

“She had contacts in Ortaga and Vakutu.”

“No!”

“She killed Talia, Sean!”

“That was an accident!” the Admiral let out with futility, slowly backing away from Darius; the room spinning about him. “We all… know it was an accident.”

“She tried to kill me, Sean.”

“Lies,” the Admiral was beginning to break down, rage filling his eyes.

“She was trying to take over the damn government!”

“ALL LIES!” Murphy barked. He then tempered his tone, “She was just a sweet little girl!”

Darius’ eyes squinted across the room with disdain, “and how many times did you fuck my ‘sweet little girl?’”

Murphy swallowed in horror. He could feel his legs begin to shake, then his hands. He hung his head in shame, averting his eyes as Darius approached from the desk.

“What do you think she wanted from you? Hm? Love? Is that it?”

The Admiral had collapsed to mere whispers. “No… it’s not like that… it’s… different than that…”

A deep sadness fell over Darius. “She still has you.”

“… It’s different than that…”

“I thought, of anyone, that you might be able to fight it. But she still has you, even after she’s dead.”

“It… was different.”

Not daring to look away from the Admiral, Darius called to his man in the back of the room. “Cedric?”

Cedric lifted a hand radio to his face, saying only “go” before two armed guards entered the room.

Murphy frantically turned to Darius, “What is this?”

The guards moved on Murphy, placing his hands behind his back and looping them with zip cord.

“I’m sorry, Sean.”

“What is this? A purge? First Lucy, now me?”

Darius solemnly shook his head. “No. It’s the only way I can help you.”

“What? Help? What are you doing?”

“Goodbye.”

The guards dragged Murphy out the door. He just kept shouting, “This is insanity! What have you done?!” again and again. The shouting could be heard a good way down the hall until it was ended with an abrupt thud. One of the guards had gotten sick of the noise.

“Make the call to our Valinor friends, Cedric,” Darius commanded softly, starting to choke on tears. “We’d like to order another new memory.”

The Great March War

The Great March War (also known as ) was an Oversector-wide conflict fought between the Grand Coalition (Liberated New Hope, Vakutu, Valinon, Vernii, the Wick, and the Free Ortaga Alliance) and the Hegemony of New Ortaga. Armed forces from all six nations engaged in space and terrestrial based conflict. Spanning much of the Inner Marches, the Great March War resulted in the deaths of over <casualty>, making it the deadliest conflict in the Raumreich’s history. The war ended with a victory by the members of the Grand Coalition.

Contents
1 Overview
1.1 Gregor Sector
1.2 Great March
1.3 Aftermath
2 Causes
3 Chronology
3.1 War breaks out
3.1.1 Gregor Sector Theatre
3.1.2 Great March Theatre
3.2 War spreads
3.2.1 Gregor Sector Theatre
3.2.1 Great March Theatre
3.3 War consumes the Oversector
3.3.1 Gregor Sector Theatre
3.3.2 Great March Theatre
3.4 The war turns
3.4.1 The Battle of Gregor
3.4.2 The Ortagan Civil War
3.4.3 Formation of Free Ortaga
3.5 The Grand Offensive
3.5.1 Gregor Sector Theatre
3.5.2 Great March Theatre
3.6 The beginning of the end
3.5.1 Great March Theatre
3.5.2 Battle of Axis
3.5.3 Kellarny Insurrection
3.5.4 Battle of Roum
3.7 End of war
3.5.1 Ortagan Surrender
3.5.2 Armistice of Roum
4 Casualties, civilian impact, and atrocities
5 Resistance and collaboration
5.1 Ortagan Resistance Forces
5.2 Nightwatch Collaboration
5.3 Ansel-Garahou Collaboration
5.4 Kellarny-Fremont-Corrin Pact
5.5 The Secret Coalition
6 Home fronts
6.1 New Ortaga
6.2 Vernii
6.3 Liberated New Hope
6.4 Vakutu
6.5 Wick
6.7 Valinon
7 Technologies
8 Aftermath
8.1 Second Proxima Centauri Accords
8.1.1 Strengthening of the Liga der Raumreich
8.1.2 Formation of the Liga Security and Regional Stabilization Council
8.2 Recognition of the Ortagan Successor States
8.3 Reformation of the Wickian Republic
8.4 End of the Bipolar Raumreich
9 Names
9.1 Liberated New Hope
9.2 New Ortaga
9.3 Vakutu
9.4 Valinon
9.5 Vernii
9.6 Wick

