NationStates Jolt Archive

Combat Bridge, HSS Phoenix, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
6.01.1300 AF
1120 Solar Forces Standard

Admiral Doral Hellings takes his usual measure of comfort in the quiet recluse of his flagship’s combat bridge. The small chamber, buried deep within the super-structure of the Phoenix performs the same functions as the flag bridges on the warships of Vernii, Valinon, and Vakutu. And it is also a place of sanctuary where Tactical Observer Marlow, Kendra Ansel’s personal spy on Hellings’ ship, does not generally intrude without a very good reason.

One of the younger tactical coordinators that staff the combat bridge nervously approaches Hellings as he stares into the holographic tank detailing the assembly of the fleet on the fringes of the Dylar system. A ghostly clock also hangs in the periphery of the three-dimensional display, counting down the final minutes before Operation British commences.

“Admiral, the fleet is assembled and all squadron commanders have reported to the bridge as being ready for emergency translation into the Erewohn system. Shall I pass along your orders to have Captain Dortega transmit the final go-code for the platforms in Yetti’s Star and Thetis?”

Hellings stands up from the display slowly and rests his hands on its edge, “Yes, Mr. Ison, you may give Captain Dortega clearance to transmit my orders and then give me an intra-channel to the bridge, please.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Hellings waits a few moments, until a hologram of Dortega’s head appears on one of the hovering holo-pads attached to the main tank.

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Captain, I want the fleet to translate at 1130. I will have all squadron commanders inform they are not to engage immediately after retranslation is completed. For the moment all tactical control and final engagement clearance will be controlled by myself and the Phoenix’s combat bridge. However, I want all ships to retranslate in with gravimetric shields deployed.”

Dortega licks his lips and pauses for just a moment. A translation with gravimetric shields in place always places a strain on the reactors and distribution networks of the Solar Navy’s warships. If it is as all possible, the Solar Navy’s vaunted Solar Admirals try to avoid the process, preferring to simply activate their shields in the few seconds immediately following retranslation. But Hellings fleet has been thoroughly refitted and repaired in the Dylar yards, and short of the intervention of the Hegemon or the Strategos his orders will stand.

“Understood, Admiral. Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, Captain. As you know the Verniians have deployed another Erewohnese mass driver, should the LRDS ship barrage fail to disable it I am giving you and my falg squadron permission to attack it as soon as we retranslate using our primary quantum discharge cannon. And if it still survives after that you are to deploy a wave of Vortex missiles.”

Dortega nods crisply, “I will carry out my orders, Admiral.”

“You always do, Aaron. Now, you have five minutes to prepare the fleet,” Hellings cuts the link and brings up the display of the Erewohn system, dated just twenty-nine hours ago. It is what he will have to use to expand on his preliminary plans until his fleet completes the jump.

In a rapid blaze of blinding white energy releases, forty-eight Phoenix class dreadnoughts, 334 Hegemon II class dreadnoughts, 168 Roum class war-frigates, 240 Ansel class monitors, and six solar ray device platforms exit the Dylar system in perfect synchronization. It is the largest fleet the Solar Navy has fielded since the end of the Great Raumreich War, and it is considered by the tactical and strategic planners of Strategos Garahou in Axis to be only the “final blow” needed to subdue Erewohn’s defenders. For the system of Erewohn is already under attack.

Yetti’s Star and Thetis systems, Hegemony of New Ortaga
6.01.1300 AF
1122 Solar Forces Standard

Clustered around the event horizons of the wormhole termini connecting Yetti’s Star and Thetis to Erewohn are twelve massive missile platforms. They were constructed with a single purpose in mind and are manned by the barest of skeleton crews. But as are all weapons designed with a singular focus, they are deadly almost beyond measure.

Covering almost every available centimeter of hull space along the broadsides that face the termini are missile ports. And Ginias Saharin and his weapons crafters have specifically designed each port to “super-charge” the “disposable” hyper drives of the missiles for one single translation through the wormhole. What little space is not consumed by missile ports are eaten away by the necessary sensors, lidar, and mass radar hardware necessary to accurately launch the missiles and give them one final navigational update before they journey to Erewohn.

Within the merest of seconds after the orders from Admiral Hellings in Dylar is received, the platforms in Yetti’s Star and Thetis respond. Only a few seconds removed from perfect unison, in systems separated by over one hundred light years, the platforms fire their first salvo. Fifty-five thousand old-fashioned fusion warheads, yielding four gigatons each, follow Ninety thousand x-ray warheads almost instantly and the massive salvo disappears through the termini to strike at Erewohn. Fifteen seconds later a duplicate wave follows, but both of these waves are no more than an attempt of brute force to clear the termini of all obstacles and defenses.

As quickly as the missiles themselves were launched, the main attack from Yetti’s Star and Thetis are primed. In both systems the platforms fire a salvo of twenty-five hundred ECM “banshee” warheads each, screening some twenty-five Corsair singularity warheads. While the Corsairs are no where near as deadly or powerful as their Vortex brethren, the Corsairs make up for their smaller size and power in two key areas: the most advanced gravimetric drives every designed by the Solar Navy are built into their frames and they all carry the most sophisticated ECM measures and suites the Solar Navy can muster.

The platforms fall silent in both systems, their power spent for the moment. But there is one component left in Hellings attack on Erewohn, a desperate attempt to destroy the most powerful weapon the Erewohnese ever constructed wholesale.

LRDS #2, Fifty-six light years out from Erewohn, Interstellar space
6.01.1300 AF
1122 Solar Forces Standard

“Energy gate one clear.”

“Energy gate two clear.”

“Energy gate three clear and disengaged.”

“Primary focus charger is ready for deployment, sir.”

Lieutenant Jorman nods calmly as his technicians prepare the primary focus charger of Long-Range Deployment Ship #2 to fire. The LRDS is another brain child of Ginias Saharin, originally a simply warp gate construction and deployment ship, the vast six kilometer long ship possesses one of the largest reactor systems ever placed aboard a star ship. This was originally done to allow the warp gate construction ship to both build and then charge the massive batteries of the warp gates, which then draw their power from the solar wind of their home systems. But five years ago, Ginias Saharin twisted the purpose of the construction ships to his own end.

Now LRDS #2, and its two sister ships, serve a different purpose. They were the original test bed for the same technology that allowed the missile platforms in Yetti’s Star and Thetis to fire their missiles across the wormholes’ event horizon. But compared to the power of the LRDS, that jump is a mere nothing.

In a few seconds, LRDS #2 will fire twenty-eight Vortex warheads, 298 fusion warheads, 500 x-ray warheads, and 900 ECM “banshees” into its main column and using its grav-beams to accelerate them down the distance and through its three super-chargers.

“Fire the missiles, Petty Officer.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

In a blaze of dissipating energy and bleed-off, the LRDS fires its salvo. In under two minutes, the missiles reappear in Erewohn, just over 1,000 kilometers from their target: the Erewohnese mass driver.

Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1120 Solar Forces Standard

Vernii, the homeworld of the Verniian Imperium, and the heart of a nation the Hegemony is now at war with. Unknown to common citizens of Vernii, the Hegemony has carefully crafted a strike of terror against the Verniian homeland. Working in cooperation with the remnants of the Nightwatch organization, the officially defunct secret police of Gustav II’s occupation of Gregor, the Coordination of Security and Intelligence has readied a behind the lines strike, designed to demoralize the Verniian populace and throw the Verniian government into confusion.

Suddenly ever a viral hijack program overpowers vid and three-dee channel in Cardona and New Boston. Every screen is suddenly filled with a single image, a strange eye-like emblem traced in yellow over a black background. And across the pirated channels comes a single message.

“Gustav! In the name of Gustav!”

And then the Nightwatch attack begins. In unison three explosions of blinding light and titanic fury are unleashed, and the all to recognizable phenomena of a towering, mushroom-shaped cloud of fire and smoke. Two 4.8-megaton fusion warheads carve into the Imperial Stock Exchange and Imperial Spaceport in Cardona. Another 3.5-megaton burns in the downtown of New Boston, the second most populated city on Vernii.

As the shockwave tears through the cities, the next phase of the attack begins to boil outward. Suddenly, hover truck convoys headed toward the government sectors of Cardona explode. From them spill seventy-two combat walker frames, each carrying a Nightwatch operative. Six of the walker squads start to move out of the subterranean highways of Cardona and head toward the Imperial Palace itself, supported by a host of smaller modified civilian vehicles and air-cars carrying more Nightwatch forces. The remaining six squads, supported by a smaller number of weaponized air-cars head for the Parliament building. They fire pulsers and flamers into the crowds of civilians and building foundations as they pass, creating a swath of destruction as they proceed to their targets.

In the vast memorial of Resistance Park, the park personnel suddenly turn against the populace. They pull out Ortagan manufactured infantry weapons and reveal Ortagan basic infantry armor as they move toward the nearby monorail and highway stations, carrying strange, sealed containers.

In orbit over Vernii, three freighters supposedly registered with the United Star Empire of Valinon drop their disguises. Suddenly the strange, constantly changing signatures of Ortagan gravimetric shields surround the freighters as they open up with weaponry that are far from normal cargo. Each freighter opens fire with thirty-eight missile ports each and soon goes to continuous fire, with a salvo being deployed at six second intervals. The freighters also open up with a small host of energy weapons, Solar Navy battle-lasers and ion cannons. They begin to move, reaching out with the blatant touch of devastation as they break orbit and target anything around them—civilian and military ships and infrastructure alike.

Acler, Acler system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1120 Solar Forces Standard

Nightwatch’s attack on Acler is a negligible thing when compared to the strike on Vernii. Two 3.5-megaton fusion warheads burn holes in the cities of Lutetia and Media. And, as the tower of smoke cuts across the sky, only a few squads of Nightwatch wearing Solar Marine power armor move into action. They spill out into the city streets and begin to sow as much terror as possible, gunning down civilians and police with indifference. A smaller squad, garbed in simple infantry armor moves quickly toward the central water processing plant of Lutetia, seeking to unleash a specifically tailored biological agent into the water supply.

OCC: Wick and LNH, your posts are forth coming. Hopefully later tonight, but tomorrow is more likely.

OOC: I must say Ortaga, I do enjoy your writing, too bad its never about anything good. Anyway, I'll reply later tonight, hopefully. I have a lot of casualties to total up and responses to think up.

OCC: Eh, is it ok for me to be in this one? I've got a squadron in LNH territory, for all it counts, and significant trade interests in Vernii, although the Cooperative is above going to war over trade interests alone...and that's not to say that the severely underequipped and outdated Expeditionary Fleet will even deploy outside of LNH.

Please excuse my rambling.

LRDS #3, Eighty-eight light years from Morning Star, Interstellar Space
6.01.1300 AF
1123 Solar Forces Standard

LRDS #3 completes a final reorientation just as the final clearance and go-codes for Operation British arrive at its position via the Nu-space network. As its gravimetric drives return to stand-by mode and all power is once again diverted back to its primary focus charger, LRDS #3 prepares to execute an attack very similar to the one LRDS #2 completed mere moments ago. Except for one crucial factor: LRDS #3 has a far greater compliment of Vortex and Corsair singularity warheads.

As energy starts to bleed off from the focus charger's energy gates, the 132 ship flotilla of the Observer Directorate forms up into its finaly formation. Ten squadrons of Ansel class monitors form up on a single squadron of Kendra Ansel class command monitors. The crimson painted hulls of the Observer warships gleam with malice as they orient themselves toward the distant light of Morning Star's primary.

Then the flashes at the base of LRDS #3's main column signal the fire of the missile salvo. Thirty-five Vortex missiles, fifteen Corsair missiles, 150 fusion warheads, and 400 x-ray warheads speed away from the final energy gate of the primary focus charger and then disappear into hyperspace to reappear in Morning Star moments later. The Vortex missiles are spread out, with targets designated as the major shipyards of the Morning Star system. The Corsairs and the rest of the salvo target the orbital space of the Liberation's home world, seeking to destroy as much infrastructure and ships as possible.

The Observer flotilla vanishes in a series of white energy releases to further hammer the Liberation's only star system. And meanwhile, in Morning Star itself, the squadron of war frigates and two additional Ansel monitor squadrons open fire and break orbit, striking at anything in their way--civilian and military targets alike.

LRDS #1, Seventy-one light years from Ticonderoga, Interstellar Space
6.01.1300 AF
1124 Solar Forces Standard

LRDS #1 requires no reorientation, and its energy gates rapidly build up their final charge. The Solar Navy's and the Hegemony's long animosity toward the Wickians, a blasphemy of human and alien manipulation, are about to be rectified once and for all. LRDS #1 carries the fewest singularity warheads of any of the LRDS class. Strategos Garahou and her high command saw no reason to waste such valuable weapons on the virtually already defeated Ticonderogan Concordat. For the pathetic remnant of the Wickian Commonwealth, a traditional hammer blow would suffice.

And so, as the 120-ship flotilla of the Observers prepares for its translation to Ticonderoga, LRDS #1 spats its salvo. Eighteen Vortex missiles, 188 fusion warheads, and 750 x-ray warheads vanish into hyperspace to reappear only 2.5 light-minutes from the asteroid field of Ticonderoga itself. The missiles, using the last navigational updates provided by Polemarch Galt's spies, seek courses through the asteroid field, to exterminate the hovels of the Wickians orbiting the tiny star of Ticonderoga.

Only twenty-three seconds later, the Observer monitors follow, moving rapidly to supplement the firepower of LRDS #1's salvo.

OOC: I don't mind LRR, join in if you want.

Erewohn

Each terminus was surrounded by three groups of fortresses. The first ring sat just outside of energy range, the second ring sat in space further beyond that, at a distance of 3.5 million kilometers, and the third sat at the outer limits of missile range.

Imperial policy called for fortresses in a time of possible imminent hostilities to shift through general quarters. The inner ring at Yetti's Star's terminus consisted of nine forts, three that were in the middle of their shift at being at General Quarters. Two of the six Thetis forts were in the same stance. When the first missile trails appears on the tactical plots, their sidewalls had already been operating at full strength, their missile and energy batteries were ready, and anti-missile defenses were online. Their companions died first. On each of those, computers had automatically brought their defenses online, but sidewalls take time to bring fully up, and counter-missile tubes must be loaded. For them, the several second delay before the first CM canisters fired from their tubes had already doomed them. Laser warheads exploded, venting their deadly beams against the spherical sidewalls. It couldn't stop all of them of course, not even a significant fraction of them at this range. Battlesteel armor splintered and vaporized under their touch, and then the fusion warheads detonated with the fury of small suns. Seven seconds into the bombardment, the first fortress died, reduced to scattered and drifting debris after nearly two dozen fusion warheads had scored contact hits on it at once. The rest of its comrades that hadn't been battle ready when the missile storm struck them all joined it within the next ten seconds. At Yetti's Star, two of the three battle ready fortresses destroyed as well, and the third was a mess of vaporized and melted hull plating, and gaping chunks of hull open to space. Power had been cut to large portions of the fort, and escape pods begin to spill from it as its crew abandoned it.

They didn't make it. The second wave batted the single surviving fortress under like it was a injured fly to a newspaper. None of the Thetis terminii's inner ring had survived as long though.

The second shell of fortresses, nine for both termnii, were accompanied by a cloud of minefields and missile pods. They were fired off, the missiles and mines being remotely detonated by fortress command. The nuclear explosions, thousands of them, ripped out small chunks of the incoming wave. Then the fortress guns spoke. Thousands of counter-missile canisters shot out, each deploying five of the small and suicidal missiles. Enemy missiles began to vanish from the plots as the CMs literally rammed them, using their impeller wedges for mutual destruction. As the number of remaining CMs in the first wave dwindled, the forts cut their control links, dedicating them to the second wave of CMs. More missiles died, and finally came a third wave just as the enemy missiles hit energy range. The massively powerful energy batteries came to life, raking invisible destruction across the swarm, claiming hundreds with each pass. PD laser clusters, weaker but dedicated to this task, opened up. More died, and finally they reached attack range and detonated.

At each terminus, only four and five thousand laser warhead missiles had each survived, and they vented their energies against the sidewalls of the second ring. The fortress armaments continued firing even as they were wiped from its surface, and they were already rotating to present their undamaged surfaces to the terminii when the survivors of the enemy fusion missiles detonated. At the Thetis terminus, two fortresses were utterly destroyed, and another three were crippled. The other four, all with moderate damage, continued rotating, bringing their least undamaged surfaces to bear on the terminus while damage control teams labored to repair whatever they could. At the Yetti's Star end, another two died, four crippled, and the others also had varying amounts of damage.

Nervous eyes flicked to the plots as the third and much smaller wave appeared. Computers analyzed their emissions and ECM, matched it up with past Ortagan tactics, and deemed it probable that the wave had singularity warheads included in it. The computers wasted no time, going for putting out a sheer volume of CMs into the path of the enemy. Five waves of CMs were put out, the surviving forts cutting their control links and firing fresh CM canisters as soon as kill probabilities degraded. The forts themselves began evasive action, slowly maneuvering to increase the distance from each other.

Then, a captain on one of the surviving forts at the Yetti's Star terminus entered a command in. Each ring had been given two dozen missile pod platforms, ungainly constructions. They had a large sensor package on their bow, then a long cylinder that attached to gravitic thrusters. Missile pods were attached to the cylinder, each carried fifty pods. Twelve missiles per pod, each tipped with 75 megaton fusion warheads, gave them a decent punch. Only eight of his 24 platforms had survived, and he decided to use them while he still had them. He pressed the activation button, and their engines activated, propelling them toward the terminus at an acceleration that would make an LAC envious.

He never got to see them hit the event horizon and translate over, as shortly after, five and six singularity warheads each got through. The second shell of forts at both terminii disappeared. Behind them, the third shell, a mere five fortresses each, each activated their own group of 24 missile pod platforms.

***

The Driver, a relic left over from the War of the Lion, had never gotten the chance to fire in anger. It had been built at the same time as the other, more infamous Driver. The government thinking at the time had been, "Well, why not build two for twice the cost?" And so it had been, only to be stowed away in hidden warehouses. It'd sat there for over fifty years, finally brought out and assembled, finally ready to wipe enemy targets from existence. It never got the chance. LRDS #2 killed it before it could ever fire, before targetting calculations could be performed by its computers, before the first asteroid would ever get to be loaded into it.

The space around it was suddenly filled with the fury and disruption of singularities popping into existence around it, and when they were gone, the Driver and its four automated defense platforms were gone.

***
Cardona

Mark Morrison was a stock trader, a happy one at that. He'd just completed a trade in selling over a thousand shares of Pegasus Shipyards stock for his client, and the commission from that was going to be pretty decent. He was one of several thousand "lucky" people, the ones who were vaporized instantly, never feeling pain or even having time to realize it. In one second, he, his fellow businessmen, and several city blocks of Cardona were gone, replaced by a roaring fireball and a mushroom cloud. The shockwaves rolled out, crumpling in the sides of skyscrapers, picking cars and people up, ripping trees down, and turning debris from the blast into deadly shrapnel. Then there were the heat victims, those who had been close enough to be badly burned by the fireball's thermal bloom but not close enough to die instantly. Skin was burned away, organs boiled, and people died in writhing agony on the ground.

When the blast effects and fireball had subsidied, three million of Cardona's fourty-two million citizens were dead or dying. Emergency response teams recovered from their shock, and thousands of police, firefighters, and medical personnel selflessly charged into the blast zone to recover survivors and help the wounded. The same scene was repeated at the Cardona's Imperial Spaceport, where dozens of civilian starships were destroyed, the pavilions were smashed in, and the main terminal was simply gone. New Boston fared almost as bad, two million of its citizens were dead.

As police reports flood in, authorities quickly realize the targets of the walker squads and their support vehicles. The average patrol officer was equipped with a pulser and stun baton, horribly outgunned by the firepower coming their way. It quickly becomes the job of patrol officers in the paths of the enemy to evacuate the terrorists' travel path of civilians, to minimize their casualties. It'd be up to police heavy weapons squads and the military to deal with the walkers.

The Imperial Palace, while not a fortress or citadel, was more then adequately defended. The government buildings around it included a barracks for His Majesty's Own Regiment, and the Imperial Guard was housed inside the palace itself. Both regiments had access to a large assortment of weapons, including ones meant for work against heavy vehicles. The palace's defensive screens shimmered into existence, an energy field that hugged the surface of the palace, and would protect it against most things up to heavy artillery. Past that was the walls themselves, which were thick and strong. Two minutes after the first police warning had reached them, the first tank rumbled from its garage, a Tiger Mk V, a top-line vehicle. It was followed by four more, positioning themselves at intersection corners, half hidden behind buildings, their main guns pointing down the street and waiting for the walkers to show themselves. At the same time, soldiers in power armor occupied street level rooms in buildings near the palace, positioning plasma rifles and las cannons to create kill zones.

They weren't the first to encounter the enemy though, Police HWS 5 had that honor. It included three APCs and eighteen men in power armor. They waited at an intersection, waiting until the first enemy came around the corner. Parliament had its own defenses as well, defense screens came up around it as Parliament's Guard ushered the Lords and Representatives into bunkers beneath it.Beyond its walls, five more Tiger MK Vs waited for the enemy, their guns primed and waiting. Squads of infantry with anti-vehicle and heavy anti-infantry weapons waited in support. At Resistance Park, patrol police are the first to respond to reports of men in infantry armor heading for transit stations. Even though they're most likely heavily outgunned, they race to get there first, to buy time before the enemy can be dealt with.

In orbit, fifteen merchant ships are quickly destroyed, along with six patrol cutters. A small repair yard with three frigates in it is also badly damaged, one of the ships inside is gutted and worthless, and the other two are badly damaged as well. Unlike Yalta, the Imperial Navy was prepared for a Q-ship attack, and responded quickly. The first missile traces appear, two hundred in all, as the nearest orbital fort opens up on the Q-ships, and silver dots could be seen coming around the horizon line of Vernii, the first response by Home Fleet, eight battlecruisers. The heaviest hammer hasn't dropped yet though, BatRon 14 is getting up to speed, eight dreadnoughts with thoughts of vengeance on the minds of their command crews.

***
Acler

Acler is maimed by the attacks, four million are dead from the combined attacks, and public services are in shambles. Police and military authorities react almost as quickly to the attacks, sending battalions to secure power and utility facilities. The Nightwach operatives rampaging through the streets are quickly met by armored police squads, and soon the sound and light of tribarrels and plasma rifles firing fill the air.

The Hegemon of the Ortagans address before the Liga der Raumreich was carried by ever major news-net in the Raumreich from Valinon to Vernii, from Vakutu to the Wick. So Ansel's declaration of war is carried across the Raumreich instantly, and within the hour reports from the embassies of the Greater Empire (caught in the grey area between diplomatic stations and intelligence gathering enclaves) are telling of massed missile strikes and invasion fleets.

Emperor Thrakhath nar Caxki, Sovereign of the Vaku and First Baron of the Council of Eight, quickly dispatches summons to the other Barons of the Eight Great Clans of Vakutu. Before the hour is spent, the Great Barons and their entourages are assembled in the Chamber of the Council of Eight. The ceremonial blades of the Barons, formed from the teeth of a slain nagga, are placed before the leaders of the Eight Great Clans. Their hilts point toward the position of the Emperor, who--along with his throne--is hidden behind the translucent curtains surrounding the upper dais.

The Council has been summoned to discuss this issue many times before, a war against the Ortagan Hegemony. And each time, the matter has been carefully laid aside, with Crown Prince Ratha and his allies unable to sway the cautious nature of his grandfather. But now the situation has changed drastically, and Ratha knows his grandfather can no longer keep his realm above conflict. If Vernii is to fall, it will only be a matter of time before the Ortagans come to claim the Greater Empire. And with the Valinor growing increasingly disinterested in affairs beyond their own borders, there is no longer the assured deterent of the Alliance of the Twin Thrones--at least for the moment.

"My brothers," comes the whisper-like voice of Emperor Thrakhath from behind his curtains, "it seems that the course of the inevitable is upon us. The Ortagans have attacked the Verniians and their allies wholesale, intent on their complete and total subjegation. And the time has come where we can no longer stand aside."

"Therefore, at my own command, Kalralahr nar Hhallas has taken the First and Second Fleets to our border along the Great March. He awaits my further command to execute an attack on the Ortagan fortress system of Dylar and to take this war to the Ortagans."

"The war of jak-tu," breathes Baron Kahl nar Qarg, the clan who controls the Legions, several of the other Barons nod and mummer.

"The war of jak-tu," Thrakhath says and a series of coughs escapes him. "The time has come for the Council of Eight to sanctify a war of kaga (the warrior spirit) and call upon the blessings of Sivar. I now call upon the Eight Blades to serve the Throne as one."

With that, Crown Prince Rakta draws the golden, ceremonial blade of the Emperor and walks toward the ceremonial circle in the center of the Council chamber. He hurls the blade into the circle, and it quivers in its center.

The other Barons eye one another for a moment. There can be no greater call from the Throne of Vakutu or its Sovereign. Thrakhath has demanded the blades of his Barons, the very honor of the Eight Great Clans, to fight in a war of kaga and drive the Ortagans away from their borders once and for all. Baron Kahl nar Qarq steps forward and drives his blade into the circle, Baron Hassa nar Sihkag (head of the lowest of the Eight Great Clans that does nothing but serve the current holder of the Throne) follows heart beats later. One by one three other blades follow: the clans of nar Kiranka, nar Kurutak, and nar Ragitagha join their brethern. Now only the blades of the nar Ki'ra and nar Sutaghi clans remain.

Both of these clans have an accord with one another. And the nar Ki'ra clan, supported by the faded nar Sutaghi, have grown increasingly reserved with the policies of a war against the Ortagans. Baron Jukaga nar Ki'ra believes that the Verniians and their allies should bleed themselves dry on the Ortagans, and then when all sides are weakened the warriors of Sivar, the warriors of Vakutu, will rise and strike them all down. And now Baron Jukaga steps toward the circle, closely followed by Baron Tukarg nar Sutaghi. But both their blades remain in their hands, hilts still pointed toward the Emperor. It is a posture that shows deference to the Sovereign, but shows they will hesitate before granting their blades to the war of kaga.

"My Emperor," Jukaga says and bows deeply as he faces the curtained throne, "we know all to well the ruthless nature of the Ortagans and their war machine. Although the Solar Navy forsakes honor and a warrior's spirit, they do not forsake a stunning understanding of their own breed of the art of war., crude though it may be. From what reports I have garnered, it is inevitable that Erewohn will fall--if only for the immediate present."

"When we strike at Dylar, it is quite possible the Ortagans will chose to storm on to Gregor, seeking to eliminate one enemy on their flank while they rally forces from their home stars to counter our own attack. And with Erewohn conquered, it is possible the home star of the Vernii could fall. Before I consent to place the service of the warriors of the nar Ki'ra to this war of kaga, I would urge that a suitable force be drawn from the Fleets to support the Verniians in the defense of their home star."

Rumbles and growls move through the Council. It is a bold and audacious move, a Baron--even one as noble as the nar Ki'ra--to "urge" the Emperor to do anything. But Jukaga's arguement bears much logic, and it cannot be easily dismissed. A low growl escapes the Emperor.

"Your voice, as usual, is one of reason and wise consul, Baron Jukaga," Thrakhath says. "But you would do well to remember the with greater detail the merit of deference. Still, I will heed your consul on this particular matter."

"Step forward, son of my son," Thrakhath says in grave tones. Rakta turns to face the curtains and advances slightly up the dais before going to one knee.

"Yes, My Emperor."

"The time has come for you to draw blood on your claws and heed the call of the hunt. The time has come for you to prove your merit in battle and write the annuals of your honor among our history," Thrakhath says in formal tones. "You are granted a mandate by the Throne of Vakutu, do you understand this privelege and this supreme duty?"

"I do, My Emperor."

"Then hear my commands, son of my son and heir to my Throne. You will take the Fourth Fleet and its carrier squadron to Gregor and express our support to Emperor Calimar of the Verniians. You will carry my name and my authority with you, and you will be granted the right to use it as you see fit and cast the Ortagan paki (pawns) out when they come."

"But be warned, son of my son, failure will result in dishonor and the price that entails. Abuse of the privelege of my name and my honor will result in ultimate dishonor, and to be condemned from the sight of Sivar herself for all eternity."

The shadowy outline of Thrakhath's head shifts to one side, "Do you understad, son of my son?"

"I do, My Emperor, I will carry out your mandate and honor thy name with that of Sivar's."

"See that you do, for the penalty will be harsh if you do not," Thrakhath's head raises, its outline pointing in the direction of Jukaga and the Sutaghi Baron. "Do you heed my call, Barons?"

"We do, My Emperor," Jukaga and Tukarg say in unison as they drive their blades down.

"Then let the hunt begin, and let Sivar give her blessings unto us," Thrakhath says. Then he rises suddenly, tilts his head back, and releases a mighty roar of approval. The clarion call of the declaration of a war of kaga soon rips from the throats of all the Barons, Crown Prince Rakta, and their attendants as they add their roars to their Emperor's

The Morning Star Expeditionary Squadron finds itself at war quite abruptly. With advance notice of specific Ortagan bad intentions still at least an hour away, the attack on Morning Star catches the small and underarmed Robotic ships before they have even started to beat to quarters.

Aboard the Kent, Lem Ystad and the other bridge crew regard the tactical plot with astonishment. Klaxons howl throughout the ship as crewmembers rush to their stations, struggling into survival suits while stumbling through the corridors. Admiral Ystad barks orders to the bridge crew, and the cruiser's shielding and point-defense systems are activated in record time. The engineers react even more quickly, and the Kent's Magneto-Plasmadynamic thrusters have the ship moving and manouvering in almost no time at all. Four survey ships, the Echo, Togo, Somaliland, and Gannet exit hyperspace just a few seconds after the Ortagan missiles are detected by the Kent's primary array, and their equally comprehensive and capable sensors equipment is soon added to the squadron along with considerable maintainance support capability.

The rest of the squadron reacts in largely the same manner, beating to quarters with speed the envy of any navy. Before very long at all, the MSEF is lumbering into battle formation and spitting out countermeasures drones like there's no tomorrow.

Fortunately for Admiral Ystad, the Robotic flotilla's position removed from the major routes of space traffic through Morning Star saves it from all but a few Ortagan missiles. However, the effect of those that do track the MSEF is horrendous. One destroyer is obliterated in a flash of light, gone with all but a few lucky hands stationed outside the ship, and the light cruiser Birkenhead is devestated. A deep crater is revealed as the ship, controlled from the engineering compartments rather than the vaporized bridge, turns about, headed as far out of the way as is appropriate to wait for a repair flotilla and a tow back to the dockyard.

Torpedoes are brought up from the magazine and fired almost as soon as they hit the fuzer in a largely vain attempt to shoot down incoming missiles as they pass in front of the squadron. The detection of Ortagan warships operating in the immediate area causes even more concern, causing even more expediation in the manning of gun turrets and the deployment of damage control teams...

Frantic calls for reinforcements eminate out of the MSEF, calls which won't be heard for some hours. But with a fairly large and better-furnished relief force already in the making, Ystad can hope for, in Robotic terms, a significant and capable fighting force in the end, provided that what is already there doesn't get dismembered.

Ticonderoga System
Capital of the Ticonderoga Concordat


The Ticonderoga system was as always can be expected of a developing system heavy with traffic and an ever increasing infrastructure. For fifteen years the Concordat worked tirelessly to establish an infrastructure that would support the systems population. With large injections of capital from the Verniian Imperium and recent aid packages from the Valinor to a large extent the stabilization of the WIckian economy had occurred. No longer were people going hungry living off of a standard ration having the consistency of so much paste. No longer were teenagers forced to work in factories and other civil projects, education was guaranteed until adulthood at the age of sixteen. For the average citizen living conditions would have been considered Spartan in most nations consisting of a two or three room flat, however living space was the only thing still restricted in WIckian orbital, there simply wasn’t enough. When it came to increasing industrial or commercial capacity, residential habitats simply took a back seat.

All of the progress the Concordat made in the last decade now was at risk of annihilation once again by their old nemesis the super power called the Ortagan Hegemony. This time however there would be no retreat, no withdrawal, no evacuation, no quarter, no surrender. The WIckians had no where else to fall back to, they had to stand against the coming tempest. If they could not it would finally be the end of their nation and race.

+ + +
C.N.S Kestrel
Wolf Class Monitor
Two Light-Minutes outside the “Field”


Lt. Commander Ginske rubbed his eyes as he considered a recent conversation he just had with his father, President (Designate) Ginske. All things considered the conversation had probably been the final nail in the coffin that was there relationship. What did his father expect, for him to drop his duty to the navy and the Concordat to take over the family business, to issue his public support of him as president, seemly giving him an endorsement from the Navy?

His father accused him of being Villers man through and through, and well Ginske supposed that he was the cost of the title was his inheritance of a Trillion credit shipping and refinery guild all told over twelve percent of the Concordats GDP. He could not have cared less, he wore the uniform of the Concordat Navy, on his shoulder was the shield and colors of the Concordat, he was the Protector of the people and that was worth more to him then any sum of money.

The Commanders pondering was suddenly cut off with a the sharp alert of an incoming Nu-Space message. The CSN generally only used Nu-Space when time was of the essence as most were still distrustful of the technology, it acted as a sort of telegram bearing messages of urgency.

“Sir priority message from Home Base.” Reported the ensign who manned the communications terminal, Ginske waved him on to continue. Her voice was shaky as she spoke and it almost broke, like most WIckian officers she was young only eighteen years old with only her two academy years to draw upon for confidence, the amazing thing was that she managed to read the message in its entirety.

“To all commands, The Ortagan Hegemony has declared war upon the Verniian Imperium, Liberated New Hope, and the Ticonderogan Concordat. This is not a drill as of this moment a state of war exists I say again a state of War exists between the Ortagan Hegemony and the Concordat.

All commands are to go to general quarters, your orders are simply, engage all Ortagan targets with the utmost prejudice, and remember this:

We are Wickian, we fight now not for a some ruler’s whim, not for petty squabbles of state, today we fight for the survival of our people and our prodigy. We can not afford to fail in this duty,

Strength and Honor be with you all.

Admiral of the Fleet Peregrine”

“Thank you Ensign give me Squadron wide comms if you will,” he wanted for her to indicate the channel had been opened.

“Monitor Squadron Three, as of this moment a state of war exists between our nation and the Hegemony. All commands are to sound general quarters, we are the final picket line before the “field”, the fight will undoubtedly come to us first. We must do our full duty, That is all, Commander Ginske out.” With that he cut the communications, the bridge of the small monitor soon became cast in the eerie green light of general quarters, the dozen personal on the small vessel immediately changed into their skin suits without any modest, such consideration became frivolous in the naval environment.

The small holo-tank on the monitor was ablaze with activity, thousands of fighters and LACs launched from the two outlying fleet bases only a few light minutes from the massive asteroid fields, they began to form into wings to assume picket duties. Within ten minutes the first of the Battle Squadrons assumed a line of battle and began acceleration, their escorts scurrying from docking slips studded about the massive bases or from their mooring surrounding its vicinity and assumed escort positions. Bucklers and gun spheres were launched from the ships-of-the-wall surrounding their mother ships in a protective sphere of point defense. Gun spheres were the WIckians first attempt at drone control vessels to interdict enemy fire, buckers were in a sense mobile shields designed to interdict Ortagan energy beams absorbing, degrading, or deflecting them from harming their mother ship.

The first of the four active battle squadrons was underway ready to meet the assault of any Solar Navy units, however the Concordat the naval bases nor the massive warships stationed around them were the intended targets of the Hegemony. The people of the Concordat and their homes were, and their fleet was out of position to stop the missiles which suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere well inside the picket lines of the Concordat Navy, they would have clear passage all the way to the Asteroid field, except for Commander Ginske’s monitor Squadron.

The Commanders heart went cold as the holo-tank suddenly displayed the new contacts of the Ortagan missiles and twenty-three seconds later the more then one hundred monitors. He watched the computer calculate their enemies acceleration rates and its catalog of known contacts before the corsairs ECM activate mere seconds after translation, over fifteen known vortex missiles.

“Squadron Orders, Assume diamond formation, prepare for missile interdiction. Time until intercept three minutes, time until enemy missiles reach the field approximately two-three minutes. Happy Hunting, Lt. Commander Ginske out.”

With those orders the sixteen monitors leapt to their maximum speed with in three second pelting the WIckians with over four gravities that the inertial dampeners could not negate. The monitors were horribly outnumbered but they closed with the enemy missiles nonetheless, at their maximum possible range they began to attempt to shot the Ortagan missiles down with their plasma pulse cannons and point defense lasers. Sensors searched for the large vortex missiles which would be their primary targets.

Admiral Peregrine detached his light forces to pursue the enemy monitors from their outlying positions in the slim chance they had to catch the enemy before they wrought to much damage.

C.N.S Gallant
Inside the “field”
Flagship of the Field Guard

Even as Ginkse monitors began to open fire upon the enemy contacts, Commodore Trell started to organize the defenses of the Field and the warships which were stationed within. Dozens of ships upon their own occurred broke for the field corridor lanes opposite of the coming wave of hate in hopes of evacuating the area, which only added to the confused state of the current situation.

Due to the narrow corridors of the Field no Concordat ships larger then a battle cruiser ever entered, it often took almost half a day to navigate the transit corridors. Only two squadrons of battle cruisers and the same number of smaller cruisers stood in the gap between the edge of the Field and the last of the WIckians, however over a thousand fighters and LACs also filled the void, as well as the bucklers and gun spheres of the WIckians squadrons.

A message was sent to the Valinor Battle Cruiser moored nearby,

“Captain, my name is Commodore Trell, I’m sure you have noticed that a host of Ortagan Monitors have entered the system as well as a wave of missiles included within this onslaught over fifteen Vortex missiles. Only a single squadron on monitors, the field defenses and our ships stand between them and our civilian population, Commander Ginske monitors have engaged the missiles already, we expect them to reach the edge of the field in twenty-minutes, those that penetrate the field will not discriminate whom they target, Welcome to the War Captain,

May the Tester Protect you…Trell out.”

The captain awaited any Valinor response though he didn’t expect one in words, this Kaptain he heard for her political faults was a woman of action. He did not need to ask her help, she would merely give it by fulfilling her duty. Some who did not understand the responsibility of wearing the uniform would have pointed out that she lent her aide merely because a wave of tangible death was sweeping down upon her ship, and death with it.

They were wrong, not about death surely there would be plenty of that soon, Trell supposed the difference was that of the gladiator whom was dragged into the arena kicking and screaming to do battle, or he who walked in on his own accord back straight and head held high. That distinction made all the difference in the world to the officers of the Kreigsmarine and the Concordat Space Navy. It explained why Ginkse charged into certain death, and why the WIckians squadrons and the Valinor BC held the final line.

“Outer Defense Ring Activated and ready to engage sir!” Lieutenant Givante reported to the Commodore.

“Weapons free Mr. Givante.” With those words the WIckians replied in kind to the Ortagan onslaught, the WIckians were pack rats when they scraped their old pod dreadnaughts they kept their Pods and dispersed them within the field, they were activated remotely. Over five hundred thousand missiles were flushed within a minute sending their hate towards the missile wave and the Ortagan Monitors, over half of these missiles were nuclear aimed at the missiles, while the others armed with ECM and laser heads moved for the Monitors.

Alexei Stucov, Fregattenkapitan and executive officer of the HMS Chimera stands rapidly as Kapitan zur Sternen Ekaterina Tereshkova storms out of the lift in her shipboard uniform.

"Kapitan on the bridge," Stucov says quickly as he rises. The rest of the Chimera's bridge crew stiffen in respect for their mistress. And the bridge crew and the bridge itsel is surprisingly small for a ship of a battlecruiser class, but smaller crews and increased automation have allowed the Kriegsmarine to build more compact and (in the opinion of the Bureau of Ships) more efficient bridges.

"Situation, Herr Stucov?" Tereshkova says without looking up as she takes her own position in the Kapitan's chair.

"We have over one thousand in bound Ortagan signatures, Ma'am. Nine hundred fifty-six that appear to be some new form of hyper-capable missile, and at least fifteen of those appear to be Ortagan singularity warheads judging from their size. The rest are either traditional x-ray warheads, or fusion warheads. The remaining inbound Ortagan signatures are varying monitor classes, totalling 120 vessels. They are painted with Observers colors, our recon drones have confirmed this."

"Observers," Tereshkova hisses with vehemence. Kendra Ansel's personal army of fanatics is infamous throughout the Raumreich, and loathed by virtually all professional militaries. "Thank you, Alexei, you have confirmed Commodore Trell's message to me."

With that Tereshkova stabs one of the controls on her chair's armrest. It is a button that is unique to the commander's station aboard any Kriegsmarine warship or station, and it sounds the alarm to general quarters and to take up battle stations. Klaxons blare throughout the Chimera and her crew rapidly moves into action with a cool, methodical precision. The massive blast door protecting the bridge, buried deep in the bowels of the battlecruiser slam shut.

"All stations, status report now," Tereshkova barks.

"Helm and Manuvering clear, Ma'am."

"Tactial at the ready, Kapitan."

"Weaponry at the ready, Ma'am."

"Sensors green, Ma'am."

"Communications at the ready, Kapitan."

"Engineering and damage control at your disposal, Ma'am," comes the vid-transmission from Fregattenkapitan Josephs in central engineering and damage control.

The avatar of Chim, the Chimera's AI shimmers into existence, "I am ready and at your disposal as always, Mein Kapitan."

Tereshkova nods quickly, noting with some satisfaction the mere heart beats it took her ship and her crew to respond.

"Helm, take us to full power and moves to break from Side Six. Take us straight for the Field on a heading for," Tereshkova rapidly surveys her own dispalys, "navigation point Sixteen-Alpha-Nu."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"Comm, signal Korvettenkapitan Renders on the Broadsword. Instruct him that he is to proceed with all haste to rendezvous with Commodore Trell's forces and prepare to engage the inbound Ortagan forces. Then contact Side Six's aerospace control and tell them that I intend to use a tactical fusion warhead deployment to cut my transition through the field by creating a new course through it."

Tereshkova smiles slightly at her rather elegant way of describing blowing a hole in the field, "Then send a message to Consul Sharp telling him I recommend initiating evaucation procedures and to alert all of our citizens currently in-system to the attack and that they are to conform without question to the orders of Consul Sharp and any representatives of Her Majesty's Armed Forces for the duration of this emergency."

"Finally, record this message and prepare to transmit to Commodore Trell."

"Ready, Ma'am."

"Commodore Trell, this is Kapitan Tereshkova. I am bringing the Chimera and the Broadsword into engage the Ortagan force and support your operations to defend the civilian population centers of the Concordat. I will be clearing the Field in under two minutes."

"Recorded and transmitted, Ma'am."

"Guns, I want four Lancer-class fusion warheads to clear us a past through the Field. Fire them on my mark."

"Aye, Ma'am. Missiles will await your mark."

"Chim," Tereshkova says turning to the ship's AI.

"Mein Frau?"

"When we are clear of the Field I want all of DOS drones deployed and a full DOS network deployed. You are also released to deploy all of our Precentor and Ferret-class drones once we are clear of the Field. Firing priority on your DOS deployment is to be geared toward eliminating as many of those missiles as possible--especially the Vortex warheads. Only the safety and defense of the Chimera itself are to supersede that order."

"I understand completely."

"Tactical, bring up our grav-beams and use them to move any asteroid debris that threaten the Chimera."

"Aye, Ma'am."

Stucov makes a statement only because it is required for the record for him to do so, "Ma'am, this would be an act of war against the Ortagan Hegemony."

"Then we had best see to it that none of these Ortagans present escape, hadn't we, Alexei?"

"Indeed, Ma'am."

"Guns, you have my mark. And, Comm, transmit a Case Delta to the ansible platform."

"Aye, Ma'am!" the two stations shout in unison.

And with that the Chimera releases two fusion warheads to blast its way through the field, her drives already taking it toward the asteroids at full power. Meanwhile, a signal reaches out to the ansible platform for the Ticonderoga system, and space immediately around it. A Case Delta is hard-wired command in the platforms software, and it instantly suspends all civilian and foreign communications traffic, reducing FTL communications to those ships that generate their own localized networks--namely the vessels of Her Imperial Majesty's Kriegsmarine.

"Casualty count!"
"The entire foreward section is gone, sah!"
"All non-essential crew to the escape pods! Jettison the torpedo magazine!"
"Aye, sah!"

Aboard the Birkenhead, damage control teams look for survivors in the tangled mass that used to be the foreward section of the cruiser as escape pods shoot out of the aft sections, bearing most of the surviving crew towards the waiting survey ships. With the captain and bridge crew dead and sensors arrays destroyed, the skeleton crew of ten engineers plus two navigators, a helmsman, and acting-captain Sub-Lt. Jorge Quelimane, the crew steers the ship by vectoring the MPD thrusters and navigates visually by star charts. Small specks appear in the distance, repair ships, which rapidly grow in size until a dedicated repair platform and two heavy tugs are right alongside.

Meanwhile, Lem Ystad's battlegroup finally completes its manouvering into formation. Gun batteries finally register as manned and ready, and torpedo tube indicators show full. Although its not terribly much, the MSEF represents a significant Robotic commitment and it is there to defend LNH's soveriegnty and neutrality. With those two pieces violated, the MSEF has its work cut out.

"Contact the Ortagans immediately, leftenant."
"Aye, sah. They should be able to hear now..."
"Attention warships belonging to the New Ortagan Solar Navy, this is Admiral Lem Ystad of the Morning Star Expeditionary Peacekeeping Force. You have violated the soveriegnty and neutrality of Liberated New Hope and are hereby ordered to depart the Morning Star system immediately or we will, in accordance with our orders, be obliged to remove you forcibly."

*****

In the meantime, the figure of the monstrous spherical freighter, formerly heavy line cruiser, Derek Igomo* appears near Proxima Centuari. In addition to its load of god knows what stuffed into the cavernous, bottomless cargo deck, captain Byrne Gabrone carries a passenger. Zimbra Seychelles is accomodated in a small annex towards the back of the foreward galley, directly below the cockpit-like bridge, and as the freighter heads towards one of its more frequent destinations the robot Zimbra prepares an attache case full of various documents, the vast amount of them rather redundant.

"Attention Proxima Centuari traffic control, this is RSV Derek Igomo requesting permission to dock and unload cargo, and deliver a diplomat. We are standing by to transmit our logs and merchandise register, over."

OCC: I'm going to be gone for the next week or so, just FYI. I don't mean to hold you guys up, and I'll catch up with what I miss when I get back. Just FYI, there.

Morning Star System

Captain Davis rushed to the bridge of his carrier the Revenge even as he enter through the blast doors and onto the bridge he heard the hurried reports from his officers.

"Sitrep!" He stated quickly exerting a sense of calm.

"The Ortagan Flotilla is breaking orbit sir, attacking anything in their way. Missile volley approaching from unknown origin we have confirmed at least two dozen vortex missiles within it." his tactical officer reported.

Just at that moment the ship shook as it was hit by Ortagan battle lasers.

"Fleet Orders: LACs and Fighters are to engage those war frigates all capital ships are two pursue and engage with energy weapons."

With those orders the 400 LACs and 200 fighters of the Thetian Hussars engaged the War Frigates and the monitors at close range with spinal grasers and rail guns. The dozen Battle Cruisers of the Hussars closed with the Ortagans while the destroyers remained behind to escort the two CLACs of his commands.

It was at this time he heard the robots hail, he tried but failed to stifle a laugh.

"Lets show those toaster how we do things in the Raumreich shall we?"

Ticonderoga System

The Valinor missiles cut a corridor through the Field, though it may not have been as wide as they would have expected the Field was one of the most dense in the Raumriech. These were not the only explosions in the field. Two more escape corridors were cut into the field by pre-placed WIckian fusion bombs. These escape corridors which were soon filled with vessels of all sizes fleeing the death that could be caused by the oncoming missiles. Transports, shuttles, freighters, all fled the field filled with non-combatants. Only a small fraction of the population could escape before the missiles would have reached the Orbitals but it was all they could do...

Side Six
Hospital Wing

The WIckian laid still in the hospital bed, deathly still. He held a position and a title above any other in the Concordat yet his medical bed was located with in close proximity of a dozen others, the man would not have had it any other way. The heart monitor beeped steadily but its seemed to depict a shallow, thready beat that seemed like it could fail at any moment. Yet the beat continued, it drummed on and on. His chest rose swiftly up and down as the man drew breath…he was not dead yet but then again he wasn’t quite hale yet either.

The Doctors who attended him could not revive him safely.

“He should be awake I do not understand it.” One of the doctors said to the other.

“His heart has survived its ordeal, but I think it is his body that is dying. A man who has lived his lifestyle whose body has been under that amount of stress and exertion is due to fail before its time. We can keep him alive here indefinitely but what kind of life is that?”

The other doctor merely shook his head, he did not have an answer.

The Vision had returned once again…uncontrollable rage, and of betrayal rip into the WIckians' minds. The minor wars of the rest of the Inner Marches seem pale when compared to it…The asteroids and the ships, enemy and friend alike, warp and distort as the gravitational forces of a black hole are unleashed. Then the flaring brilliance of a sun going nova…

He could not let this vision come to fruition, old hatreds, bitterness, and cynicism died hard especially in men like him but he must, for his nation put these things behind him. His people the WIckians must forge a new path, or less they will be as doomed as the Hegemony is itself,

He needed to wake up, but no matter how hard he tried he could not make it so…

President Villers remained in bed for the foreseeable future.

Yetti’s Star system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
6.01.1300 AF
1152 Solar Forces Standard

Automated defenses aboard the missile platforms in the Yetti’s Star system spring into action before their skeleton crews even notice the new contacts on their sensor screens. But the missile platforms were never designed to truly defend themselves, at least at an appreciable level. And Strategos Garahou had ruled that Saharin’s added network of dedicated defense satellites were an unnecessary expenditure on what was considered to be a “temporary installation”.

The scattered, paltry number of battle-lasers set for dispersion fire on the platforms hulls opens up and blaze at the oncoming nuclear onslaught. To the credit of the automated systems, and in the last few minutes desperate responses by the crews, the battle-lasers cut down all but twenty-two of the fusion warheads. But their remaining brethren tear into the twelve missile platforms surrounding the wormhole termini.

Four of the platforms are battered into wrecks, and seconds later a few life pods shoot away toward the survivors. A fifth platform is heavily damaged, with almost all its sensor packages and pin-point astrogation equipment knocked off line, rendered useless for further attack. The remaining seven platforms ready their missile tubes again, and prepare to deliver their rage unto the Erewohnese defenders once again.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1158 Solar Forces Standard

The mid-system of Erewohn is suddenly consumed by a long series of brilliant white explosions of energy. As the brilliance shrinks and is replaced by the darkness of space, Admiral Hellings’ command retranslates to normal space, and a few squadrons move to tighten up the formation coherence lost during trans-light translation.

“The fleet is ready, Admiral, and awaits your orders,” Hellings nods calmly at his central communications coordinator. He disengages the straps on his chair and moves toward the massive hologram tactical plot. He nods with some satisfaction at the destruction visited on the termini defense platforms, and allows himself a small smile as he looks at the empty area of space where the Erewohnese mass driver was reportedly assembled.

But the system, especially around Erewohn itself, still glows with innumerable warships from the Erewohnese Grand Fleet, the Imperial Verniian Navy, and the planet’s dedicated orbital defense platforms.

“Contact all squadron commanders. The fleet is to proceed to staging point nineteen and operate under Case Procedure Nuremburg. Final form up is to be on the Phoenix and its escorting squadrons, we will prepare to engage Erewohn’s orbital defenses and draw its defenders out once we have reformed the fleet.”

“Yes, Admiral. Transmitting instructions to operate under Case Procedure Nuremburg.”

Hellings turns back to the display, and watches as the fleet begins to move in-system, at a point that will take it to a little over 98 million kilometers removed from Erewohn.

Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1212 Solar Forces Standard

The six squads of combat walker frames moving toward the Palace confront Police HSW 5 head on. The lead walkers barely even hesitate as their escorting combat air cars race ahead. Instead they open up with their massive 128-millimeter chain guns and their flamer weaponry. The Nightwatch crewed walkers rake the street with fire, irregardless of the difference between civilian and police targets.

Meanwhile, the six squads moving toward the Parliament continue unopposed. The wreak havoc and engage the scattering of police forces with relative ease. A pair of armed air cars sweeps rapidly down the streets, to probe the Parliament defenses. The air cars blunder into the defenses forming up around the Tiger tanks. Realizing their error, the air cars send messages back to the main body of the attack, and then they fire all the missiles they have at hand. Fourteen agile Arch anti-armor missiles and six Shatter anti-infantry fragmentation missiles raise away from the air cars, targeting tanks and infantry respectively. They then race toward the Parliament building at all speed, seeking to destroy themselves in the hopes of further diminishing the numbers of the defenders.

In Resistance Park, the Nightwatch operatives take cover and engage the police forces. The high-pitched whine of Ortagan made shredder assault rifles and the odd crumping nose of Ortagan made grenades tearing through the park. Several of the attackers look skyward, as if expecting some form of intervention from God.

The battle-lasers of the Q-ships rapidly change their configuration, switching to dispersion fire to destroy the oncoming missile assault. A flurry of red bolts tear through space as the Q-ships continue to seek out targets with their missiles and ion cannons. The lead ship continues to press its attack against the repair platform, seeking to destroy it wholesale. The other two ships move closer together and swing in closer to Vernii itself. Pieces of their hull suddenly explode away from their bodies, and from each twelve teardrop-shaped pods race away toward the Verniian atmosphere. In each of these pods is a single Storm class atmosphere gunship, ready to support the action of the combat forces in Cardona.

The flank of one Q-ships is suddenly engulfed in a fireball, a quartet of missiles having found its way through the defenses. Its acceleration drops, and its sister moves to cover it while it reorients itself. The damaged ship turns the attention of its port missile batteries and energy batteries against Vernii itself, and new lances of fire and death rain down toward the sprawl of wounded Cardona.

Acler, Acler system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1234 Solar Forces Standard

The haphazard attack against Acler was far less powerful when compared to its companion attack in Gregor. In short order the back of the Nightwatch attack is broken. The surviving units flee into the cities, trying to cause as much chaos as possible by gunning down civilians and making random demolition attacks against any buildings close at hand. The sheer frantic confusion of the attackers may be their greatest advantage, their disunity now saving them from being obliterated in any one attack.

OOC: Post on Ticonderoga forthcoming. Sorry, work is keeping me busy at the moment.

Erewohn
Flagship Arcadia

A shout came across the flag bridge of Eldeman's flagship. "Enemy contacts! Bearing One-Three-Five mark Zero-Zero-Five." Deep inside the ship, CIC went to work sorting out what was what, designating probable capital ships and their types, then uploading it to the main plots on both the bridge and flag bridge.

So there they are. It wasn't as bad as he'd initially feared, his forces were outnumbered and outgunned, but he had the home field advantage and plenty of things to throw at the enemy before it came down to a conventional engagement. He was relieved actually, it could have been far worse. He'd been afraid the enemy would toss a huge fleet into Gregor while they were still fighting those damnable Q-ships and sorting out the chaos on the ground, but apparently his system would be getting that fleet.

"What fighter bases are closest to the enemy?"

"Um...TorpRons 5, 7, 12, and 15."

"Give them the signal to attack."


Torpedo Boat Squadron 5

Torpedo boats were long and slender starships half the volume of an LAC. Standard armament consisted of four heavy anti-capital ship torpedoes, or they could be outfitted with sixteen lighter missiles for use against escort ships. They had weak shielding, and only two point defense lasers, but they were fast and maneuverable, capable of 950 Gs of maximum acceleration. Of course, they only had one crewmen. The Erewohnese might not see the value of lives in the same way as the other nations of the Raumreich, but even they realized that giving the ships a multiple man crew was...inefficient.

Each squadron consisted of ten ships, based in small asteroids that had been hollowed out. The asteroids themselves had no armaments, only anti-missile defenses and some shields, and as such only contained what was needed to sustain the crews and keep their ships running.

Hangar doors opened, sidewalls dropped, and the small ships launched one after another. The four squadrons, fourty starships total, each formed into diamond formations, sweeping out in two groups to the enemies port and starboard, to try and attack the flanks of the enemy. Inside the cockpit of each, missile clocks counted down the range and time to launch.

Torpedo Boat (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v73/Jadeite/bw133.jpg)

Flagship Arcadia

"Torpedo boat squadrons have launched, proceeding with their attack run, sir."

"Good, what's the nearest missile pod field to the enemy?"

"Cluster 23 Beta."

"Fire it."

As part of the general Erewohnese paranoia about system defenses, they'd dispersed tens of thousands of missile pods into three groupings. The Alpha grouping was the closest to Erewohn, forming a loose sphere at a distance of ten million kilometers from the planet. It was also the densest of the three. Beta was further out, far looser, consisting of 250 clusters of twenty pods each. Gamma wasn't really a grouping, just a liberal scattering of pods in the outer system along the typical routes that incoming ships took. At the time, 23 Beta was near the outer limits of its range, but thanks to sensor platforms linked via nu-space, fire control officers in the fleet could provide the missiles with continual refinements to targeting data. The instant the command was entered and accepted, the twenty pods exploded in a flurry of missiles. Two hundred of them streaked toward the enemy. The tactical officers knew that they'd be swatted, so they didn't even try going for one of the capital ships. Instead they targetted the entire swarm onto a poor monitor. Even if none of them made it, it'd provide a distraction for the torpedo boat squadrons racing out suicidally, maybe providing them with a few more minutes of life. Of course, the enemy response to them would still provide valuable information on Ortagan PD tactics and technology, giving them further data for the next launches.

***
Cardona

HWS 5 was annihilated, wiped out by the heavy chain guns mounted on the walkers. Three men in power armor get off poorly aimed shots with their anti-tank rifles before joining the rest of their squad in death. Two of the APCs join them shortly after, their armor, while thick enough to deal with most threats, simply isn't thick enough for firepower of that caliber. The third gets off a shot with its turret mounted plasma rifle, a heavier version of the one typically carried by the heavy weapons soldier of a marine squad. It appears to be like a comet made of vicious white fire, lighting the street up brilliantly.

At parliament, things went far better for the defenders. Death and serious injuries abound among the unarmored soldiers, but those wearing suits of power armor or even medium unpowered armor got off lightly. The Tiger Mk Vs fared the best. Verniian designers had always emphasized durability over offensive power, and these tanks, while powerful themselves, were a testament to that. Their sides were covered with thick slabs of armor, but their best defense was a shield generator that projected a dome over the tank. It was nowhere near as powerful as something ship mounted, nor could it be used while moving. But that was fine, since the tanks were stationary, waiting on the defensive. The missiles burst against their shields, most of them expending their energy uselessly. Four of them detonated against one tank, bringing its shield down but not getting through the armor. Weapons turned skywards toward the aircars, shortly followed by the launch of two dozen anti-aircraft missiles. They weren't the best types, relying on a warhead to bring down the target rather then using a small impeller wedge, but in the confined spaces the fighting was taking place in, they'd do fine.

At Resistance Park, eight officers were killed, another ten wounded. It was to be expected of course, military weapons versus opponents wearing uniforms meant to stop standard civilian weapons usually ends badly. The officers knew it to, but they had to buy time for reinforcements. Reinforcements which finally came. HWS 2 gets to the scene first, three APCs with 18 men in light power armor. Two of the APCs had tribarrels in their turrets, the third had a plasma rifle. Soon the whines of shredder rifles were overpowered by the high pitched screams of the two tribarrels as they sweep through enemy positions. They were simply a step up on the food chain. Infantry weapons, while great against other infantry or civilians, simply paled to the fourty thousand rounds per minute that a tribarrel could put out.

Maxwell Airbase

Maxwell Airbase was named after the late Admiral Maxwell, who had lost his life in the Battle of Gregor during the War of the Lion. It served primarily as a transport hub for officers arriving groundside, but it maintained a force of twenty-four atmospheric fighters, and three assault shuttles. Those assault shuttles had already taken off, screaming toward the city at Mach 3, their passenger spaces full of marines, missile racks loaded, and bow pulser lasers charged. Six of the fighters, a full squadron, had been waiting on the runway, readying for takeoff. As soon as groundside radar emplacements detected the twelve drop pods descending, that squadron was already streaking into the air to intercept. Behind them, support personnel hurried to get the other three squadrons ready for combat.

They weren't the first to engage the drop pods though. That duty fell for the missile emplacements around the city. Unlike the shoulder launched missiles the infantry defending the Palace and Parliament had, these were heavier, faster, had better sensor packages, and didn't rely on warheads to bring down the target. They belonged to the same family of weapons that starship launched counter-missiles belonged to. Fly into the target, bring it down by ramming it with an impeller wedge. Thirty of them screamed skyward. Normally it would be considered overkill by the officers assigned to command those emplacements, but vengeance demanded overkill.

Cardona Orbital Defense

The city of Cardona, like all major Verniian cities, was ringed by shield projection stations. During a time of danger, these projector stations would protect the city underneath a dome-like theatre shield projected into the sky overhead. One of the problems with this had been that Cardona was a harbor city, which meant that three of the stations were actually located in the bay, sitting just above the surface of the water on massive duracrete columns. In the large hills and mountains located close to the city, were missile emplacements, and four heavy anti-starship grasers mounted in rotating spheres.

Defense computers had already brought those systems online, and the shield generator stations were bringing the shield up to full power when the first missiles and energy beams struck. Some of it leaked through, wiping away two blocks of a suburb, and another beam gouging a large crater in a shopping mall. The anti-orbital weaponry responded. Anti-capital ship missiles streaked up through the atmosphere toward the Q-ships, but they'd be the second thing to arrive. The first would be the energy from the massive graser batteries, each one powered by its own dedicated fusion reactor buried deep underground.

The repair station in orbit that had been already savaged was finished off, debris from it tumbling into atmosphere, followed by a few escape pods. The two heavily damaged frigates inside of it were rendered worthless, crumpled hulks. The fire from the surface is joined by another two hundred missiles from the fortress, and by missile fire from the battlecruisers as they completed their swing around the planet. At the same time, since the distances in high orbit are well within energy range, the heavy bow lasers and grasers of the battlecruisers joined in, spitting their fury at the Q-ships that dared to strike their world.

***
Acler

The remaining Nightwatch operatives are pursued into the cities by the police and military. They go about their duties quickly. An order from above comes down, to take only one prisoner. The rest are hunted down, and even if only wounded, are quickly dispatched with a pulser dart to the face by vengeful police and soldiers.

As reports of the declaration of war spread throughout the Raumreich, the Wormhole Terminus Security and Picket Task Forces (WTSPTF) in the Ortagan-held systems of Axis and Immolan move rapidly into action. Four Prince Viktor-class cruisers accelerate to impose themselves around the event horizon of the termini in both systems, and the transit and traffic controllers rapidly issue a statement that says the termini are under "security lockdown" for the "duration of an emergency" until "additional security measures can be put into place." The task forces also bring online their additional DOS and LRES network drones and prepare for the response from their Ortagan equivalents.

In Gregor, a similar reaction takes place as cruisers take up positions around the terminus and a similar comm call is issued to all in bound traffic, the Verniian system control, and to all ships that were waiting in the junction quey to translate to Alpha Centauri.

In just a few minutes, a wormhole terminus that accounts for sixteen percent of the trade in the Raumreich is shut down as the Star Empire reacts to the outbreak of terrorist attacks in Verniian space.

**********

Lord Peter Bergen, Her Imperial Majesty's Ambassador to the Imperium of Vernii, stands in shock behind his desk and looks at the vast mushroom clouds still towering over the Cardona skyline. The UVNN feed playing is a constant report on the Liga, where not even an hour ago Hegemon Ansel made his declaration of war against Vernii, Liberated New Hope, and the WIck.

Bergen's somber eyes rest on the flicker outline of the tachyon field protecting the embassy. Then they suddenly dart to the gate of the embassy. Across the carefully manicured lawns and gardens of the embassy grounds, Bergen watches as Sardaukar repeatedly shout into the crowd swarming down the streets. No doubt issuing orders to back away from the embassy gates and to move on.

"As if nothing out of the ordinary was happening," Bergen mummers to himself. He summons his personal secretary, Miriam, and Major Dorling, head of the Reichswehr security detachment, with his n-plant as he digs in his desk drawer for an old habit he thought he had broken.

Miriam rushes in, her white hair out of disheveled and her expression harried looking. Bergen notes her look if tacid disapproval as he lights the tip of the cigarette.

"Miriam, please go collect my bag and bring it to my office."

Bergen's loyal secretary nods calmly, as if already half expecting the request. Before he assumed his father's title, Peter Bergen had been a general practitioner in the normally sedate province of Turan on Proxima Centauri. After his father's death, Dr. Bergen had abandoned his practice for the most part. But, as Bergen's eyes turn to the swarming crowd and the sound of booted feet come heavily down the hall, if the situation dictates, a doctor must heed the call of his duties.

"My Lord," Dorling says as he stops just past the door into Bergen's office and snaps a crisp salute off. His breathing is only slightly heightened.

"Ben, the time has come for one of those moments where the civilian and the military branches of Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service are going to disagree. Fortunately, at least in my personal opinion, I can excerise my 'rank' as it were to force your cooperation, but I would rather not do that."

Bergen turns around, empties his glass of water into a small bonsai tree, and quietly ashes his cigarette in the emptied glass.

"We are going to help those people out there, Ben, and we are going to do it now. I want your men to open those gates and bring all wounded Verniian citizens and any lost children onto the embassy grounds. I also want you to have Leutnant Grumald and any of your command with any sort of medical expertise and experience above normal field training assembled in my office in the front lobby with all the medical equipment and emergency supplies present in the compound."

Bergen looks up as Miriam enters carrying a simple black bag, and he smiles warmly.

"Thank you, Miriam. And if you could bring in an ash tray?"

"It's a filthy habit, Sir Peter."

"I know, but I will suffer for it later."

"If you say so."

Bergen turns back to Dorling as his secretary retreats, "Now, once the Verniians enter onto the grounds you can exercise your right to maintain security, Ben. But I want to make it clear now there will be no mass policing actions, this is a people who are already on the verge of outright panic--or more likely over the verge--and I don't want to aggrevate the situation even more by generating additional violence. But I cannot in good conscience merely stand aside and do nothing will innocents are harmed in this....this...attrocity."

Bergen puts out his cigarette in the glass and selects another from the tin, "Do I have your support, Ben? Or must I make this an order."

The Sardaukar major stiffens for a moment and then nods, "I will do as you ask, sir. I may not like it, but I cannot say that standing and doing nothing sets well with me either. I will respect your decision, so long as you will respect that it may be necessary for me to take some measures to ensure panic does not overtake the compound."

Bergen nods with a slightly smile as he puts the cigarette to his lips, "I believe I can work with that arrangement, Ben. I believe I can work with that arrangement indeed. How long before Leutnant Grumald assembles the personnel?"

Dorling pauses for a moment, communicating through his own n-plant, "Five minutes, no more."

"Thank you, Ben. Now if you will go make preparations at the gate, I will be there shortly with Grumald."

"Yes, sir. And....Sir Peter," Bergen looks at the Reichswehr officer. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Ben. The same to you."

**********

Major Ben Derling, of Her Majesty's Reichswehr and the Ministry for Foreign Affairs Emergency Response Teams (ERTs), calmly accesses the embassy's audio projection system with his n-plant and adjusts his danger suit.

"Attention, your attention please," his voice booms into the crowd. "By order of Lord Peter Bergen, Her Imperial Majesty's Ambassador to the Imperium of Vernii, we will be accepting the wounded and any lost or separated children seeking shelter and emergency aid. At this time I will be opening the gate and my men and I will be overseeing the [b]orderly[/i] entrance of [b]wounded[/i] and children into the embassy grounds. We will also work with local emergency authorities to see that critically injured persons are transported to a more secure and better equipped medical facility."

Dorling nods to his men and watches as the gates begin to swing open, and a squad of Sardaukar armed with riot stun batons and shields takes up their positions.

"Once again, I would ask that you make way for all wounded and children so that my men may see that they reach Lord Bergen and the rest of our emergency medical staff as soon as possible."

Dorling watches the crowd, hoping the situation does not dissolve into madness. He glances back at the embassy and sees Lord Bergen and Leutnant Grumald leading the nine men drawn from both the embassy staff and the Reichswehr security contingent with prior medical knowledge and training out of the embassy. They move toward the first row of cots and chairs taken from the embassy and the small barracks maintained for the Sardaukar. Bergen stoically smokes another cigarette, and the rest of the team look at the approaching tide with a duty-bound acceptance.

The Silver Fleet floats idly in the quiet blackness surrounding the Morning Star. The gleaming hulls shined brilliantly against the vast, yellow star’s rays and with good reason; no-one coats a few hundred ships in jewelry grade silver for military purposes.

Over three weeks had passed since the incident with the New Ortagan fleet, if one could say the incident had ended with Saharin left the system. The detachment of Ortagan warships still remaining in the system was an ever present reminder to the fleet that it alone could not save the Morning Star.

No-one knew this better than Admiral Kairiwan, who stood routinely enough aboard the command bridge of the Motorola, making sure the fleet kept its distance and closely watching every moment of the Ortagans’ presence.

Suddenly a call rings out across the bridge; “We’ve got incoming!”

The admiral swings about and looks to the officer in surprize, “What!?!”

“Missiles just came out of jump, QC five six five reading on sensors… their Ortagan… civilian targets are taking the brunt of it… QC one zero eight missiles inbound towards fleet.”

“Deploy fighters and LACs, Wickian intel reads we’ll need visual to cut down any Vortexes, put ‘em on defense. Keep the fleet loose but together. We can’t afford a singularity hit… and get me in range of that detachment!”

With that the fighters began deployment, and by the time the fleet was in range of the Ortagan detachment nearly a third of the full complement of 2700 fighters was in space meanwhile local patrol compliments take formation around MSNC (Em-Snick), B-points one, two, and three (the primary navy construction shipyards orbiting New Hope, True Hope, and Centris one the outer rings), M-points all around the system (Navy maintenance shipyards), any number of other orbital military complexes, as well as various Council properties.

Sadly, though, the local complements near the missiles’ entry points were not deployed in time, leaving Council-owned production complexes and shipyards (which favored orbit over True Hope) that quite literally crowded the space over the north-eastern hemisphere practically wiped out or at least heavily damaged while only a few military complexes survived the attack. There were so many complexes in the area that the missiles had more than enough targets and spent themselves rather quickly, leaving only the one-hundred and eight missiles to deal damage to the fleet; only twelve of which making it through to scatter some damage across a few cruisers and Carrier DNs (I’ll deal with the vortex missiles bound for B-points 1, 2, and 3 in the next post).

Upon receiving orders, the primary fleet then let loose a volley of it’s weapons, concentrating most of it’s fire on Monitors.

[OOC: I don’t know if you guys are into all the numbers and such, but I’m guessing you are, so here’s what’s in the first volley:

188 rounds of 450cm Laser
141 rounds of 400cm Laser
47 rounds of 500cm Graser
288 rounds of 150cm Laser
72 rounds of 175cm Graser
72 rounds of 150cm Graser
180 rounds of 100cm Laser
80 rounds of 95cm Laser
60 rounds of 125cm Laser

Thanks. Don’t rape my system too badly… heh… heh]

“Why isn’t CSEDDNoT blinding them? What the hell is wrong?” the Admiral concernedly inquires from an officer at the comm.

“The system had a total meltdown, sir. Maintenance failure.”

“Damnit… then we’ll fight this out the old fashioned way. Ready the gunships, we’ll be moving closer to get them in range.”

The Admiral was referencing the Equalizer gunship, the triple-plasma cannon equipped weapon that the survival of the system was almost certainly riding on. He kept them peppered throughout the fleet as to keep them from being eliminated all at once and with good reason. The 2.6 YM charge of the generators could obliterate most dreadnaughts in 100 rounds, and at twenty rounds a minute (per ship, not for cannon. It's about 7 per cannon... I think) and 95 gunships things were looking up for the Silver fleet. There would be losses pressing deeper as the Ortagans had him outranged, but the Admiral had them outgunned and he knew it... so long as he could get in close enough to deal the blows.

A figured dressed in a simple three-piece suit, black from shirt to tie and from vest to pants, quietly walks the halls of the Side Six hospital wing. He breezes past the night staff, who seem to take no notice of him. From behind mirrored data-specs, he calmly studies each room number, and then he finally pauses and opens the door.

Calculated steps carrying on a continued, rhythmic flow sweep through the neatly arranged beds until they at last stop at the bed where one Markus Villers lies in a virtually permanent slumber. Togashi collects a chair from the opposite side of the room and sets it next to Villers' bed. He soothes the thoughts of the man next to the President of the Concordat with a vague, comforting touch and then he turns his attention to Villers.

A long fingered, agile hand rests on the President's brow as another brings out a small silver case.

"As bad as I feared," Togashi mummers to himself as the hand on the brow breaks contact. As he starts to assemble the small device from the case and draws out one of the long cylinders, marked with a biohazard insignia and the etched Valinor mark indicating the nano-device contents, Togashi glances into Villers mind. He pauses for a moment, witnessing the turmoil, the continued troubles of a mind that has seen a grim possible reality.

Togashi reaches out to Villers' fitful mind, and speaks to a conscious that is rebelling against its vessel's inaction

We are in the last days of an old age, Mr. President. The day when men who could move entire nations with their will alone is almost done. Most of their number has already past into history, and the last of their number--the Hegemon Ansel--is so consumed by his own illusions that he exist in a state of contained madness.

And the end of their day also harkens the end of the day of old lions and warriors. But in their number there is still some strength, and I for one hope that it is enough to silence the demons that bore men such as Gustav II and Channing Ansel. In fact it is my duty to see that this strength can be brought back to field, that it can be cajoled into staying for just a few moments longer. And that it may put to final rest what the Dominionite philospher Sheng-Ji called the ghost of the future.

Togashi leans in and carefully inserts the small needly into the Wickian's skin and into the spine. He depresses the thumb trigger and watches as the nano count on the small reader rapidly reaches zero. The nano-meds developed by the msot brilliant minds at the Alderman research bastion of University Base speed throughout Villers body, examining and preparing their own collective diagnosis. As one the minute 'bots concur with their final results and take action. They seek to repair the connections between Villers conscious mind and his body, seeking to once again bring it back into control of his physical being. To do so they fuse with the system, taking over natural operations and bypassing those that had ceased to function.

Togashi looks grimly at the read out on the device as it shows the estimated operational life of the nano-bots.

"It will have to be enough," the Myrmidon director mummers, and he waits to see the reaction of Villers.

Observer Monitor #18, Ticonderoga system, Concordat of the Wick
06.01.1300 AF
1139 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Damien Garbaldi, commanding the Observer flotilla undertaking the “cleansing” of the Ticonderoga system of the “xenophobic mutation”, watches as the bulk of the LRDS attack is eliminated wholesale. Only twelve of the Vortex missiles, twenty-two of the fusion warheads, and fifty-six x-ray warheads survive the onslaught of missiles.

“The Director-General was right, we should have never trusted this attack to Saharin’s toys,” he growls. “If anything this confirms her suspicions that Saharin no longer operates with the best interest of the Hegemony first in mind. Do we have viable combat data to send back to Roum?”

“Yes, Combat Director!”

“Then prepare an immediate compression file back to Roum and-“

“Combat Director! We are experience a Nu-space connection malfunction!”

“What! Has their been an error in our communications network or link?”

“No, Combat Director the….the network is gone, sir.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“It is gone, Combat Director. There is no functioning Nu-space connection within the Ticonderoga system. Other than, wait, we are picking up localized networks. One on the opposite side of the asteroid field and the other moving through it,” Garbaldi’s com officer looks up.

“Two positive contacts, Combat Director. Valinor warships, a battlecruiser and a destroyer.”

Garbaldi’s eyes narrow, there had been no reports of Valinor warships operating in Concordat space.

“Do we have confirmation?”

“Combat Information Center confirming, Combat Director,” comes another reply.

Garbaldi spats on the floor of the bridge, “What of the Wickian monitors?”

“Still in bound, Combat Director, standard attack pattern and acceleration.”

“Bring the fleet about and prepare to face them. All squadrons have my permission to open fire at will and engage enemies at their discretion.”

Garbaldi’s monitor squadron suddenly dissolves into a predatory frenzy that likens to sharks driven by blood lust. They open up with forward firing batteries a Solar Navy dreadnought would envy, as each Ansel class spats fire from one massive quantum-gravetic discharge cannon, two neutron cannons, two ion cannons, and four battle-lasers. The larger Kendra Ansel class monitors, like Garbaldi’s flagship, descend into the Wickian ranks like angered wraiths, firing at their enemies with four quantum-gravetic discharge cannons, two heavy ion cannons, and ten battle lasers.

Decades old hatreds are given form in the wrath of energy fire, as Kendra Ansel’s Observers allow their fanatical hatred of the “genetically mutated abominations” called Wickians to drive them into battle.

Observer Monitor #120, Morning Star system, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope
06.01.1300 AF
1141 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Angus Barton suppresses a smile as he watches the LRDS barrage burn through the so-called “Liberation’s” orbital infrastructure. But the 132 monitors of his eleven-squadron armada have more pressing concerns to worry about. Barton eyes widen slightly as he looks at the response of the over-decorated warships of the hedonistic Silver Fleet

“Have all ships execute evasive maneuver pattern Delta-Delta-Nine, and then commence attack pattern Delta under Case Observer-Five.”

“Yes, Combat Director!”

The monitors of Barton’s command suddenly become a swirling scatter pattern of vibrant gravimetric shield energy. Eight of the Ansel class monitors and one of the Kendra Ansel class monitors fall to the attack by the Silver Fleet, but by then Barton’s command has entered optimum engagement range.

“Open fire!” Barton says, relishing the feel of war to bring the Revolution to another system.

His monitors reorient and unleash a storm of energy against the Silver Fleet, as dreadnought and war-frigate class weaponry races toward their enemy with unyielding violence.

“Order Detached Force One to engage now!”

Four Ansel class monitors break off from their respective squadrons and race toward the heart of the Silver Fleet’s formation. Each one carries a violently unstable quantum singularity reactor and a suicide crew. Each one has sacrificed all of its armament for increased gravimetric shielding and engine capacity. As they approach the fourteen hundred kilometer mark from the Silver Fleet, the monitors scatter, redlining their screaming drives to over 700 gravities. They head on a vector that will take them into the four greatest concentrations of Silver Fleet capital ships, and destroy them with the torch of the Revolution.

Meanwhile the Solar Navy task force orphaned by Saharin continues to reek havoc on the near-by infrastructure of Morning Star. Targeting civilian and military shipyard and supply depots with completely disdain and indifference.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1202 Solar Forces Standard

Hellings steeples his fingers as he watches the oncoming wave of missiles and Erewohnese small craft.

"We have class confirmation on the in bound enemy warships, Admiral. They are positively identified as a small monitor equivalent class registered to the Erewohnese Grand Fleet. Intelligence has them listed as a suicide bomber or blockade runner."

Hellings nods.

"Multiple missiles in bound, Admiral! Twenty degrees above the primary axis of the fleet! Point of origin appears to be an independent cluster of eighteen to twenty missile pods. Sensors and monitor pickets have confirmed that there are 200 missiles in bound, standard ship-killers.”

The tactical officer looks quizzically at his read out, “They are targeting one of our out-lying monitor groups, sir.”

“Intriguing,” Hellings mummers to himself, “Flag Com, issue an order for the fleet to active defensive fire pattern Alpha-Alpha-Rho-Nu now. Then give monitor squadrons one, three, and four clearance to engage those Erewohnese light monitors.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Hellings command suddenly erupts in an eerie unison. Over 900 missiles fly outward from the a carefully orchestrated sphere of warships, mostly Roum class war-frigates but with a few Hegemon II class dreadnoughts supporting the active way. The combined wave of laser-cluster trap missiles and fusion warheads accelerate out in a sphere around the fleet and then, roughly twelve hundred kilometers out (having met with the approaching torpedo boats and missiles) they detonate as one.

A sphere of fire engulfs Hellings command and burns through everything it touches. Thousands upon thousands of battle-laser caliber lasers and the fire of nuclear weaponry shatter the peace of the void, and seek to reduce the attackers of the Solar Navy’s force to ruined metal and charred remnants.

Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1219 Solar Forces Standard

On the streets of Cardona, the hellish world of urban combat reigns supreme. The combat walkers destined for the Imperial Palace continue on their grim march. One walker stumbles as it takes the brunt of the fire from HWS 5’s APC. It fall to the ground but reorients itself moments later, although it is missing an arm and vast gouges are removed from its armored chest. The walkers continue onward, but ten agile air cars, dubbed “rocket buggies” by their Nightwatch crew, race ahead to the Palace. When they are only four blocks away, they unleash their first wave. Sixty Hornet high-explosive rockets race toward the Palace, probing its defenses and seeking to eliminate as many of the defenders as possible before the walkers have to engage. The rocket buggies rapidly reload and await the results of their first strike.

The six squads of walkers assaulting the Parliament and their escorts apparently smell blood from the first wave of their attack. The walkers rapidly start to advance down the streets, and rocket buggies race ahead, thirteen in all. The buggies unleash seventy-eight Hornets, all aimed at the tanks providing the primary means of defense for the Parliament. The walker squadrons prepare their heavy weaponry and their own missiles, readying for the charge.

The Nightwatch troops wearing mere infantry armor at Resistance Park fight back with the valiant abandon of fanatics. However, the presence of heavy weaponry starts to turn the tide against them. Almost half of their number fall engaging the HWS of the Verniian police units, but then a desperate Nightwatch technician takes matters into his own hands. He depresses the activation stud on the chemical container he was holding, and unleashes a noxious gas that combined the corrosive principles of acid with a formidable array of neuro-toxins. The strange, pale blue cloud spirals outward through the park and over the battlefield. Nightwatch troopers start to convulsive and gag, then rapidly meet their ends.

The drop-pods ferrying the Storms to their destination have no point defenses to speak of. All twelve of the sleek pods die at the hands of the air defense missiles, destroyed before they can deliver their deadly cargo to the attack on Cardona.

The already wounded Q-ship explodes into an incandescent fireball of light and released energy as the missile and energy fire of the Verniian defenders ravages it. Its sister ship that joined it in the attempted orbital bombardment breaks off, her captain rapidly imposing her gravimetric shields between itself and the planet. It rapidly fires all its energy weapons and goes to rapid fire on all tubes at the battlecruisers assailing it. Forty-five missiles leap from the Q-ship every three minutes. The last Q-ship vents its wrath in another way. A sudden eruption of EW warheads, screaming noise across the system, covers two Corsair singularity warheads as they race toward the battlecruisers. The Q-ship then reorients itself, and joins its remaining sister in blazing away at the battlecruisers with all available weaponry at its disposal.

Infirmary Alpha-Nine
Side Six

The change in Villers was not noticeable at first then suddenly the effects became quite apparent. His breath came now as quick gasps as his heart rate and blood pressures rose suddenly. The monitors attached to his weathered body began and incessant racket making their protest of the intrusion of alien devices into the President’s body well known.

As suddenly as it began however the it was over, his body relaxed.

Villers coughed for a moment when he spoke his voice was harsh and ragged,


“I hope for the sake of all of us Mr. Togashi that your Empress could motivate her people like the past Aldermans or we could all pay the price.” The president noticed the alert displays blinking their warnings along the corridors of the hallway and inside the infirmary. “I would ask what you did to bring me back Mr. Togashi but for now you have only my debt. I think that there is far more pressing news you need to deliver for I fear that the storm I have feared for so many years has finally descended upon my nation.”