Overview

Gregor Sector

On 6.01.1300 (After Founding, Ortagan Calendar), New Ortaga, led by Channing Ansel, launched an comprehensive attack on all non-Hegemonic territories along the fringe of the Great March. The Solar Navy invaded and conquered the Verniian system of Erewohn destroying most of the Erewohnese Navy and with it over one-fourth of the Verniian naval reserve forces. Simultaneously the Co-operative Security Forces of the Hegemon’s Tactical Observers (CoSecOb) launched raids into the Liberation home system of Morning Star and the Wickian capital system of Ticonderoga. The attack on Morning Star was devastating with an Observer suicide attack obliterated a large portion of the Liberation capital and killing Admiral Setties, leader of the Collective Protectorates, and most of the standing Liberation government. The attack on Ticonderoga further weakened the Wickian Concordat and demonstrated the willingness of the Hegemony to openly attack civilian population centers, but was ultimately blunted by the intervention of a Valinor naval group in the area.

The coordinated attacks on Erewohn, Morning Star, and Ticonderoga were synchronized with a Hegemonic-supported guerilla attack on the Verniian homeworld and secondary system of Acler. Former operatives of the Valinor state security organ Nightwatch detonated multiple fusion warheads in the Verniian capital of Cardona and launched an attack on the Verniian imperial palace with Hegemonic military hardware. Although the attack was ultimately turned back by Verniian defense forces, the scars left on the Verniian landscape would serve to strengthen resistance against the Ortagan offensive.

The vast offensive carried out by the Hegemony of New Ortaga emphasized one point above all else: the Gregor Sector of the Raumreich was now more vulnerable than ever to Hegemonic attack. The Gregor Sector is the richest and most populous region of the Oversector, home to extensive holdings of both Valinon and Vernii. While Valinon merely suspended all wormhole termini traffic for a period of two days between Gregor and Alpha Centauri (and enforcing a total ban on wormhole access between Valinon and New Ortaga), Vernii prepared for another assault from the Solar Navy on Gregor, the Verniian home system.

After the fall of Erewohn and the end of the initial Ortagan assault, the Gregor Sector would remain amazingly quite for over a week. The Hegemony was apparently content to reinforce its forces occupying Erewohn while Vernii recalled most of its forces to Gregor. A week after the fall of Erewohn, the Solar Navy launched another triple-pronged attack on the Verniian systems of Acler, Boroglia, and Stocurm. The attacks were clearly designed to try and draw the Verniian naval forces away from Gregor with the Solar Navy raiding groups destroying all orbital infrastructure and defense forces in Boroglia and Stocurm. Acler was saved a similar fate because of the recent arrival of the surviving Erewohnese naval elements and a greater Verniian presence in the system than the Ortagans had expected.

With the withdrawal of the Solar Navy back to Erewohn after the raids into Verniian space, the stage would be set for the Battle of Gregor—the largest naval battle in the history of the Raumreich. When Solar Admiral Doral Hellings launched his invasion of Gregor, he would by the full strength of the Imperial Verniian Navy, a full carrier squadron from the Vaku, and a surprise show of force from the main body of the Kriegsmarine of Valinon carrying with it a Valinor declaration of war. The Battle of Gregor would be the first visible appearance of the Grand Coalition as a cooperative military alliance against the Ortagan Hegemony and would be a stunning success. Admiral Hellings’ formidable fleet representing almost half of the Solar Navy would be almost completely destroyed in the battle, with Hellings himself surrendering to the Grand Coalition force.