+ + +

C.N.S Congress
Covington Class Dreadnaught
Flagship of the 1st Concordat Battle Squadron

Rear Admiral Caitlin Kuzak frowned as she watched Commander Ginske Monitors engage the hoard of Ortagan invaders. The forty ships in her BatRon, eight of which were the new Covington Class Dreadnaughts were being pushed hard there gravimetric engines being pushed beyond the redline. She could feel the strain that her ships were being put through but they had no choice, they needed to catch the Observer monitors and to eliminate that threat before they reached the inner system and wrecked havoc their.

“Admiral, Commander Ginske Squadron has engaged the Observer Monitors.”

“Understood Lieutenant, are the Observers engaging Ginskes forces directly or have they pushed through?” the admiral asked.

“It appears that they have engaged the Commanders squadrons seemingly wanting to eliminate them as a threat first, before moving into the inner system, Admiral.”

“I concur, Eta to the arrival of our own light forces?”

“Four minutes Admiral.”

If Ginske can hold on that long the twenty monitors of BATRON-01 and the 400 LACs carried by her dreadnaughts would enter the furball…she smiled savagely at that thought, not long after that so would her heavy units, these Observers would find out how deadly a Professional military force could be.

C.N.S Kestrel
Wolf Class Monitor


Ginske was no fool, he had learned his trade Commodore Horton the protégée of Admiral Peregrine the father of the Concordats Light-Attack forces doctrine. Just before estimated weapons range of the Ortagans armada of monitors his massively outnumbered squadron suddenly scattered into pairs, gravimetric thrusters along their flanks fired suddenly flinging the small craft into seemingly random evasive patterns at harsh angles. It was it reality a carefully planed and rehearsed evasive pattern practiced religiously but Ginske’s squadron. As his monitors went evasive dozens of mines were dropped in the vessels wake, these were fusion and EMP mines which suddenly shot towards the pursuing Observer monitors hoping to bloody and disable a number of their opponents, as the WIckians attempted to avoid the tidal wave of energy sent to annihilate them.

No matter how flawless executed Ginske’s evasion maneuver was the pure volume of fire which was sent towards his command meant that with absolute certainty that a number of his monitors would not survive this initial exchange. What was surprising was that so many did…only three of his monitors were lost.

As the Kestral stabilized the commander issued his next order,


“Combat formation- Peregrine’s weave.” the order was simple derived from the earliest of dogfights back on Old Sol, by this time the Concordat monitors had many enemy pursuing each of their craft, as they were pursued the WIckians evasive flights would weave in front of one another allowing a pair of monitors to lend fire support to the pursued pair striking the Ortagans in their rear or flanks. Burst from the plasma bolters and pulse weapons of the WIckian monitors lanced out upon their enemies with a vengeance that had been built up for more then a century.

OOC: Response to missile attack will soon follow.

Erewohn
Flagship Arcadia

Eldeman frowned as missile icons on the main plot winked out, snuffed from existence by the raging storm of lasers and nuclear explosions around the enemy fleet. Thirty of the fourty torpedo boats were gone as well, either destroyed or crippled. The other ten, apparently noticing the monitor squadrons coming for them, redesignated their targets onto the monitors and fired, then bravely accelerated to meet the enemy, perhaps to get some shots off with their PD lasers before they died.

He turned away from the plot, and looked down from his chair at the quarter sized holos of his subordinate flag officers. The black and gold of the Imperial Navy was outnumbered the olive green and khaki of the Erewohnese. "You all know the situation, your recommendations?"

The commanding officer of BatRon 25, Rear Admiral Oberstein, was the first to speak. "We should make a tactical withdrawl to Gregor, preserve our units, let Hellings deal with the system defenses, and then counter attack in greater strength."

One of the Erewohnese, Admiral Ansbach, scoffed. "And that plan entails leaving almost 3.7 billion citizens of your Empire to the mercy of the Solar Navy, not to mention the orbital infrastructure and any civilian shipping that can't make it out of the system in time. No, we must attack the enemy, provide time for merchants to escape, and even if we lose the battle, we will have maimed them, which will make things easier for a future offensive to retake the system."

The other Erewohnese officers nodded in agreement, death wasn't something the Erewohnese really feared, there were fates far worse, the rule of King Mardak IX before he was disposed of by Holtzman had proven that. The Erewohnese people had a long history of suffering at the hands of oppressive rulers, and so they were tougher then most people figured.

"Very well. Have all LACs and torpedo boats launched. Carriers are to keep their fighters in the hangars until the fleet reaches engagement range. Form the fleet up, take us out to meet the enemy."

Just over one hundred capital warships ponderously swung into formation with their respective squadrons, as squadron after squadron of LACs launched from the fortresses and orbital platforms. Over 5,000 LACs formed a massive shield in space, positioning themselves about two million kilometers ahead of the fleet. Ahead of them lay another 400 torpedo boats, already sweeping out to attack the enemy.

Finally, Eldeman gave the order. "All squadrons, advance!"

***
Cardona

The aircars heading for the palace quickly blundered into a kill zone set up in the skyscrapers around the palace. Hundreds of soldiers with anti-vehicle weaponry were positioned on several floors of each, they'd smashed out the windows, and dozens of anti-aircraft and anti-tank rocket launchers portruded from them. Within seconds of the Nightwatch aircars firing off their own missiles, over two dozen rockets screamed up back toward them.

The palace itself had its own defenses, and PD lasers swiveled toward the missiles. They fired, putting up a continuous hail of fire in their path, and fifty of the missiles never even made it. The other ten impacted against the walls of the palace. Several holes were gouged in the side, opening up offices to the outside.

At parliament, the Tiger that had previously lost its shields is destroyed, another is knocked out of action, and a third sustains moderate damage. Anti-aircraft fire quickly blossoms from the ground, seeking out the enemy aircars. At Resistance Park, unarmored police succumb to the poison gas cloud, but thankfully the park had quickly cleared of civilians soon after the gunfight had erupted.

The three assault shuttles slowed as they hit city airspace, but still rapidly closing the distance between them and their targets. As their pilots received situation reports, two of them veered toward the attack on Parliament, since defenses there were weaker and in more danger of succumbing. The third proceeded on toward the palace's attackers. All three followed the same general procedure. They circled around before lining up with the street that the walkers were on, then proceeding to make a high speed strafing run with their armor piercing missiles and pulser lasers. Then, as they neared the targets, their bomb bays opened and high explosive munitions dropped from them, their own velocity carrying them into the target zone.

One of the battlecruisers, Equitas, took a bloody nose from the Q-ship launched missiles, losing most of its bow armament and sensors. The others returned fire with their own missiles and energy weapons. Then came the unmistakable signature that meant the use of singularity weaponry, the sudden massive amount of ECM missiles that always accompanied them. Thankfully the plots quickly revealed that the missiles weren't targetted on the planet, they were only heading for the ships themselves. Fortunately they were far enough away that any effects from the blasts if they failed would be minimal to Vernii, but that wouldn't stop the fact that they'd be dead. And so the ships poured point-defense fire into the enemy group, nailing one, but the other kept coming. Finally, escape pods spewed from theEquitas, the same ship that had been previously damaged. It dropped its own ECM and EW emissions, and went active, broadcasting its position to the enemy missiles. Then it rolled out of formation as its own squadron sisters took their own evasive actions, veering away from the planet and its squadron at maximum accel. The missiles followed, caught it, and then both the ship and them vanished in the horrific power of a singularity. It wasn't alone unfortunately, its sister Astrum, was caught on the fringe of the affected area and was also destroyed.

The crews of the surviving six battlecruisers were only able to give themselves a momentary pause to ponder the destructions of their comrades. Two enemy Q-ships still survived, and they returned to their tasks with a renewed vigor.

***
Liberated New Hope

"What's the situation?"

"Sir, the Silver Fleet is currently engaging a fleet of Observer warships. The Solar Navy detachment has ignored the Silver Fleet for now, it's currently rampaging through the system infrastructure."

"Take the station to general quarters, have Commodore Bayerlein prepare his cruisers for combat."

While small and hopelessly outgunned, the Imperial Navy's detachment in Morning Star couldn't sit idly by while civilians were massacred by the Solar Navy, their own honor and conscience demanded that they do something, even if it cost them their lives in doing so.

EDIT: I may rewrite that part with the Q-ships, I haven't decided yet.

Concordat Naval Central Command
Side Six
TIconderoga System


A roar of cheers rose from “the pit, which was what those who worked at CENTCOM called their workplace. Admiral Peregrine did not join in their cheers as he watched the surviving Ortagan missles closed rapidly with the inner system. Should they penetrate the asteroid field the damage they could heap upon the Concordat’s population would be massive.

The only good news besides the active involvement of the Valinor warships in the system was that the Monitor Armada was not regular Solar Navy units, but were rather Kendra Ansel’s observers. The Observers were far from a professional military force but instead were more akin to a secret police, thugs who intimidate to influence actions. The WIckians were not intimidated by Hellings and his Behemoth compared to that elemental force the Observers and their monitors seemed paltry indeed.

The squadron of destroyers which established a bulwark against the oncoming missiles opened fire with vengeful hate against the oncoming missile wave, for the first time in their history the Wickians had an almost clear shot at their enemy, but time was short before the missiles would overtake their position.

One of the vortex missiles suddenly detonated creating a singularity that took another of its brethen in kind. The cost for the Wickians was steep as every ship in the defending squadron was obliterated or crippled. Ten of the Vortex missiles raced into the field were they were greeted by a tempest of defensive fire from the Concordat’ new gun pods, nuclear and fusion mines and finally the asteroids themselves. Seven of the missiles penetrated the field only to be greeted by the guns of the waiting Concordat flottila. Two vortex missiles penetrated this final line of Concordat ships as they entered the final run on their targets.

Admiral Peregrine grimaced as those two targets became clear, Side Six the governmental and naval center of the Concordat, and home of three million inhabitants and Residential Complex Nine, the largest cluster of residential orbital in the system home to over 20 million WIckians. At this moment nothing stood in the way of the pair of Ortagan missiles and their targets, nothing the concordat had control of at least.

The barrage of the Ortagan warships smashes into the Silver Fleet, many of the powerful rounds being absorbed into the ships’ (product placement) --Fillmont Brand Energy and Alternate Brand Armor, the only non-matter based armor used by the Silver Fleet; and you can bank on it!— (end product placement) but many others simply ripping into the hulls of ships, leaving entire battlegroups crippled. One lucky round struck the ill-repaired Cruiser Dauntless in such a way that it’s entire back half detonated in a short burst of fragmented steel and fire.

Then came the suicide ships rushing with such speed that no amount of fire seemed able to stop them. Admiral Kairiwan’s eyes grow wide as he sees one of the massive vessels careening toward his battle group, one of the four largest in the fleet. He looks over to the large red button encased in glass to his right labeled “Emergency Starburst Drive.”

The Starburst FTL Drive was a left-over from older times when ships were smaller and their engines and computers less complex. It was an “Emergency” drive for that purpose particularly. When pressed the ship would jump out of the system into empty space in a pre-designated spot not too far from Gregor; but when the craft arrived it's engines would need reconfigured and hull tested for over-stressing along with countless other problems to be solved.

He stares at it harshly as the panicked officers around him scramble to stop the incoming menace. He stares and stares for what seems like an eternity but is only an instant before turning away from it. “Scatter the battlegroup! Scatter the Battlegr—.” He is dead. The battlegroup is gone.

Command is transferred to Admiral Sean Murphy onboard the Samson, luckily the name of a Liberation hero but actually named for the advertised brand of calcium, rust, and soap-scum remover.

“The Motorola, sir, it’s gone. Suicides got it’s battlegroup along with Washington’s, Suleman’s… and it looks like Bernard’s managed to scatter his non-primaries out of the way, but Cadillac and it’s support DN’s aren’t showing up on scanners,” an officer reports to Murphy.

“Damn… alright, are we in range for the gunships yet?”

“Aye, sir… although only QC seven two remain, sir.”

“Open fire!”

The Equalizer gunships’ plasma cannons light up with an uncanny orange glow before releasing the first volley, pumping out a round from each of the remaining seventy-two ships every three seconds. The massive energy bolts plow through space as if making a path for the now injured fleet’s energy rounds headed toward the enemy.

Meanwhile, The Council’s Merchant Protectors sprung into action. The massive companies’ own security forces had been limited to smaller ships because it was cheaper to simply contract large security jobs out to the government, but the force was something to blink at if nothing else. The one-hundred and two strong fleet of what by most standards are considered small destroyers and compact cruisers barreled down from above the Ortagan armada, opening fire with their 95, 100, and 150cm grasers and lasers. They would soon be amidst the attackers, bobbing, weaving, and shooting with the great speed their ships allowed; a maneuver meant to draw fire and use enemy rounds against enemy ships.

Just a stone’s throw away, above the atmosphere of True hope, engineers hurriedly activate the primary engines of a few Mobile Broadcast Domes and several large complexes with self propulsion, launching them with engines unstable and redlining at full speed for a collision course with the task force left by Saharin, hoping they will crash into one of the larger ships or if they’re destroyed lay damage with the masses of debris.

On the other side of the planet, as well as anywhere else in the system, the many shipyards and manufacturing plants that were equipped with Starburst evacuation engines in preparation of such a conflict blinked out of the system with a sudden flash of light. Still, many were left to be mangled by the Ortagans. B-point 1 had been lost to a vortex missile as the fighters couldn’t shoot it down soon enough and the remaining massive construction sites were simply too big for a Starburst.

Infirmary Alpha-Nine
Side Six

The change in Villers was not noticeable at first then suddenly the effects became quite apparent. His breath came now as quick gasps as his heart rate and blood pressures rose suddenly. The monitors attached to his weathered body began and incessant racket making their protest of the intrusion of alien devices into the President’s body well known.

As suddenly as it began however the it was over, his body relaxed.

Villers coughed for a moment when he spoke his voice was harsh and ragged,


“I hope for the sake of all of us Mr. Togashi that your Empress could motivate her people like the past Aldermans or we could all pay the price.” The president noticed the alert displays blinking their warnings along the corridors of the hallway and inside the infirmary. “I would ask what you did to bring me back Mr. Togashi but for now you have only my debt. I think that there is far more pressing news you need to deliver for I fear that the storm I have feared for so many years has finally descended upon my nation.”

"We will establish if what I have done is worthy of debt at a later time, Mr. President," Togashi says as he stands and the silver case rapidly disappears. "For now we have for more urgent matters to attend to. Ansel has declared war on Vernii, Liberated New Hope, and your nation. And the attack is already being carried out."

Togashi's head suddenly jerks upward, "I also believe the time has come for us to depart, Mr. President. It would be very prudent of you to follow me to my ship so that you may be relocated to a safer location. I would loathe have wasted these efforts and the time of Her Majesty just so an Ortagan Observer could obliterate it in a mere heartbeat."

**********

Tereshkova bites back a curse as she watches two singularity missiles tear past the efforts of the Wickian defenders, and her own DOS network drones.

"Tactical do we have a course read out?"

"Singularity warheads are bound on a course for Side Six and one of the Wickian habitation colony clusters, Ma'am. From the Wickian engagement patterns it is a safe assumption that none of them can engage without damaging or possibly destroying either Side Six or the orbital habitats."

"Helm, do we have an intercept for both missiles?"

"No, Ma'am. Our course through the Field means that it is directly obstructing our return path to it, and going back through our exit point would take at least twelve minutes."

"Not enough time," Tereshkova whispers and at his own station Stucov nods soberly. "Can we intercept the singularity missile at the orbital habitats."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Take us in then, Helm, full power and red line the drives if you must. Guns, bring down that missile, if it becomes necessary to hurl the furniture out the airlock I will personally be the first to pitch."

"Aye, Ma'am!"

"Chim," Tereshkova turns as the AI's avatar appears.

"Mein Frau?"

"Detach the Precentors, have them move to engage the missile targeting Side Six. Take them through the field, and you are relieved from seeking to preserve as many active interceptor units as possible. Ram the missile if need be."

"It will be done."

"Comm, contact the Broadsword they are to form up on us once we

Tereshkova turns back to her own plotting and tactical stations and watches as the neatly displayed holograms start to rapidly shift. The Chimera and her continually fluctuating sphere of DOS drones flies toward the singularity warhead approaching the orbital habitats under full power, filling the air before them with all the energy and missile fire they can muster. In the space of a few heartbeats, eighty-eight x-ray missiles, over a hundred fast Archer counter-missiles, and the blazing fire of rapid-fire lasers from the drones seek out the lucky orphan of the Ortagan missile wave.

Meanwhile, the three squadrons of Precentor-class interceptor drones dive back into the Field and weave their way through it. Three explode as Chima redlines their own gravimetric drives in his desperate attempt to destroy the Ortagan singularity missile targeting Side Six. The survivors break through the field and rapidly start to close the distance to the Ortagan missiles. The blue-white fire of graser and laser fire carve through space and each Precentor fires four Scythe-class hunter-killer missiles at the Vortex missile. The small, unmanned fighters do not let up in their own attempt to succeed where the Wickian defenses have already faltered.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1218 Solar Forces Standard

This time Doral Hellings does allow himself a smile. But the actions of the Verniian commander of the Erewohnese defenses are a bit disappointing. He had hoped that the officer he faced would be more original, instead it seemed like the Erewohnese suicidal tendencies had rubbed off on him as well.

“Then again,” Hellings mummers to himself, “he hardly knows what he is up against.”

“Sir?” says one of the tactical coordinators.

“It is unimportant. Do we have a status report from the monitor squadrons that engaged those small craft?”

“Yes, Admiral. Eight monitors lost, three are damaged, and a war-frigate was also destroyed in the attack.”

Hellings watches as the Erewohnese ships and their Verniian commanders start to deploy from planetary orbit. He nods with satisfaction as the fleet is labeled as Alpha-One, and then into sub-categories based on ship class and estimated squadron structure.

“Time until Alpha-One has us in their powered missile envelope?”

“Estimating for known and unknown Erewohnese and Verniian missile capabilities, eleven minutes, nineteen seconds, Admiral.”

“Perfect. Flag Com, signal to the fleet all squadrons are to form up in battle engagement plan Theta-Rho-One, Case Sword. Also contact Captain Yang, he is to prepare the Solar Ray platforms to fire in eight minutes. Release all monitor squadrons to engage those small craft, and also have all ships release their laser cluster platforms.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

As the Verniians and their Erewohnese servants advance toward Hellings formidable assembly of the Hegemony’s naval power, Hellings formation once again turns into a writhing, teeming mass of moving ships. When the movement has ceased the Phoenix class dreadnoughts are deployed in a neatly assembled wall, a regimented force of space-born artillery. At the center of their formation are the six solar ray device platforms and as the squadrons of Ansel class monitors race out to engage the in bound torpedo boats and the new laser cluster devices are released from the war-frigates and dreadnoughts, the platforms formerly spinning aft sections suddenly stop.

Operations and Control Center, Solar Ray Platform #1, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1222 Solar Forces Standard

“Collector section is secure, Captain.”

Captain Grant, of Rear Admiral Saharin’s Advance Research Directorate, calmly nods at one of his small crew aboard the largely automated solar ray platform.

“Do we have confirmation from the other platforms?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open the collection grids and prepare for final focusing lens alignment and energy gate release on my mark.”

“Yes, Captain.”

On each of the six platforms two massive energy collector “wings” slide outward and stop at a roughly thirty-five degree angle. The collection grids glow with a white-yellow radiance as they start to draw upon the power of the primary of the Erewohnese system.

“Mark on focusing lens”

“Lens are ready and targeted at the center of Alpha-One formation, Captain. Alignment is confirmed with the possibility of a three percent error rate,” Grant nods—perfectly within the design specifications of the platforms.

“Mark on energy gates.”

“Releasing final locks on energy gate one, sir.”

The massive focusing array at the forward end of the main section opens and a surge of energy appears on every sensor in a fourteen million kilometer radius.

“Releasing final locks on energy gate two, sir.”

The last energy gate, right behind the massive focusing energy lens generator in the extended bow sections of the platforms opens up, generating yet another energy spike.

“Energy gates are clear, Captain.”

“All platforms, engage solar ray device now!”

And with that the six platforms open fire, focusing the powerful energy of the sun of Erewohn into six beams of light and energy capable of setting entire continents ablaze and evaporating entire oceans in seconds. The beams carve into the heart of the Verniian and Erewohnese formation, and the energy signatures of the Phoenix class dreadnoughts rapidly starts to build as well.

Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1248 Solar Forces Standard

The Nightwatch operatives had been well prepared for their undertaken by the Coordination of Security and Intelligence. And Galt’s operational planners were infamous for their built in contingency plans. Not entirely expecting the paltry number of aircraft that could be crammed aboard the Q-ships to truly penetrate Vernii’s formidable defenses, they had prepared a second option for the Nightwatch operatives.

As the assault craft settle in on their attack runs, a series of highly modified and armored trucks at the heart of the moving formations activate their systems. Suddenly small bubbles of continually fluctuating energy from gravimetric shields surround the Nightwatch attackers, and the rounds from the assault shuttles harmlessly impact against them.

As they complete their pass, the shields disappear and then the air cars and walkers open up on them with full interception missiles, powered by gravimetric drives. Meanwhile, six Ortagan built hover tanks advance on the Parliament, and fire their own magnetically accelerated 120-millimeter cannons along with anti-structure grenades.

In orbit yet another of the Q-ships detonates in a fireball, the concentrated fire of the battlecruiser group having overwhelmed its gravimetric shields and penetrated its light armor. The surviving Q-ships belches atmosphere, and its Nightwatch commander rapidly determines he has but one course open to him. His ship rapidly accelerates away, building up to 600 gravities of acceleration, although it shield integrity drops noticeably.

The Q-ship moves away from the battlecruisers, but it is far from fleeing. The Q-ship turns toward Vernii itself, and its course becomes clear. The Q-ship is setting up for an orbital insertion, a course that can only end in suicide even for a ship with Ortagan gravimetric shielding and engines. Its course projections puts it on a direct course with the Verniian city of New Boston.

Observer Monitor #18, Ticonderoga system, Concordat of the Wick
06.01.1300 AF
1143 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Garbaldi almost howls with glee. The Wickian commander is more foolish than he thought, breaking formation against a numerically superior force has opened up the only real line of defense standing between him and the Wickian infrastructure.

“Signal to the other squadrons, engage the Centaur Protoccol!”

With that the monitor flotilla suddenly dissolves into a mass of paired warships, even as the Wickian monitors streak in. Eight Ansels die in the Wickian attack, but now three squadrons of paired monitors are devoted to engaging the Wickians.

Meanwhile the rest of the monitors accelerate at full power toward the shield. They prime their energy weapons and start to scatter yet again, moving to target all known major Wickian infrastructure and colony centers.

The two surviving singularity missiles continue on their courses with the slave-like devotion provided by their guidance systems. The one bound for Residential Complex Nine activates its dedicated point defense systems as the Valinor DOS drones open fire. The quartet of rapid dispersion fire lasers cut swats of death around the missile, but in the end the defenses of the missile are easily overwhelmed by the more numerous and superior fire of the Valinor drones.

The Vortex missile targeting Side Six does not suffer the fate of its sibling, but its mission is far from a success. In its attempt to out race the Valinor fighter drones, the guidance computer puts all of its power to the gravimetric engines and overshoots its target.

Realizing its error too late, the computer reorients and prepares to undertake an accelerated boost. It rapidly scans for other targets that would not involve racing against superior opponents, and finds one locating above the orbital pattern of Side Six. The reorient missiles burns its gravimetric engines in a desperate, last-ditch controlled boost toward the Wickian habitat grouping known as Residential Complex Three.

Observer Monitor #120, Morning Star system, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope
06.01.1300 AF
1149 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Barton is a shrewd man, and while he doubts the Liberation’s ships—military or mercenary—can match his on a class-by-class bases, their sheer numbers mean his fate is sealed. He listens with half an ear as the destruction of eighteen of his ships are reported, and he knows what he must do.

“All ships are to break and engage, take us into the heart of the enemy fleets formation. We will take the war right to their hulls and then cut through them.”

As the security forces pursue, and the Silver Fleet blazes away at the monitors, Barton’s command suddenly separates into small three ship groups. They race toward the nearest ships in their respective proximities and blaze away with all their weaponry, flitting in close to the hulls of the larger warships and seeking to do as much damage to as many ships as possible.

Meanwhile the Solar Navy task force belches one last salvo of fusion warheads into the closest supply caches and shipyard facilities closes to them and begins to close on the Verniians who have challenged them. Twenty-four Roum class war-frigates and thrity-six Ansel class monitors move to reduce the Imperial Verniian Navy’s ships to so much dust in space. The war-frigates spin around and fire with the full might of their broadside weaponry, ion cannons and battle-lasers streak out across space and individual pairs of war-frigates target the cruisers closest too them. The escorting monitors spiral outward from each end of the war-frigates formation, closing the distance so they may bring the brunt of their energy weapons into the eternally vulnerable bows and sterns of the Verniian warships.

Erewohn
Flagship Zeus

Admiral Eldeman, to summarize it, was dead. To be more precise, he was reduced to his component elements and scattered across the void, along with the rest the crew of the Arcadia, the ship itself, and the other seven dreadnoughts in his squadron. As the current senior officer, command fell to Admiral Ansbach of the Grand Fleet, aboard his superdreadnought Zeus, lead ship of the 1st Division of the 1st Battle Squadron.

"Alert all ships that I'm taking command of the fleet." A pity about the late Admiral Eldeman, although it's probably better for the fleet this way. Nothing against him, he's, or rather, was, over his head. And now, this system can actually be defended by someone who has something to lose.

He looked around the flag bridge at his staff, waiting for his orders. For a superdreadnought, the compartment was actually a bit cramped. The Erewohnese had never thought highly of what they saw as the Imperial Navy's grand vision to have spacious living quarters and work spaces for their officers. They saw it as wasted volume that could be used to expand the magazines, or tonnage wasted on what could otherwise go into armor. While their systems and technology might be a couple years, at worst, behind the latest warships from Gregor, each ship made up for it in thickness of armor and redundancy of sidewall generators. Ansbach had always figured that ton for ton, while a Verniian ship might be better at avoiding damage, his were far better at taking it.

"Signal Vice Admiral Streit and Vice Admiral Rubinsky. They are to take the squadrons under their command and execute a 45 degree turn to port and starboard respectively. They are then to proceed at maximum accleration toward the enemy flanks. BatRons 1, 6, and 10 are to proceed on our present course. Have the bombardment ships begin laying down suppressive missile fire. Oh, and instruct the fleet to engage ECM Plan Delta."

As he said those last words, his right hand was flicking open a pocket on the outside of the right arm on his command chair. It reached in and withdrew a syringe filled with a clear liquid. He pulled back the sleeve of his uniform, clenched his teeth, and then jabbed it into a vein. Stimulants were issued to each officer and pilot in the Fleet, they served to focus the mind, enhance eye and hand coordination, and dampened emotions. Best of all, they weren't chemically addicting, although an officer who relied on them too much would attract the medical staff like moths to a flame, and risked being declared unfit for duty.

"Where are the TorpRons?"

"They just reached launch range now sir."

"Good." Ansbach leaned back in his chair and watched sixteen hundred missile icons bloom on the main plot.

"Have all ships in our BatGroup go to BatCon Three."

"Aye Sir."

With that, as the ships under the command of Streit and Rubinksy wheeled about onto their new courses, the ships under Ansbach went to Battle Condition Three. Power to compartments that had no combat value was switched off entirely, lighting in areas that were of secondary value was switched to combat and emergency lighting. The power that was saved by this was rerouted to the bow "buckler" sidewalls, providing them with a temporary boost of strength against enemy fire.

ECM drones spiraled away from every warship in the fleet, three hundred total, putting out electronic distortions and static at full power. Other drones shot toward the enemy fleet, putting all their power into directed EW bursts, and broadcasting with pulses of active radar at full power, attempting to blind or at least damage any enemy sensors.

Then came the long range bombardment ships. There were four of them, lurking in the rear of Streit and Rubinsky's groups. They looked like dreadnoughts that were missing their middle thirds, where their broadside weaponry should be. In their place were missile pods, stacked in concentric shells down to the core of the segment. The ships slowly rotated about their long axis, firing off pods as they came to bear on the enemy. It meant that each salvo would be smaller then the preceding one, and they'd burn through their pods quickly, but each salvo would be far denser then an SD(P) could put out in the same amount of time.

Each one mounted 432 pods on its broadside, but since they were rotating as they fired, that count was doubled. Between the four ships, 3,456 missile pods were put into space. Ten missiles fired from each, 34,560 total. One out of every ten had no laser warhead, insteading being packed with an improved electronics and sensor package to both mess with enemy sensors and to enable their brothers to see the enemy better. Of the other nine in each pod, one was also missing the standard x-ray laser warhead. Instead, they were equipped with 60 megaton fusion warheads. They were programmed to lurk in the rear of the pack, saving their propulsion power for a final maximum power acceleration burst to get through point defenses and into their targets.

***
Cardona

The assault shuttles fire off their countermeasures, standard flares to attract any heat seaking sensors, and emitters that mimiced the propulsion signature of the shuttles. The one attacking the enemy near the palace escaped unharmed, moving to a safe distance, then hovering over one of the buildings along the path of the enemy and depositing its onboard company of marines. The two near Parliament veer away from each other, and one takes a missile hit. One of its engines goes out, and the cargo hatch drops down. Four marines manage to jump out in time, deploying their counter-grav units as they hit open air. The shuttle behind them smashes into a skyscraper, burrowing deep into it.

The previously damaged Tiger V is destroyed in the attack, but the others escape mostly unharmed, their shields and thick frontal armor protecting them from most damage. They returned fire, firing high explosive shells wreathed in plasma, as a secondary weapon mounted on their turrets took aim. It was an electron ram, it looked like someone had taken a tuning fork and stuck it on their turrets, but they delivered a focused, but short-ranged, blast of energy, best used for blowing out large holes in walls and obstacles, but they would do fine in anti-vehicle work.

As the final Q-ship plummeted toward Vernii in its suicidal dive, planet based energy and missile batteries gave up their concealment, filling the space around it with graser fire and the detonation of fusion warheads. The surviving six battlecruisers turned and accelerated to pursue, tearing after it with their own weapons fire.

As he watched on the main plot, Commodore Attenborough, commander of the fortress Protector in orbit over Cardona, came up with an idea. Like most of his bridge officers, he'd taken advantage of lulls in the battle to turn to the reports coming up from Cardona.

"Tactical, could you use the police satellites to get a firm positioning on the enemy units groundside? One thats good enough for an orbital strike?"

"Sir, no disrespect, but if the Navy doesn't get to you first, the IS would have your head for ordering a strike on Cardona."

"I'm not talking about using the main batteries, we're going to use the PD lasers. They're too weak for ship to ship combat, but the enemies down there are close enough and don't have sidewalls. Besides, they can be targeted accurately enough, the only problem is getting a target."

"But what about the city shields?"

Attenborough looked over at Tactical's assistant. "You! Get in touch with Fire Control Main, have them link up with the groundside network and tie the city shield computers in with our own fire control computers. That way when our own sidewall gunports open, the city shields will drop in the instant we fire and then come back up. It won't be good for the generators, we'll probably burn a couple out, but its our best shot at ending this in one stroke. Get to work!"

***
PD lasers were grouped in clusters of six lasers each, spread equally over the surface of the fortress. Due to it being spherical and positioned directly over the city, 180 clusters could be brought to bear. They swiveled as they were assigned targets, their computers not realizing the difference between an attack mech or a missile, and as both the city shields dropped and the sidewall gunports opened, they fired. They were weak compared to the energy batteries that warships carried for use against other starships, but they were powerful enough that they could kill missiles, fighters, or in this highly unusual case, mechs or tanks.

Not all the beams made it, due to delays caused by the jury-rigged system not supposed to be existing in the first place, a fourth of the clusters fired a couple seconds too late, their energy being wasted on the city shield as it came back up. The city shield itself, not meant to be dropped and raised like a warship's gunports, didn't react well. Two of the shield generators burnt themselves out, and shield strength dropped by 16% from its maximum capacity.

***
His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Alexis Calimar, was furious. He'd been sitting in his office doing paperwork, when everything had quickly gone white. His windows had automatically tinted themselves within seconds, and as he swiveled his chair around he'd seen the mushroom cloud rising up over the main business district. He didn't know how long he'd stared at it, but it hadn't been too long, as his personal contingent of the Guard had rushed in and grabbed him, then hustled him into an elevator concealed in his office, quickly dropping down to a bunker deep below the palace.

It was comfortable enough, and he'd never had time for fright or fear for his life. His emotions had went straight from shock to rage as he'd listened to situational and battle reports. They'd marred his city, the city that was the heart of Imperial politics, the heart of his empire. They'd hadn't just marred it, they'd killed three million of its citizens and left a crater where the stock exchange had been. Then, a realization struck him. He jumped to his feet, "Bring me Ambassador Kerrigan! I don't care if it takes two hundred men, if you have to burn the embassy down around him, I want him drug before me!"

***
Two companies of marines and a tank were diverted from the reinforcements rushing toward the government district. They're objective was to hit the Ortagan embassy, and their orders were clear. Capture Citizen-Ambassador Kerrigan alive. Doesn't have to be intact, just alive. Capture of any other personnel with clearance to sensitive information was preferred, but secondary. If they put up too much of a fight, kill them. Any other staff were also to be killed, along with any security.

***
Morning Star

"Enemy strength confirmed Sir."

"Thank you, lieutenant."

Bayerlein knew that his force was outmatched, but with Evermann's fortress and LACs backing them up, he figured his cruisers would last longer then they normally would.

His ship shuddered as a missile got past its PD, a bit of energy getting past the sidewalls. Radar 2 and Laser 4 were wiped away by the hit, but his little Libertas got off easy, compared to the Luna, which had two missile tubes and a laser knocked out of action, and over 50 casualties. It would have been far worse, but they'd still be within range of Gibraltar's counter-missiles (although the distance was increasing), and that had saved them.

'Return fire with everything we have!"

Libertas and Luna rolled to present their undamaged broadsides to the enemy, and 152 missiles fired from the, all concentrating on two enemy war frigates. Twelve of those missiles carried ECM emitters, and another ten were fitted with close range 40 megaton fusion warheads. Recon drones shot out from the cruisers, streaking away from the squadron to positions above and below the plane that the engagement was taking place on. They went active as they did so, giving away their positions but providing much better targeting data to the cruisers tactical officers, which were transmitting that information to the missiles via control links. The four 90 cm lasers and six 125 cm grasers that were mounted in each cruiser's broadside emerged from their armored housings and fired. At this range, chances were that they'd be ineffective, but in a fight where you were outgunned, it didn't hurt to try.

Bayerlein smiled as fresh green icons appeared on his plot. Evermann had held his LACs in until after the first enemy salvo had been dealt with, shielding them from fire. Gibraltar had never been given a full strength LAC wing, half of its bays sat empty. But the other half had been given ships, and now he had 64 LACs racing out to his aid. It'd take them a few minutes to catch up to him, but they had higher acceleration capabilities then his ships.

"Enemy monitors approaching Sir."

They're going to try to make a run for our bow and stern, they must not realize we're not as undefended as we were back in the last war. The ships of the IVN, unlike the old PNV, had both a full bow sidewall for when they weren't accelerating, and a "buckler" shield for when they were. The buckler wouldn't provide the complete coverage that a sidewall could, but it was far better then nothing but debris/radiation screens and armor.

Captain Dawson noticed it as well. "Helm, bring our bow up fifteen degrees. We'll deny them a clear shot. Chase gunners are clear to fire."

Another smaller shudder shook his ship as three missiles raced out toward the enemy monitors, followed by 21 more as the other cruisers followed Dawson's lead. Bayerlein nodded in approval at Dawson's handling of his ship, and then sat back to watch the main plot. His missile tubes were still cycling, and now it was a matter of waiting for the enemy response.

C.N.S Kestral
Ticonderoga System

It was an un-winnable fight, Lt. Commander knew that the instant he charged his command into the teeth of the enemy assault. No amount of maneuvers would save his command now. They were outnumber and outgunned by a ratio of four now that the rest of the Observer Flotilla moved on towards the field. By ones and two the monitors of his command were torn apart by the neutron cannons and energy weapons of their enemies. His people responded in kind, killing the aggressors, the WIckians pulse cannons sent bolts of plasma into the Obeserver vessels.

There was no quarter asked and none given in this fight, but for the WIckians it was only a matter of time before their number was up. There were three monitors left in combat effective in his command when his vessels time was up. It happened in an instant he had no time to react there was a flash of light as the bridge of the small vessel was ripped open, a large splinter was sent flying into the WIckians abdomen, Ginske screamed for a second his body spasmed before his skin suit filled his body with painkillers, then everything went black…

Residential Complex Three

Thousands of life pods and shuttle craft fled from the Orbitals of residential complex three, out of the thousands that fled the scene only a few hundred would survive, but trying to escape the inevitable was better then merely awaiting it.

For all the massive firepower and the destruction of the Vortex missile the explosion was over fairly quickly. The Brilliant singularity flared mightily as the vortex detonated. The ensuing maw destroyed the complex in its entirety, when it was over all that remained of the largest concentration of WIckian orbital was the distorted slag of its ruins, it was not the first time the Ortagans committed the slaughter of WIckian civilians nor would it undoubtedly be the last. Twelve million WIckians had died in under thirty seconds.

OOC: Will be sending forces out before your monitors penetrate the field ortaga, just its late and I need sleep before work in the morning…

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1232 Solar Forces Standard

“Admiral, we have an interesting report from the forward monitor squadrons, and war-frigate squadron five has confirmed the report. Before the EW and ECM efforts of the Grand Fleet came online, all Erewohnese dreadnoughts experienced a drop in their power output, sir.”

Hellings eyebrows raise, “Powering some sort of energy weapon.”

“No, sir. There is no focus concentration that suggest a charging energy weapon, other than normal lasers and grasers, but their forward shields did increase in their power waste outage by at least fifty-two percent before the jamming become to dense.”

“Then we are facing someone new,” Hellings mummers, and wondering if it will be a blessing or a curse that he apparently has eliminated at least one of the senior Verniian flag officers.”

“Sir, Alpha-One is breaking formation! Reforming into two, no three, separate elements.”

Hellings looks at the display and watches as the two flanking fleets move out and ones fluctuating signatures drives straight onward through the jamming.

“Prepare to-“

“Massive in bound missile wave, Admiral! Approximately 35,000 missiles!”

Hellings draws a quick breath, “Engage Case Shatter Wave!”

“Yes, Admiral, clearing Shatter Wave!”

The defensive systems of Hellings fleet bolts into action. In unison the war-frigates open fire and spew out 4,000 fusion 1.4-gigaton fusion warheads and 3,000 bomblet-cluster missiles. The defending wave meets the onslaught of the Erewohnese missiles head on. The fusion warheads detonate first, ripping through ECM, EW, fusion, and x-ray tipped missiles alike in a brilliant primal firestorm. Then come the bomblet-cluster missiles, all of which approach within six hundred kilometers of the wave and detonate, releasing six times the number of bomblets to engage primitive optical targeting and race on suicide interceptions with their enemies. In under a minute, Hellings defense measures reduce the Erewohnese missile attack to a mere 4,050 thousand.

Then the newest point defense devices in the Solar Navy’s arsenal open up. Dedicated laser platforms, scattered by the fleet, spew with rapid dispersion fire battle-lasers into the oncoming wave cutting down 2,340 more missiles before the fleet’s own ship defenses have to engage. The formation around Hellings fleet dissolves into a storm of dispersion fire energy weapons, war-frigates move in to protect their dreadnought and solar ray platform charges, even as the dreadnoughts engage on their own. Hundreds of missiles are struck down, but it is still not quite enough. Four war-frigates and a Hegemon II class dreadnought are destroyed in the attack, another two war-frigates are heavily damaged, and a Phoenix class dreadnought has received a damaged energy focusing lens. Although there is damage, the Solar Navy has demonstrated once again that the age of massed missile attacks is over, its death quietly confirmed almost a century ago.

Hellings barely listens to the damage reports before he begins to bark his orders, “We have positive confirmation the Erewohnese are putting all power to their forward shields?”

“Yes, Admiral!”

“Then it is time to make them pay for their foolishness. Flag Com, contact the HSS Maelstrom and the HSS Punisher Fleet Squadrons Three and Five are to prepare for an emergency translation to a point that is 20,000 kilometers behind the present position of the two task groups trying to flank us. Designate these new targets as Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three.”

“Yes, Admiral. FS-Three and FS-Five confirm they have received their orders.”

“Contact Captain Grant again, the ray platforms are to be ready to fire along the course of the remaining targets in Alpha-One in unison with all of the heavy squadrons,” Hellings refers to the four squadrons of Phoenix class dreadnoughts that are the core of his fleet. “But first, contact the Firestorm, the Whirlwind, and the Xenocide, all heavy squadrons are to fire a full clearance wave right in the path of Alpha-One. It is time to clear the space of this Erewohnese junk.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“And, Flag Com, do we have the status of LRDS #3?”

“Yes, Admiral, they read as ready to fire again.”

“Pass along the coordinates for Alpha-One to them with my personal thanks, Flag Com.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

As the eight dreadnought squadrons of Fleet Squadrons Three and Five prepare for one of the most dangerous combat maneuvers in the Solar Navy, the Phoenix dreadnoughts send out Hellings reply to the Erewohnese defenders. The remaining Hegemon II class dreadnoughts open with their EW screamer missiles, sending 21,095 of them toward the wall of Erewohnese EW and ECM even as the heavy squadrons fire the true attack of the fleet.

Twelve thousand 7.8-gigaton fusion warheads are accompanied by thirteen Vortex and nineteen Corsair quantum singularity gravity distortion warheads. They race behind their massive screen, but then four thousand of the first wave drop their disguises. The ruse of EW screamers are drop and four thousand 1.8-gigaton fusion warheads detonate into the ECM and EW wall of the Erewohnese. The rest of the wave races into the gap created by their deceptive cousins.