With the defeat of the Solar Navy at Gregor the war in the Gregor Sector would be largely concluded. Hellings’ defeat meant that there was no longer any major Solar Navy element able to conduct military operations outside the Solar Fleets typically reserved for the defense of the Ortagan Home Suns. And with the outbreak of the Ortagan Civil War in the wake of the assassination of Channing Ansel the likelihood of these fleets being deployed outside the Home Suns was slim. For the remainder of the Great March War the Gregor Sector would be used to stage the Grand Offensive to the Home Suns.

Great March

The Great March of the Raumreich’s Inner Marches would see the most fighting and destruction caused by the Great March War. The war on this front started when the Ortagan Hegemony launched its invasion of the Erewohn system, as well as the periphery systems of Morning Star and Ticonderoga, but this would be far from the only battle in the Great March.

In the days following the fall of Erewohn both the Greater Empire of Vakutu and the Concordat of the Wick would launch offensives into the now Ortagan-dominated Great March with considerable success. The Imperial Vaku Navy launched a surprise attack on the Dylar system, the major Ortagan fortress system used as a staging point for their initial assault, and destroyed the token naval force left by Hellings to guard the system. The Solar Navy and Solar Marine garrisons both surrendered to the Vaku after the initial defeat, but resistance from the forces of the Coordination of Security and Intelligence (SecInt) and the Tactical Observers would continue during the short-lived Vaku occupation. The SecInt resistance would be ended when the Vaku launched a massive bombing run using fusion warheads against their bases on Dylar’s primary inhabited world, Dylar III. Resistance from fringe Observer guerillas would continue until after the end of the Great March War. The Vaku occupation was terminated two days after their victory over the Ortagans by the Grand Coalition’s joint-command staff. The bulk of the Vaku armada would move to Morning Star to support the Liberation forces defending the system.

The Wickian offensive was far more sweeping in scope than that of the Vaku with coordinated attacks taking place in the Ortagan-occupied system of Thetis (the devastated Wickian home system) and the Home Sun of Gadsen. While the Wickians liberated Thetis from decades of Ortagan serfdom, it was a measurable hollow victory. The Wickian armada sent to raid Gadsen would be devastated when it was attacked by elements of the First Solar Fleet and resulting in what was at least an temporary end to Wickian offensives in the Great March.

Other than scattered raids by Vaku, Verniian, Liberation, and Wickian forces the Great March would be equally quiet until the advent of the Battle of Gregor. Before Hellings even surrendered to the Coalition war would return to the Great March with renewed vigor. The assassination of Channing Ansel, Hegemon and ruler of New Ortaga, would mark the beginning of the Ortagan Civil War, a three-way conflict between the various internal factions. Before the Coalition even commenced the Grand Offensive the Home Suns were already being torn asunder by internal strife as the Hegemonic factions led by Hegemon Jordan Galt and Kendra Ansel fought with each other and against the massive insurrection led by General Yuri Kellarny of the Solar Army, who was supported by the Free Ortaga Alliance.

“Hi, I’m Charles Musharif and if you’re just tuning in this is The Musharif Group. Tonight joining us are Ka’harim Nasab, a columnist for The Homelander; Ali Ka’bi, curator of the Revolutions Museum in Dahlam; and, as a special guest, all the way from Gregor, Harold Barnes, former Imperial diplomatic officer assigned to our fair little desert.” Charles sat behind the center of a big, red, semi-circular desk, his guests gathered around him.

“Nice to be here”
“Truly, a pleasure.”
“Indeed.”

“So, we left off, Ali, talking about The Instigator. You were saying…”

“Yes, Charles, as I was saying, during the revolutions the leaders needed someone to rally the people around, so they theorized The Instigator, they didn’t prophesize, they didn’t say he was coming, they just said that he’d be the man to free humanity, too—“

“And that’s where this whole Christ complex gets put on him,” Nasab joins in, “a lot of people start thinking Homelanders sit around waiting for the Instigator to show up and solve all our problems.”

Charles comes back in to mediate, “Well, I know what I was told when I was growing up, and it was that The Instigator would be put in power by the people” Nasab begins to interrupt by quiets himself, “No, no: by the people and he would free the people of the Reich, and you’re saying this isn’t the original meaning.”

This is where Barnes joined in, the Verniian figure smoothed out his jacket before he spoke, clearing his throat, “There, Charles, is where the Liberation had a lot of us outsiders, even allies, scared. I mean, I wake up one morning just after the war and open up the Calidonia Gazette to read that the whole damn Liberation is going loopy, trying to elect some dictator that’ll start campaigning across the Reich. Are you sure you even want that original meaning?”

“It’s true,” Nasab adds, “It’s damned scary, and what’s more: it’s not even true.”

Ali adds in again “it’s well accepted by most Liberation scholars that self-Liberation is not only possible, but in many cases preferable. Nations like Vernii, even Valinon were Liberated by western movements that happened thousands of years ago…”

*Click! Darius flipped off the Channel and tossed back his head onto the couch’s thick stuffing, looking up to the ceiling of the ornate apartment. “Where do we make all this crap up?”

A handsome voice comes out from around the corner, “I dunno. Ask your Press Minister. The guy’s a genius,” shortly followed by younger, stalky body in slacks and a shirt, taking a seat at the other end of the couch, carrying two drinks, handing one to Darius.

“Well we can’t keep on like this, Samus. Half the Reich thinks every news source in the Morning Star is a joke. You know me, I don’t like be thought of as a puppet master. I know we dreamed up some statistics during the war to make things look better, kept the whole ‘Instigator’ thing from turning into an international disaster, but now I can’t even keep track of what’s real,” he warned, taking a swig of the scotch.

“Let’em think whatever the hell they want. The Morning Star likes its news just the way it is. At least that’s what the ratings say.” Samus stared intently at the TeleComm, flipping it back on and hunting for ESPN’s coverage of the next RRRL match-up. “And I suppose you may not like being thought of as a puppet master, Dar. But you sure as hell do a good job at being one."

Four Weeks Earlier in the Milligan System...

Wargames, one of the many benefits of the Developmental Protectorates building around the Morning Star. As a condition of their funding, they're required to entertain the Silver Fleet's games--and these were special games. They were the innaugeral Wargames of the Third Silver Fleet and would act as additional field tests for the fleet's first Superdreadnoughts and Strike Cruisers. Among the moons and asteroids of Milligan, the Fleet would be squaring off against a great armada of soon-to-be-scrapped ships from the last fleet, commercial vessels with laser designators to pose as weapons (actually firing on the new fleet would be madness), and anything else that could be rounded up and hardwired to remote control. If all went well then Murphy and his men would have a wonderful time blowing them to pieces.

"I love my job."

Murphy had brought with him approximately half of the newly built Homelander Fleet, the only of 3 fleets to be built in the following years that was completed. A Manifest of his players in the game:

5 Leviathan Class SD's
3 Fenris Class SD's
1 Chimeara Class SC's
1 Hydra Class SD's

6 Clyone Class DN's
2 Typhoon Class DN's
1 Verminous Class SC's
1 Hellfire Class DN's

2 BC squadrons, each containing...

10 Ba'quir Class BC's

3 LC squadrons, each containing...

10 Samul Class LC's

2 CS squardons, each containing...

10 Bedoin Class Strike Cruisers

10 DD squadrons, each containing...

Do DD names even matter?