And then, as the monitors and war-frigates struggle frantically to keep up with the trajectories of the missile wave, the heavy squadrons and the solar ray platforms open with their main batteries. The blinding white beams of the platforms are joined by forty-eight Phoenix class dreadnoughts’ super quantum discharge cannons sickly green energy. In the blink of an eye, the energy races toward the formation of enemy warships known as Alpha-One, and carves from the inside outward. It is an output of energy that would have made the dead Behemoth warship green with envy, enough energy to crack a planet’s crust or reduce a large moon to dust.

And as it reaches out, a new wave of missiles from LRDS #3 appears directly above Alpha-One’s position. Sixteen Corsair singularity missiles, 400 fusion warheads, and 2,000 x-ray warheads abruptly return to normal space 3,000 kilometers from Alpha-One’s formation.

Meanwhile, 144 Hegemon II class dreadnoughts suddenly vanish in a brilliant display of white energy releases signaling a crash hyper translation. Their departure is short lived to say the least. The two elements of the Grand Fleet trying to flank Hellings suddenly find themselves confronting a new opponent. White energy releases appear directly behind, above, and below Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three. The Erewohnese defenders suddenly find themselves facing four squadrons (48 ships) each. And the Solar Navy commanders waste no time opening up with every energy weapon from heavy ion cannon to battle-laser at their disposal. The flanking elements of the Grand Fleet suddenly find 10,000 x-ray missiles and a continuous energy fire streaking down at them from an unexpected, and undefended angle.

Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1301 Solar Forces Standard

The Nightwatch forces in Cardona are caught completely unprepared for the devastation that is wrought upon them. Even the Coordination of Security and Intelligence had not conceived that a Verniian commander would be mad enough to fire upon the capital of the Imperium itself for the sake of eliminating a “small insurgency crisis”.

Knowing no good could come from the dropping of the city shield, the Nightwatch’s modified shield projectors snap into action, but they were not designed to handle weaponry from space-born opponents. After stalling for a few moments, the modified gravimetric shield projectors burn themselves out and the assembled walkers and armor beneath them are left completely exposed.

Several walkers engage their boosters and try to perform an emergency air jump and the air cars scatter, but it is too little too late. The walkers and air cars are consumed in a brilliant fire from orbit, along with the street they had inhabited. When it is done only a few lucky air cars and trucks remain. These rapidly begin to scatter, and seek to disappear back into the crowded ways of Cardona.

Above Vernii, the last Q-ship’s desperate attack also falters. Venting atmosphere and its hull stressing from atmospheric reentry, a shot from a terrestrial energy battery breeches through its thinly armored hull and disables one of the central gravimetric shield projectors. The modified freighter’s shields flicker and then vanish. A few seconds later it is reduced to no more than a wave of super-heated wreckage streaking through the atmosphere of Vernii.

Erewohn

Of the elements forming Ansbach's group, BatRons 1 and 6 were annihilated, Ansbach himself among the casualties. BatRon 10 mostly escaped with six of its ten dreadnoughts still in existence, but with varying degrees of damage. Command fell to Vice Admiral Streit, his flagship was the Aether, lead ship of BatRon 2.

Streit and Rubinsky's groups suffered casualties as well, although they fared better then Ansbach had. Their ships were mostly protected from the formations appearing above and below them by their impeller wedges, at least from energy weapons. Missiles however, could manuever around the wedge, so protection was a bit more limited against them. Their sterns though, were just like they were during the previous war, relying on thick armor for protection. Streit's group lost eight dreadnoughts, with another fourteen suffering varying amounts of damage. Rubinsky lost ten, with fifteen also damaged. One of Rubinsky's bombardment ships vanished as well.

Combat at this range was generally considered suicidal, even for the Erewohnese. There were no survivors from any of the ships lost, they'd perished too quickly for anyone on them to even contemplate abandoning ship. But, gunnery computers had an important advantage over humans, they didn't suffer from shock or surprise. Instead they simply noted the appearance of new Solar Navy units within point-blank range. Each of the surviving 32 & 30 dreadnoughts were armed with fifty 450 cm lasers and fourty 475 cm grasers, weapons which took aim as a new firing plan was entered into their systems. Under this plan, the batteries were divided into five mount groupings, five beams that would concentrate at a single point on their target. And of course, with multiple batteries targeting each ship, this meant that instead of energy being spread out over the target, it'd be like a hot iron driving into them at only a few places. Confirmations flashed through the gunnery systems, and each group fired as one synchronized unit into their enemies.

Streit barely noticed they'd fired, he'd been more concerned with the battlefields new layout. He turned to his chief of staff. "We're finished. They have us surrounded and outgunned, it's only a matter of time. The question is how many of them can we take with us?" He turned back to the main plot, noting that the enemy had ignored the LAC wings. "Instruct the LACs to abandon their primary targets, they are now to engage the enemy monitors." He smiled. His LACs, while not as maneuverable as the enemy monitors, nor as heavily armed with energy weapons, but they did have better acceleration and one crucial advantage. Strength in numbers. For every Ortagan monitor, there were twenty of his LACs moving to engage them. Of course, he expected that the enemy wouldn't leave his monitors to die, he'd bring up those blasted war frigates to support the monitors, and then the tide of destruction would turn back to favor the Solar Navy.

"Fleet orders, all escort warships are released from fleet formation. They are to move to engage the Ortagan war frigates and any target of opportunity. Launch all fighters, we're close enough now that they might make it to the enemy. Also, I want every crewmen in this fleet to know that their new orders are to fight until the enemy is dead, regardless of casualties. You will do your duties, and you will make your families proud knowing you fought with honor and dedication."

Ventral hangars opened on each dreadnought, spilling forth four squadrons of fighters each. They turned toward the Ortagan dreadnoughts sitting nearby, interceptors and heavy fighters moving out in front to protect the heavy bombers as they lined up for attack runs.

The fleet's escort warships peeled away from their positions. Their guns were too light to do anything serious to the enemy capital ships, but they could certainly engage the war frigates. The Erewohnese had never liked building light cruisers, they were seen as something that was unsuited for roles that a destroyer could do better, but too light for a heavy cruiser's roles. As such, they'd concentrated on building only heavy cruisers and destroyers. Streit and Rubinsky each had one hundred heavy cruisers and two hundred destroyers under their commands, ships that were now released from their duties as point defense ships and free to engage the escort warships in the enemy fleet. They formed into triangle formations of three ships each, one heavy cruiser leading the group, two destroyers trailing behind. The enemy fire they'd be flying into would be too dense for all of them to reach attack range, so most of the war frigates weren't even designated as targets. Instead, only sixty were designated for the initial strikes, each one having thirty ships coming after them. Hopefully this would tie the war frigates up in combat while the LACs engaged the enemy monitors.

***
Cardona

Police and military units continued their pursuit of the surviving Nightwatch operatives, and ground officers quickly deemed the wreckage of the last Q-ship as too large for safe reentry. The ground based batteries continued to pour their fire into it, vaporizing and tearing it apart until the debris chunks are small enough for safe reentry.

"Admiral, the Ortagans are moving forward... doesn't look like a suicide. They want ship-to-ship!"

"Ha! Their shields couldn't stop a banana peal this close. ... They want us to finish them off and they know the gunships are useless shooting right among the fleet."

"And it looks like the Verniians are taking on Saharin's detachment... they don't stand a chance, sir."

Murphy turned his head a bit, furrowing his brow. "Send back the gunships and Hennisy's Battlegroup. Send them round back the Saharin detachment to draw fire and take those ships down. Comm, alert the fleet. We'll be providing cover fire for the retreating ships."

With that the seventy-two gunships along with the seventeen ships ( of Admiral Hennisy's Battlegroup fire reverse engines as the rest of the fleet charges forward to meet the Ortagans, soon after moving to engage the Saharin detachment.

Meanwhile the Silver Fleet that remained as well as the Merchant defenders continue fire while taking it themselves.

[OOC: I noticed I hadn't given any stats on my losses so far, so here's a few:

Net Silver Fleet losses (including to suicides and general fleet attacks): 66 dead, 4 heavily damaged, light damaged scattered throughout.

Net Merchant Protector's losses: 12 dead, 3 heavily damaged.]

Aboard RNS Kent, a County Class Heavy Cruiser, Liberation Space

"No reply, sah!"
"Very well, leftenant. Hail the Liberation Navy, and tell them that we are awaiting their battle orders."
"Aye, sah!"
"All ships, prepare for battle!"
"All repair crews, return to the ship!"
"Torpedo bays register fully loaded, and all ion cannons are manned and ready, sah!"

Small teams of engineers outside the ship scurry back into the airlocks, towing various equipment, and take their stations inside the engineering compartments. Airtight bulkheads are slammed shut and sealed as indicator lights finally show all hands at their stations, and the Kent prepares for its first (and quite likely last) major engagement.

Aboard RNS Zambezi, a Z Class Destroyer, Liberation Space

Commander Ian Yaounde watches the modest tactical plot aboard his command with consternation. The Z class destroyer being even smaller and more poorly armored than the average Robotic destroyer/escort vessel, he knows that the ship can't expect to take much damage, and he is not at all keen on facing the heavily-armed and fanatical Ortagans. However, as a ship's captain and as the commander of the 1st Destroyer Division, he must suppress his more sensible instincts and face whatever happens.

"All hands, prepare for battle! Division 1, form up around the Aboukir and Cressy!"
"Aye, Lochinvar forming up."
"Mosquito forming up."
"Lysander forming up, sah!"
"Llewellyn in formation!"
"Kempenfeldt in formation!"
"A turret reads operational...B turret operational...port tubes loaded and ready...point defense and shielding is at full capacity...thrusters are operating within safety parameters...C and D turrets operational."
"Gunners and torpedomen, pick your targets!"
"Division 2 is formed and ready."
"Division 1 is ready for battle, sah!"

(OCC: Order of Battle, Morning Star Expeditionary Squadron
-2 County Class Heavy Cruisers
-8 Light Cruisers (3 Fiji Class, 5 Cressy Class)
-8 Monitors (2 M29 Class, 6 M15 Class)
-32 Destroyers
-26 Corvettes
It isn't much, but Auman destroyed most of Robotstan's only fleet of big ships, so this stuff is all that's capable of being built at the present time.

Also, Valinon, I sent a diplomat and a ship to Proxima a while back but I don't think you ever recieved them. No pressure, just FYI.)

Parliament House, RNS Jimmy Jazz, Interstellar Space

Inside the chambers of the secretive and seldom-seen Robotic Parliament (in space), a heated debate is underway on the subject of the Ortagan attacks on Vernii, The WIck, and Liberated New Hope. The issue at hand- if it is halfway feasible or intelligent to commit fleet assets (what few of those there are) to open warfare in defense of the attacked nations- is very far from decided, as evidenced by the sheer volume of noise that spills out of Parliament, filled close to the maximum with Parliamentarians.

The Robotic (Space) Parliament has very little authority over even its own 'subjects' and rarely does much, but the Ortagan declaration of war against nations that Robotstan doesn't have altogether poor relations with caused quite a stir among many Parliamentary circles.

"These unspeakable and horrible, unprovoked attacks against friendly nations must illicit at least some response from Robotstan!"
"What are we supposed to do? We carry next to no diplomatic clout and the entire Robotic navy is smaller than one Ortagan battlegroup!"
"The infrastructure is in place to remilitarize rather heavily..."
"Yes, but by the time that's done there won't be a war left to fight!"
"Several new and advanced ship designs are less than a week from completion. The Tiger class heavy cruisers, the C class light cruisers, and the Daring class destroyers are all nearing class completion, and the Magnificent-class ships are not far behind. The introduction of these vessels gives us warships of quality and technological advancement equal to or beyond those in service before the expulsion..."

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1258 Solar Forces Standard

“Admiral, Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three are starting to break current formation. Escorts are pulling away from dreadnought squadrons and moving into an intercept vector that puts them on a course with our war-frigate screen.”

Hellings looks with utter distaste as energy batteries expend futilely on the Erewohnese driver bands. Then he watches as the massive wave of LACs and small craft begin to move against the monitor squadrons resting in between his own fleet’s outer defense perimeter and the approaching warships of Alpha-Two and Alpha-Three. Hellings smiles, a slight miscalculation on his part has caused difficulty for Fleet Squadrons Three and Five, but the Erewohnese flag officer just made one of his own. Apparently the Verniians and Erewohnese still do not understand that massed light craft and massed missiles no longer equal victory against a full fleet.

“Recall all monitor squadrons, bring them back into the main formation and move to expand the laser platforms’ coverage. All squadrons are to prepare to engage the oncoming enemy light craft using Plan Rush Bane. Flag Com, once Rush Bane is completed, contact all heavy squadrons and Captain Grant. We will be dividing the firepower of both equally to engage the detached escorts. Also contact Vice Admiral Davis and Vice Admiral Santiago, the remaining fleet squadrons are prepare for detachment from the main force and to setup engagement vectors with the projected course of remaining enemy dreadnoughts.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The squadrons of Ansel class monitors rapidly move to disengage from the outer positions they had previously held. Most return to the safety of the fleet’s formation, however, four squadrons are slaughtered outright by the combined might of the Erewohnese LACs and fighters. They do turn and fire into the approaching horde of enemies, a rearguard of a mere forty-eight ships fires with every energy weapon at their disposal. It is a desperate display of valiance.

Their valiant action saves the rest of their number, and the rest of Hellings’ fleet opens up to prove it. The “Plan Rush Bane” was designed specifically to eliminate the overwhelming numbers so often favored by the Erewohnese Grand Fleet, and it answers massed numbers with the hammer of indifferent mass destruction. As one the Phoenix class and Hegemon II class dreadnoughts open fire. Suddenly the oncoming wave of LACs and fighters find themselves facing a far greater threat than any number of monitors. Five thousand, six hundred, and ninety-three fusion warheads, 38,576 x-ray warheads, and 1,200 EW screamer warheads (covering the fusion warheads) are sent racing to meet the LACs and fighters before they pass through the outer defenses of the fleet.

After they contribute their missile tubes to the Rush Bane, the Phoenix class dreadnoughts of the heavy squadrons rapidly reorient, along with the solar ray platforms. The massive concentration of firepower splits down the very center as twenty-four Phoenix dreadnoughts and three ray platforms each move so they can carve a new path of attack into the approaching cruiser and destroyer formations. Sickly green energy glows at the wing-points and end of the Phoenix dreadnoughts bows and the ray platforms energy collection grids flash golden white. The newly divided firepower of the fleet stabs outward into space, and then the green and white energy starts to carve outward through the Erewohnese formations. After just over six minutes of concentrated fire, the energy dissipates. Two minutes later it starts once again, carving out to once again strike at the heavy cruisers and destroyers that still live.

Meanwhile the war-frigates and Hegemon II class dreadnoughts start to drift farther out from the heavy squadrons and solar ray platforms and assume more standardized fleet formations. It is obvious they are preparing for ship-to-ship combat that has so far only been faced Fleet Squadrons Three and Five in the Battle of Erewohn.

Fleet Squadrons Three and Five rapidly realize the nature of their error in engaging the Erewohnese ships from the top and bottom and move to correct it. However, for twelve of the dreadnoughts engaging Alpha-Two and fourteen for the dreadnoughts engaging Alpha-Three it is too late. Overwhelmed by concentrated batteries, gravimetric shields collapse and energy fire rips into their armor damaging critical systems and in ten cases causing reactor failures that consume the entire ship in a release of fusion and extreme gravetic energy as the warships quantum-singularity reactors overload.

The surviving ships start to maneuver, keeping the drive bands between themselves and the bulk of the dreadnought’s weaponry as they move to assemble on the sterns of the enemy fleets. They continue to rain down missile fire on their opponents as they move, seeking for hits of luck on the more vulnerable starboard and port sections. Those dreadnoughts already presented with their enemies sterns acquire new targets and turn to impose their broadside weaponry before opening up with ever ion cannon and battle-laser at their disposal.

Bridge of the HSS Hammerhead, Morning Star system, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope
06.01.1300 AF
1204 Solar Forces Standard

Commodore, First Grade, Morpheus Odin knows when he is outnumbered and outgunned, and he knows when defeat is inevitable. And he does not have a Tactical Observer in his command to order him into a suicide for the sake of the Revolution like most of his fellows do, a fact he is most thankful for and something that fully justifies reporting to Ginias Saharin before either Kendra Ansel or Strategos Garahou.

“The Fortuna and the Demon are gone, sir. Reaper is reporting heavy damage to two of her secondary gravimetric blocs.”

“What is the status of the monitor squadrons?”

“Engaging the Verniian cruisers, sir. No discernable results, the Verniians have stronger forward shields than we anticipated. And we have lost eight monitors.”

Odin sighs and watches as the last remnants of the third Verniian missile wave dies against the concentrated dispersion fire of the war-frigates battle-lasers. His own command rapidly responds with fifty-six missile of their own per vessel.

“Recall the monitor and signal that we are disengaging. Prepare to fire forward and after missile batteries on my mark. Guns, you are to go to rapid fire and use fusion warheads. Use known terrestrial targets and known centers of orbital infrastructure concentration as your targets. Johnson?”

“Yes, Captain?” Odin eyes his senior helmsman.

“Get us out of here, translate to Seljuk the moment we clear the orbitals.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The ten surviving war-frigates and sixteen surviving monitors of Odin’s task force rapidly start to break off from their engagement with the Verniian cruiser force. They then form up and settle in on a course that will take them over True Hope to a position that they can translate out of the system.

As they depart the war-frigates open up with their bow and stern missile tubes. At a rate of six missiles every two minutes from each war-frigate, 1.8-gigaton warheads fly toward new targets intend to distract any would be pursuers. Forty-eight missiles descend toward the home world of the Liberation, each bound for known population centers and military bases. The remaining twenty-four missiles per salvo race toward known concentrations of both civilian and military supplies for the Liberation and in a few cases smaller dry-dock and orbital facilities.



Observer Monitor #120, Morning Star system, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope
06.01.1300 AF
1211 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Barton has watched as his monitor flotilla has been reduced to a mere seventy-one ships. And he has raged personally through the com without avail as he watches the warships of Commodore Odin’s task force break and prepare to translate out of the system.

“This is an outrage!” Barton bellow, but deep inside he has reached a new resolve. “If the cowards of Saharin’s command chose to abandon our glorious cause, we will at least make the Liberation feel the full might of the Observers!”

He whirls around, “Signal to all ships! Break off engagement with the Liberation’s fleet! We will proceed at maximum acceleration toward the capital of Setties so-called enlightened government! And contact the remainder of squadron twenty-seven, they are to send their reactors into overload and ram the surviving dreadnoughts of the enemy!”

Eight Ansel class monitors suddenly turn and dive into the Silver Fleet’s formation on Barton’s orders. They assume mad, zig-zag courses through point-defense and main weapons fire as they move to ram eight dreadnoughts in the Silver Fleet’s surviving formation. Their quantum-singularity reactors, each with three fusion reactor simulated the gravetic conditions of an artificial black hole, start to spiral toward overload. A hit is not necessary, even mere destruction by their targets would result in an explosion that would generate a force equivalent to a multiple-gigaton fusion warhead, but with far more extreme gravetic forces tearing through space.

The surviving monitors rapidly disengage and form up, then they shift additional power to their gravimetric engines and accelerate at over 800 gravities on a course that will give them an orbital insertion through the atmosphere of the home world of the Liberation of Morning Star. Their target is the city of Humanaptra, their weapons are energy weapons worthy of a Solar Navy dreadnought and the very mass and kinetic force of their ships.

Cardona, Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1328 Solar Forces Standard

"There is no question then, Captain?"

"No, Citizen-Ambassador, there is a Verniian army contingent approaching intent on seizing our embassy."

Kerrigan turns to Captain Vost, representing the Coordination of Security and Intelligence, "Have we executed the Galt Protoccol?"

"Yes, Citizen-Ambassador."

"Then, I believe gentlemen it is time we leave," Kerrigan says as he stands and collects his suit coat. Both Vost and the Solar Marine captain stand.

"I want the automated defenses and the grav-shield activated at once, Captain. They can cover our retreat while we make it to the tunnel. What is our evacuation plan, Vost."

"Green-Green-Two, Citizen-Ambassador."

"We will proceed to Kiel then?"

"Yes, Citizen-Ambassador. There will be transportation to Yalta via an independent merchantman available."

"Good, then let us make haste. I, for one, do not want to be prone to the extremist reactionaries of the Verniian state."

Kerrigan proceeds down the halls of the embassy as the final automated defenses are activated by the embassy's Solar Marine contingent. He, Vost, and the Solar Marine captain activate a lift that appears on none of the embassy's blue prints or Cardona's design files. It descends through the layers of concrete and earth to a concealed air car garage, installed by a bribed Verniian contractor who was then quietly eliminated. Kerrigan, Vost, the Marine captain, a handful of members from Kerrigan's staff, and three Solar Marines board the air cars that are replicas of Cardona's utility services and exit the hanger. They enter the underground roadways of Cardona moments later, just another convoy of public servants exiting from a government garage to contend with the emergencies brought on by the Nightwatch attack.

Erewohn

Streit watched on his plot as his LAC groups swung around onto new headings as they attempted evasive actions. They split into four groups, scattering in different directions, rolling their wedges toward the enemy, PD lasers blazing away. The missiles raced in, some dying, most making it to attack range. Space filled with the flash of fusion warheads and x-ray lasers hammered away. Just over 2,000 of the small craft died, 40% of his LACs strength. The remaining 3,000 shifted back onto their pursuit of the monitors, ripple firing off their missiles, then trying to move to attack range with their battlecruiser grade grasers.

The escort ships scattered as soon as the Phoenix's and solar platforms began reorienting, thinking that the dreadnoughts were going to be their targets, but that it was best to take precautions anyway. Of course, they were wrong. Fourty heavy cruisers and eighty-one destroyers perished. The scattered formations remained scattered, but brought themselves about to charge once more toward the enemy fleet with the suicidal zeal that the Erewohnese were known for. The second salvo of energy claimed twenty more cruisers and fifty destroyers.

Streit watched as another four of his dreadnoughts and five from Rubinsky's group succumbed to enemy fire, left as drifting hulks.
"Com, give me a channel to Charon. Ivan, I want you to take your group and get out of here. The system is lost, just try to save your ships. We'll be your rearguard. Streit out."

The dreadnoughts of the two groups both went into new maneuvers. They yanked their bows up by thirty degrees, snatching their sterns away from their attackers to their rear while keeping their wedges between them and the enemy groups above and below. Rubinsky's group then executed a fourty-five degree turn to port, away from Hellings fleet, and went to maximum acceleration. Four of his dreadnoughts had lost their hyper-generators to enemy fire, and in situations they like, they played rear guard. As they completed bringing their bows up, they began to turn to starboard, bringing their broadside weapons to bear once more upon the enemy to the rear. Power was rerouted from every compartment not important to the battle into their broadside energy batteries. Capacitors were pushed to their limit, and then the firing commands flashed through their systems.

Streit's group did the same thing, bringing their vulnerable sterns down, turning again to bring their rear enemies back into their broadside's field of fire, and dumping all non-essential power into their weapons. The only difference was that instead of only four dreadnoughts fighting a desperate struggle to destroy as much as they could before succumbing...it was twenty-eight.

Then finally, came the fighters. Half of the interceptors and heavy fighters had survived, the other half had been cut down by lasers and missiles, but their sacrifice had enabled two thirds of the bombers, 409 out of 620, to survive. They reached attack range, and pilots depressed their firing studs as range lights lit up green. An assortment of ordnance spilled out of their bays. None of it was as heavy as something like an LAC could carry, but there was a lot of it. Each bomber could carry fifteen missiles. Of those fifteen, three were EWs, ten were standard (and light) X-ray warheads, and the last two were the five megaton missiles. All together, they put 6,315 light missiles into space.

***
Morning Star

A cheer broke out on the bridge of Bayerlein's Libertas as the enemy detachment attempted to break away. The last enemy salvos had come while they were still in the outer ranges of Gibraltar's counter-missiles, but Erus had been savaged. It was missing a third of its broadside armament, and a gap in its sensor coverage due to two bow radars being knocked out.

"Commodore, the squadron is requesting orders, should we pursue?"

"No, let them run. There's still the other enemy group to deal with. Have the LACs form up with us, we'll move to intercept those monitors heading toward True Hope. Can the Erus still make maximum accel?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, have the squadron go to max, I want to close the range as quickly as possible."

***
Cardona

The soldiers tasked with seizing the Ortagan embassy expected there to be defenses, but it remained to see how formidable they would be. Their tank, a Tiger IV, was the first in sight of the embassy. It rounded the street corner, turret swinging toward the target and firing off a shot. The squads of soldiers following it moved slowly down the street, taking advantage of cover wherever possible.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1311 Solar Forces Standard

“Admiral, Alpha-Three is moving to disengage. They are imposing their acceleration bands between our arcs of fire and their retreat.”

Hellings studies the holotank with increasing annoyance. The Erewohnese are wasting themselves for the most part, although if the Verniians are willing to deny their own war effort additional ships of war who is he to question their power judgment. But the horde of LACs, small craft, and fighters are becoming increasingly annoying. Not to mention the threat the advancing detached escorts still represent to his command.

“Flag Com, transmit new orders to Fleet Squadron Three. They are to disengage themselves from the retreating force and move to eliminate the four enemy dreadnoughts acting as a rear guard. After they have dispatched with that threat, they have orders to proceed to full acceleration and join the engagement on Alpha-Two along with Fleet Squadron Five.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“What report from Commodore Jordans and the monitor squadrons?”

“Commodore Jordans reports the loss of nine additional monitors, Admiral. But he sends confirmation that he has integrated all remaining squadrons and ships into the main formation.”

“Excellent. Inform all fleet squadrons they are to form up in engagement formation Delta-Zero-One. We will confront Alpha-Two’s and Alpha-Three’s detached escort screens as a unified force and make them come to us if they wish to engage. Contact Firestorm, the Whirlwind, the Xenocide, and Captain Grant all heavy squadrons and the ray platforms are to target Alpha-Two’s dreadnought element. Also, have the fleet squadrons prepare to perform a-“

“In bound missiles, Admiral! Appears to be Erewohnese fighters opening up with their weapons, no reports of additional LAC launches!”

“Does it exceed the capacity of the laser clusters?”

“Not appreciably, Admiral.”

“Then have Vice Admiral Davis and Vice Admiral Santiago engage those LACs and small craft, I want them destroyed before the escort screens close to engagement range. They have my orders to use any means at their disposal to eliminate the small craft threat.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Hellings turns back to the holotank in time to see the heavy squadrons and the ray platforms fire at the still closing dreadnoughts of Alpha-Two. Green and white energy races across space to the coordinates where Streit’s command and Fleet Squadron Five continue to square off.

Rear Admiral Cordin, commanding Fleet Squadron Five, realizes the Erewohnese defenders intent the moment the dreadnoughts of Alpha-Three move to disengage. He rapidly responds and even as Streit’s command starts to spin to bring its broadside weaponry to bear, the fifty-two dreadnoughts remaining in Cordin’s command put full power to their gravimetric maneuvering pods. They roll with Streit’s maneuvering, keeping their enemies own impellers imposed between them. But as they perform their complicated matching maneuver, three dreadnoughts find themselves in the cross-fire from the Phoenix and ray platforms. Their service to the Solar Navy is ended as abruptly as the Verniian dreadnoughts were moments earlier. Another dreadnought is destroyed when it moves away from Hellings own firing arc back into that of Streit’s command.

But Cordin’s remaining forty-eight dreadnoughts open with their own missile batteries, rapidly pouring 457 missiles every 1.8 minutes at Alpha-Two. The x-ray and screamer warheads accelerate and navigate quickly, seeking to find perfect shots on the more vulnerable starboards, ports, bows, and sterns of their targets.

Fleet Squadron Three is not quite as lucky as their comrades. Three dreadnoughts are destroyed by the focused attack from Alpha-Three, leaving the squadron with only fifty-five combat effective ships. But the squadron rapidly responds to their error, they accelerate and place the lower impellers of their enemies between them and the charged energy batteries. Then the surviving fifty-five dreadnoughts open fire with all the ion cannons, battle-laser, and missile batteries at their command on the four dreadnoughts continuing to act as a rear guard. Six hundred and twenty-eight missiles streak in toward the rear guard along with the fire and death of energy.

The remaining 190 Hegemon II class dreadnoughts and 168 war-frigates still with the Hellings main formation open up against the rapidly closing LACs, small craft, and fighters as their own monitors rush into the shelter and support of the larger ships. The dreadnoughts and war-frigates send out a stunning wave of 79,415 x-ray warheads and 598 4.8-gigaton fusion warheads into the LAC formation before opening up with energy weapons set to dispersion fire. A second wave of 64,230 x-ray missile warheads rapidly follows, splitting between the surviving LACs and the fighters.

Around Hellings formation, the laser cluster platforms scattered by the fleet spew hundreds of deadly bolts outward to intercept the diminutive missile wave of the fighters. In the blink of an eye, 6,000 missiles are eliminated and the remainder waste themselves against the defenses of the warships. The battle for Erewohn is rapidly drawing to its inevitable conclusion.

Cardona, Vernii, Gregor system, Imperium of Vernii
06.01.1300 AF
1330 Solar Forces Standard

Behind the protective barrier of the embassy’s gravimetric shield, Solar Marines set up defensive positions and setup anti-personnel weaponry. A few Marines closer to the embassy’s perimeter flinch as the shot from the Tiger tank dissipates harmlessly against the shield, but they rapidly turn back to their defensive posturing.

The shield may protect from energy fire, but it does nothing for physical attacks—or to stop hostile troops from just walking through its perimeter. And the Marines know it is only a matter of time before their enemies discover this.

A young lieutenant, now commanding the embassy’s defense, barks orders as the Verniian forces continue to bear down on him. Eight missiles carrying a high-explosive warhead reach out into the streets around the embassy. They don’t even bother with the Tiger tank, recognizing the tank is an intractable foe until it comes closer. The missiles instead explode against the buildings and air cars being used by the Verniian troops as cover. Fireballs and shrapnel consume the street before the Ortagan embassy, and the bold remnants of Kerrigan’s security detachment prepare to make their last stand.

Sum'Tlor is like many of the colonial systems of the Greater Empire of Vakutu, a colony created to exploit the always meager resources of the Cronos March (the region of the Raumreich closest to the galatic core) systems and to serve as yet another layer of depth between the home system of the Vaku and the military machine of the Ortagan Hegemony.

But Sum'Tlor has been transformed into the pulsating heart of the Greater Empire's Imperial Navy in a matter of hours. As word of growing tension between the Hegemony and the Verniian Imperium grew increasingly frequent over the past two months, Kalralahr Ralgha nar Hhallas-the admiral of admirals in the Imperial Navy-had ordered additional cruiser and destroyer squadrons to marshal in Sum'Tlor. Now the carefully horded cruisers and destroyers are joined by the formal core of nar Hhallas fleet that jumped from Vakutu moments after hearing of the declaration of war by Hegemon Ansel.

The Imperial Navy cannot claim to have the numerical strength of either the Solar Navy of the Imperial Verniian Navy. In fact the Imperial Navy is the fourth largest in the Raumreich, the numbers of the Ortagan Solar Navy inconceivable to it, the Imperial Verniian Navy a mere dream, and even the might of the Kriegsmarine a distant cry. And it is likely to remain that way, considering the relatively barren area of space the Vaku inhabit.

But what the Imperial Navy lacks in size, it makes up in individual ship capabilities. Infused with technology straight from the Kriegsmarine and possessing what is recognized as the most adapt manned fighter research and development program in the Inner Marches, the Vaku have managed to produce a navy that can strike with precision to make up for its lack of numbers.

Hopefully long enough that the Greater Empire can rely on its traditional ally of Valinon to come to its aid and lend its own strength to the Imperial Navy's effort. The Imperial Navy can consider a strike against the Hegemony, and can even conceive and carry out a well coordinated campaign. But the Greater Empire conquering the Ortagan Hegemony? Even the most fanatical of nar Hhallas' subordinates would not even dare to dream of that, although they are loathe to admit it.

Nar Hhallas stands stiffly gazing out the viewports on one of the VIS Hvar'kann observation decks. He notes with great satisfaction as the last elements of his second carrier squadron and its screen of escort destroyers (a far lighter class of warship then their destroyer cousins, designed to function as support ships for the Imperial Navy's carriers and dreadnoughts) slide effortlessly into the fleet's formation.

The observation deck's door opens and a young Vaku, wearing the more subdued rank insiginia of a Shintahr (Commander) approaches. Vak nar Hhallas has long served with Ralgha nar Hhallas as his chief of staff, and the two kindred cousins know each other well.

"Lord Kalralahr, the fleet is assembled. Kal Khantahr nar Kiranka has signaled that his command is at the ready. Do I have your permission to transmit the final order to jump to the staging point?"

Ralgha turns, "Yes, Honored Kinsman, you do. Have the fleet jump at once to the staging point. Also have orders transmitted that their will be a final conference once we arrive at the staging point before we commence the attack on Dylar."

"At once, Lord Kalralahar!" Vak salutes stiffly, bows slightly, and then leaves Ralgha to his thoughts.

Ralgha surveys his command again, all forty-eight of the Imperial Navy's Hvar'kann-class dreadnoughts, sixteen Bhantkara-class heavy carriers, ninety-six Fralthi II-class cruisers, 128 Ralari-class destroyers, and eighty Bordrav-class fleet escorts-or escort destroyers. It is the largest concentration of the Imperial Navy since the War of the Lion and the Second Battle of Gregor. And nar Hhallas knows that a victory against the Ortagan stronghold of Dylar is necessary to ensure the survival of the Greater Empire and the Vaku as a whole. The only way this war can be won is to eat away at the logistical support for the massive Solar Navy armada rampaging in Verniian space, buying enough time to allow Valinor resolve to harden enough that the Star Empire will commit itself to a war against the Hegemony. And destroying Dylar will force the Ortagans to organize their supply lines from their own home systems.

Nar Hhallas once again utters a whispered prayer to the goddess Sivar. Fervently hoping that the Ortagans really have depleted their own reserves in the sectors of their domain closest to the Cronos March and the Greater Empire. Victory is not only essential, it is a dire necessity.

The aging Kalralahar watches as the space around the Hvar'kann and the other ships of the fleet begin to warp and twist under the touch of the Valinor-built Verner superluminal jump translation drives. In mere seconds the fleet will activate the Verner drives and literally transport itself from Sum'Tlor to an empty system within the borders of the Ortagan Great March only ninety light years from Dylar. Nar Hhallas closes his eyes half-way and allows his mind to drift, taking a few moments peace on the eve of battle to meditate on his plans and the course that will lead his command and himself to either total victory or utter defeat.

Quickly one Dreadnaught is clipped by one of the carrining moniters and detonates in a short, violent blast; and just as quickly the remaining suicide monitors are marked like lepors. Ships bolt to avoid them while primary fire is directed almost solely at the suicides, but not all fire.

Murphy wastes no time in ordering the three eastmost battlegroups (round about 60 ships) to engage those ships bound for the planet's surface. Group-Admiral Hennesy who had been ordered east to assist the Verniians leads the group.

"Close that distance, helm!"

The detachment rained every known hell they could upon the surface bound Observers.

On the surface...

Meanwhile something similar was occuring on the ground. Surface batteries, formerly remaining quiet to not attract attention to the surface now opened fire. Spotted throughout the city and all around it's suburbs, the plasma cannon batteries unleashed their full wrath in a frantic effort to save the city.

Meanwhile, far below the city's surface...

"Sir. The moniters are suiciding themselves on the city"

"Yes, Colonel," The Admiral sarcastically mentioned, referencing the red lights flashing across the panic room deep below the Guardian's palace. "I took note."

"Yes, Admiral, but the panic room wasn't designed for this kind of... destruction; and there's no time to leave the city... I'm afraid... unless those ships can be taken out we won't survive the impact."

"Then let our hope lie in the ships and guns above."

At the same time in the suburb of Endwood Park, located by a small oasis miles outside the city limits...

Confusion. Chaos. Screaming.

"Just breath, honey... breath!" Darius shouts above his wife's crys of pain.

Talia stares angrily at the Minister, "I DON'T WANT TO BREATH, I WANT FUCKING DRUGS! WHERE ARE MY FUCKING DRUGS!?!"

"Calm down honey... the drugs are coming as soon as the doctor gets here... Where the hell is that doctor!?!"

"I'm right here, on my way, on my way," answered a kind voice dressed in blue scrubs and carrying a case. He entered the bomb shelter rushed, knowing the situation was urgent. "Good day, minister. I'm doctor Underwood, behind me... well... she was anyway, is my nurse; Hadrian... anyway lets get to this."

The doctor went to work quickly, first and formost starting with Talia's pain medicine. It would only be a matter of moments before the baby came.

(OOC: That's right, bitches. I don't know if it's been done before in NS, but I'm pretty damn sure this is the first on-post birth in the Raumreich. EAT IT)

Liberation Space

As repeated hails to the Silver Fleet fail to illicit a responce, Admiral Ystad orders the fleet to engage the Ortagan suicide monitors. If there's one positive thing a Robotic commander can say about his ship, it is that it isn't slow.

Lead by the Kent and Suffolk, the two County-class cruisers, Ystad's squadron makes quick time towards the Ortagan suicide ships, all the while broadcasting their pro-LNH intentions, while a division lead by the cruisers Aboukir and Cressy move to join the Verniian cruisers.

However, very late in joining the battle, it is unlikely that any weapons salvo will have much effect on the Ortagan attack...

Liberation Space

As repeated hails to the Silver Fleet fail to illicit a responce, Admiral Ystad orders the fleet to engage the Ortagan suicide monitors. If there's one positive thing a Robotic commander can say about his ship, it is that it isn't slow.

Lead by the Kent and Suffolk, the two County-class cruisers, Ystad's squadron makes quick time towards the Ortagan suicide ships, all the while broadcasting their pro-LNH intentions, while a division lead by the cruisers Aboukir and Cressy move to join the Verniian cruisers.

However, very late in joining the battle, it is unlikely that any weapons salvo will have much effect on the Ortagan attack...


(OOC: Damnit! I don't know how I missed it, but it was a couple pages ago when you hailed me. IC I wouldn't just ignore your hails... um... is there a way we can RP a reason for me missing the hails?)

The Pit
Concordat Navy Central Command
Side Six

Admiral of the Fleet Peregrine did not know what to make of the Ortagan’s actions. The actions of the Observer units he understood just fine, he surmised that theirs was a mission of terror, they were to cut a swath of death throughout Ticonderoga, supposedly to mop-up what was left after a successful Vortex strike.

Well the Vortexes failed…for the most part. How easy he could write off almost fifteen million lives, the thought made him shudder for a moment.

“Something isn’t right here...this attack is not following the expect doctrine of the Solar Navy.” Peregrine thought to himself, perhaps the rumors that reached his ears of dissention within the numerous branches of the Hegemony's government were true. If this dissention meant that the WIckians would survive this battle then he was in no position to complain.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Where is the Solar Navy? They attempted a first strike with that vortex bombardment, then they attempted to sow chaos in the system with those observers. History has shown that Solar Navy group should enter the system to attempt to wipe us out again. But where are they?”

It wasn’t logical to commit an attack like the one already in the system without reinforcing it with significant support from the Solar Navy. Would the Hegemony leave 260 of its monitors out to dry because that force was far to insignificant to beat Ticonderoga in rubble. They could cause death yes, they could cause hurt and damage, but they would never leave Ticondoga alive...

As Peregrine watched the ships continue their charge unsupported he now believed that they would.

“Record message as it follows to the TIconderoga, Admiral Conway, Proceed with Home Fleet to sector 35 by 125, prepare for possible incursion by elements of the Solar Navy, assume fleet sized elements. Should the Solar Navy translate into this system, he is to engage and eliminate the enemy with prejudice. Strength and Honor be with you, Admiral Peregrine CSN.
Message Ends."

"On the chip sir, sending it now."

With those orders the First Concordat Fleet, popularly known as Home fleet would concentrate its force of three BatRon's and prepare for the arrival of an enemy fleet which Peregrine doubt would ever arrive. Additional militia and mercenary forces would join the home fleet reinforcing its strength. If a Solar Navy fleet entered the system they would have a fight on their hands.

Admiral Peregrine continued to issue orders, as he considered the mass of angry red icons close begin to penetrate the asteroid field at a high velocity. An entire battle squadron followed four million kilometers behind the observer force. Another line of green Icons stood in front of the observer force ready to oppose their murderous intent. And this force was much more substantial then a Monitor Squadron.

“We will trap the Observers in a pincer between Commodore Trell’s flotilla and Admiral Kuzak's BatRon.

“I want the interdictors inside the field to be activated, now…” With that order over a dozen FTL/I activated inside the field hopefully denying any vessels from entering hyper.
+++
Enemy Monitors have entered energy range sir.” Commodore Trell’s tactical officer reported.

“Very well Commander, instruct all commands to fire at will.”

The commodore’s orders were simple, his two squadrons of battle cruisers were spread out in staggered column the two escorting cruiser squadrons were formed in a line above and below the two BatCruRon’s position. The broadsides of his ships were presented to the oncoming monitors which now attempted to penetrate into the inner system after they overwhelmed Gisnke’s lone squadron of monitors.

The WIckians by and large were not known by their technical prowess, most nations considered their tech base to be backward. If such a term was applied it would be a falsehood, in fact if anything the Concordat had a tech base exceeding that of the Imperium in maters of militaristic concern. Some of the critics of the Imperium Navy would suggest that the Imperium strived to produce a ‘Jack of all Trades’ but in the end their ships succeeded at being mediocre at everything when compared to a Phenoix Dreadnaught or any Valinor design.

The Concordat Space Navy took a different approach. For fifteen years the CSN has strived to produce ships which would have only one objective, to defeat the units of the Solar Navy, the dozen energy weapons mounted on the hull of a WIckian Battle Cruiser were designed to smash Hegemon II Dreadnaught's hull or to eviscerate a monitor with equal efficiency.