The Indestructable and it's two fireteam-mates (the Stone and the Gilgemesh) floated there, taking the beating like their names were true. All Fenris Class Superdreads carried names like that (Inpenetrable, Unbreakable, Oak, Resolve, etc) and for a reason: taking a beating was their expressed purpose. Their engines fire and they charge toward their remote-controlled enemies, inside the gunners load the "catapults," a seemingly endless series of massive railguns (or, as the gunners call then, "realfuns") down both sides of the Fenris, complimenting it's uncannily large population of grasers and lasers. The Fenris did not attack its enemies from affar. It tore them appart from arm's length.

A Fenris, though, is useless without it's counterparts in the squad. Far behind was the Solution, a Hydra Class Super Dreadnought, waiting in anticipation to fire. The Solution was a monstrocity--in the time when man was still planted firmly on Earth it might be compaired to some dream constructed by the magic clockwork engineers of Germany. On one side the Hydra Class was normal, its broadside carrying about 30 tubes with the proper grasers and lasers. The other side was an abrupt, flat field dotted with 400 (not a typo) tubes, all automated and firing at high rates [OOC: two rounds per post] thanks to, ironically, Verniian technology. If the Fenris were the Berserkers of this army, the Hydras were the archers. It's endless stock of missiles barraged the Indestructable's enemies as it charged them.

Next in the squad was the great, mighty Swarm. It was a Chimeara Class Supercarrier and served but one purpose: to overwhelm and confuse everything on the battlefield. The Chimeara was, in reality, a budgetting disaster--which is why there were only two of them in existance, and only one of them allowed out of the Homeland at any given time. It was the largest warship in the Reich and carried and launched more pilot-less fighters at once than could very well be comprehended at first glance. It was a great, terrible beast and it's offspring, the hundreds of little drones, poured out like rats from a sinking ship, all swarming to another.

Last in the squardron are the Leviathan Class Superdreads, all five of them. They were light and maneuverable (as far as SD's go) and moved in a more orthodox flanking motion toward the Indestructable's targets. However, these SD's were still not the whole puzzle. The Silver Fleet had developed its own tactics--Murphy wrote the damned book himself. Nothing attacks alone--it is, the fleet, just as Murphy's mind, a great, intricate machine. Because of this security about the games was beyond sanity--commercial and scientific scanners and telescopes were commandeered just to watch out for spies in addition to military lookouts, disrupters were everywhere, etc etc etc.

The Battle Cruisers and Light Cruisers took advantage of their great speed and went about moving to the enemy's rooftops, firing down as they soared upward, flanking the top while the Leviathans flanked starboard. In this grand orchistration the common Dreadnoughts had their place, too. They went along with the SD's, watching like hawks and making sure the unit would not get outflanked itself, further coralling the enemy into the Fleet's chosen spot, not their's.

Finally the last part of the puzzle came into place: the Strike Cruisers. Bedoin Strike Cruisers served two purposes. Their primary use was to take on sudden, surprise threats. They were, for all practical purposes, pocket Dreadnoughts but with one important addition: jumpdrives. Horribly inefficient and limited in range, the jumpdrive was perfectly suited for hopping all over a system wherever additional forces might be needed. This is where their secondary use became apparent: flanking--specifically from behind. They spun up their drives flashed like great white stars into the night, coming into existance squarely behind the enemy and opening fire.

Some call these tactics exhaustive of fleet resources for the desired effect. Murphy saw that it destroyed the enemy efficiently. "Efficiency is effect."

Murphy is pleased with the reports. Darius was given the reports as well. He smiled and asked an officer to explain what it meant.

Darius enters the huge, stainless steal kitchen where Talia sits on a barstool at the island counter eating olives out of the jar with her fingers. “Pack your things, we’re going to Gregor.”

“We?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Yes. Alexis asked if you’d come entertain Katrina.”

“Oh.” She places another olive in her mouth and continues to talk while chewing, “Poor thing, Kitty. Cardona has gotten positively dreadful since the war.”*

Darius is incredulous. “What are you talking about? Cardona’s a wonderful city.”

“You know nothing of women’s interests.”

“I know your interests.”

“Hardly—when are we leaving?” She changed the subject.

“Tuesday.”

“For how long?”

“A week, give or take.”

Talia distracts herself from the conversation; her eyes widen, “Oo! Can we bring Kat back with us!? I’ll take her to Babylon and…”

Darius leaves the kitchen.

*Talia speaks of the general flight of clothing designers, shop owners, club developers, and other orchestrates of culture to the Ortagan states to take advantage of the repressed populous.

Doctors Khalil Son Achbar and Madri Kabal stand in white coats in their white lab working on white computers (not Macs, thank God) deep underground in the Kuma Adad Public Development Center below Samsontown. "Hey, Madri. We've got the final design specs for the new Urban Supplimentary Security Units [USSUs pronounced "oosoos"] uploaded to the simulation computer if you'd like to check it out.

"Sure.” Khalil starts up the simulation protocols and an image of the machine in question finally starts to load. Before the simulation can go into action, though, Madri interrupts. “Wait, wait… what the hell is that?”

“What?” Khalil is suddenly confused.

“That. That right there. Is that the final design for the USSU?”

“Yea. It’s already headed for production.”

http://www.lomag.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2007/05/ironman.jpg

“You fucking dumbass,” Madri has started to shout, but not too loudly to alert anyone outside their corner of the lab. “You stole the design for Iron Man!”

Khalil is slightly terrified “What?!”

Madri begins to scold his colleague. “Iron Man, the popular superhero in Sol and, I dunno, to humans everywhere. Started in the 20th century.”

“The fuck? I’ve never heard of him.” Khalil is more than defensive.

“Apparently you have. And you stole his design. They’re going to sue you.”

“Whatever. It was entirely coincidental and no one will notice.”

“Yea. Sure. Just don’t complain.” Madri continues under his breath, “When they sue you.”

Deep underground in the Kuma Adad Public Development Center under Samson Town, quite possibly one of the least ‘public’ places in the Homeland…

“… what the hell is that?”

This question gets asked a lot in the world of Kuma Adad experimentation and development by people on the inside and out. The Gods* have diverted much of the organization’s erroneously procured budget toward research and development. Most monies go to practical things like handheld weaponry, listening devices: nothing too strange for a super-governmental intelligence organization. The excess funding, though, finds its way to all kinds of odd pet projects and curiosities.

Scientists regularly make bets on who can combine what life forms, what technologies can be applied successfully to robotics, or simply how much more terrifying one creation can be than another.

“That’s a bear,” Dr. Jicaam lists matter-of-factly, almost ignoring his colleague’s question and continues working with his handheld computer.

Still, Dr. Todd, staring nervously at the massive brown creature in the cage before him, continues. “… how did you make it?” Dr. Todd works in robotics, is largely unfamiliar with biology, and had only come to meet Jicaam for lunch.

Jicaam smiles, still looking down. “I didn’t. They developed naturally on Earth. Solarians call ‘em ‘Grizzlies’.”

“Ha! That’s beautiful.” Todd marvels for a bit, finally approaching the cage where the massive beast sits tranquilized in a far corner. “It’s the scariest damn thing I’ve seen in your wing today and it grew on its own. What are your plans for it?”

Jicaam finally looks up to meet Todd’s eyes but seems uncertain. “I’m not quite sure. I saw one while looking through the catalogues and thought it would be neat to work with. You’ve got to lay claim to earth creatures quick around here. There are only so many of them.” Todd looks confused until Jicaam gets the hint to explain. “See, there are about a dozen or so different major types of biology in the Reich or just around it, but we only really understand the type from Earth. The guys working with the Achilles life form don’t have a clue what makes it work, Vakutu life has something only vaguely similar to what we call DNA, and, to be quite honest, everyone stopped studying Gregor and Morning Star life when they realized they could just replace it with Earth crop.”

By now, though, Todd’s just stopped caring. “Tragic… so, when are you done? I’m starving.”