The half dozen energy mounts located on the ventral and dorsal surfaces of the sixteen battle cruisers pivoted along their axis to direct their fire upon the oncoming observer monitors. The barrel’s of the energy weapons were squat and cylindrical they glowed an erie shad of green before they discharge their hate upon the most despised of enemies. Short green bolts of plasma sped towards their targets, the weapons were in rapid fire mode launching a projectile every half a second. The battle cruisers plasma mortars were joined seconds later by those mounted on the two squadrons of escort vessel, cruisers and destroyers respectively.

The line that Trell’s flotilla formed soon curved inward on its flanks enhance the ability of the WIckians to bombard the Observers with enfilading fire. The Plasma mortars were not the only weapons to fire, as the range closed another four rapid turreted rail guns opened up on the Monitors spew hundreds of rounds a second at the oncoming monitors.

Above and below Trell’s Flotilla sixty wolf-class monitors and over 500 LACs swept in at steep angles to avenge Commander Ginske Squadron.

Trell watched as the plasma motors fire began to impact upon their targets, destroying some but others avoided that fact for now due to the survivability and maneuverability of the design, more so then any talent of its crews.

“Fanatics do not make good warriors” Trell said to himself as he watched the Observers charge into the inner system, his command still was outnumbered but the odds were getting better with every moment. He would blunt their charge like a wave upon a breakwater, and Admiral Kuzak would close the door behind the Observers with her BatRon.

(OOC: Damnit! I don't know how I missed it, but it was a couple pages ago when you hailed me. IC I wouldn't just ignore your hails... um... is there a way we can RP a reason for me missing the hails?)

OCC: S'ok, mabye we could say that electronic countermeasures interfered with it and that kind of thing.

Erewohn

Rubinsky's group continued its flight from the enemy, as the four dreadnoughts who had sacrificed themselves valiantly fought to the last ship before being overwhelmed and destroyed. Streit watched grimly as four more of his increasingly precious dreadnoughts disappeared under enemy fire, and as the last of his LACs were batted from space. "Signal the escorts to break off their attacks, tell them to run for it."

He leaned back in his chair and watched as his detached escort ships, the survivors anyway, acknowledged their new orders and shifted courses rapidly, rolling to shield themselves from enemy fire as they took least-time courses toward the limits of the enemy's range. His ship shuddered underneath him as a missile hit gouged away a chunk of its hull, something that had been occuring far too frequently in the last few minutes.

This could be it, we're outgunned, outnumbered, and surrounded...but I don't plan on dying just yet.

"How many ships are hyper-capable?"

"Twenty-one, Sir."

"The enemy has us surrounded, therefore, we shall go through them and attempt a breakout." Streit hustled over to the main plot, selecting the fringe of the enemy formation known to Hellings as Fleet Squadron Five. "All ships, maximum acceleration, we shall either force them to make way, or ram them!"

***
Gregor
Flagship Indomitable

Fleet Admiral Leveson's gloved hand swept imaginary dust from his spotless black and gold uniform. It was a nervous habit he'd picked up, whenever something major was happening. His flagship was the Indomitable, the newest of the Navy's three six-kilometer monitors, which couldn't be anymore different from the monitors of the Ortagans if it had tried. Following behind it were two full BatRons, one of superdreadnoughts, the other made of their smaller siblings. The seventeen ships together made up about one billion tons of warship, with Leveson's Indomitable making up around 10% of that.

He wasn't heading to fight the enemy however, merely to secure the terminus to Gregor and reinforce the existing defenses, along with providing protection for any fleeing starships. He wasn't going to risk losing a significant portion of the Navy (and himself) while the threat of invasion of Gregor itself was still imminent.

"Wormhole transit in ten seconds Sir."

"Thank you Lieutenant."

He took a sip of his tea, barely sitting the saucer back down before his flagship and he himself became nonexistant for an unmeasurably tiny period of time. His ship had went first, popping back into real space, weapons already online, reconfiguring its wedge from hyper to normal space geometry and charging the sidewalls as fast as it could. The transit of a starship would destablize a wormhole for an amount of time, proportional to increase in mass, and it was several minutes before the next ship, the superdreadnought Coronam Vitae, came through. One ship after another popped through the terminus, forming up into a loose protective formation between the inner and outer rings of fortresses. It was a rather formidable amount of entrenched firepower and tonnage, but it was outnumbered and outgunned by the Solar Navy in Erewohn. But it did send a message, that it had the bulk of the Imperial Navy behind it if the Solar Navy wished to press their attack on the Gregor terminus as well.

***
Cardona

Of the two companies assigned for the attack, one was equipped with medium power armor, and the other was wearing normal combat armor. While the second company advanced behind the first, they had far less protection. Ten men went down dead, another eight wounded. It was 4% losses, perfectly acceptable, and they pressed their attack. The tank rolled down the street, firing its main gun again. While not as new or modern as the Mk V, it had the same secondary armament. The electron ram swiveled in its mount, firing forth invisible bursts of energy capable of smashing down walls like a shotgun versus a wooden door. Infantry followed in its wake, and two heavy weapon squads set up their stationary pulser rifles on the sidewalks. Their high pitched automatic whines filled the air as they hurled out thousands of pulser darts per minute as covering fire for the infantry.

Observer Monitor #120, Morning Star system, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope
06.01.1300 AF
1223 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Barton growls as he watches the last of the Solar Navy cruiser force detached from Rear Admiral Saharin’s command disappear in a flash of white light as they translate out of Morning Star.

“Squadron 12 and Squadron 7 are completed destroyed, Director!”

Barton knows his command is dying, now only numbering forty-nine ships, the remnants of his flotilla are preparing for a final attack.

“Terrestrial defense batteries are engaging, Director! Multiple missile and energy battery contacts.”

“Release nuclear mines!”

A swarm of hundreds of black metal spheres suddenly streams away from the spiral monitor squadrons as they tear through the upper atmosphere of True Hope. Fire ignites across the sky, as dirty fusion warheads rip into the vulnerable planet and turn its atmosphere into a seething maelstrom of EMP and radiation. Three more monitors explode, but then the formations scatter, skimming across the atmosphere toward Humanaptra.

“Signal the remaining ships of Squadron 51 and Squadron 20, they are to detach and target the orbital infrastructure.”

“Yes, Combat Director.”

The monitor formation suddenly splits, twenty-three monitors streak up and start firing energy fire into the vulnerable containers and docks still in orbit. The remaining monitors continue along their relentless course to Humanaptra

Observer Monitor #18, Ticonderoga system, Concordat of the Wick
06.01.1300 AF
1203 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Garbaldi glares at the battle cruisers raining destruction against his forward elements as the first of his scattered wings charge through the field. In the blink of an eye thirteen monitors are destroyed.

“All squadrons, release Corsairs! And target the nuclear mines on the approaching LACs and monitors”

Twenty-three Corsair singularity missiles erupt from modified monitors and race toward the heart of the battle cruiser squadrons, dedicated EW and light PDs doing all they can to ensure their deadly cargo reaches its target. And then the monitors release a storm of nuclear mines that rapidly accelerate toward the LACs and monitors. The monitor wings are wreathed in brilliant fire as they streak through the Field. Then the battlefield once again dissolves into brilliant energy fire as the monitors meet their Wickian opponents head on.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1311 Solar Forces Standard

“Admiral, remaining core dreadnought element of Alpha-Two is accelerating at full power. They are setting in on a collision course with the main formation of our fleet.”

Hellings leers at the holo, “A ramming attack? How wonderfully provincial. Flag Com, signal to all heavy squadrons and Captain Grant. All Phoenix dreadnoughts and ray platforms are to retarget Alpha-Two’s dreadnought core. Heavy squadrons are also to prepare another singularity barrage.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Admiral! Gravetic distortions around the wormhole terminus to Gregor! One Verniian super-battleship with at least twelve super-dreadnought escorts!”

Hellings turns around, “Are they accelerating to join the engagement?”

“No, sir.”

“A display of force at this stage of the game makes no sense, but the Verniians have shown an unwillingness to carry out this war with anything marginally showing the fears of the Strategos’ tactical planners.”

“Sir?”

“Disregard that. Com Thetis, have the Marine force bring up the MDPs and we will deal with the terminus force later.”

“Heavy squadrons and ray platforms engaging, Admiral!”

Hellings watches as the guns of his fleet speak yet again. Green energy and the white brilliance of the solar ray platforms reach out to strike against the Erewohnese dreadnoughts. The fire is rapid in terms of the dreadnoughts and ray platforms, the dreadnoughts delayed by only three minutes and the platforms by three minutes and seventy-three seconds.

Finally the dreadnoughts release another missile barrage. Fifteen Vortex warheads, five Corsair warheads, and nine hundred ECM/EW screamers race toward the heart of the Erewohnese formation, guarded by 1200 fusion warheads. The fleet squadrons surrounding the core of Hellings fleet also form up, preparing to engage the advancing Erewohnese dreadnoughts on their own should the heavy squadrons and the ray platforms fail.

The Robotic squadron watches in horror as the Ortagan monitors devestate True Hope, no doubt causing grevious civilian casualties.

However, thanks to the slow speed at which the battlegroup recovered from its initial loss of ships and the delay in recieving battle orders from the Silver Fleet, it is unlikely that Ystad will be able to help destroy the Observers before they are either destroyed by LNH weaponry or crash into their targets.

The small detachment headed to the Verniian cruiser contingent nears its destination and radios the Verniians, asking if they need any repairs or casualty evacuation.

OCC: Sorry for the bad post, I'll have a better one up later.

Erewohn

Streit's group quickly succumbed to the concentrated firepower of Helling's fleet. Warship after warship was destroyed one after the other, until finally only one dreadnought, Abdiel, was left. She was missing a third of her weapons, acceleration capability was down by 50%, and her sidewalls were operating at 40% capacity. Maimed, outnumbered, and outgunned, she struck her wedge in surrender.

As their larger brethren perished, surviving escort warships scattered in all directions, fleeing the guns of Hellings.

***

A few minutes later, a single message was transmitted from Erewohn to Helling's fleet.


To: Commander of Solar Navy forces
From: Grand Duke Holtzman, System Governor

Along with watching you destroy my fleet, I have been keeping track of the events taking place in Morning Star. I couldn't help but notice the difference in the targets between my system and it. It's obvious that your nation has found some way to develop a limited FTL system for missiles, an intriguing concept. But anyway, your targets in Morning Star consisted of a large amount of infrastructure, followed up by a raiding attack. Here though, your nation seems to have limited its destruction so far to military targets. This leads me to the conclusion that your government wants my system relatively intact, presumably to take advantage of our production capabilities, economy, and resources.

As such, I'm holding my infrastructure hostage. Planet based launchers and energy batteries are currently holding the orbiting shipyards and factories in their sights, and with the press of a button, I could also detonate the minefields sprinkled around the system and wreck our asteroid and lunar mining facilities.

But, I can be a reasonable man. I also imagine you'd much rather prefer to hand your superiors an intact system as a trophy, rather than a burnt out wasteland. I imagine they'd prefer that as well. As such, I'm quite open to a discussion of a conditional surrender, and I imagine you should be as well.

...or, if you'd rather not, my orbital fortifications are still intact, and I'm quite capable of rendering this planet a worthless rock that sailors of the Solar Navy died to capture.

~ Grand Duke Holtzman

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1323 Solar Forces Standard

"The surviving dreadnought has powered down its engines and weaponry?" Hellings says as a slight moment of interest crosses his features.

"Yes, Admiral."

"Any broadcasts from the ship?"

"No, sir."

"There communications are most likely disabled. Establish a directed beam at the dreadnought and prepare to transmit the following message."

"Yes, sir," the flag com turns to his station.

"Erewohnese vessel this is Admiral Dolar Hellings of the Solar Navy. You are to maintain zero acceleration and keep your weapons and other tactical systems unactive. You will be approached by a war-frigate flotilla and will receive a boarding party of Solar Marines who will accept the formal surrender of your vessel and transport the surviving members of your crew to due and appropriate medical and detention facilities aboard the ships of the Solar Navy. Failure to comply with these orders, or making any motion toward hostile intent, will result in the destruction of your ship and the execution of any who try to escape its destruction. Confirm message by blinking running lights if you have lost communication capabilities."

"Transmitted, Admiral."

"Good. Also signal the fleet, set acceleration toward Erewohn itself at all ahead two-thirds and prepare for engagement with the surviving planetary defenses at fifteen hundred kilometers."

"Admiral, I am getting a message from Erewohn. It is from Grand Duke Holtzmann."

"Put it to my station."

Hellings reads over Holtzmann's demands and smiles coldly.

"Flag Com, do you have a lock on the com station this was direct from?"

"Yes, Admiral."

Hellings drafts a response with the keypad at his station and nods thoughtfully for a moment.

"Transmit this back to it then, as well as on an open system broadcast."

The comsman reviews the message and smiles wolfishly, "Yes, Admiral."

To: Governor Holtzmann
From: Admiral Dolar Hellings, Commanding the Forces and Occupation of the Erewohnese system

Governor Holtzmann,

His Excellency, the Hegemon Channing Ansel, and Interim Governing Council, acting in their capacity as representatives of the Citizens of New Ortaga, have made it a common policy not to negotiate with repressive overlords who are willing to sell the lives and works of their Citizens for the sake of their own personal power and continued survival.

Therefore I will not be negotiating terms with you in regards to the ceding of the Erewohn system to the Solar Navy, as the current representative of the will of the Citizens of New Ortaga. I will accept only your complete and unconditional surrender, or I will continue to use the combined power of my fleet to reduce your position to such a state your only option will be to surrender or die.

If you do persist to carry out your threat and chose to destroy your orbital infrastructure, Governor Holtzmann, I will respond accordingly. This response will be a strategic quantum singularity strike against any and all structures in orbit over Erewohn and its satelites followed by a tactical orbital bombardment against all known military and government centers in Erewohn and finally a strategic asteroid and mass driver strike against Erewohn itself.

There are no terms, Governor, surrender or be erased from the Raumreich.

Hamunaptra

Missile and Plasma batteries attempt to combat the onslaught while the Silver Fleet fires from above, but it's all too late. Setties watches as the mines and ships speed toward the palace and a grimm look comes onto his face. One of the officers in the room breaks down to his knees and begins to make a treasonous prayer to the old clergy God. The Admiral simply hangs his head.

Hell is unleashed on the central quarter of Hamunaptra as the fusion bombs go off and ships make impact. Billions dead. More to die.

But on the outskirts at least one live is brought into the world. Talia, now calm and quite genial from her medication makes the final pushes and their daughter is born. Darius' eyes tear up, he holds her carefully afraid to break her.

"What will we name her?" he asks his wife.

"We'll name her for the Morning Star. We'll name her Lucifon."
___________________________________________________

"The raid is over. Victory won at cost. The Liberation lives."
___________________________________________________

The Outskirts, Hamunaptra

The loud ring of military engines fly over the nearly uneffected suburbs of Hamunaptra. Infantry transports carrying marines, following a single blip on a readout screen.

Commodore Trell grinned with ruthless satisfaction as he watched his nation’s most hated enemies fall to his flotillas continued energy barrage. He could tell though however that the bulk of the monitors would penetrate the field and could over fly his command, they would pursue but to fire so indescribably into the dense infrastructure of the inner system would not be so wise. It would rest upon the light forces to hunt down the remainder of these Observers.

A shrill alarm sounded on the flag bridge as the Observers launched their corsair strike for a moment Commodore Trell was shocked the Observers had launched a salvo of missiles that undoubtedly were singularity missiles. CIC still did not know exactly what to make of these new variants that were first seen in the first wave of the missiles that were deployed using some sort of FTL device. Their warheads did not seem to contain the yeild of a Vortex missile, in fact they were considerably smaller, which in Trell’s opinion made these new warheads much more of a threat then their larger cousins. Where as a Vortex acted as a bulldozer which demolished a house these new missiles were the sledge hammer which knocked out a key support sending the same house tumbling down just as fast. The fact that one of these warheads could be fitted for launch onto a vessel as small as a monitor made them something of a great worry for Trell and the entire CSN.

“All commands reprioritize energy batteries and defensive PD batteries to target oncoming corsair missiles once that threat is neutralize all commands are to pursue and eliminate the Observer’s monitor force, Trell out.”

Trell frowned again when he saw that each of these tactical singularity missiles seemed to be using their own dedicated ECM units, given them a flexibility and survivability the vortex missile could only attain using a thousand such dedicated ECM units.

With that order the capital ships of Trell’s flotilla retargeted their plasma mortars and now the angry green bolts of energy where targeted at the approaching missiles. The Concordats new gun pods speed toward the oncoming missiles, each pod held two PD laser clusters and when they entered attack range they sent two stilettos of energy at each missile every second in an attempt to sweep the missiles from the sky. When the two dozen missiles entered 100,000km of the flotilla the laser clusters of the entire flotilla would have targeted the oncoming aggressors.

A new WIckian innovation called the buckler was an unmanned vessel, it was actually an old shrike class LAC, they were in a sense mobile shields ,they used their suicidal acceleration rates to interpose themselves and their gravimetric wedge with the oncoming missiles, they could also do the same with oncoming energy beams. A half dozen of the missiles fell to these new shield drones.

It was inevitable though that at such a sort distance less then a million kilometers that every missile would be intercepted, in the end three survived to detonation and claimed there victims but like the Grim Reaper would have, any ship touched by the singularity became warped, secondary explosions killing those within before their ships imploded into nothingness. I the end seven ships were claimed by the maw manifested by the Observers four battle cruisers three armored cruisers.

Trell’s flagship which was the second to last ship in the staggered column survived though much of the vessels armor along its bow now was visibly distorted and warped from what sailors in the CSN dubbed Ansel’s kiss. Trell’s flagship would have undoubtedly perished if he had commanded from where a flag officer would have in the Grand Fleet or the Imperium, but WIckians did not command from the newest or most prestigious ship in the front of their line but rather the ship most suitable for command purpose. It was for this reason justified by common sense and based on bitter experiences trying to preserve a intact command unit that Trell survived and that now the Observers would pay the price of their offenses this day. Instead of a now unorganized opponent easily bypassed they still faced a bitter and enemy committed to see the death of every single Ortagan vessel which murdered so many in Ticonderoga this day.

Now the Concordat vessels were receiving damage from a source they were much better able to defend from, the energy batteries of the monitors themselves. The vessel’s of Trell’s command began to respond once again to the monitor threat. The plasma batteries would have proved effective at such close range. A potential shock for the Ortagans would have been the apparent durability of the WIckian vessels. Where in previous battles the energy batters of Ortagan warships like the Monitors own neutron cannons would have carved deep and devastating wounds into the WIckian ships.

Now though the beams effects were negated somewhat by the new layer shields of the CSN, a concept recently implemented due to technology transfers from the Valinor. The Ortagan beams could easily penetrate the first layer even the second layer of shields only to be defeated by the third. But at this close of range and with the amount of firepower the monitors emitted there were penetrations but even then the damage was not as bad as could have been expected in previous battles, here too the WIckians had learned from their bitter experiences in the past.

The armor employed by the Concordat’s naval vessels was a new generation of armor. It was found that the armor employed by the Commonwealth’s men-of-war was not as effective as it should have been against the energy weapons of the Solar Navy in fact in many incidences it enhanced their weapons effectiveness, especially with the Phoenix class dreadnaughts main gun, much the chagrin of the Concordat Space Navy which quickly and quietly corrected the problem…The multi-layer structure of the Commonwealth’s ships, there existed a strong percentage that two particular elements: beryllium and boron would react with disastrous effect when contacted by Ortagan energy weapons. These materials respectively act as a neutron reflector and a neutron absorber, and were vastly used because allowed to combine high mechanical characteristics with a very high neutron protection. This last thing means that both the elements have a strong interaction with the neutrons. The main anti ship weapon of the Solar Navy’s arsenal is the "neutron laser", that in fact is an extremely powerful beam of antimatter and free antineutrons.

This technology was devastating against the Commonwealths warships: outmaneuvered, outnumbered, made to fight with sensors that were all but almost blind against the cloaked Ortagan anti-ship missiles, they had, an adversary using weapons un-intercept able equipped with a passive amour that was conceived to interact strongly with the neutrons. It did the same with the antineutrons of the Ortagan beams, enhancing, instead of reducing, their terminal effect, because of the annihilation energy release generated by the collisions of antimatter particles with the matter of the armor, a phenomenon localized and enhanced by the armor materials.

The new armor deployed on the Concordat’s vessels was proving to be much more effective it is called the The Carbonate series. This type of armor, even if still too weak to sustain the continued firepower of the Phoenix dreadnaughts Neutron beams at close range, it is hoped that it would prove significant enough to sustain its damage at range. Simulation and testing has proved the armor is far more impervious to the energy weapons, and even improved its kinetic resistance, but most importantly it wasn't as vulnerable to the anti-neutron interaction effect as were the old armors.

The effect for the Observers would have been telling as the beams impacted the battle cruisers hull’s they would have been deflected or absorbed by the ablative hulls of the ships. On the smaller cruisers the damage would have been more telling but the end result was that the capital ships of Trell’s flotilla did not suffer more then minor damage in the first couple energy barrages the monitors sent at them,

"Sir, CiC reports that the energy weapons of the enemy monitors are dealing only 30% of the damage they inflicted normally in our last confrontation." Trell grunted, the new armor and weapons seemed to be proving effective but 30% could add up very quickly in a battle such as this especially if the monitors began to concentrate their firepower on specific vessels...

He smiled ruthless as he felt his battle cruiser tremble again as more beams of death was sent at the Observers, he smiled because he doubted the Observer Monitors could survival his vengeance as unscathed as he did theirs.

+ + +

Commodore Horton's monitors attempted to interdict the enemy mines and missiles as they approached. When it proved that they could not defeat them all the Concordat monitors broke off into divisions evading at wild and sharp angles pushing there ships to their limits. An entire quarter of their number was depleted in that initial exchange but then suddenly they were in knife range of the Observer monitors where their pulse weapons would prove most effective, the banshee's of the Concordat Navy, the men and women specifically chosen for their aggressive initiative in battle now dueled with the Observer monitors...

Liberation Space

As RNS Birkenhead is towed away from Morning Star for a major refit, Admiral Ystad watches the last Ortagan contacts vanish from the tactical plot.

"Well, that's over then. A pity we weren't of any use."
"Casualty report!"
"Birkenhead reports over one hundred missing, one destroyer was hit and destroyed."
"Attention Silver Fleet, this is RNS Kent. Our most sincere regrets for not being able to assist you during the battle. We are standing by to provide medical support."
"Contact RNS Vishakhaptatnam and tell them it is clear for them to enter the system."
"Aye, Leftenant sah!"

Aboard RNS Vishakhapatnam, waiting a number of AUs away from Liberation Space

"Incoming sub-etha signal from RNS Kent, sah. They say it is safe to enter the system."
"All hands, prepare for immediate hyperspace jump."
"Engineering compartments are fully staffed. Diverting power to FTL drives."

The Vishakhapatnam, painted in standard powder blue with the words 'Hospital Ship' painted on both flat sides in large print, zips off towards Morning Star. With a full compliment of doctors, nurses, and holds full of medicines, it should be a great help to the citizens of True Hope and the Silver Fleet. If things go as planned, the larger humanitarian flotilla slated to visit the systems affected by the Great March War should also dispatch one of its squadrons to Morning Star and provide on-the-spot medical care.

Ticonderoga

At the very periphery of the battle, a Robotic ship exits hyperspace. Having entered hyperspace several days previously, bound towards Ticonderoga on a goodwill visit, the minesweeper RSV Lydd had left before the war broke out and therefore had no idea that it would be walking right into an intense battle.

As soon as the sensors array sweeps the area, the bridge crew knows something is definately not right.

"Looks like a battle!"
"Hostilities with the Ortagans must've boiled over," says the ship's robot captain Marley N'Djameina. "Hail the WIckian command, and ask if there's anything we can do."

A somber mood consumes the bridge onboard the LNS Samson

"Admiral Murphy, we're getting in contacts from LRR... looks like we've been losing their transmissions throughout the battle."

"Like it would have made much difference anyway... send it through."

"Aye, sir."



Murphy listens then replies. "Tell them we offer many thanks in return for their help and apologize for miss-communications durring the battle. Instruct them as to which ships, orbitals, and surface areas are in most need of repair medical attention."

"Aye, sir."

"Also, send thanks to the Verniians and ask if they need any assistance. Then contact Army and Marine transports at Centris and tell them to begin aid operations on the ground and in the orbitals immediately."

"Aye, sir."

"And I want a loss and damage report as well as complete tacticals in my hands in two hours, no less. We start prepairing for the second wave [i]now."

"Aye, sir."

"Tac-op, walk; now."

With that Admiral Murphy and his Tactical Officer Seprodi exited the bridge and began walking down the corridors toward the Admiral's Quarters.

"Nick... how's it look?" Murphy asked bluntly with hands clasped behind his back.

"The fleet's casualties are less than expected."

"What about the second wave?"

Seprodi remains business like and un-effected; "The next wave will be actual Solar Navy. Proffessional soldiers of the Hegemony. Losses will be major. Suggest possible evacuation to Gregor or other freindly star."

"Not possible."

"The fleet will in all possiblility not survive this next assault."

"We stay and fight."

"Aye, sir."

Liberation Space

Once the Samson's transmission reaches the Kent, the Robotic squadron goes straight to work. The squadron's support division, consisting of a number of repair ships and minesweepers, begins a kind of triage operation, asking Liberation captains as to if their ships are still fit for battle or if they need to be withdrawn. Crews of fitters assemble along the sides of the repair ships as engineers in the vessels' extensive workshops begin crafting hull patches and other spares of damaged components. As that happens, the crews of minesweepers RNS Fitzroy and Selkirk, accompanied by the survey ships RNS Togo, Echo, Gannet, and Somaliland, begin to evcacuate casualties from both warships and orbital installations, and dispatch crews of engineers to fix what damage they can.

After a short hyperspace jump taking only a few minutes, RNS Vishakhapatnam arrives on station in Morning Star. Guided by traffic controllers from the Kent, the large hospital-freighter broadcasts its readiness to take on casualties and dispatches transports to the Silver Fleet's ships and general orbital facilities as a flotilla of Walrus multirole corvettes assembled from the various cruisers in the Robotic squadron lines up to take on medicines and spare doctors for delivery to True Hope's surface.

Aboard RNS Kent, Liberation Space

"All vessels, maintain battle formation. Prepare medical bays to take on casualties."
"Bridge to hospital bay, prepare to recieve casualties!"

The ship's medical detail quickly sets up hospital beds and prepares the necessary stores and medicines. The atmospheric conditioning system is switched on and extra filters and generators are placed within easy access of the doctors and nurses.

Tereshkova drums her fingers rapidly on the arm of her chair as her eyes rage against the twisted and warped frame of Residential Complex Three. The HMS Chimera, now escorted by the HMS Broadsword sweeps on an outbound course to where the Observer vessels are starting to break through the Belt and engage the defensive elements of the Concordat Navy.

"Are there any system damage reports, Comm?" she says cooly.

"Not any official ones, Ma'am. Live feeds from the localized newcasts are saying high casaulties, between eighty and a hundred percent."

"This is not a war," Tereshkova says in a whisper.

"I agree, Kapitan," Stucov says behind her and Tereshkova nods.

"Comm, contact the Concordat's central command at Side Six. Inform them that I am proceeding with the Broadsword to the other side of the Belt. We will reorient and seek to reenter the Belt where there is the greatest concentration of Observer vessels."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Helm, take us out of the Belt at all ahead full, course bearing Alpha-Nu-One-Nine-Nine. And, Chim, collect your drones."

"Aye, Ma'am, all ahead full on bearing Alpha-Nu-One-Nine-Nine."

"The drones are assembling, Mein Frau."

"Now we shall demonstrate to these little toy soldiers why they should just stay home and torment small children in the Hegemony. I believe this may warrant a small amount of extremism, don't you, Alexei."

"I would have no choice but to confer with your assessment, Ma'am."

"Good."

The two Kriegsmarine warships change course and rapidly accelerate toward the Belt, preparing to pounce upon the surviving Observers when they change course again.

a bump pending a post tomorrow...

Ticonderoga System
Approximately 18 light minutes outside “The Field”
Site of the Destruction of the 2nd Monitor Squadron


While the battle between the Observer’s Monitors and the Concordat’s Navy raged on inside the asteroid field SAR element of the First Battle Squadron had arrived at the site of Commander Ginske delaying action. It was a gruesome scene that welcomed the pair of destroyers and their cutters that arrived on the scene. A fight between monitors left much wreckage and few survivors, the engagement between Ginske’s Squadron and the Observers was no different. Out of the twelve monitors of the squadron now only three remained intact, two were no more ten drifting wrecks the green and black enamel on their hulls paled in comparison to the fires raging within the battered vessels. When the SAR operation was completed out of the one hundred and seventy officers and crew of the original squadron only forty five were recovered.

Lt. Commander Ginske was one of the officers recovered from his battered monitor, his fate was far from certain as the medics prepared him for immediate surgery, even if they repaired the massive internal trauma he suffered it was almost certain that he would never walk again, he was one of the lucky ones though, many other civilian and soldier alike would not be needed surgery at all….

+ + +

A transmission was sent to the LRR vessel it was voice only, and the transmission would have been slightly distorted from the ECM and jamming devices that were now active through out the system,

“LRR vessel this system is under attack from the forces of the Ortagan Hegemony. We can not afford to assign your vessel an escort nor can we guarantee your safety in this system at this moment. I would advise you to transit to a safe harbor until matters are settled in this system.

Ensign Montague CSN C&C out….”

The Lydd quickly turns away from the battle, but does not leave Ticonderoga. Rather, it takes up position some distance away from the nucleus of the fighting, and broadcasts a general request for support over the sub-etha net to any other Robotic vessels.

Idlers are summoned to the airlocks, where they put on EVA suits and collect cutting gear, and the Lydd itself spreads two large booms designed to pick up escape pods. Weapons systems are powered down and the minesweeper broadcasts its intentions to operate as a medical support and rescue vessel.

The Lydd's call for assistance is answered first by the monitor RNS Glatton, which detaches itself from convoy duty and makes for Ticonderoga at all possible speed.

Scapa Flow Anchorage

As the Robotic Navy rebuilds itself into something approaching an appreciable strength following the Aumanii embarrassment, its largest and most powerful ships are prepared for deployment. Exactly whether any Robotic ships will actually see action in the Great March War is highly questionable, but it is no secret that if the WIck and Vernii should fall to New Ortaga, relations with the Hegemony will sink to rock bottom. Not that it exactly matters, as Robotstan can hardly call itself a power in the Ortagan sense, but the Robots are willing to do many things short of outright warfare in order to not see those nations be destroyed.

Therefore, a battlegroup under the command of Admiral Forbin Svalbard and headed by the dreadnaught Dreadnought assembles, ostensibly in order to "protect neutral shipping and civilians."

Observer Monitor #18, Ticonderoga system, Concordat of the Wick
06.01.1300 AF
1223 Solar Forces Standard

Combat Director Garbaldi feels the bile rising in his throat as he listens to the report telling of yet another of his squadrons being completely eliminated by Wickian defenders. There can be no question, the Wickians have either learned to adapt-a possibility Garbaldi instantly rejects based on their inherent inferiority to the Hegemony-or the Wickians have gained outside support. Most likely any outside assistance would come from the Verniian Imperium, but telltale reports of increasing Valinor intervention in the affairs of Ticonderoga could not be wholly discredited either.

Regardless, Garbaldi's armada has now dwindled to just barely over sixty fully combat effective ships and five other heavily damaged vessels are making suicide runs on a host of Wickian battlecruisers and picket ships. However, the Observers are not so easily given over to defeat. And Garbaldi has prepared a contingency for this once distant possibility.

"Contact the remaining ships of the flag squadron! Move to execute Operation Fist at once. Transmit orders to surviving squadron elements to perform Operation Nordic."

"Yes, Combat Director!"

Suddenly the seven surviving Kendra Ansel class command monitors accelerate upward from the battle in a stunning display of gravimetric-driven acceleration. Meanwhile the remaining monitors suddenly shatter outward into groups of three ships each, with a handful of double ship groups. They race outward away from the battle, moving on hubs of Wickian production and supply stores.

Garbaldi stands, "Do we have a lock on the local command ship?"

"Yes, Combat Director. Positive identification on a battlecruiser in the lead formation that appears to be coordinating the battle."

"Give the order to the rest of the squadron to accelerate at once. Activate the overload spiral."

"Yes, Combat Director!"

As the command monitors reorient, their smaller cousins fire nineteen Corsair missiles at various hubs of shipbuilding and supply concentrations inside the Field. They then streak rapidly after the targets of their missiles, preparing for suicide attack runs.

"For the Hegemon and the Revolution!" Garbaldi barks at the top of his lungs. The cry is echoed across the bridge of Monitor #18. The flag monitor squadron descends upon the core element of battlecruisers, roughly centered on the Trell's flagship. As they descend at over 800 gravities back toward the scathing fire of the Wickian defenders, the fusion reactors driving the simulated environment of the quantum singularity at their core reactors move to a destablized pattern. The monitors prepare to unleash a force capable of destroying a dreadnought wing on the embattled Wickian defenders.

Commodore Trell’s ears were assaulted with reports of the hectic and violent battle being waged between the forces of the Concordat Space Navy and the Observer Armada which had assaulted his nation’s last system.

By the Tester! That was the Hammer… The distorted soprano voice of one of the Flag CIC officers reported over the comms. The Hammer, that was Mark Quantrial’s ship, he was a good captain not possessing any outstanding qualities but he was solid and a bull in a fight, father of three…or was. Another friend lost in another bloody battle in another bloody war, for no bloody reason.

Trell was a member of the “Old Guard”, there is an old saying in the WIckian military that to become a commander one merely had to survive the battle. And so it was with the Old Guard they were the only serving officers and warrants who survived the First and Second Battles of Thetis, there was fewer then ten thousand of them now, there were fifty thousand of them at the Second Battle of Thetis, and over 110 thousand survived that first bloody battle.

Seeing that much conflict, seeing so many die in the service had an affect upon a man’s soul. It made them bitter, cynical, even robotic when it came to accepting casualties even when the fallen were close friends.

Why were they even fighting this current battle, oh the reason was clear enough for the WIckians, they were attacked and are defending themselves. Why were the Ortagans fighting this battle though? Were they attempting to knock out a potential threat before the war began? Or were they here to merely wipe the WIckians out because they viewed them as an inferior race, much as a man would wipe scum of the bottom of his boots.
.
“I’ve had enough of this,” Trell muttered out loud without realizing that he was speaking.

“Excuse me sir?” His chief of staff asked, he looked at her for a moment forgetting who he was, how old he was. She he remembered was thirty-five, but she had the body of someone who on old earth looked no older then eighteen. Trell himself was 168, ancient compared to her, he laughed as he supposed he’d probably have grey in his hair if it weren’t for the fact that all Wickians were genetically born bald, though even that was changing. His body was deterating slowly but steadily and her's was just maturing, he was the last of a dying breed of officers in the Navy and she was one of its rising stars.

“Sir?” she asked him again as his eyes drifted to the tactical display as he watched a trio of damaged monitors consume a cruiser but not before them themselves were destroyed along with their prey.

“These icons in the holo-tank represent much more then ships and missiles commander, the red one’s represent the racial hate of a man who would be god and the green represent those who stand in the way of his Apotheosis.” He told her cryptically.

“Commodore is this the time to be philosophical, people are dying out there.” She said concerned, Trell would often just stare out at the stars considering the nature of life she supposed but this was not the time for that…she had heard the President does the same but that was neither he or there.

“Precisely Commander, people are dying, have died by the millions today but we must justify their deaths and we must know why we are fighting. Do not be fooled by the hatreds of old men like myself, do not believe this war is due only to the racial hatreds of the Ortagans. No, we brought it upon ourselves, you don’t remember the old days when the Commonwealth Navy rivaled any other force, when we could stand toe to toe with the mightiest of the Solar Navy. That sort of power, that arrogance we used to have started this war as much as Ansel did himself.”

“Sir, those words not to long ago would have been considered treasonous.”

“Let us hope for the sake of our people that we have matured beyond our attitudes of the past.”

Trell’s eyes narrowed as he watched the drastic change in maneuvers by the Observer ships. Their intent was clear by scattering, Trell deduced that they intended to inflict as much damage as was possible upon the Concordat’s infrastructure and the volley of Corsair missiles confirmed that. There was little his own capital units could do to prevent the Corsair launch,. They lacked the necessary velocity to over take and destroy the Observer Monitors, he issued orders for Commodore Horton light units to pursue and destroy the enemy light monitors. Trell however was most concerned with the charging squadron on heavy monitors, it was a suicide tactic, it was a kamikaze assault using the most deadly technology available.

“Its confirmed then?” Trell asked Commander Tris his chief of staff.


“Sir we are reading anomalies from the lead monitor it appears as if they are overloading their QSG, CIC estimates the explosion should be roughly the equitant of a vortex, I suggest we scatter sir there may still be time to save some of the command.”

It was a tempting though, if he ordered a scatter the cruisers would survive the coming explosion even most of the remaining BC, but could he order such a maneuver.? He knew his own ship would survive the Ortagan vessels seemed to charge directly at the lead ship in the forward squadron, they must have assumed that was his flag, WIckians learned long ago to command from the vessel best able to command not necessarily fight. That was something other navies in the Raumreich haven’t seemed to learn yet.

No Trell would not could not abandon any vessel of his command, the Honor and camaraderie of the service could not allow that…

“Fleet Orders Plan Phalanx.” at first Trell thought Commander Tris did not here his order but after a quick second she repeated his order and relayed it to the flotillas captains. It went against established CSN doctrine when faced with a vortex or suicide run, instead of scattering his command to save what they could the phalanx plan concentrated the WIckian Vessels into a tight protective formation. The result was that the charging Ortagan vessels faced not sporadic return fire by scattering Concordat vessels as they neared but instead they faced ever increasing and accurate return fire. Plasma and short range pulse weaponry formed a seemingly impenetrable wall of energy which was enough to destroy the Ortagan vessels before they reached critical mass.

A message was sent to the two Valinor ships fighting along side the WIckians when the Valinor captain accepted the comm she would have see Trell’s face covered an sweat a wrinkled smile across his face framed by his opened vac helmet. She a veteran of as many wars as he could speak to her as an equal.

“Captain, I thank you for your efforts, but I fear the enemy has penetrated our defenses. Besides the static defenses around the our installations I have nothing that can intercept those missiles. I’d be much obliged if you could interdict a few before well, you know.” His face then grew serious his next words he new could be his last. “It is good to see the Valinor in the fight, your actions today will be remembered Captain, Strength and Honor be with you!” He said as he brought his fist to his chest in a salute, he awaited her response if she had any. This part of the battle was out of his hands now only the actions of his subordinates now could alter the outcome.

He hoped they nailed that Ortagans ass to the wall, and it would be a miracle if any monitor could penetrate the volume of fire his ships were throwing at it at the moment, but life often wasn’t fair…

OOC: wow do I ramble on, well I will post about the static defense shoot at the corsairs and the light units pursuing the monitors perhaps another event or two also but at least putting this much up for now…

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1323 Solar Forces Standard

"Erewohnese vessel this is Admiral Dolar Hellings of the Solar Navy. You are to maintain zero acceleration and keep your weapons and other tactical systems unactive. You will be approached by a war-frigate flotilla and will receive a boarding party of Solar Marines who will accept the formal surrender of your vessel and transport the surviving members of your crew to due and appropriate medical and detention facilities aboard the ships of the Solar Navy. Failure to comply with these orders, or making any motion toward hostile intent, will result in the destruction of your ship and the execution of any who try to escape its destruction. Confirm message by blinking running lights if you have lost communication capabilities."

*snip*

To: Governor Holtzmann
From: Admiral Dolar Hellings, Commanding the Forces and Occupation of the Erewohnese system

Governor Holtzmann,

His Excellency, the Hegemon Channing Ansel, and Interim Governing Council, acting in their capacity as representatives of the Citizens of New Ortaga, have made it a common policy not to negotiate with repressive overlords who are willing to sell the lives and works of their Citizens for the sake of their own personal power and continued survival.

Therefore I will not be negotiating terms with you in regards to the ceding of the Erewohn system to the Solar Navy, as the current representative of the will of the Citizens of New Ortaga. I will accept only your complete and unconditional surrender, or I will continue to use the combined power of my fleet to reduce your position to such a state your only option will be to surrender or die.

If you do persist to carry out your threat and chose to destroy your orbital infrastructure, Governor Holtzmann, I will respond accordingly. This response will be a strategic quantum singularity strike against any and all structures in orbit over Erewohn and its satelites followed by a tactical orbital bombardment against all known military and government centers in Erewohn and finally a strategic asteroid and mass driver strike against Erewohn itself.

There are no terms, Governor, surrender or be erased from the Raumreich.

Erewohn

Both Abdiel's primary and secondary transmitters had been destroyed, but her secondary receiver was still functioning. Moments after receiving Helling's message, her running lights blinked on and off twice. Inside, her crew set about destroying sensitive records and equipment, and wiping her computers.

***

Several minutes after that, a response came back from Erewohn.

To: Admiral Dolar Hellings
From: Grand Duke Holtzman, System Governor

You are a little bit hasty to resort to that sort of threat I do believe. I didn't even tell you what the terms I request are, and I do assure you, they are very reasonable...

I want out. To explain it better, I'm going to take my yacht, close friends and family, and leave the system. Once it has successfully entered hyper, my forces will stand down, and a peaceful transfer of power can take place.

Awaiting your response.

"Nineteen confirmed missile contacts, Kapitan," Tereshkova bites into the inside of her lips as Chim's earlier estimation is confirmed. "Signatures are that of the new tactical-grade singularity missile the Ortagans have been deploying since the opening of their engagement with the Concordat forces."

"Thank you, Mr. Banderstein," Tereshkova says quietly. She has already realized her mistake, though it is far too late. Years of service with the Office of Kriegsmarine Intelligence had led her to expect the suicidal fanaticism of the Observers, and she had reacted with what she believed was according. Unfortunately, she had operated under the assumption that if their commander was removed--a fact Tereshkova had taken as a given since the Observer flag squadron had thrown itself stupidly against a superior force--the rest of the Observers would disengage and seek to report the failure to eliminate the Concordat Navy as a threat to the Ortagan high command.

Her assumption was drastically flawed, the Observers' fanaticism burned away even the most basic of military reasoning. And now the price would be paid for by the Wickian civilians.

"Chim, do you have interception on the new contacts?"

"Mein Frau, due to our current acceleration and position, it would be impossible for me to eliminate any more than six of the Ortagan missiles."

Tereshkova's eyes catch those of Stucov's, his own bitter resentment reflects her own.

"Do what you can, Chim. Mr. Stucov, please note for the log that at this time I am releasing all the Precentors and DOS drones at my command's disposals to Chim's effort to intercept the Ortagan singularity attack."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Helm, lay in a course to take us back toward the Wickian engagement permanent. Guns, I am releasing you to engage targets of your discretion once they enter your range. Comm, contact the Broadsword, tell them to proceed with us and engage targets at their convenience."

The comm officer looks up, "Ma'am, we have an incoming message from the Concordat commander coordinating the defensive line."

"Put it through to my station," Tereshkova says quickly. Tereshkova's eyes carefully study the stressed face before her, and she curses her own estimate of giving the Observers any level of intelligence.

"Comm, record a reply."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Commodore Trell, I have ordered my ship's AI to coordinate a full interception on all singularity missiles currently within my engagement capabilities. However, I must inform you that at this time I can only intercept no more than six of the missiles. I offer you my sincerest apologies, Commodore, the positioning of my forces to engage a retreating Observer force was a grave error that is entirely my own mistake. I will be bringing the Chimera and the Broadsword in to join your engagement perimeter and move to dispatch the surviving Observer monitors directly. Tereshkova out."

"Transmitting, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Comm. Guns?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Blow those bastards back to whatever hell they came from."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

The Chimera and her destroyer escort slew around rapidly, manuevering gravimetrics raging into space. As the reorient the Precentor and DOS drones race toward the Corsairs in their range with a driven abandon. Interception missiles and energy fire spew across the darkness seeking to destroy the Ortagan missiles and their deadly warheads. Meanwhile the Chimera and the Broadsword engage the monitors with their forward batteries. Energy fire from grasers and lasers carve through the vacuum and forty-seven missiles (split into two-thirds "heavy" ship-killer X-ray warheads and one-third EW Shadowfox-class screening warheads) race toward the surviving remnants of Director Garbaldi's command.

**********

On the fringes of the Erewohn system, whispering electronic minds prepare to break their long, dark, and cold silence. Needle-shaped platforms filled with sensors, sophisticated communication "ghosting" hardware and software, and the most effective stealthing suites the Kriegsmarine can produce reorient themselves, firing their limited gravimetrics for the first time since they entered the Erewohn system.

The Farseer-class reconnaissance drones have been to this point one of the best kept secrets in the Star Empire. Deployed as part of Operation Velt (named in honor of the OKI Commodore that conceived them), Farseers are scattered throughout the Raumreich to watch the movements of the other powers besides the Star Empire.

And in Erewohn, the Farseer's RIs decide they have seen enough. Their cores now filled with combat data on Hellings' fleet and the capabilities of the demolished Erewohnese-Verniian task force, the RIs start an en masse download to the final portion of the Farseer drone. A small capsule--a blackened chrome sphere--with a tail formed by minute gravimetric "vane" engines races away from the four Farseer probes, each one bears a strange resemblence to the first satellite that orbited Old Earth so many centuries ago.

The capsules, little more than stealthed courier drones, race away from their parents with their evacuated RI and it's data. With only twenty kilometers between them and their original drone form, the RIs detonate the main drone body using by sending the micro-fusion reactors into a critical overload. Seconds later the capsules activate the smallest FTL Verner drive in the Star Empire and sends its invaluable cargo outward. Two travel to the vast imperial bastion in the Klein system, and their two brethern race toward the key system of Yalta.

The high command of Her Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces, and many within the upper tiers of the Star Empire's government, are far from lost in illusion. They know that a confrontation between the Star Empire and the Hegemony is inevitable, but the Valinor are a methodical and perfectionist people. They will analyze and study, seeking the most advantageous point to strike. But if the data locked away in the Farseer capsules from Erewohn has anything to reveal to the universe it is the fact that at long last even the Valinor may be forced to act before they are fully ready, and that Ortagans may soon force the hands of the Valinor--whether the powers-that-be in Roum realize it or not.

The loud hum of marine transports can be heard outside the house as Darius and Talia sit in the bomb shelter holding their newborn daughter. Suddenly the steps of foot soldiers can be heard outside, then shouting. "1! 2! 3!" The door bursts open and men in Liberation Marine desert camo pour in, securing the area.

"Minister Darius! We're hear to recover you and take you to a secure area," the squad-leader declares while extending a hand to the couple.

Darius looks at his wife and daughter, then up to the soldier. "Come on, honey, let's go." They stand and follow the squad-leader out while the soldiers continue to secure the area. Upon reaching the surface they approach the transport, but suddenly the squad-leader stops and turns, facing Darius. Two of the other soldiers approach the family from behind, grabbing them by the shoulders and shoving them to their knees.

Methodically, the squad-leader pulls his pistol out, cocking it.

Darius becomes panicked, raising his voice; "Wait... what are you doing? What the hell..."

The squad-leader goes about his business. "And the Dragon rose up from the pit, and he was given power over the land and it's people, and the people said 'Who is like the beast and could make war with him? And..."

The squad-leader continued his lengthy speech as Darius began to plea for his life. "No... you can't do this... who are you? Please. Please don't hurt my family..."

The squad-leader placed the barrel of the pistol against Darius' forehead, causing the minister to become instantly silent, while the squad-leader continued, becoming louder and more convicted with every word. "...'Fallen, Fallen' the angel declared, 'Babylon is fallen, she has become a home for demons and a haunt for every evil spirit and therefore in one day her plagues will over-take her; death and mourning and famine. She will be consumed by fire, for mighty is the Lord God who judges her!"

The soldier's finger grips the trigger, flexing slightly; he is about to fire, but quietly enough warm drops of blood shower across Darius' face. After a silent moment the squad-leader collapses directly to the green grass with a quiet thud, an open wound in his skull apparent. The other soldiers stand, frantically looking about for signs of an unseen enemy. Suddenly a streaking sound can be heard across the air and in a fireball the landed Marine transport explodes into a thousand pieces. Another transport approaches as sniper-fire rains down, hitting the false marines as they scramble for cover.

The other transport lands and more marines pour out, immediately approaching Darius and his family in order to defend them. They fire upon the other marines, providing cover for the family. Behind them, two men exit the craft. One an elderly fellow with a beige trenchcoat and grey suit, the other a younger black man, though still not young, with a black trenchcoat and lighter suit. They stroll over to the cowering family, reaching into their trenchcoats and pulling out leather wallets, each with a shining platinum badge bearing the mark of a flame struck through by lightening. The badge read "Kuma-adad."

"Minister Darius, it appears the Clergy are more organized than we thought," the elderly one says.

Darius looked up, still shaken. "Clergy... those men were Clergy."

"Yes sir, sent here by Clergy Officials. Come with me, please." Darius stands, leading his wife who holds his child, and they approach the transport. "There's been massive clergy operations all over the system since the Ortagan attack. Northern Centris has been taken over, as well as Trinidan and large quarters of New Hope."

"Damn..."

"This agent will be escorting you to the secured location. I'll be staying here for security purposes."

"... alright."

And so Darius boarded the craft along with his wife and child and they flew off and away to a secret location deep in the equatorial desert, meanwhile the elderly agent parused the scene. As he walked along one of the seemingly dead enemy marines raises his rifle, ringing out shots at the man; but the bullets are deflected by a spirts of blue light. The agent had nothing to fear so long as his shield was active. He furrowed his brow, annoyed, raised his arm and with pleasant, silenced chirps of his pistol delivered three rounds into the soldier's face and chest.

OOC: Trying to tie up some loose ends with this post as well so forgive me for brining up another plot line from what seems so long ago into my normal set of ramblings.

Hospital Ward 12a
Diplomatic Zone
Side Six
Ticonderogan Concordat

President Villers heard the alert klaxon blaring angrily in the background as he listened to the Valinor man’s words. Go? Evacuate? Safe Place, did any such place exist anymore? Viller’s highly doubted that it did….

“No, Mr. Togashi it may be prudent for me to go with you even it could be expected that I should, yet I can not.” Viller’s said with a stony resolution that wouldn’t normally emerge from a man just recovering from a stroke, but Villers was a patriot, a protector…bodily limits had to be overcome at times, no matter the cost. “There are times Mr. Togashi when a President’s or even an Empresses’ life matters little when their actions can account for so much” With that Villers stood, knees shaking at first, by this time his aides came rushing to his side to support their president, Villers looked to the youngest of them a sixteen year old boy barely out of school.

“Christen please go to my quarters and bring my old naval uniform back…I think I shall be needing it.” Villers looked to Togashi, “This is not your fight if you wish to leave I won’t stop you…but my duty requires me to do what I can here and now…”

+ + +

The Pit
Concordat Navy Central Command
Side Six

“Enemy Monitors have sustained over sixty-five percent losses sir, they are still closing.” Captain (SG.) Byron reported to the Admiral of the Concordat Navy. “Captain Tereshkova reports she can intercept a half dozen of the incoming missiles I’ve indicated them on the plot sir.”

“Very good Captain…Is the inner defense grid online?” Peregrine asked his tactical officer.

“Coming online now Sir, Defense platforms active and engaging enemy warheads.” Over ninety percent of the installations in the inner system were civilian in nature, most were constructed in a hurry in the rush to provide habitation and the needed industrial space for the WIckians who fled to Ticonderoga from Thetis fifteen years ago. There were not designed to withstand singularity or strafing attacks from Ortagan vessels it was assumed that if the enemy ever penetrated this deep into the system then the war was lost anyway and the Concordat did not have the funds to waste on extensive static fortifications like the Imperium.

As a result in recent years a ring of defense platforms were constructed throughout the inner field. These platforms were essentially the obsolete warships of the old navy with their impellers and FTL removed. Their original armaments removed, they were now dedicated to not destroying enemy warships but rather were dedicated point defense vessels. Over a dozen battle cruiser sized platforms launched their hate at the oncoming Observer warheads.

Hundreds of nuclear explosions filled the void of space between the oncoming missiles and their targets, pulse weaponry fired rapidly at any available targets doing its best to interdict the antagonists. It was an impressive spectacle, Peregrine doubted that the platforms which engaged the oncoming missiles could have taken them all in the beginning but with the Valinor taking over a third, it allowed his Platform commander to concentrate his efforts on fewer targets which proved to make quite a difference. Then he heard three words which surprised him greatly…

“Attention on Deck!” Peregrines body conditioned by years of military service snapped to a position of attention that would have done his instructed at the old Thetis Military Academy proud.

“As you were people.” The voice was well known to Peregrine but he couldn’t believe he was hearing it, Markus was in a comma besides what in the name of the Tester was he doing here he should have been evacuated in the first wave… “Admiral Peregrine I have been apprised of the situation on my way here, and it seems the Ortagans have made a grave error.”

Peregrine turned and looked at his old friend, he was actually smiling if he didn’t know better that old crusty bastard was enjoying this moment. His body looked considerably better since the last time he saw him, though he noticed how much the young midshipmen off to his side carried the burden of the President’s weight, with no sign of complaint the boy knew his duty well.

Damn it all, this was no time for levity but Peregrine couldn’t help but find himself smirking at the Presidents appearance fore he wore the Green-over-Grey uniform of the old Commonwealth navy, even the black cape and saber regalia accompanied it.

“I’ll be damned sir but I almost mistook you for a Verniian…” Peregrine joked.

“Well you know what they said in the old PNV, ‘If I’m going to die…I’ll die well dressed!’…but today my friend their has already been too much death, I intend to ensure the only Ortagan blood will be spilled from here on out.”

“Aye Aye Commodore! You were saying the enemy has made a mistake?” He asked not the president of the Concordat but the naval officer who had more combat experience fighting the Ortagans than any other officer in the Raumreich.

“These Observers are fanatics, which explains why they have continued to push deeper and deeper into the system even as their losses have reached horrendous levels. They are not soldiers but berserkers, that makes them dangerous it does not make them invisible. Berserkers become oblivious to the world around them, concentrating only on inflicting as much damage as possible to the enemy closets to them, they lose situation awareness, we will win this battle by fighting smarter then them. They realeased their missiles too early, if they launched them from point blank range they would have penetrated our point defense before a defensive perimeter could have been established. Now all that is left is for us to pick up the mess and to get Kevin Trell’s ass out of the grinder, I want you to disable the Interdictor grid on my order…And get me a channel to Commodore Trell and Rear Admiral Kuzak.”

+ + +

C.N.S Gallant
Inside the “field”
Trell’s Flag

The scene that greeted Trell’s eyes as he watched the communication panel to his Flag Captain’s bridge was shocking, the room was filled with smoking and the screams of wounded men, the bridge had only moments ago suffered secondary splash damage from the fearsome energy weapons of one of the Ortagan’s heavy monitors.

“Is this for real sir?” His flag captain asked him, he didn’t blame the officer for his skepticism “Captain these orders come from the old man, there will be no questioning his command.” Trell said firmly, “Spin up the FTL and dump all our fusion warheads. Transfer all power from sub light engines and life support to the energy batteries increase our defensive fire, over load the guns capacitors we wont be needing them for long, we just have give that Observer exactly what he wants to see, our last stand and his final sacrifice for the Hegemony.”

“Aye Aye sir, FTL spinning up…transferring jump commands to your consoles.” The captain flinched as his ship shook violently again with another body blow, “Defensive fire increased to 120% but we have heavy damage on all decks sir.”

“Understood captain…Tester willing we will live to see tomorrow but if not we will do our duty!”

CNS Reliant
Flagship of the First Battle Squadron
Approaching the Outer Marker of “The Field”

She had pushed her BatRon beyond all reason to get to the field as fast as possible, their reactors were running at 115% percent well beyond even what WIckians would consider to be maximum military acceleration. In the end it would make no difference, they could blow a corridor into the Field but her vessels would only arrive to the battle in time to mop up what ever Observer Monitors remained after they have already devastated the infrastructure and population of her nation.

How the hell had the Ortagans managed to squeeze such powerful warheads into such small vessels, before monitors represent a threat to ships of war but now they were weapons of mass destruction in their own right, and now she was to execute a plan which was risky as all hell, but if it worked the Observers wouldn’t see what was coming until it was too late. And Trell, would escape the suicide run charging his command…

“Admiral the interdiction field is going offline in 5...4...3...2...1...Mark!” Her FTL officer reported quickly.

“Jump!” With that the seven remaining Covington Class Dreadnaughts and sixteen Battle Cruiser of her command ceased to exist, all time seemed to stop for those onboard the vessels , before they reappeared at their destinations. Her command was dispersed through the inner system at precise locations the end result was that each one of her capital class ships were within firing range of each scattered Ortagan Monitor making a suicide run on WIckian installations, and each of her vessels had overlapping fields of fire with the vessels to their left or right.

The Ortagan Monitors which emerged from the dirty EMP laden explosions of the WIckian point defense missiles, whose sensors would have been momentarily blocked by that massive dirty cloud would have been shocked to see what now opposed them. Where once there was no defense against their suicidal attacks the Ortagan monitors were now violently opposed. The angry green bolts of the WIckians new plasma and azure blue darts of their pulse weaponry greeted the Observers blind hate.

C.N.S Gallant
Inside the “field”
Trell’s Flag

The small com screen that filled the display inside Trell’s helmet was filled with static but he could still identify the face of Captain (J.G) Armeson the captain of one of his crippled battle cruisers it was a testament to his peoples abilities that the wreck was still combat effective and returning fire against the enemy monitors

“Im sorry about this Frank…” Trell began to say.

“No, don’t apologize it will cheapen what we are about to do here sir, go we’ll see you on the flip side.” The captain of the battered ship said firmly as the communication channel was cut. Another good officer would be meeting his death again this day.

“ETA thirty seconds until enemy monitors enter effective singularity range sir!” the tactical officer reported to Trell. “All fusion missiles dumped and armed.”

“Fire Nuclear missiles on my mark….mark.” Trell ordered and noted with satisfaction the old cruisers of his command launched fifty MIRV’s at the approaching squadron…only 2000 klicks from their target the MIRVs detached from their carriers launching over a thousand warheads at their enemy, these weapons were well known to the Ortagans. The dirty tactical nukes of the Concordat were designed to be PD against vortex missiles it was the modern defense of filling the sky with lead to intercept missiles, the area effect weapons were seen as the best defense against the elusive vortex missiles. These dirty nukes also had another effect, the massive amounts of EMP they emitted at detonation, it could disable whole ships, even the electronics of Vortex warheads, most likely they would have blinded the monitors sensors for several valuable moments. So that the Ortagans would have no idea what happened next, when they emerged from the cloud of hellfire, Trell’s battered command would no longer remain sitting there as a sitting duck. Instead they would be greeted by a trap, which they would most likely be unable to avoid.
The WIckians had learned the value of tactical intra-system FTL jumps from Admiral Hellings, now they threw the tactic back in the observers face.

Five seconds after the Observers left the radioactive cloud, they entered effective range of the WIckian warheads which detonated in a crescendo of death, the mighty blue, yellow spheres of fusion explosion filled the void of space once occupied by Trell’s taskforce, consuming all within range not only including the Ortagan monitors overtaking that position but also the battle cruiser and two heavy cruisers that could not make the jump. If the enemy was consumed it would not be a bloodless victory.

Trell did not want to leave his men behind like this, he was ready to die along their side returning Ortagan hate with suicidal WIckian rage, to die with honor, but the Old Man gave him his orders personally, and duty often conflicted with one’s personal feelings, but that didn’t make it any better or easier knowing he just abandoned over 2,000 of his comrades…

Onboard the Samson…

“I’ll keep that in mind Sub… I mean Minister.” Murphy finishes, still distracted by tacticals on his desk. As the admiral hangs his vocomm up TacOp Seprodi steps out of the washroom drying his hands. “I was thinking of combining what’s left of Summers’ Battlegroup with either Hennessey’s or Phillip’s.”

“Oh, if you check cases’ Phillip’s fore got blown off by a suicide.” Seprodi reminded his Admiral.

“Oh…” Murphy said, checking the casualty report quickly. “It looks like we’ll be assigning the rest of…” There was a sudden, violent rumble through the ship. “What the hell was that?”

“… I don’t know.” Seprodi declared, one eyebrow raised. He picked up the vocomm. “Report. Yes… yes… be right down. Sir, it appears we have saboteurs.”

Admiral Muphy raises his head, tilted, “Where?” The both of them stand, heading out the door and toward the bridge.

“About thirty ships have reports and more are coming in, almost all attacks are in engineering.”

“Any detained?”

“Working on it.” Another violent rumble, but this time the pair are shaken, having to grope the walls to steady themselves.

“What the hell is going on here?” the Admiral demands, entering the bridge.

A deck officer turns, reporting “We’ve got surface to space fire from True Hope, sir from outside Trinidan… and an encrypted audio communication coming from the surface.”

“Bring it up.” The Admiral says.

"This is Kuma-adad Director Sandfox 309."

At the mention of the words Kuma-adad, Murphy’s stomach dropped and he drew back in habitual distaste.

"Admiral Murphy, what is your condition?"

“Condition normal. Why are my boats being hit with Liberation rounds?”

"Clergy led troops have captured the battery placement outside Trinidan. We suggest your fleet move out of range until the threat can be neutralized."

The Admiral snaps at Seprodi, pointing and signaling for a pen and paper. On it he writes –“GET MEN ON THE GROUND TO WATCH KA OPERATIONS”—

Seprodi nods and exits the bridge.

“Alright, Director. We’ll be moving.”

"Oh, and Admiral. Operatives have informed us there’s a high risk of sabotage in the fleet."

“We appreciate the warning, Director. We’ll keep good watch. Murphy out.” The Admiral changed from a calm, orderly mood to something more driven. “Put up a disruption field, now. All communications must be through channels N through R7. Nothing gets through to the surface unless I clear it.”

“Aye, sir” the officer replies just as Seprodi re-enters the room.

Admiral Murphy sees him enter. “TacOp, walk, now,” he declares, headed for the door. “I’ll be damned if a bunch of Kuma-adad thugs kill one damn serviceman at that battery or anywhere else. Issue orders to the Marine and Army generals that any Clergy activity is now a concern of the system military, not local or national security agencies. Deploy whatever troops necessary where necessary.”

“Aye, sir. And the saboteurs?”

The Admiral pauses mid-step, looking off for a moment. “Catch one, ask him what he knows, and then break him in half.”

Through-out the system…

Marine re-enforcements are sent out to assist the thinly spread ground troops through-out the system’s clergy controlled areas while on New Hope, the planet worst effected, the Automated Infantry is landed for it’s first wide-scale action.

The Argos class Automated Troop Transports launch out landing craft who immediately begin burning through the planet’s atmosphere. The landing crafts are designed for a blitzkrieg situation. They speed down the planet, their landing gear taking the brunt of what should be a damaging crash. The sides then open as the landing gear lower the craft to the ground, allowing the folded robotic troops to roll out in mass volumes as they are lowered by conveyors inside the craft. The troops then unfold and begin going about their orders.

By the hundreds of thousands the troops landed on various points on New Hope, all equipt with heavy armor vehicles, artillery, and anything else needed to take on the Clergy threat. There was obviously no intent of covert operation in the matter. Murphy meant to show his Kuma-adad counterparts that this issue was a military one.

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1334 Solar Forces Standard

“Admiral,” comes a hesitant voice from across the tactical display of the system. Hellings looks up, the anger in his eyes dissipating as they drift away from Holtzman’s message and see the nervous look ensign standing before him.

“Yes, Mr. Immerson?”

“Sir, Captain Mercutin sends word that he has successfully transferred the surviving members of the Erewohnese dreadnought to the detention facilities of his command. The ship is being thoroughly searched now, but Captain Mercutin wishes to know if you have further orders for the dreadnought.”

“The computer records?” Hellings asks with only false hope.

“Wiped, Admiral, for our capabilities at present, sir.”

“Tell Captain Mercutin he is to give the dreadnought a prize crew and see it back to Dylar.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Flag Com, transmit new orders to the heavy squadrons and the platforms. They are to form up in formation Beta-Rho-Rho Case Burn. Primary target is to be known population centers of Erewohn, with Heavy Squadron One and the platforms specifically targeting the capital of Erewohn. We will close an additional 1.5 million kilometers after the formation is assembled. And prepare to record a reply for Holtzman.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Hellings looks out toward Erewohn, its orbitals and defensive constructs glistening in the paling light of its primary. The flares of maneuvering warships start to eat away at some of the brilliance of the vision. Yes, it would be a prize to capture Erewohn fully entact, but Holtzman has demonstrated his ability to greatly enhance the Verniian war efforts over the decades. And Hellings is far from willing to allow his enemies to garner any advantages he can deny them into their hands.

To: Governor Holtzmann
From: Admiral Dolar Hellings, Commanding the Forces and Occupation of the Erewohnese system

Governor Holtzman,

By now your sensors and orbitals will have confirmed that my fleet has assembled and is even now targeting the major population centers and industrial grids of your world. I will reiterate that His Excellency and the Interim Governing Council have made it their policy not to negotiate or entreat with repressive overlords and regimes.

Therefore I will once again demand your absolute and unconditional surrender to my command and the Solar Navy of the Hegemony. Further attempts and perverse negotiation, or bargaining to save your own life will gain say you nothing. If you continue in this policy, and dare to threaten the integrity and continued existence of your orbitals I will open fire on your capital city and your major terrestrial industrial centers with the full force of my command.

This will be your only warning. I will expect your response within the next twenty-five standard minutes, or I will forward this demand to the public channels of the system and the ansible.

OOC: Wick, post will come later involving Ticonderoga.

OCC: As LRR.

IC:

Liberation Space

Although Ystad's command doesn't know very much about what's going on between the clergy and the Liberation government, it is soon obvious that something is going on, and reinforcements consisting of a cruiser squadron and four auxiliaries don't come a moment too soon.

But for the present time the squadron stays put, maintaining battle order while covering the repair and salvage operations. A call goes out to the Liberation Navy asking if they require assistance, but if the character of the struggle in Liberation space does indeed move from large-scale battle between warships to planetside operations, Ystad and the MSEF can offer very limited assistance at best.

Hammersmith Palais Station

As the aid flotilla departs towards Valinor supply yards, other concentrations of vessels begin to form up into battle order. If Valinon decides to enter the war on the anti-Ortagan side, Robotstan will be with it all the way.

Intelligence gathered from long-range surveillance probes dispatched to Erewhon prompts the Robotic Admiralty to accelerate its formation of battle squadrons, as it appears to most Robotic analysts that it is essentially overrun by Ortagan forces. The loss on the part of the Verniian navy of the vessels deployed in that particular system cannot, think Robotic admirals, be painless in a strategic sense, and there is much skepticism about New Ortaga's respect for good governance in occupied territories.

Erewohn

Grand Duke Holtzman, System Governor of Erewohn, had never felt so powerless. A part of his mind idly reflected that it must be what King Mardak IX had felt just before Holtzman's marines had gunned him down, or what the Crown Prince had felt before Holtzman had personally shot him.

Of course, that coup had been triggered by one of the King's Inquisitors deciding that he was a subversive element in the Navy, and required purging. So, to save his own life, he had taken a loyal company of his Marines, and had taken out the King before the rest of the government could even react.

And now he was in the place of King Mardak, surrounded by wealth and finery, decadence of every sort, and none of it could save him...unless...

Unless he could make himself useful. It'd be hard to do, considering how Ortagan state media probably labeled him as a decadent capitalist oppressor of the people, but he'd been in bad situations before, and got his way out of those.

He'd considered fleeing into the countryside, but Galt would send his security forces after him, and while he was clever, he'd be caught eventually. Caught and shot, if not worse. The only way he'd get out of it would be if the Imperium liberated the planet, but they had a pretty bad track record with wars, so that wasn't likely to happen. So one way gave him temporary life and almost certain death, and the other gave him a larger possibility of immediate death, but a chance at life...

***

To: Admiral Dolar Hellings
From: Grand Duke Holtzman, System Governor

Well...it would appear that I have no choice in this matter. As much as your government might portray me as an oppressive elitist, I have no desire to see my citizens slaughtered in an act of supreme brutality. As such, I surrender.

However, I'm not an idiot. I realize I am completely at your mercy, and as such, my survival will depend on making myself useful. Thus, I will give you my full cooperation on any matter in the administration of this system.

On the Samson...

"Admiral."

"Aye?" Murphy responds, watching the battle for New Babylon on New Hope intently on a Holoprojecter.

"The Robotic fleet is asking if it can give any further assistance."

On the holoprojector, the Automated Infantry's Argonauts storm the city; their many squads' movements only charted as red spartan helmets on the massive miniaturized city-scape.

"Lisa, load me the south-east quadrant of Trinidan"

A soothing feminine voice replied "Aye, sir," Instantly the blue-hued Vatican inspired city turned into one of massive sky-scrapers and super highways, this time the emblems being those of Liberation Marines, a red skull inside a yellow cresent Morning Star. Estiments of Clergy troop movements were simple green markers. The two different emblems collided here and there, the Marines taking quick victory in many cases but on occassion being held back.

"Commander, give me STG bombardments on these coordinants," handing the officer a small report sheet. "As for the Robots, tell them that their repairs have been invaluable and that we'd appreciate if they'd keep on with them. By now they've seen the ground action... tell them they shouldn't have to worry about any space-based assault. The action is primarily on the ground."

"Aye sir." The officer quickly buttled off to give out the orders but stops at Murphy's gesture.

"Also, detach Porter's and Stevenson's battle-groups to Centris. Have them keep a lookout for any Clergy action in the skies."

"Aye sir."

On the surface of True Hope, in the city of Trinidan, Clergy beds are lit up by fire from above only seconds after marine positions have been cleared. Meanwhile in space, a mass of healthy Liberation ships head out to the ends of the system to Centris as a precaution to any Clergy space-based efforts.

Meanwhile on Centris... (the system outskirts)

Marine Sergent Achmar Muhammed ducks out of the command tent on the outskirts of a mining camp three miles outside Cincinatti (no, not the one on earth). Heavy machine-gun fire rings in the distance of the cold, poorly terraformed air and the quiet whine of a few ill-maintained motorized armored, battle-ready marines echos throughout the camp. Heavy Armor divisions wear the insect-inspired exoskeletons, painted for desert combat but useful in the harsh and unvegitated environs, marching in formation out to battle.

Quickly the dark man finds his platoon, which is readying itself to head for the front line. At his arrival the men and women's efficiency shows a dramatic increase; many throwing on their underarmor in a rush and hopping into their suits. Achmar approaches his suit, marked by a singular red stripe accross the sides of the shoulders and headgear, and steps inside easily enough. The rear-side closes mechanically and he turns to his troops. "GRUNTS, MOVE OUT!"

A collective "RAHAY!" is grunted by the soldiers, the traditional shout of the Liberation Marines.

Heavy Armor: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v251/redarmyagent/marinearmorheavydescamo.jpg

Deep in the subterranean levels that honeycomb the ground underneath the Glockhauser-Engelmann Complex—the pulsating heart of Her Imperial Majesty’s Armed Forces High Command and His Lordship the Reichsprotektor’s General Staff on the fringes of New Koln—the information from the Farseer probes has been received. Now, less than an hour later, the lords of the Kriegsmarine set in conference—either in person or in holographic forms—before Reichsprotektor Lord Adonis and six of his staff’s “tactical coordinators”.

Reynard Adonis sweeps across the ten men and women wearing the white and gold of Kriegsmarine grossadmirals. He has no doubt many of them may already have an idea of what has happened. Certainly Ansel and his skulking lackeys have made no secret of their war against three separate nations in the Raumreich. And although Adonis is loathe to admit it, the Ortagans have done very well for themselves in what is for the moment a three-fronted war. Evidence even suggests the vast Hegemony may well contemplate war on even more fronts. The Ministry of External State Security remains firm in its opinion that the Ortagans will open a front against the Vaku, and may possibly be considering attack the Vaterland itself.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Adonis says gravely, “I will operate under the assumption that you all are aware that the actions of the Ortagan Hegemony have caused me to call you all here. And I will proceed quickly, as time is now very much of the essence. Stephan, if you would,” Adonis gestures to the massive projector the circular conference area is centered on.

“Thank you, Sir Reynard,” Earl Stephan Gorgas—Second Star Lord and head of the Office of Kriegsmarine Intelligence—pauses for a moment, his n-plant linking with the Complex’s systems. “Four hours ago our Farseer probes in the Erewohn, Morning Star, and Ticonderoga launched their dump capsules to Klein, Yalta, and Vakutu. After decoding the data, we have assembled a full situation of the war as it stands now.”

A vast map of the sea of stars hurls itself into existence and then rapidly spirals inward to focus on the vast expanse of the border of the Ortagan Great March and the nations the Hegemony has put itself into conflict with. Names flash into existence, with the systems of Morning Star, Erewohn, Ticonderoga, and the Ortagan fortress system of Dylar being highlighted in red.

“To give a quick summary,” Gorgas says somberly, “the progress of the war has been delivered handily into the hands of the Hegemony. Admiral Hellings’ rebuilt Outer Frontier Security Fleet deployed from Dylar—supported by an as of now still unknown means of producing FTL capable missiles—and has either destroyed or forced the surrender of the warships of the combined Verniian Imperial Navy and the Erewohnese Grand Fleet. At the time of the Farseer capsules’ departure from the system, Hellings was conducting surrender talks with Grand Duke Holtzman and threatening to open with a general bombardment of the planet if Holtzman did not hand over Erewohn’s orbital infrastructure intact. Although we cannot currently confirm this assessment, OKI full believes that Holtzman will concede the system—intact—to Hellings and his command.”

“Our estimates for the battle put the Verniian navy proper’s losses as low, all considered. However, the total destruction of the Grand Fleet represents a loss of a full third of their naval reserves. And the loss of Erewohn means that the Verniians will have to conduct their war efforts from Gregor itself.”

“Morning Star and Ticonderoga have faired somewhat better than Erewohn. The attacks on both systems were once again proceeded by an FTL missile strike, but the forces that followed were apparently the Ortagan Observer corps—not Solar Navy forces. We can attribute the survival of the Collective and Concordat forces to the poor demonstration of Observer tactical abilities.”

“In Morning Star, while the Observers did do considerable damage to the infrastructure and standing forces of the Silver Fleet, we believe the Collective can still defend itself. But reports have been confirmed that Admiral Setties is dead-“

“Even the Observers can occasionally prove themselves worthy of existence,” mummers Sir Waldemar de Graff, Eighth Star Lord and Commander of the Greater Raumreich Tactical Theater.

“Indeed. However, Setties death combined with the Ortagan attack have effectively lobotomized the current government in Morning Star. We have also received reports from the ESS confirming the early hints collected by the Farseers that there is an active insurgency across the Collective Protectorates and the Silver Fleet. The origin of this fleet, per Dame Antigone’s ESS adjutant and liaison, is the old clergy element that has apparently been lying dormant for decades. With the absent of a clear successor to Setties, and the total lack of a central authority at present, Morning Star could very well erupt into an internal civil war.”

“Ticonderoga has faired the best of all the systems attacked by the Hegemony. The Wickians have apparently taken to heart the lessons they should have learned after their first war with the Ortagans and steeled themselves against further assault. I will also confirm the reports that the HMS Chimera and the HMS Broadsword moved to engage the Observers with the Concordat naval forces after Kapitan Tereshkova disabled the system’s ansible connection platform,” several faces around the table grimace—a secret has been revealed the Star Empire was not quite ready to show in Ticonderoga.

“The Concordat Navy and our own elements had effectively repulsed the bulk of the Ortagan attack at the time our Farseer probes dispatched their capsules. A few scattered Observer elements remained, largely committing themselves to suicide attacks against Wickian warships and infrastructure. We expect that Kapitan Tereshkova will soon reactivate the ansible connection and confirm our reports.”

“Finally, we have reports from inside the Great March and the movements of the Vaku. I am afraid I must confirm that the alliance between Mesa and New Ortaga has solidified into tangible support in this war. There has been considerable activity in Mesa, and it appears that the Ortagans are supporting their current operations with genetic clones. We do not know what type of clones these are, but I have no doubt we will soon see their use demonstrated to us along one of the fronts. Secondly, a massive troop convoy departed from Dylar approximately eight hours ago using a warp-gate. We suspect they moved into either the Yetti’s Star or Thetis system, so they can move to Erewohn and either enforce an occupation or start an invasion.”

“The Vaku have also been responding to the movements of the Hegemony. Three days ago what was essential the core of the entire Imperial Navy left Vakutu, supposedly for tactical exercises and drills in the Sum’Tlor system. We have now reports that a least one day ago that same force left Sum’Tlor on a course projection that takes them well into the Great March, specifically on a course that will either take them to Dylar or Erewohn.”

“I do not believe that the Vaku are going to try and challenge Hellings fleet outright. But I believe they intend to take the war to Ortaga while they still can, and nar Hhallas has often demonstrated his belief that a war to specifically destroy the Ortagan infrastructure on the side of the Great March closest to Vaku space is absolutely necessary to ensure the survival of his nation. The Vaku clearly intend to launch an attack on Ortagan held systems while Hellings is engaged with the Verniian, in the hope that he will be unable to engage both them, the Verniians, and the Wickians effectively.”

“We also have at present a full Vaku carrier squadron currently awaiting transit at the Alpha Centauri/Gregor terminus. The commanding officer of that squadron is none other than Crown Prince Rakta, and although he has so far no disclosed the full intent of his orders from Emperor Thrakhath, it is clear the Vaku are moving to support the Verniians in defense of Gregor.”

Adonis inclines his head, querying to see if Gorgas has completed his report. Gorgas nods to the ancient Sardaukar turned Reichsprotektor.

“That is all, My Lord.”

“Thank you, Stephan,” Adonis leans forward. “But I would like the full assessment of OKI. Given the current conditions, and without a significant change in the disposition of forces, what are the current projections for this war.”

Gorgas hesitates for a moment, “My Lord, if Morning Star falls into civil war it is only a matter of time before the Ortagans move a formal military force from Axis or Seljuk in to claim it wholesale. On the opposite side of the Great March, even if the Vaku and the Wickians do move to save the Verniians, it is highly probable that the Ortagan will simply relocate additional forces from their core systems and crush the Vaku and the Wickians with numbers they cannot hope to defeat. Or we cannot dismiss the possibility that the Ortagans will simply disregard the Wickians and the Vaku for the movement and choose to reinforce Hellings’ fleet in Erewohn and move on Gregor.”

“If Hellings is reinforced, especially by the Solar Navy’s home fleets, it is likely all the Verniians will be able to do is to bleed the Ortagans as much as possible. And once Gregor falls, the Imperium of Vernii will effectively cease to be a participant in this war. If Vernii falls, it will only be a matter of time before the Wickians follow suit and then the Vaku after them—unless we intervene per our alliance agreement.”

“What is the probability of an Ortagan victory in the eyes of OKI?” Adonis speaks the words the entire Admiralty dreads.

“Seventy-seven to eighty-six percent, My Lord.”

“As I feared,” Adonis mummers. “Thank you, Stephan.”

Adonis turns to the assembled officers, “I have already presented what you just heard to Her Majesty and to the Ministry of Imperial Affairs (OOC: Roughly the equivalent to the Cabinet, basically all the ministry heads and government officials.) and although Prime Minister Rolt will have to take the matter before the Lords, Her Majesty has recognized the time for action is now. Per Her Majesty’s orders the entirety of the armed forces are to be placed on red alert. Secondly, a full fleet element is to be assembled from the Imperial Yaltan Navy and supported by units of the Reichswehr. This element is to be dispatched to Morning Star in no less than twelve hours time and is to express to whomever is claiming control of that system that the Star Empire will either see order restored by local authorities of the legitimate government or it will declare the Morning Star system to be a protectorate of the Star Empire and move to restore order in the name of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government. Waldemar?” Adonis turns his eyes to the commander of the Greater Raumreich Tactical Theater who has under his command the Imperial Yaltan Navy—one of the dominion raised naval reserves within the Star Empire.

“Yes, My Lord.”

“What sort of element can you spare and still be able to maintain minimum defensive requirements for the system of the while maintaining full deployment standards as well?”

De Graff pauses for a moment, conferencing over Nu-space, “Three battlecruiser squadrons, a battleship division, a cruiser squadron, and a destroyer flotilla, My Lord. Tentatively command would most likely be Konteradmiral Flynn.”

“It will have to suffice. Next we have the matter of Gregor. I am loathe to dispute Stephan’s assessments, but I sincerely doubt Hellings will allow himself to be distracted by the Wickians and the Vaku. While Hellings himself may not hold much to the ‘inherent superiority’ of Ortagans over the Wickians and the Vaku, that belief in the halls of Roum and in the bunkers of Axis will guide his actions to face the threat the powers-that-be see as the most powerful and capable. And if Hellings moves against Gregor, Her Majesty is not for an instant willing to entertain the possibility a system that directly links to Alpha Centauri could fall into Ortagan hands.”

Adonis’ eyes sweep across the Star Lords again, “Therefore Her Majesty wants all deployable elements of the Kriegsmarine in Yalta, Madras, and Alpha Centauri; Imperial Yaltan Navy; Imperial Madrasi Navy; and Imperial Centauri Navy ready to move to support the defense of Gregor at a moment’s notice. Traffic control at the Alpha Centauri/Gregor terminus is to be ready to suspend operations and clear the transit line within fifteen minutes, the deployable elements of the Kriegsmarine and Imperial Centauri Navy will move to the terminus perimeter so they can complete and orderly transit as quickly as possible.”

“My Lord, if I may,” interjects Count Bafrid Leopold, commander of the Vaterland Tactical Theater.

“Proceed, Bafrid.”

“What if our intervention drives the Ortagans to use sunbusters?”

Adonis breathes out heavily for a moment, “That possibility has been considered. Taking into account the reports of the ESS, the belief is still strong that the Ortagans will only authorize the use of their sunbuster arsenal if there is no clear alternative to secure victory. Given their actions to date in this war, we believe the Ortagan authorities in Roum and Axis are growingly increasingly confident in their ability to achieve a conclusive victory by what they dub as ‘conventional means’. And if it is conventional means, we can meet them on at the very least equal footing in every respect.”

Adonis does not even employ the word singularity weapons. The Star Empire built its own to specifically counter the Ortagan threat, no matter how much it goads the warlords of the Empire. But, like sunbusters, there is an accord between the Hegemony and the Star Empire. If one employs either weapons against the other, they become a target for retaliation by similar means.

“There is also another fact that needs to be addressed here,” Adonis says gravely. “This war cannot be won by our efforts alone. Even with the reserves provided by the dominions, the Ortagans would still enjoy a two-to-one or three-to-one advantage on us. If this becomes a war of attrition, it is one we cannot afford. It is therefore in our best interests to preserve as much of the military capacity of Vernii, Liberated New Hope, the Concordat, and the Vaku as possible. Once we move against the Hegemony, it will be of absolute necessity to turn this war into an allied front against the entirety of the Hegemonic war machine.”

“My Lord,” Katherine Adonis, First Star Lord of the Kriegsmarine and daughter of the Reichsprotektor breaks her long silence. The First Star Lord has been in a sort of seclusion as of late, one of the many still trying to come to terms with the failure of the Star Empire’s “containment policy” in regards to the Hegemony. “I must also add a point.”

“Please continue, Katherine.”

“My Lord, if this is to be an allied front, we need someone who can unite all the other fleets and armies of the alliance under our banner. We need someone who has at the very least the respect of assembled nations of the Raumreich, and currently we do not have such a person in our active ranks.”

Adonis smiles quietly behind a raised hand, already knowing where this is going, “And who would you propose as such a leader, Katherine?”

“My Lord, I will strongly encourage both Her Majesty and yourself to seek to reactive Grossadmiral Forrest as a full officer of the Kriegsmarine and place him in command of an allied front against the Ortagans.”

“Encouragement is not necessary, Katherine. This is an undeniable necessity if we are to achieve victory, I will present this matter to Her Majesty at once. I believe she can take it from there.”

There are mummers of approval across the table.

“Then with that, this meeting is concluded,” Adonis says. “Ladies, Gentlemen, I would encourage you all to prepare your forces as much as possible but to also allow them a moment’s respite. This is the final calm before the storm, and once it has passed there will be no rest unless there is victory or the final rest that is found in defeat.”

Ticonderoga system, Concordat of the Wick
06.01.1300 AF
1232 Solar Forces Standard

Deprived of their “commander” with the loss of Monitor #18, the remnants of Garbaldi’s flotilla rapidly dissolves into a mindless, haphazard attack against whatever is closest to them. The tactically lobotomized Observer warships quickly discover their grave miscalculation once the survivors emerge from the raging torrent of nuclear energy and debris generated by the Wickian fusion warhead strike.

The sleek frames of the Ansel class monitors fly outward, some streaking off debris and atmosphere in an eerie tail that gives them an almost angelic quality. Sensors and eyes still deadened by the fires of the fusion warheads, the scattered remnants of formations slowly lurch around to find new targets, only to find that they themselves have become them.

To the credit of their tireless fanaticism, the Observers still try to reorient and fly at their Wickian opponents once again, but it is a move that is far too late. The first wave of missiles rips into the racing warships and their own explosions are mirrored by smaller echoes made by the death throws of the monitors. Armor, weapons, and flesh melt and warp as the Observers’ drive to visit death upon their enemies is turned back against them. The concentrated firepower of the Concordat defenders, combined with the break down in coordination and ability within the Observers’ own force, brings the touch of war that has gripped the Ticonderoga system to a close.

As the dissipating energy and gases swirl away into the vacuum of space, the outcome of the Wickian defense becomes clear. All that remains of the Observer force are scattered hulks and bleeding wrecks. Once sleek and agile forms now resemble nothing more than twisted scrap and industrial waste. The attack on the Concordat has ended, and the silence that results from it will rapidly find its way back to Roum.

Ticonderoga System
Capital of The WIckian Concordat

In just less then twenty four standard hours the Observer assault on the WIckians last remaining and most vital of systems was over. It was not a one-sided nor a bloodless victory, the Observers suffered 100% percent casualties. It is true that there could have been some survivors in the battered and crippled hulks of the Observer Monitors or perhaps in any life pods that may have been ejected , but in the end there were no survivors to collect. Every hulk was blasted into scrap, any and every life pod found in the system was blasted into nothingness. Some were say such an ending was better then they deserved that death by exposure would have been more just, it seems that they would be disappointed.

Some in other parts of the Raumreich who did not understand the hatred that existed between WIckians and the fanatics of Kendra Ansel’s observers. It wasn’t murder or a war crime to those who executed the surviving Observers it was simply vengeances against the same people who just wiped out fifteen million of their friends and family. The Rage of a WIckian is an infamous thing, in this part of the Raumreich one did not have many friends in a sense the Southern March was a completely different territory then the other spheres of influence the Vernii or the Valinor controlled. Events were much more dirty in these parts, much more personal. One did not have many friends in this area and he would protect his family and home with such fervor and conviction that would be shocking to many others but those few other who could understand.

Effectively only forty percent of Commodore Trell’s command remained combat effective, six of his battle cruisers were destroyed and two more were so heavily damaged they would never fight again. Five of his heavy cruisers were also destroyed, and not a single ship of his command left the battle unscathed. But his command however battered it was completed its mission. The Observer force was eliminated, but not before they and the missile barrage that came before them inflicted damage. Millions of WIckian civilians were blown out of existence in the first moments of the battle. The loss of so many civilians hurt the WIckian people greatly but in the cold and harsh realities of war the CSN was thankful for the Observers preference to instill fear instead of working to cripple the Concordat’s fragile industrial base.

As the initial fires of war were extinguished the WIckians took stock at the events of the past day, it was neither too good or bad. But the Wickians were a cynical and bitter people and so they were used to the situation. The vast majority of Wickians were also realists they viewed the intergalactic collection of nations and peoples of the Raumreich as an anarchical system. It was a system which they thought could not be changed, but it so happened that there was one important WIckian who didn‘t share that view of thinks, the only shocking thing was who this WIckian was….


OOC: more forthcomming after some sleep

Across the distance of empty void, a single star glows prominent among its numerous cousins. In a straight diagonal from the star rests a single, blinking construct—a thing of harsh angles and comm antennas. It is an older model navigation beacon; laid years earlier by one of the destroyers of the Imperial Navy that long scouted and observed the Ortagan holdings in the Great March. And it almost mocks the power that surrounds it by serving as the focal point of an entire fleet.

Two lines of eight carriers each are escorted by three neatly regimented rows of dreadnought squadrons on each side. Spiraling out from the core formation are staggered formation of three cruisers, escorted by six destroyers each. Finally, the more vulnerable escort destroyers hug the dorsal and ventral approaches of the carrier/dreadnought core formation.

Ralgha nar Hhallas stares out across the distance, still filled with the remnants of trepidation as the nuclear fires of Dylar reach out and beacon him to purge the Ortagans from the system. This is the final move before the attack, and for six hours since the fleet departed the nameless system almost a light century away from Dylar nar Hhallas has waited the return of the four modified Sorthak-class super-heavy fighters. The modified Sorthaks sacrificed most of their weaponry for the sake of dedicated sensor packages and a full cloaking system—the by-product of a joint Valinor/Vaku naval research program.

“Registering an unidentified reentry into normal space, Lord Kalralahr,” comes the rapid reply from the senior Second Fang in charge of the sensor section. “Vector places unidentified craft on a course from Dylar, energy emissions are consistent with the departure of a fighter-sized craft completing a Verner jump.”

“My Lord, receiving secure transmission from unidentified craft under our codes, verifying now,” nar Hhallas nods calmly at the words of the comm officer. The standard routine is comforting at this point, even though it is almost assured of who the newly arrived fighters are.

“Verification is confirmed, My Lord. Second Fang Regalr is uploading his report now and is proceeding to return to the Notakgak.”

“Transmit it to my station,” nar Hhallas says quickly and moves away from the view of the stars toward his own area near the rear of the bridge.

“Yes, My Lord.”

Nar Hhallas reads over the horded data from Dylar, allowing the quite quiver of the expectant bridge crew to mull over his brain as he processes the reports. The Ortagans have indeed left their fortress system bear, with only a scattering of system pickets and the static defenses left to protect the behemoth array of ship yards, dry-docks, supply caches, and terrestrial facilities from attack. The only major activity was the departure of a massive force of transports and freighters, escorted by monitors and war-frigates, on an apparent course to either Yetti’s Star or Erewohn.

For a moment nar Hhallas has a moment of dread, wondering if the ideal conditions are an elaborate ruse and if Hellings does not have a reserve fleet in orbit waiting to return to Dylar and destroy what is essential the core of the entire Imperial Navy. But nar Hhallas rapidly suppresses that thought. Even the Ortagans, with their seemingly insurmountable numbers, cannot be everywhere at once. And Hellings, either by personal choice or by the dictates of Roum, has ignored the Greater Empire, disregarding them as a threat at least for the immediate present in this war. It is a mistake he will soon live to regret.

“Comm, signal the fleet to prepare for jump in five minutes. And prepare to record this message.”

“Ready, My Lord.”

“Honored brothers of claw and fang, the time to make our declaration of a war of kaga is now at hand. Soon we will move against the Ortagan paki and become the ultimate symbol of takhars (brothers of equal rank) struggling against an enemy that would burn all of us from the stars without a second thought, that would defame our Blessed Emperor, and would wage war against Sivar herself if it was possible. Today we move to end this blasphemy, this insult to all that we are and all that we will be. We will be the culmination of our oaths to our Emperor, Sivar, and our hrai. We will be the eyes and ears that seek their enemies, the mind and spirit to do their bidding, and the teeth and claws that rend their foes. And if we should fail here, we shall rend our own throats before allowing a single paki to move toward the homeworld.”

Nar Hhallas takes a deep breath, the bloodlust and desire for victory in the bridge is tangible, an entire added rank of warriors crammed into the economical space that was partially Valinor engineered.

“Ek'rah skabak erg Thrak'Vakutu maks Rag'nith!” nar Hhallas adds in a final terse bark.

“Ek'rah skabak erg Thrak'Vakutu maks Rag'nith!” echoes the bridge crew.

“Comm, transmit,” nar Hhallas says in an eerie calm.

“Transmitted, My Lord.”

“Prepare for jump.”

“Verners primed and entering final countdown now, My Lord,” comes the reply from astrogation.

The responses to nar Hhallas’ cry echo across the comm as the fleet starts to disappear in flashes of blue-white energy and light. The Greater Empire’s war against the Ortagan Hegemony has become, and as always it will be undertaken for the glory of Vakutu, the Emperor, and the Empire.

**********

On the fringes of the Dylar mid-system, normal space is suddenly rent asunder on the sunward edge of the Kuiper Belt. The assembled might of the Imperial Navy’s core fleets spills outward into the Ortagan fortress system and starts to build its acceleration, its course clearly centered on the third world of the system that serves as the focal point of the Ortagan operations and defenses.

Suddenly the fleet erupts in a greater surge of numbers as hundreds of agile fighters and brutish bombers boil forward out of launch bays of the carriers and dreadnoughts. The Imperial Navy does not transmit a request for the system defenders to stand down, they may no formal declaration of war. This is an attack known as jak-tu—to spring upon a prey making full use of the element of surprise—to start the war of kaga. And it allows the enemies of the Emperor and Vakutu no room to cower beneath the cover of surrender.

Roughly eleven light minutes out from New Hope blue-white energy tears an exit point into normal space. From the swirling nexuses of light and energy come the ships of Her Majesty’s Imperial Yaltan Navy, one of the dominion raised “navies” that serve as the reserve and support for the Kriegsmarine. Four battleships, twenty-four battlecruisers, twelve cruisers, thirty-two destroyers, and a frigate enter the Morning Star system. Slightly behind their formation are four massive transports bearing the insignia of Her Imperial Majesty’s Reichswehr.

Immediately a network of Ferret-class drones and Precentor-class drones start to spiral off from the battleships and battlecruisers. The Ferrets streak outward, probing into the Morning Star system and surveying the damage from the recently ended battle between the Protectorate Silver Fleet and the Ortagan Observers, while the Precentors follow a far more reserved course acting as the primary forward scouts for the main Yaltan formation.

On the flag bridge of the HMYS Reliant, Konteradmiral Michael Flynn listens as the reports start to flow in. Fregattenkapitan William Durant, his chief of staff, studies the rapidly updating scenery in the tactical holotank with Flynn. Durant watches as his admiral nods to the flag comm and CIC liaison he was currently listening to reports from, and grimaces as the two walk away.

“It is as bad as we feared, Will.”

“Sir?”

“A surprising amount of the Silver Fleet did survive the engagement with the Observers. But we still are getting no definitive reports as to how much logistical reserve and infrastructure the Collective Protectorates retained. Common comm frequencies for the Silver Fleet and the Collective Army are confirming OKI and ESS reports that Admiral Setties is dead, and there has been no clear successor since most of the standing ‘government’ went with him when the Observers destroyed Setties’ little palace.”

Flynn looks up and eyes Durant grimly, “They are also numerous reports of mutiny, sabotage, and insurrection through the military and government attributed to the remnants of the Clergy. The extent is unclear because even the Protectorate government—what there is to be had of it—doesn’t even know how far the problem extends. Marines and army units are engaging insurgents across the surface, and the fleet is trying to apprehend the saboteurs. In its simplest form, any sort of central authority and order in Morning Star has effectively collapsed.”

Durant grimaces on his own, “It is only a matter of time before reports like this reach Axis or Roum.”

“And we all know where that will lead,” Flynn says tersely. “These simple-minded little bigots have had their way long enough, and they’ve tried the patience of Her Majesty and Prince James far too long. It is high time someone saved them from themselves, and well before their little internal squabbles hand the Ortagans a system infrastructure on a platter.”

“Agreed, sir,” Durant says, keeping his own thoughts reserved. Flynn and many in the Yaltan Navy service have long hated the Liberation citizens and their Verniian allies. Durant isn’t surprised, considering the actions the two nations took against the old Royal Yaltan Navy during the War of the Lion. And for those that survived that way—and now serve in the Imperial Yaltan Navy—the same bitter mindset remains: a desperate need to prove that they are superior to the upstarts in Gregor and Morning Star.

“Comm, prepare to record a message for general system broadcast.”

“Recording signal ready on your implant, sir.”

“Thank you, Kent,” Flynn mentally activates the recording mode. “Silver Fleet Commander, this is Konteradmiral Michael Flynn of Her Majesty’s Imperial Yaltan Navy. I am here on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government to express their desire to restore order to this system and prevent its seizure by the armed forces of the Ortagan Hegemony or other outside powers. We will move to bring swift closure to this insurrection and work to establish at the very least an interim authority that can safe-guard this system’s civil and military resources until such time a legitimate government can be installed by the Collective Protectorates citizenry. My command will proceed in-system and will move to enter orbit within two standard hours. Flynn out.”

“Message away, sir.”

“Thank you, and please inform Kapitan Matthews I will be joining him on the bridge.”

“Aye, sir.”

Flynn nods and turns to Durant, “Shall we take our leave, Will?”

“At your discretion, sir.”

A few moments later the pair leave the flag bridge.

Ticonderoga

The crew aboard RNS Lydd watches as the last Ortagan monitors are destroyed by WIckian fire, and then moves in towards the remaining WIckian ships. Being only a small minesweeper, the Lydd's utility is limited, but captain Marley N'Djamenia offers the vessel's services again, this time for destroying unexploded ordnance.

Unbeknownst to Marley, or the WIckians for that matter, the 3rd Robotic Battle Squadron (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=417731&page=2) under Flag Admiral Zimbra Byrne, dispatched to Ticonderoga several days earlier is moments away from arriving. The first vessel from Byrne's battlegroup to exit hyperspace is RNS Dreadnought, the Robotic Navy's largest and most powerful vessel, and Byrne's flagship. At over 2,000 meters length, it is a formidable warship and hopefully amounts to a useful addition to the Ticonderogan fleet.

Along with the Dreadnought itself come the dreadnoughts Conqueror and Thunderer, as well as several Royal Soveriegn class battleships, cruisers, and destroyers. All in all, the Robotic commitment numbers over 40 vessels, including eight ships-of-the-line.

"Attention Ticonderogan fleet, this is the 3rd Robotic Battle Squadron. Is there anything we can do to assist?"
"Oh my, it appears as though we've missed the battle!"
"There are substantial debris fields, sah. The tactical observers must have already come and left."
"Well," says Admiral Byrne, "that's certainly no good. Admiral, oh...Commodore...Commodore Trell, is it?"
"Yes, sah."
"Commodore Trell? This is Admiral Zimbra Byrne. My most sincere apologies for missing the battle. I'm afraid we were unaware of the pace of events and expected an attack from the Solar Navy, not the Tactical Observers, to be visited on your system. We are now here and are at your service."

Near New Hope, Morning Star

As Liberation government institutions fall apart across the system, the 2nd Robotic Battle Squadron maintains battle formation perfectly. Contingents of marines stand by for deployment, as it seems quite likely that some use could be found for them, but in the absence of orders from the Silver Fleet precious little action is taken.

However, the arrival of the Yaltan Navy brings relief to Ystad's squadron.

"Sah, new contacts!"

The Yaltan vessels show up on the tactical plot first as blue shapes, blue designating bogey, and a tense moment passes before the blue changes to a friendly green. If the Yaltan Navy was actually the Ortagan battlegroup charged with destroying LNH, Admiral Ystad would not be in at all a good spot.

"Hello Yaltan vessels, this is Admiral Lem Ystad of the 2nd Robotic Battle Squadron. Its wonderful to have you here, as reinforcements are rather badly needed."

Not long after the Yaltans arrive, Sub-Admiral Ulyanov Zambezi's Cruiser Squadron C materializes nearby and moves to join the main Robotic formation.

On the Samson...
Murphy continues to watch the holoprojection, currently surveying the progress of a rather large street-fight in downtown Kahunborrow on True Hope. The red and green markers float gracefully around and within the buildings, occasionally meeting and disappearing here and there.

Suddenly a shout rings across the bridge, “Inbound, inbound. We have units inbound!”

Murphy sprints over to the tactical readout, assuming the worst, only to be releaved and then simultaniously annoyed. Though Murphy was a sensible man and didn’t see the Valinor as quite the threat all the propaganda had made them out to be, that didn’t mean he was required to like them.

“They’re Valinor… and there broadcasting.”

“Bring it on audio.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

Murphy listened to the message seemingly uneffected and upon its conclusion glanced over at the Comm officer. “Broadcast this back…”

“Aye, sir.”

“Attention Yaltan Forces:

While your presence and assistance during this time is appreciated, the legitimate government of the Liberation is still operational as the now passed Admiral Setties’ rank has been passed on to me.

As to your involvement in this conflict, I will be forwarding you tactical information on clergy operations on the ground where your assistance will be most needed. I suggest your naval forces stand ready for the oncoming Ortagan second wave.

Fleet Admiral Sean Murphy”

“Sent, sir.”

“Alright, now; get me the Verniians on the comm.” The Admiral barked.

“Connected, sir.”

“Attention, Verniian MS Command:

This is current Fleet Admiral Sean Murphy seeking immediate communication with Verniian commander. Requesting possible additional Verniian assistance in defense of Morning Star.

Murphy Out.”

“Sent, sir.”

“Alright,” Murphy declared, stepping away from the Comm, “Now, inform the fleet and ground troops of the situation. The Valinor are NOT to be fired upon or mistreated.”

“Aye, sir.”

Admiral Murphy then exited the bridge, closely followed by TacOp Seprodi. “Suggest the Valinor assist automated forces on New Hope. Avoids conflicts with Marines,” Seprodi advises, leaning forward a bit to keep up with Murphy.

“We’ll be sending them to New Hope and Centris. The Homeland is reserved for our boys,” the Admiral says, coldly.

“Understood… Naval presence?” Seprodi Inquired.

“Stick them above the himfeer 7 (military slang, South-West hemesphere), we need someone waiting in case the Ortagans enter and try to take production there, now move.”

“Aye, sir.” Seprodi said, turning around to head back down and forward the Admiral’s orders.

[OOC: Here’s information/crap going on I don’t feel like writing out…

Information fowarded to Valinon:
Clergy now contols the northern quarter of New Babylon on New Hope and several other cities along with different wilderness areas. They also control a string of cities in the North on Centris.

It is suggested that Valinon troops assist Automated troops take New Babylon in the South East hemesphere as well as the Red Forest in the North East Hemesphere, which appears to be the location of a supply root to Clergy Forces in a city farther east (Hansborrough). Upon clearing the forest they are welcome to assist taking Hansborrough. (In both campaigns they will be heavily assisted with Automated troops who will offer their complete cooperation). Other Clergy controlled areas on the planet are already near defeat.

On Centris Valinor men will be guided to Cincinatti and the mining camps surrounding it. There is a high risk for contact with Liberation Marines, but with proper measures there should be little casualties due to friendly fire.

The Valinor are given no information about the Status of True Hope accept that the situation is “under control.”

Furthermore, the Yalten Navy is instructed to either support its troops on the ground or help protect the opposite side of the planet from the Ortagan second wave.

STUFF I DON’T FEEL LIKE WRITING OUT…

Trinidan, on True Hope, is slowly being taken, but will most certainly be won in the next few weeks. On the Samson, a sabatour has been brought over from another ship and is currently being interrogated]

Ticonderoga System
Side Six
Government Section
Capital of the WIckian Concordat

President of the Concordat Ginske was a man who had done much soul searching in the past hectic day. Before the resumption of hostilities he had hoped with every fiber of his being that this conflict could have been avoided. It was after all the fault of men like Strength and Villers and their supporters in the Navy, simply could not understand game theory…by arming ourselves to the extent we had in the past we poised a security dilemma to the Ortagan Hegemony and they responded to our threat the only way they knew how and that was with force.

He was relived to be sworn in as the President he had thought there was time enough to remove the Concordat’s forces from their entangling foreign alliances. We could have just isolated our forces in a defensive posture and we would have been ignored. Let Erewohn and Vernii be damned, they abandoned us twice so let them see how it feels for a change, the President thought. He saw now that he was wrong…the Ortagans would have hit his nation no matter what course of action his nation had taken. It seemed impossible but the only way to ensure the Ortagan Hegemony would not repeat this most recent attack was to completely destroy its ability to make war. And by the Tester the WIckians would…at all costs.

“And so Mr. President,” The words still came out of Admiral of the Fleet Peregrine’s mouth with difficulty but one did not have to respect the man as much he the rank. In fact as Ginske looked at the officers of the War Council he realized every man and women in the room regarded him as a threat, he could blame them given his actions in the past. “Evacuation of our non-combatants have begun in earnest. We have freighters leaving hourly to several destinations, most are being evacuated to pre-established camps in Amber and Sanctuary, however the Valinor have confirmed the admission of refugees into their territory.”

“That is good news admiral, I know it pains us all to have to execute this course of action but we have seen in the past the Solar Navy’s lack respect for the rules of war and its cost on our civilian population. We have a duty to ensure our people’s safety by evacuating what we can…”

His voice became a bit icy with his next statement. “I know many of you in this room were a part of Mr. Villers base of support, you did not vote me into office but it matters not, the people have put their good faith into my office and I will not violate that sacred trust. I am also sure of your expertise and patriotism. I will ask then that you do not question mine.”

“Admiral Peregrine I am not a military man and I will not pretend to understand your job, I will leave the conduct and execution of this war in your hands. I authorize the use of force against our enemies however best you see fit Admiral. We all know our duty, lets be about it this war will require our full measure.” The President of the Concordat now stood. “I am now going to appease the fears of Congress, the war is yours to fight.” With that the tired looking man who was the President turned to leave the room. The words he heard next were much to his surprise.

“Room Attention!” The President heard the voice of Admiral Peregrine though he couldn’t believe it at first, but the sounds of the officers of the CSN jumping to their feet confirmed their actions as the President turned around.

“Mr. President, we offer our wishes for the quick rehabilitation of your son, he is an asset to our Navy. Your orders are fully understood and we will carry them out to the best of our ability.” The Admiral’s arm came up in a perfect salute. “Strength and Honor.”

“Strength and Honor” The president repeated the Navy’s motto and battle cry as he returned the salute and finally left the room. For a few moments he did not seem to be the overstressed and exhausted man he was before the quick meeting with his naval officers.

OCC: Just in case it isn't overlooked, I've got a post in there as well, in which a Robotic fleet finally arrived in Ticonderoga, characteristically late.

Robotstan has also (I believe officially, but perhaps I never RP'd it) declared its support for the 'agreived parties' (ie. those fighting New Ortaga) although has not yet gone so far as to declare war on the Hegemony. As I believe I've stated, Robotic policy supports Valinon fully and is strongly supportive of WIckian efforts as well.

I know the RFS isn't much and only amounts to a rather insignificant force by the standards of the greater Raumreich and occupies its rightful place as a 'periphery' entity, but the RFS has at its disposal significant shipyard facilities which are at the disposal of WIckian forces especially, which I believe I've previously stated but which might be worthy of re-iteration.

So that's just FYI. Sorry to clutter the thread with OCC banter.

Ticonderoga

"Hello Yaltan vessels, this is Admiral Lem Ystad of the 2nd Robotic Battle Squadron. Its wonderful to have you here, as reinforcements are rather badly needed. Given the absence of orders from the Liberation command, we will report to you from now on."


OOC: I hope you saw that I responded to you in my post before last.

OOC: I hope you saw that I responded to you in my post before last.

OCC: Ah, terribly sorry. I must have missed it. Erm, mind pointing it out? I can't seem to locate it.

Please strike that from the record, rather poorly thought-out on my part I must say.

IC:

Liberation Space

"Get those marines down to the airlock, leftenant! I'll be damned if any bloody saboteur gets aboard this ship!"

A noncommissioned officer barks at an inexperienced sub-leftenant and tells him to get the contingent of marine temporarily put in his charge to make haste in attaining the primary airlock, where Liberation sailors from crippled ships continue to enter the cruiser Gambia.

Formerly recieved quite warmly by Robotic sailors, Silver Fleet personnel now find themselves jostled about by burly, blaster-brandishing marines, constantly on the lookout for anything suspicious. Guards are posted at all the galley exits as individual marines make their way through the crowds of Silver Fleet sailors deemed fit to be held somewhere besides the hospital bay.

Reinforced by Zambezi's cruiser squadron, Lem Ystad's command expands its formation, which conforms almost to the letter with the RFS drill book. Liberation forces are again informed that Robotic marines are available if they are needed anywhere.

OCC: Ah, terribly sorry. I must have missed it. Erm, mind pointing it out? I can't seem to locate it.

OOC:

RESPONSE:

On the Samson...

"Admiral."

"Aye?" Murphy responds, watching the battle for New Babylon on New Hope intently on a Holoprojecter.

"The Robotic fleet is asking if it can give any further assistance."

...

"As for the Robots, tell them that their repairs have been invaluable and that we'd appreciate if they'd keep on with them. By now they've seen the ground action... tell them they shouldn't have to worry about any space-based assault. The action is primarily on the ground."

END RESPONSE (Uppercase=dramatic... haha)

-- That's the response, also let's pretend I forwarded you some information on commercial ships and crucial stations that needed assistance, as well as ground positions that need your marines.

OOC/IC:

Your marines' assistance on New Hope and Centris will be welcome. Tacticals suggest you land men to further assist the taking of Cincinnati on Centris as well as Hansburrough on New Hope.

Note to ANY foreign allied ground troops landing on Liberation soil: You will be either reporting to General Eash on New Hope, who is actually onboard the Liberation Navy Ship Infinity (named after the financial investment firm which sponsors it), an Argos automated troop command ship, or General Reed, a marine general in charge of the Centris theater or war, positioned a distance outside Cincinnati.

Ticonderoga System
Side Six
Concordat Navy Central Command “The Pit”
Capital of the WIckian Concordat

It had been two days since the war had begun once again, and the conflict was going badly for the Concordats allies. The worst news had come from Erewohn, as much as Peregrine despised the Erewohnese for their betrayal in the War of the Lion, they still were powerful allies. Now their fleet was obliterated and their world subjugated. The losses inflicted on the Grand Fleet were appalling but more distressing was perhaps the losses inflicted on the Imperium forces in the battle. It seemed that Hellings had brought a few extra toys to play with in this campaign and their effect was telling.

The Holo-tank in the center of “The Pitt” displayed the full Raumreich in its full detail. It was a myriad of color, the section that interested Admiral Peregrine the most was the red of the Ortagan Hegemony and their occupied territories. Three of those occupied systems Gryps, Yetti’s Star, and Thetis would be raided within the next twelve hours. Not only the Morale of the people but also the morale of the Fleet required that the CSN strike back. This first series of raids were more symbolic then anything else striking at the extreme periphery of the Hegemony, soon though the targets would grow more in their importance to the Hegemony, but to strike into the Home stars would require the full force of the CSN and to that end all expeditionary fleets and mercenary forces were being recalled to Ticonderoga for consolidation and reorganization. Many still believed that a Solar Navy invasion fleet was poised to strike at any minute and if it did the WIckians would be ready.

System Gryps
Ortagan Hegemony
21 LY from TIconderoga

Gryps used to be an important star system for the Ortagan Hegemony, now though it could be considered periphery at best to their overall strategic goals. At its height fifteen years ago it was used as the staging area from which Hellings completed the destruction of the WIckian Commonwealth. Now though the WIckians had decided to return the favor.

Twelve ships appeared just outside the Hyper limit of the Gryps system with the sudden apparition characteristic of WIckian jump drives. Commodore Vincent looked to his ship’s holo-tank wondering what contacts would soon appear. His Flotilla was small but robust consisting of a new Covington class dreadnaught, two battle cruisers and nine cruisers or smaller escort vessels. It was a raiding force, their objective was to destroy or capture what ever was in this system.

That was the anomaly however, there was not time for a reconnaissance of the system, there could be an entire enemy squadron in the system and the WIckians would not know. Vincent smiled as he checked his ships clock… in about sixty minutes Rear Admiral Clarkton’s force would be crossing the Hyper limit into Thetis…

Occupied Thetis
Former Capital of the WIckian Commonwealth


“Jump complete Ma’am” the navigation officer Lt. Grady reported to Commander Johnson as their destroyer completed its jump. The CNS. Swiftsure had completed its jump to a location 46.8 light minutes from the pale blue primary of Thetis. Any Ortagans watching this section of the system’s frontier would undoubtedly have noticed the translation of the vessel into normal space.

“Rig for silent running” The commander ordered as she heard her sensor officer repeat her order before executing it, if the Ortagans noticed their entrance into the system, they would have assuredly be hidden now. “Launch a full spread of the mark II recon drones. Standard search patterns of the system but I want at least two to scan the wormhole and the surrounding area.” Her ship was classified officially as a destroyer but it was a heavily modified vessel. It supported the latest sensor equipment a mixture of Valinor and WIckian technology made possible by the relatively recent tech transfer between the two nations. Most importantly though was that all the offensive armaments of the ship had been removed to make room for prodigious amounts of EW equipment allow the ship to mask itself as a hole in space even against the best sensors in the Raumreich.

Intel was sketchy at best in Thetis reports stated that anywhere between a squadron to a fleet had control of the system. The Commander figured that there wouldn’t be to many enemy capital ships guarding the system, but there would undoubtedly be substantial defenses around the wormhole junction. The Swiftsure had just deployed twenty reconnaissance drones which now made their way deeper into the system to find out the Ortagans disposition and composition of forces, what made these drones more effective then their predecessor which the WIckians employed in previous battles is that these drones were stealth it would take good sensors and even better operators to detect them even at mid to close range. The drones also sported miniature FTL relays which allowed them to transmit bursts of information back to their mother ship at superluminal speed eliminated any sort of data lag due to distance. They would find out what was in the system in time for Commander Johnson to relay any pertinent information to the Flotilla that was soon to arrive to attack the system.

OCC: My most sincere apologies LNH. I missed that last bit.

IC:

Liberation Space

The two heavy battalions embarked aboard RNS Livingstone Miyanda (OCC: Ten dollars to whoever can tell me who he is), itching for a fight already, waste no time in loading onto the carrier's eight Palais-class transports. The power-armored Dragoon companies load first, being the bulkiest, and after them come the infantry companies, the various support weapons, and even several specially-configured Walrus and Buckmaster transports.

The dragoon companies are by far the most heavily armed of all the Robotic marines, being equipped with heavy blaster rifles, the likes of which can only be easily handled with the assistance of powered armor, and being able to travel considerable distances through the assistance of thruster packs. While they command a formidable amount of firepower, the infantry commanders hope that the dragoons' great bulk won't be a hinderance in what are assumed to be urban operations.

"All transports report that they are loaded and ready, captain sah."
"Very well, leftenant. Give the order to launch."
"Aye, sah! Assault transports, cast off!"

Four Palais vessels make for Cincinnati while the other four head towards Hansburrough.

Aboard the T303-6, Brigadier Simon Llewellyn mingles with his troops as the flight crew radio their particular tactical coordinator. The thinly-armored Palais transports don't offer much comfort to the marines riding in them, a good many without any EVA equipment, and the thought of being shot down is a grizzly and undesirable one.

(OCC: I hope you don't mind me jumping right to the landing...)

As the cabin warning lights come on, cautioning passengers to secure themselves in preparation for the descent into New Hope's atmosphere, marines file into rows of fold-up seats and hope for the best.

After a few minutes of violent shuddering, the ride becomes calm and easy...well, as calm as frantic evasive action can be. Brigadier Llewellyn stands in the door leading to the flight deck, where the four-person crew expertly works the thrusters and drops the transport into a fine hover only a few meters off the ground.

"Marines, stand ready!"

A great thud and shake announce the landing.

"Marines, disembark!"

The front ramp drops on a patch of ground outside Hansburrough and within seconds the transport bleeds out its entire load of around 150 marines plus equipment.

Seat Of His Majesty's Robotic Parliament, Hammersmith Palais, Kingston-On-Irrawaddy

"...this Parliament therefore sees it fit and necessary, due to unprovoked aggression exhibited against nations friendly to the Robotic Commonwealth, acknowledging the special duties and responsibilities levied on this Parliament's right honourable ministers, and respecting international standards of decency and fair conduct as they pertain to warfare and resolving never to violate said standards, to declare war upon the Hegemony of New Ortaga, and to wage said war until territories unjustly and illegally seized by said nation are returned to their rightful status of soveriegnty. These territories include; the Erewhon system, the Thetis system, and any other presently soveriegn systems that are forcibly occupied by forces of the Hegemony of New Ortaga or those of its allies directly involved in this present war. Should said war be resolved by means deemed just and proper by this Parliament said declaration of war and its pertinants shall be struck null and void..."

OCC: Just a minor thing, in case you didn't notice WIck, a Robotic squadron just recently arrived in Ticonderoga. Perhaps it was a bit too out of the blue, but just FYI in case you didn't see it.

Tereshkova watches as a group of Wickian freighters prepare to jump out of the system after clearing the Field. The primary observation deck of the Chimera is silent, and utterly devoid of any other inhabitation except the aging Kapitan zur Sternen. Tereshkova had at last had enough of wading through the damage reports and the loss tallies—civilian and military alike—provided by the Concordat high command. She only took a small satisfaction in knowing that all the Observers had met their final judgment. Tereshkova had already made sure no questions would be asked by the powers-that-be in Alpha Centauri, her report listed all Observers as killed in action.

The observation deck door chimes, and Tereshkova looks up as a Sardaukar steps in and salutes crisply.

“Ma’am, Fregattenkapitan Stucov requests to see you.”

“Let him in,” Tereshkova says and smiles wearily at her executive officer. “Is the ansible connection fully functioning again.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Stucov says and pulls out his comp-pad—a feature of habit, Alexei long ago had n-plants installed by rarely uses them. “The ansible connection returned to normal operations roughly two minutes after we transmitted the renewal codes. And we have received a full update from Sanctuary, as well as UVNN. I also took the liberty of forwarding our engagement reports and collected tactical data.”

“Your efficiency is disgusting, Alexei.”

“But it is why you keep me, with all due respect, Ma’am.”

“Arrogance will get you a short walk through the airlock, Alexei,” Tereshkova adds with a chuckle, which is readily returned with Stucov’s quiet smile. “But how does the rest of the Raumreich fair?”

Stucov sighs heavily, “Not well, Kapitan. No where else was as quite…lucky…as Ticonderoga. The Erewohnese were smashed and are now occupied, and Admiral Setties was killed, which has thrown Morning Star into a chaos that looks like it may turn into civil war.”

“That small-minded bastard even manages to cause a crisis in death,” Tereshkova says with a hiss.

“Far too true, as for this side of the Great March, the Vaku have apparently moved to strike at the Hegemony. OKI believes Dylar is their intended target. Admiral Peregrine has confirmed that the Concordat is going to raid Gryps and Thetis, with Yetti’s Star as another possible target. He also said the Concordat has agreed to evacuate some of its civilian populace back to the Star Empire.”

“Good, on both accounts. Please pass along a message to Admiral Peregrine, tell him I will provide an escort for three convoys of refugees. The Broadsword can escort the first one to Vakutu as soon as it is ready for departure, and we can handle two on our own.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I will make the ship ready for departure then.”

“Thank you, Alexei. Oh, and there is one more thing,” Tereshkova watches Stucov pause. “Be so kind as to make sure our collected data on this side of the Great March finds its way to Admiral Peregrine. And of course, it is unfortunate that such a vital action such of that will…not find it’s way into the ship’s logs? So much can be forgotten under the stress of combat….”

“Yes, that it can be, Ma’am,” Alexei adds a wolfish smile of his own to his commanders.

Several minutes later the two warships prepare for departure, but not before a data dump makes its way to the Pit. It contains over five years of accumulated intelligence and reconnaissance reports horded by the Chimera on its long deployments into the Ortagan Great March. Everything from obscure mining operations along the periphery of the Hegemony, to noted fleet war games practice areas, to private playgrounds and hells of the Ortagan security forces are carefully cataloged in the treasure trove. At the header of the file is a simple message for Admiral Peregrine.

Give them what they deserve.

With regards,
Ekaterina Tereshkova

(OOC:

LRR: You're going to get a lot of Liberation goodies, assitance, and anything else you might want or need after this conflict; I can guarantee)

Outside of Cincinnati...

Lt. Muhammed skulked around the rubble and waste spread about the streets of Cincinnati as stealthfully as his suit of armor allowed, his platoon of 50 men and women following close behind. In an alternating tactic they rotate taking point, each time another 5 men going forward and securing the movement of the others.

They carefully watched the windows above on the surrounding buildings, all of which were old and only a few stories tall compaired to the massive skyscrapers of the Homeland. Muhammed's turn comes up, and his squad of five men shoot foward, but just as he takes a few steps, a shout goes out from one of his men. "RPG! RPG!"

The leutenant turns to see a white trail of smoke and only an instant later nothing. He wakes to find himself on his back and hears the sound of gunfire all around him. His armor is still in good shape, the grenade must not have hit him. He stands, raising his weapon, and opens fire; barking orders and formations.

He soon finds himself ducked behind what is left of a wall to what used to be some sort of apartment building. Beside him is Private Antwerp and a few others. The small group of men are pinned down as a hail of gunfire gradually blows the stone wall into dust and gravel. "This alterboy's dug in deepern' a sandflea!" Antwerp yells into his comm.

The Leutenant takes a quick peak over the wall and is greeted with yet more gunfire so he ducks back down. "Cover fire!" he orders. "Kariwain, cut the fucker in half!"

The other marines take aim over the wall and unleash whatever fire they can in the general direction of their enemy as private Kariwain charges out, arming his grenade rounds. He sees the enemy, a goup of at least five men in plain clothes, armed to the teeth. Quickly he releases his rounds on their position, a hail of fiery death comes upon them. The gunfire stops, the Marines stand.

"Report" Muhammed inquires.

"No casualties, sir."

"All clear."

"All clear."

Muhammed checks himself and then attempts to radio back to base. "Hello, Hello, do you read me? Basecamp, do you read me?" The RPG must have damaged his long-range. He conciders returning to base, but decides the group should move on.

One private, Arduk, searches the remains of their fallen opposition. "Alterboys had listening equipment. Knew we were coming!"

Muhammed thinks for a moment, looking down at the charred dead bodies. "Radio silence, vocal-comm only! MOVE IT OUT!"

"RAHAY!"

Back at base outside Cincinatti...

An officer approaches General Reed with a slip of paper, handing it to him. "Sir, we've recieved confirmation that Valinor and Robotic troops are being sent in to assist the reclaiming of Cincinatti."

The general stares harshly through his reading glasses upon the slip of paper. "Well at least they're not on the Homeland... put them on the front line in sector... G through F. Have them clear it street by street."

"Yes, sir."

(OOC: Upon landing, assume you've already recieved those orders, Valinon and LRR)

On New Hope...

When the LRR marines pour out they are greeted by the view of a quante germanic city billowing smoke and riddled with the sounds of gunfire and screaming. At once their ship recieves a communication from General Eash at the base-camp. "Attention LRR Marines, please stay put; request audience with leader. Out."

Meanwhile, in space...

Murphy's fleet finally goes into action. 124 of the Silver Fleet's remaining 324 battle effective ships, as well as the 140-some battle-effective Merchant Defense ships, park themselves in a defensive position just outside the many remaining orbitals over True Hope, waiting for the Ortagan second wave. Meanwhile, the 200 other ships cruise over to the nearby moon Tiber and position themselves on the inside-side, treading down engines, emitions, sensors, and anything else that could give their position away.

Not too far off and away, Nuclear mines, equipt with the same stealth technology used by Liberation fighters, are unloaded by the hundreds in the area, preparing for any Ortagans who might plan on running away.

(OOC: NOTE: Merchant Defense ships are small and lightly armed compared to Silver Fleet ships)

Ticonderoga System
Capital of the Concordat

With the FTL/I of the Ticonderoga system activated it would be impossible for any ship to enter or exit hyperspace for some distance from the entrance to the Field. And so there was only a soldiery cruiser squadron picketing the approach the Valinor captain had so kindly blown in the field, that corridor would hence forth be known as Tereshkova’s highway. The Squadron of Cruiser blinked their running lights in unison three times as the Valinor ships passed, it was a simple but honorable salute to what the they risked on the behalf of the WIckian people.

The Concordat Space Navy was one of the smaller navies in the Concordat, even the resourced strapped Vaku had been able to construct more hulls then they. However the CSN by anyone’s judgment tonnage heavy, it was necessary that concentrate on building the large and formidable ships of the line which could defeat the fearsome vessels of the Solar Navy. The CSN simply could not afford nor did it have the time to construct adequate numbers of light screening units in addition to the number needed to screen their battle fleet.

Admiral Peregrine realized that five years ago when President Villers’ administration had just started, and he made a suggestion back then which would shape the CSN’s policy to this day. The lack of light units would be offset by private military corporations. Mercenary’s as a result have flourished in Ticonderoga, indeed twice of the CSN’s tonnage in screening units could be found in the PMC ships which prowled Ticonderoga. It was just not screening units that the various PMC’s controlled ¼ of the Fleets tonnage of the Line were mercenary, the most important PMC was of course the Gregor Free Legion. And so it was that every convoy leaving Ticonderoga for refugee camps abroad was escorted by a light unit from a PMC, rather then a CSN regular unit.

If one was however to look to the Home Fleet they would notice however that more then Commodore Trell’s two squadrons were missing from its formation, an entire BatRon had been detached…but to where? The Ortagans would soon find out no doubt….

+ + +

Castle Radcliff
Field of Athenry
Planet Thetis
Nu-Space

The Gothic castle no longer existed in real life nor did the once beautiful and vibrant field upon which it was built, it was a casualty of the first war with the Ortagans, like so much else was. But in Nu-space simply anything was possible, such as the reconstruction of President Ginske’s former birthplace on Thetis. What better place to hold a conference then in a place the Ortagans destroyed , some may have thought it disturbing perhaps, but Ginske enjoyed the feeling of even a fake sun’s rays on his skin as he stood on the balcony watching the setting sun. He was also for the first time in the four days since the attack not tired, the fatigue he accumulating over the past crisis was gone completely which his was profoundly grateful for. Nu-Space did indeed have its benefits, he supposed it was good to see the Valinor could be useful for something.

Behind him in the conference room itself was a round table, where several of his staffers and advisers made idle chatter. His guests would be soon arriving…

Castle Radcliff
Nu-Space

From a chamber in the heights of the Imperial Palace, a single figure put on his nu-space linked VR headset, and shortly after him, another important figure currently residing on Bastion followed suite.

After going through the proper access routes and submitting the right codes, both appeared in the virtual recreation of Castle Radcliff. They were Emperor Alexis Calimar and Fleet Admiral Leveson. Leveson was wearing his standard duty uniform, spotless of course, and the Emperor himself was actually wearing something besides the current aristocratic fashions. It was a fine business suit, like one would have seen back during the days of the People's Republic.

The scenery surrounding them, while a somewhat morbid choice in a way, didn't negatively affect either of them. With Leveson, it was simply the hardness one develops after being accustomed to destruction. For Alexis, recreating lost places was something he also did every now and then. They served as a nice reminder of what was lost. Some of his private conversations with the Prime Minister had taken place in a virtual recreation of the Presidential Office, an office he would currently be sitting in if the War of the Lion hadn't gotten in the way of that.

Alexis walked over to the Concordat President, "President Ginske, I'd like to thank you for the invitation to this meeting, and I offer my deepest sympathies for the destruction wrought upon your people by the forces of the Hegemony. If there is anything we can do for your people, please let us know."

"Hope I'm not late for the meeting," Seprodi says, entering Murphy's quarters.

"No... you're fine. Damnit, Nick, I joined the Navy so I wouldn't have to deal with politcians."

"Suggest you send a delegate or someone more adept at diplomacy."

"No... we can handle this."

"Of course, sir," Seprodi says, gesturing to Murphy for an uplink. Murphy opens his bottem desk droar where he keeps his nu-space uplinks, handing one to Seprodi and placing the other on the top of his head and leaning back in his chair.

In a flash, Murphy and Seprodi were at the WIckian castle in the presence of the others present. Murphy looked around a bit, not knowing too much about where he was supposed to be, simply annoyed that he this meeting was taking up whatever time he had left to double check attack plans and tactical information. He sees the Verniians nearby and approaches for a handshake. "Greetings, brothers."

Murphy had never been quite comfortable with the term "brothers" in reference to foreigners, but officer training had caused his association between "Verniians" and "brothers" to be habitual.

"No, you fool! You've got the connectors reversed!"

The distinctive smell of burning electronics wafts through the bridge of the carrier Colin Olongwe, currently serving as the headquarters of the Robotic Flotilla Service's 1st Fleet. A group of technicians stand around a section of exposed wiring next to the only piece of communications equipment deemed capable of handing the nu-space conference (itself brought out of the depths of the ship's engineering compartments and only secured to the bridge floor with tape). One holds a red electrical cord close to his face, examining the connector pins at its end.

After several more minutes fiddling with the circutry, the viewscreen begins to flicker, intermittently showing images of the interior of some gothic-style structure. The bridge crew at hand correctly presume it to be Castle Radcliff, formerly on Thetis, and after some minor adjustments the image becomes clear enough to suit their purposes.

"Testing, testing. One two. One two."

Admiral Heddon adjusts his RFS uniform, a Royal Navy-pattern affair with different insignia, and steps in front of the transmitter.

"Does it work, man?"
"Yes, sah. Well enough, anyway."

The technicians slink away and the bridge lights darken. In Castle Radcliff itself, a two-dimensional image of Admiral Heddon's upper body appears, hovering over a chair, and begins to speak.

"Excuse me, is this the conference room?"

Frantic nodding on the part of the bridge crew suggests that it is.

"Erm, yes. Greetings fellow admirals. I hope I am not late for the conference? We seem to have experienced some technical difficulties."

There is a ripple, a distortion, as a small portion of Castle Radcliff seems to fold in on itself. If they wanted it the creators of this distortion, this fold in the fabric of the artifical world of data and impulses that are Nu-space, could mike it invisible--unnoticeable. But the creators do not want to.

The fold spirals outward rapidly and three figures form out of it. One is a slender woman--her physical appearance moved out youth but still away from middle age--with copper-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She is dressed in a relatively plain and unadorn dressed of a deep, vibrant crimson. To her left is a tall man, proud bearing slightly stooped with age, with white hair and an elegantly groomed mustache. He is dressed in an imperial crimson uniform trimmed with silver and gold, and he is instantly recognizable--especially to anyone of Verniian birth. This is Lord Reynard Adonis, Her Imperial Majesty's Reichsprotektor, and the simply dressed woman is none other than Empress Friedelinde Alderman herself.

But the third figure is an unknown, and quite clearly has never known the physical perceptions of existence in any human sense of the word. He is dressed in long, flowing white robes, and a white mane of hair melds with a long white beard--with only faded hints of black showing any color. In both hands he clutches an ornate black staff, tipped by with a white orb. His eyes are deep-hued brown, virtually black. And the ease with which he cares himself and studies the environment around him mark him as one of the oldest of the Star Empire's sentient intelligences--the most advanced of the Valinor created AIs.

Friedelinde quickly surveys those already assembled, nods cooly to Calimar, smiles welcomingly at the Robotic representative, and eyes Murphy cautiously. Then she turns to President Ginske.

"Mr. President, I am estatic to see that you have endured the Ortagan attack, and you have my deepest sympathies for the losses the Concordat has felt as a result of this attack. Rest assured that you will receive every form of assistance I and my government can render, but I have a feeling time is of the essence and we may have to proceed to more pressing business than avenues of aid and evacuation."

Murphy, who sat back at his ship in the navy's casual grays, appeared in NuSpace to be in full dress uniform, black with red trim with rank and medal stars and all. Seprodi was similarly dressed. The two turned their heads and torsos from shaking the Verniians' hands simultaniously (they were quite effectively tuned to one another), Seprodi raising one eyebrow. Murphy looked on, a softly defeated look on his face, and let out a silent sigh.

Without greeting the newcomers across the other side of the room, Murphy nudges Seprodi and gestures that the two should take their seats. They conveniently find themselves next to the two-dementional image of the Robotic leader and give quick greetings before taking their seats.

"Why the hell did I let you convince me to come here?" Murphy inquired quietly but angrily to Seprodi.

Seprodi smiles, replying similarly "I believe you used the terms 'we can handle this,' sir."

"Oh, shut up."

Seprodi simply looks forward and smiles.

The President turned and greeted the Emperor of the Vernii Imperium. “Emperor Calimar welcome, I think the current situation is well in hand however I am sure the CSN would appreciated a couple squadrons of light escort units for the evacuation of our non-combatants to our safe zones.”

It was then that the LNHer’s arrived and soon there after the robots. It was quite the collection of national leaders and the collect Ginske knew was only going to get more interesting, he even managed to stifle a smile as Empress Friedelinde Alderman appeared herself. He figured her entourages entrance would have made quite an impression given the Valinor apparent neutrality of late.

Ginske turned to greet who was possible one of the most powerful women in the Raumreich. “Welcome Empress and I do believe you are correct time is of the essence so let us take our seats and begin.” The President waited courteously as each person took their seats, to the presidents left sat admiral Peregrine and to his right sat a man who presence was probably surprising to some, the former president of the Concordat Villers, but one astute to WIckian history would have noticed he wore the shield of the Protector. The Protector is the man elected by the people through Congress to be the chief of the military, he was in a sense their champion, it was a sacred trust that dated back to the earliest days of the commonwealth and was a trust Eric Strength had broken more then a decade ago.

“Everyone present here know the threat the Ortagans present. All but two of the Nations represented in this room have had their worlds attacked by the forces of Hegemon Ansel’s regime, and everyone present have had their ships attacked by Ansel’s regime. New Cardona, and Hamunaptra both have been devastated by terrorist attacks by members of the Nightwatch, with the subsequent follow on attacks I think we all know who supplied and supported those terrorists.” The WIckians voice was now icy, the kind voice he greeted his guest with was now no longer present in his speech he looked into the eyes of each of the people present as he spoke.

“The Ortagans are people bent upon the expansion of their sphere of influence, anything which opposes that expansion is a threat to their most basic of national interests. They will stop at nothing until these threats are neutralized and we stubborn enough to resist pay the fullest price. We WIckians know this better then anyone else, for a hundred years we have fought the Ortagans in battle, we have had to survive the specter of their awesome power alone, none of you aided us against them, even as they murdered our citizens.” Ginske few knew lost his wife in Thetis fifteen years ago. It was public knowledge that he was not on speaking terms with his son, many perceived this to be over an argument over his son joining the Navy. His son joined the Navy as a way in part to spurn his father, who had recently found himself a new mistress, that conflict was why father and son had not talked in a dozen years. “The anger of grief burns deep in my people‘s hearts, perhaps now” Ginske looked at Calimar and the LNH admiral, “It burns deeper in yours. I expect the fear of grief is what motivated others to attend this meeting as well, or perhaps it is because of self-preservation.” If the President’s words were unfair of those in the room, if they were confrontational and unjust perhaps it is because they were intended to be. The man did have his vices after all contrary to popular belief in the Hegemony WIckians were after all only human. It was Protector Viller’s voice which was heard next, if one didn’t know the two WIckians better it could almost have seen to be what it was, a good cop, bad cop routine.

“How these chain of events conspired to bring us together today does not matter. We all recognize that it is clear that the balance of power the Valinor have strived so hard to maintain can no longer be preserved. Erewohn with all of its industrial centers and military tech labs has fallen to the Ortagans, Gregor is next in line, should the capital of the Imperium be allowed to fall into the Ortagans hands, it will be only a matter of time until Morning Star is obliterated , the Concordat and the Vaku overwhelmed by concentrated efforts of the Solar Navy. Then Ortagan Hegemony will hold a decisive advantage against even the Valinor. We must prevent this eventuality at all costs.” It was the President’s now more calm voice that spoke after his Protector’s statement.

“Our purpose here must be to establish a clear and decisive objective. This is a War Council, and our nations are at war. We must swear an oath that this war will not cease until the Ortagan Hegemony’s ability to make war upon its neighbors is neutralized and Hegemon Ansel as well as his government is brought to justice for their crimes against the peace. No half-means or methods of containment and appeasement can be allowed. This is a game of thorns at its most perilous of stages, it is a game of life and death …there can be no middle ground. So…I ask each of you to confirm your commitment.”

There is a momentary flash and a new figure joins the conference. The form is an imposing one, a towering creature of trimmed muscle and long fur with a face that bears much in common with the predatory felines of Old Earth. A brilliant leonine mane of cinnamon reds, browns, and golds flows from his head until it blends in with sharp-angled silver armor wrought with fine gold patterns and strange glyphs. The Vaku is instantly recognized by the members of the Valinor delegation, and perhaps by Villers and Peregrine who have spent long years quietly sparing with the vast--but resource poor--empire to that is the only other nation the Concordat borders besides the vast Hegemony.

"Forgive my tardiness," says the Vaku, growling his "r"s and speaking with the strange harsh accent common among even the most educated of the Greater Empire's nobility, "my honored grandfather sends his regards to his honored colleagues among the rank of the Raumreich nations, and expresses his support for those nations currently beseiged by the forces of the Hegemon."

Crown Prince Ratha eyes Villers and Ginske with a hint of suspicion, his eyes slide over Murphy without even registering, there is a slight bow to the Valinor delegation, and finally comes to rest on Emperor Calimar.

"I also bear a message from my honored grandfather and the Council of Eight. They wish it to be known that as of three hours ago, the Greater Empire has commenced offensive operations against the Ortagan Hegemony and has dispatched both our First and Second fleets under Lord Kalralahr nar Hhallas to seize the fortress system of Dylar. I also have been charged with leading our Third Fleet to the system of Gregor and assisting in its defense in the event of an Ortagan attack against the system with its carrier core."

Calimar nodded in acknowledgement to Ratha's words. "I offer my thanks on both the behalf of myself and the citizens of the Imperium for your assistance, Crown Prince." He coughed lightly to clear his throat for his next words. "President Ginske, I would also like to take this moment to apologize for my nation's past actions. We failed to come to your aid during your struggle with the Hegemony, for fear of prodding the southern dragon into looking in our direction, and we failed you as allies. For this, I can only offer our most sincere apologies."

He sighed, the seriousness of the current conflict seeming to be physically reflected in his face for a moment. "As for the defense of Gregor, Fleet Admiral Leveson has prepared a briefing for you all."

With those words, he turned to Leveson, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable surrounded by the august company he was in. "Ah yes, I've prepared a basic outline of our plans for all of you, although it is just the basics in the interest of time. I can provide more detailed information later at your request, providing it doesn't violate operational security. Anyway, our analysts imagine Hellings will most likely exit back into real space somewhere in the mid-system, probably close enough to Vernii but without being too close."

"Home Fleet will move to engage the enemy in a manner reminiscent of Erewohn. Elements of Home Fleet that have already been dispatched to the outer-system will wait until they receive the proper signal, and then commence tactical hyper jumps, emerging back into real space to box in Hellings between them and Home Fleet. Interdictors...er..." Leveson had wanted to keep those a secret until necessary, but the Emperor had overruled him. "The interdictors will bring their inhibitors online and prevent Hellings from attempting any tactical jumps of his own to escape the trap. Once this manuever is complete, the fleet will close in and engage the enemy from all sides. And that, is our plan in a basic format."

No doubt the large royal creature that had just entered the room was no less than impressive (as Murphy had only met one once, and he was less than royalty, and Seprodi had never met one at all), but they seemed uneffected still.

Murphy and Seprodi sit quietly, militarily even (to the point of no motion and symetrically folded hands), observing the Verniians' plan. In his mind Murphy went over the Verniian plan, one that resembled his own (no doubt a coincident driven from years of learning from Verniian strategy books and instructors), and he saw it as rather fit. If anyone had a good chance of beating back the orts with any amount of great success, it was the Verniians.

Still though, neither of them interjected or made any comment. Murphy dared not say a word before he had more grip over the general situation and Seprodi tends only to speak when necessary.

“So the Tabbies have finally decided to move against the Hegemony?” Villers asked a little bit incredulously, there was a period it was thought the Vaku would have overrun Ticonderoga and even to this day they were felt best kept at arms distance. After all it was WIckian marines who fight hand to hand with the Vaku in the battle of Cronos anyone who seen what Vaku claws can do to a man would see the wisdom in keeping out of reach of a Tabby…which the WIckians called the Vaku comparing them to a domestic animal kept as a pet… “Our scouts reported a massive build up in Sum’Tlor but they only recently jump out to where we did not know until know. Nar Hhallas will do his duty much to the chagrin of the Ortagans I bet, I think though this may force Hellings to act sooner then we expected, pressure from his government to strike back will undoubtedly be high.” What Villers left unsaid was that most likely now the Ortagans would not be striking at Ticonderoga itself not with two Tabby fleets so close to its home stars…perhaps making it possible to free up a large amount of the CSN to aid the Imperium in the battle everyone knew had to be fought in Gregor.

Protector Villers was not surprised in the least by the plan which Admiral Leveson proposed, it was a toughly Verniian plan and as such it was destined to fail. It was a competent enough plan and with a navy the size the Imperium maintained these tactics were expected. But they would result in a blood bath. The Protector did not speak his thoughts but his face may have betrayed them. There was only one man his equal in terms of experience in this room and Villers thought he may have felt the same. Its not that he doubt the Verniian’s bravery or even there will to fight the Ortagans to the bitter end, it was just that Leveson like his fellows past and present was typical of a Verniian style of warfare. It was the same method employed in Gregor in the War of the Lion, attempt to pound the enemy into submission even if they held technological and tactical advantages over you. Villers was all to familiar with that battle and its results, he did not want to see it repeated.

The interdictors fitted into the typical Verniian stereotyped battle plan, the Vernii were found of throwing some surprises at an enemy before their battles became a slugging match but they generally lacked the will to allow themselves to think outside the box. It was however a plan that could work against Hellings, was intimately aware of the Ortagan Admiral’s qualities. He was a good soldier, a determined fighter, he was tactically proficient in war. Yet, the Ortagan who devastated the WIckian Commonwealth lacked any complex strategic thinking, he would attempt to put the preverbal square peg in its proper hole and the technological and numerical superiority of the Solar Navy allowed him to beat his enemies soundly. For the first time he would be facing an enemy who could nearly match him in both those respects, but not quite so. The Protector feared the gap between the Solar Navy and the Imperium was not so great as to prevent another Erewohn.

“A sound enough plan Admiral Leveson, and it has a chance of succeeding but I doubt it will.” Unlike anyone in the room even Lord Adonis, Villers has faced Hellings in battle twice and survived both bloody reengagements many of the others who accompanied him had not. “Hellings however is not in command of a typical Solar Fleet though, even the vast ponderous might of the Imperium Navy can not stop his force unsupported. He has a fleet the likes of which has not been seen, it dispatched the Grand Fleet with little effort, it has well over 200 dreadnaughts and those damnable solar-ray ships with him. If you go into battle unsupported Admiral you will not survive, but I can tell you realize that.” The old WIckian said matter-of-factly.

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the Solar Navy and Hellings in such a match twice in the past and it is not a situation I would want anyone else to face. With the bulk of the Vaku navy between the Ortagan home stars and Ticonderoga, my navies disposition can be changed. I think its time for the Ortagans to realize we will not let them subjugate any other nations to their will, Home Fleet in its entirety will move to support the Imperium here at Gregor along with the Vaku. You will not be fighting alone, when the Ortagans bring war to Gregor, when the fires of war burn here in Gregor let them for Doral Hellings’ funeral pyre!”

If Hellings was to be beat it would take the combined efforts of the Imperium, Vakutu, and WIckians but even then it would be a close thing, a bloody affair. There was one more die to be cast that could tip the scales greatly, would the Lion be roused, the war council was in part to determine how best to defeat Hellings navy but it was also to see once and for all if the Valinor would intervene directly. It was for this both WIckians secretly hoped for, for the sakes of all the parties involved.

"Now hold on!" Murphy sat by and listened to the WIckian rant for a while before finding it necessary to jump in. "The last thing we need right now is to start calling eachother names," the admiral declared directly to the WIckian. "And another thing we don't need is your pessism. Yes, we all know how you've suffered from the Ortagans because you talk about it... at length... but you fail to realize exactly how strong we are. Seprodi, bring up the read-out."

Seprodi points his hand into the air, causing a three-dementional representation of the Morning Star system and the Silver Fleet, as well as the Merchant Defenders, to appear.

"Our fleet alone numbers at past five-hundred battle-effective ships, with the Equilizer Gunship out-doing any conventional Ortagan round. The Verniian Imperial Fleet has a chance to fight off the orts on its own, not to mention allied support. Robotic... robots have joined in the fight, the Vaku are one of the most technologically advanced in the sector, and you, the WIckians, are the most hardened warriors Liberation Officers study."

Murphy suddenly notices that he is standing with one arm raised, so he tempers himself and sits. "Now, I'm not saying this will be easy. I'm not saying the victory is assured; what I'm saying is that pessimism has no place in this room. We are here to do one thing, solve problems, and entertaining the idea of defeat is not an option."

That last bit was a quote from Milligan, a leader of the Liberation from the Liberation Wars, though only those who had bothered studying the Morning Star's history would even know it.

"While the help my nation can offer is limited when compared with everyone else here, the Robotic Cooperative is entirely committed to the liberation of peoples under the Ortagan yoke."

Not an outstanding commander in relation to the other admirals in the "room," and not familiar with many bits of history of which the Robots had little experience, Heddon doesn't quite know what to think of the Verniian plan, but when Protector Villers mentions a bloodbath, he becomes suspicious. While still thinking with the mindset of a small-fleet admiral, with the near equivalance of the Ortagan and allied Raumreich navies in terms of material, Heddon wonders if there might be some way to overwhelm the Ortagans with better tactics and superior technology.

Robotic admirals and the Robotic admiralty have never faced quite the same problems as their Raumreich counterparts, mainly in that they've never had to worry about such things as home defense and protecting colonies. Therefore, the RFS is a much smaller and less capable navy than most, investing in technology to give the quite small, but financially monstrous, Robotic Cooperative some means with which to defend its interests.

"Our 1st battle squadron, including 16 ships-of-the-line, is currently in reserve and available to reinforce whoever might need it. There are also several cruiser squadrons currently free of duty that can be assigned to raiding operations."

Copies of the RFS order of battle are sent to the respective admiralties and fleet commands.

But when Hellings' 200 dreadnoughts alone are mentioned, the Robotic admiral begins to doubt that the RFS could survive what appears ready to become a major and decisive war. With all of five dreadnoughts and not that many more than 200 combat vessels, it appears more and more as though the RFS is out of its league in a big way.

OOC:

Arg... sorry. I was editing my post while you posted. Thankfully your post still fits, but if you want to edit you most certainly should.

“Boy” The old WIckian Protector said to the LNH admiral, “I was fighting the Ortagans while you were in your father’s sack. I also don’t like to see an admiral of a piss-ant fleet get a hard on because you’ve beat back an Observer Flotilla who are third-rate combat troops at best, like yourselves full of piss and vinegar lots of zeal but dumb as a box of rocks. Do not mistake my words for defeatism or cowardice, I have killed men in the past for such an insult, though I like to think with age that I can control my temper better but one can not be to sure.” And it appeared he could because his next words did not carry the anger his last did.

“I apologize for the outburst, and we all know how much weight apologizes carry.” This earned him a stern look from the President. “Let’s look at the facts, CSN NavInt has told me the chances of a successful campaign against the Ortagan Hegemony with the full might of the Imperium, LNH, and Concordat rest at a paltry 9 percent. A successful defense of Gregor is a whole 39 percent, and that victory is one which proves that the only thing more horrible then a defeat is a victory. I’ve seen the result of over confidence and bluster such as yours Admiral Murphy, the cost of pride is dear and the Solar Navy will enjoy showing you that cost.”

His rant over the president spoke,

“The Concordat’s Protector is a blunt individual, not as tactful as he was as the President.” He looked at the Vaku. “Ratha our nation’s have had their differences in the past and I’m sure that is a trend that will continue into the future for some time, but we have a common enemy and the only way we can defeat that enemy is together, everyone here welcomes your nation’s support.” He now looked to the Empress. “Time is of the essence a battle will be fought in Gregor we all know that, will the Valinor stand in the breech, will they stand in harm’s way with us together? Or bare the witness of the rise of Ansel’s hegemony to ultimate supremacy in the Raumreich?”

"Protector Villers," Friedelinde interjects in calm tones, "I think it would be advisable to not to insult those that are needed as allies and brothers at arms in this war, less you cut off one of your own arms."

"And rest assured, I will not personally entertain insults to those who are the allies of my realm. As for your question, Mr. President, I will answer that momentarily, for the moment I did have Sir Reynard come with me for more than just moral support and so..." Friedelinde turns to the ancient Reichsprotektor.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Adonis says gravely and eyes Villers. "I will concur with Protector Villers' assessment of Admiral Hellings myself. The man is a capable tactican and has proven himself to be a formidable force in combat. And I will also concur with the assessment that the Imperial Verniian Navy cannot face the Solar Navy alone and expect a decisive victory."

"We have seen Hellings assault both home systems of nations--both the Seljukites and the Wickians--and secondary targets, and from this we can know how he operates. In both the case of Seljuk and Thetis, Hellings relied on more than just numbers and conventional warships to carry his command to victory. Why would he treat Gregor any differently? When he moves against Gregor he will use every means at his disposal, and given the demonstration that Hellings just gave us in Erewohn the Ortagan high command is willing to put all their arsenal at his disposal because they fully believe he can give them absolute victory."

"So far we have seen several examples of new Ortagan weapons--primarily their new solar harnessing weaponry and the new singularity missiles, but there is also the superluminal missiles they deployed in Ticonderoga, Morning Star, and Erewohn. What we have not seen is a weapon that can be a decisive "seige breaker", and I doubt seriously the Ortagans would consider moving against Gregor with at least one weapon they believe can shatter at least part if not all of the Verniian defenses and soften it for their fleet. And even if there is no other large scale weapons in store, the Ortagans know the force disposition of the Imperium and they still have a far larger naval reserve to call upon. I will not be surprised in the least if when Hellings comes to Gregor his fleet is twice the size or even more than it was in Erewohn."

"And there is also another element we are neglecting. Yes, we--or rather the Erewohnese--faced Hellings tactically but he does not have the strategic abilities to guide the war the Hegemony is now undertaking. The Ortagans just completed the largest and most precise multi-system strike operation in the history of warfare in the Raumreich. The attacks on Morning Star, Erewohn, and Ticonderoga were virtually simultaneous seperated by mere minutes. True the employment of the Observers," Adonis says with palpable disdain, "makes no sense when compared to the efficiency and professionalism of the rest of the operation, but I believe we all know that is a result of a political decision within the Hegemonic government. Gentlemen, we face a very sobering reality when we consider who must be designing the Ortagan strategy from the safety of their home systems."

"There is only one man in the Hegemony who would even conceive the possibility of an operation such as we all just witnessed, or would even dream of a chance of victory in what was at least going to be a three front war. And that is Ginias Saharin. If the Hegemon has placed Saharin in control of the strategic arena of this war--even partially--and Hellings in command of the primary offensive arm of this war, then we face a threat that can only be repulsed by a united Raumreich."

Adonis breaks his focus on Villers for a moment to turn to Murphy, "The Solar Navy is not invincible, the myth of its invincibility can largely be attributed to the depth it is able call upon in terms of sheer numbers and the willingness of most of its commanders to use any means necessary to achieve victory. This myth can be laid to rest when the Ortagans face a unified front working under a common command structure."

Friedelinde raises a hand slightly, "Both Prime Minister Rolt and myself have come to the decision that the Star Empire can no longer allow the Ortagan Hegemony to pursue its policies unopposed. The former policies of containment and the balance of power vis-a-vis the Great March and the rest of the Oversector while viable in their time and well intended have proven to be flawed. On my personal command the ships of the Kriegsmarine, the Imperial Yaltan Navy, the Imperial Madrasi Navy, and the Imperial Centauri Navy stand at the ready to move to aid in the defense of Gregor at a moments notice."

"However," Friedelinde eyes Adonis for a moment and a look of restrained dissatisfaction crosses the old Valinor's face, "I will not be responsible for firing the first shot. If I were to allow that to happen the Ortagans would no longer be prohibited in full by the Gadsen Accords, and although the Ortagans do use most of the means at their disposal there are a few even the likes of Ansel, Galt, and Saharin have shied away from. I will not under any circumstances be the one responsible for giving them free reign to use the those means, and I will not be responsible for unleashing a man-made armageddon so long as I have any means to prevent it."

"You have the support of the Star Empire in the defense of Gregor and in a campaign to destroy the Hegemony's ability to make war via conventional means, Gentlemen, but nothing more. And I will also expand upon what Sir Reynard already said."

"This is a war that can only be won by a united Raumreich, but it is also a war that can unite the Raumreich. We must break this vicious cycle here and now, even if that means restraining ourselves against our foes when we yearn at the very core of our being to do anything but use restraint. In order to ensure such a policy is followed, and in order to fully gain the support of my realm, I will formally request that Sir Reynard be made the supreme allied commander of this war effort and that I be allowed to select the allied commander of a unified fleet to carry this war to the Ortagans' own systems."

"Indeed, bickering and disunity are not the ways to wage war against such a massive enemy as New Ortaga. Robotstan will, madame Friedelinde, support the appointment of Sir Reynard as supreme allied commander. The Star Empire still, I believe, commands some Ortagan respect, and they may very well think twice about crossing you still."

Heddon takes a swig of what is probably grog, and then turns back towards the others at the conference.

"I am inclined to believe that we should not make this war a war of annihilation. If we are victorious, we will have the power to shape the Raumreich for better or worse, and must therefore remember decency, honor, and clemency."

Murphy stood by and allowed the WIckian to rant for a bit and then listened to the Valinor and LRR intently and reflected on his knowlege of Sir Reynard. "Reynard is a good man and a solid commander. I support his nomination."

As soon as Friedelinde's words ended, Calimar and Leveson took advantage of the LRR and Morning Star representatives speaking to 'whisper" to one another, a private conversation between them that no one else in the room would notice, in fact, it appeared as if they weren't even talking.

"Admiral? What do you think of the Empress' proposal?

"Well, Your Majesty, as much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. The Star Empire has its forces intact, and has the best warships and technology of the region...for now anyway. It makes sense to accept Adonis, he's respected and has the most experience of anyone I can think of. The position of fleet commander is more important in my eyes though, since this will be primarily a space war, thus the need for impressive leadership."

"I share your sentiments Admiral."

With that, they ended their private conversation. The Emperor folded his hands together on the table as he leaned forward a bit. "The Imperium will also support Adonis' nomination as Supreme Commander, but I also ask that the nominee for allied fleet command be submitted to this council for approval or rejection as well."

Murphy, finally remembering to take a seat, heard the Verniian while on his way down and agreed. "I second that."

Ratha eyes Villers cooly, and sniffs vaguely with disdain. He turns to the Empress of the Valinor casually.

"I thank you, Your Majesty, for embracing the spirit of brotherhood that will be necessary to conclude this war with victory. You have the support of the Greater Empire in endorsing Lord Adonis as our supreme commander. He has long proved that the sharpness of his teeth and fangs are not to be questioned."

"However, I will concur with Emperor Calimar that the fleet commander should be put before this council. But the Greater Empire firmly believes that the final decision for an allied fleet commander--especially for over all strategic command--should be a Valinor officer."

The robot admiral finished his words, Villers was not looking at him when he spoke but rather had a distant look in his eyes, even Nu-Space could not take the deep expense of his green eyes…they were the eyes of a man who had seen things no one else should bare whiteness to.

“Admiral Heddon your nation has had war waged on it by the Aumanii, you’ve suffered terrible losses in that short conflict. As terrible as they were the Billion plus WIckians slaughtered at the hands of the Ortagans make it seem like naught. I mention the numbers for a point I hope to make…The Ortagans are a people who will see a matter to a close, they are determined and driven to accomplish their governments goals for the price of defeat for them is great. If you think the Valinor’s entry into this war will stall the campaign of aggression the Ortagans are waging you are deadly wrong.” His head turned to the Empress and he regarded her eyes for a moment perhaps he saw a part of his cold soul in her, it would be unfortunate if it development much more. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and respect. “She knows full well the price of her support of our embattled nations, it raises the stakes considerably. As a result the consequences are likewise higher, victory is by no means assured, our enemy is strong with the Valinor we stand a chance. The threat of that chance will provoke the Ortagans into action they will come at us harder and more determined then ever once the Star Kingdom’s support becomes known. In this kind of war decency, honor, and clemency have no place, they are the first casualties of war…Honor is something my CSN lives by but it is hard to retain as the Solar Navy destroys your fleet’s escape pods…rest assured decency will not help you as the first vortex missiles consume your civilian sectors, and we must not allow clemency to let war criminals escape their justice.” He regard the robot once more “When we fight the Ortagans it is for keeps, can not stomach blood on your hands or the screams of your friends before they are killed, they do not bother to offer your aide. Anything but steel in your spine and brass for your balls will earn the Ortagans contempt before they blow you out of space…and mine as well”

His allies had to know what it would take to win this war, it would take their fullest measure anything but that would spawn defeat, and defeat meant the obliteration of their homes.

The Vaku spoke next….

So the Tabbies know how to suck up to the people who bring them their gifts as well Thought President Ginske to himself as he heard the Crown Prince’s words, the WIckians words spoken and unspoken in regards to the Vaku could seem hostile and hateful. Yet, everyone in the room knew they used the WIckians as a meat shield to thwart Ortagan aggression for more then a century now. That meat shield had eroded in the past decade an so that lack of a buffer more so then anything else explained their attack on Dylar.

“And whom from the Valinor shall we elect? What is the logic of making an interstellar fleet if its masters come from a single nation, a nation who has not felt loss, tragic and massive losses at the hands of the Ortagans? The commander of the fleet should know full well the consequences of his failure, he must know in the marrow of his bones the price of defeat. It is not just his peoples lives at risk or some superfluous political boundaries but our very liberty and lives. If we are to pick a Fleet Commander it should be one well experienced with our common enemy, one who has fought them in the past , one who knows how to beat our enemy and most importantly one who does not underestimate them. I believe the Star Armada possess the ability to fight the Ortagans confidently but they lack the experience facing this enemy. The Liberation has too much else on their plate at the time no mater how brave their fighters may be. The Imperium also lacks any officer whose faced the Ortagans in battle. There is only one man in the Raumreich who meets those prerequisites, I nominate for command of the Fleet, Protector Villers!”

Ratha growls audibly, "The forces of the Greater Empire and of Vaku will not follow the banner of [b]any[/i] Wickian. Especially not one who insults us and then tries and command us in battle, to do so belittles the honor, the dignity, and the spirit of all of us."

The Vaku's eyes flash as he glares at Villers, "That does not even to bring question your nation's numerous victories against the Hegemony, or the fact that no Wickian admiral has ever ran a multi-theater campaign. The only example of your military ever operating outside its home systems was during the War of the Lion, and not only is that experience now sadly dated but it was also done under Verniian supervision. And appointing this being," Ratha's eyes bore into Villers, "as head of an allied fleet would be the same as appointing a Verniian strategist to the position. I do not believe that even a Wickian would dare speak out against the fact we need a commander with considerably more initiative and far more modernized ideals in regards to tactics."

"My most sincere apologies, Protector. I'm afraid we come from somewhat different fleet backgrounds, mine admittedly being one of law enforcement and customs work more than fleet combat. As you know, the RFS places a high importance on what it considers fair conduct, but being so aggreived by the Ortagans one can understand your position.

It is indisputable that the WIckian concordat has suffered more at the hands of the Ortagans than the other right honourable heads of state and admirals here present, and therefore has every reason to carry a chip on its shoulder for those nations who weren't adequately supportive or who took advantage of the Concordat's tenuous position, but we must remember that the enemy here is New Ortaga and every crack in our solidarity counts as well more than a dreadnought's worth for Hegemon Ansel. The success of this endeavour relies on, before anything else, our willingness to work together.

I am supportive of Sir Reynard Adonis's nomination to the post of supreme allied commander because he appears to be, according to my experience, a highly intelligent, popular, and experienced officer, one who stands a better chance of convincing this assembly to work together than anyone else."

Adonis voice rumbles out from the Star Empire's delegation shortly after Prince Ratha and Admiral Heddon speak.

"While the Honored Crown Prince and I may dissent in regards to the nature of our objections," he says in soothing tones, "I too would strongly object to a member of the Concordat military being placed in overall command of the allied fleets. The Concordat-as well as most of its military officers both from prior Wickian services-are too involved at a personal level with the conflict between their own nation and the Hegemony."

"As Her Imperial Majesty has already stated, this is our opportunity to unite the Raumreich and create a infinitely more stable international community than the one that has been forged in the years since the end of the War of the Lion. The...penchant for vendetta found universally in the nations of the Great March are not exactly the most proactive means of helping to establish this. An overall allied fleet commander needs to be detached from the previous conflicts, in order to prevent outbreaks of attrocities and abuses by allied troops. That way we can at last move to break the vicious cycle that has plagued the Raumreich since the end of the War of the Wall of Stars, and has continued to an even greater degree since the end of the War of the Lion."

Friedelinde raises her hand and inclines her head again, "If it will assist this process, I would like to put before this council a list of primary candidates I am considering to submit as my final recommendation. The first is Grossadmiral the Lady Katherine Adonis, currently serving as First Star Lord of the Kriegsmarine. The second is Grossadmiral Sir Waldemar de Graff, Eight Star Lord of the Kriegsmarine and commander of the Greater Raumreich Tactical Theater. The final candidate is Grossadmiral the Count Sir Quentin Forrest, currently serving as Kommodant of the Dexamenus Imperial Kriegsmarine Academy."

Friedelinde eyes each of the allied representatives, "I will of course be more than willing to here your thoughts on any of the candidates I have in mind at this moment. In fact, I strongly encourage it, as that will help me select the final candidate to put before the council."

"Being somewhat limited in my knowledge of naval affairs, I'm going to let Admiral Leveson here choose a nominee to support, as I trust his judgement."

Leveson leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. "President Ginske is correct in that Villers is one of the few people with operational experience against Hellings, but the Vaku have a point in that the Concordat Navy has limited offensive experience. No offense intended of course."

"Of the Valinor candidates, I'd discount Grossadmiral Adonis immediately. Not to rile your sense of pride Reichsprotektor, but she's not particularly imaginative when it comes to tactics. She's probably more useful staying where she is. I don't know that much about Grossadmiral de Graff, other then he's a veteran of the War of the Lion, and he seems to specialize in defense. I don't think he'd be a very good choice for a large offensive theater of operations such as this. Now, your last nominee, Your Majesty, intrigues me...Forrest?"

"Forrest is retired if I'm not mistaken...although right now I'm betting there has been or will be some arm twisting by your government. But yes, he seems like the best choice; highly respected by everyone here, not out of date, and large amount of experience behind him. If he is submitted as your final candidate, I will support him."

OCC: Oh, it was Forrest then. Sorry, I appear to have got my names mixed up.

IC:

Heddon, while full of flowery oratory, is none the less the epitome of a Robotic Flotilla Service officer, and therefore quite short on cleverness. Once Heddon realizes that Adonis is being referred to as "she," he realizes his confusion.

"Ah, excuse me, I appear to have mixed up Admirals Forrest and Adonis. I'm afraid I don't know much about Adonis, but Quentin Forrest performed superbely during the War of the Lion, was it?

Oh, and before I forget, Robotic ships are available to aid in the evacuation of Gregor."

Murphy, after hearing the Wickian begin yet another rant about his nation's terrible hardship, stopped listening and interjected, "For your sake, man, show some dignity!" he declared, highly annoyed. He began to understand why Eberhardt, as grating as he was, could not stand the WIckians, either. "All you ever talk about is my people's terrible pain or my people's terrible loss. Carry it. Use it. But don't hold it over our heads as if you're better than us!" He then paused for a moment, remembering the nomination of Forrest. "And I too would support his nomination."

OCC: Oh, it was Forrest then. Sorry, I appear to have got my names mixed up.


I don't think you mixed it up.

Adonis would be Supreme Allied Commander, Forrest probably Allied Fleet Commander.

A sigh emerged from Villers lips,

"There once was a time in my youth I would allow myself to respond harshly to your comments admiral, I like to think I've grown and matured from that time but I guess I haven‘t.. Your liberation is the lapdog of the Vernii and when you are not that you suckle from the teat of the Valinor in fear of the Ortagans!"

He turned then to the Robots,

"Protector Adonis is the the old veteran of the Valinor, I think he is their champion and he has more experience and seen more years then any of us will. His election to supreme commander should not be challenged. I thank the President for his fine words on my behalf but I am man enough to realize that Admiral Forrest would be a much more capable choice then myself. I am a battlefield commander and like to take the fight to my enemy, I am not necessarily the best choice for a strategic commander. I will not pursue my election for fleet commander whist someone better qualified than myself is nominated."

"I have said words here tonight which have offended some in this room. For that I will not apologize. My believes are my own and I stand by them. Just know that we may disagree here and that is not a bad thing, but out there on campaign we must be united. "

He regards the Vaku.

"You say you wouldn't fight under my banner fine, but remember we may not like each other that doesn't mean we wont fight together against our common enemy. I hate the Ortagans with every part of my being, they have destroyed everything which has mattered to me. I wont spare their soldiers one mercy on the battlefield but I do not wish harm upon their civilians, I like to think we have some shred of decency left." With that as his final comment the WIckian sat down, abdicating his bid for fleet commander and telling all gathered that his fleet would not be apart to slaughter or war crimes.

Murphy looks at Villers coldly, putting his hands down on the table and leaning forward, "I'm not a politician. I don't decide our allies, I don't make our policy. I've never wanted to be in charge of a nation, I just had it dumped in my lap. I take orders, I give orders; I am a navy man and that is all."

Ginske looked at Villers and could tell what he was thinking because it was the same thought he was having. None of us asked to be where we are. Our duty to our nation put us here today, how we respond to that determines our future.

"Have we reached an accord then? I've asked us all to meet today to ensure support for the Vernii if there is a Battle of Gregor, We also now appear to have decided on a Supreme commander in Adonis and an Allied Fleet under Admiral Forrest. What else have we to decide on if anything?"

"I believe there is one final matter that needs to be addressed," Friedelinde says quietly. "Gentlemen, we all know that many of those who fight in the name of Hegemon Ansel and is self-proclaimed Revolution have no qualms about putting aside the rules of war and in many cases the appreciation for sentient life the rest of the nations in the Raumreich hold in such regard."

"I will not even open the debate about whether this is done willingly, or at the behest of some form of most obscene cohersion as that can be determined at a later date. But the Solar Forces have built up incredible reserves of animosity and hatred in virtually all the nations of the Inner Marches with their actions to secure victory for the Hegemony. In doing so they have seeded the world around them with all the materials necessary to facilitate their own destruction. That is the vicious cycle that has so often followed all sentient life in its course across the universe. I believe Euripides said it best when he wrote 'man is a fool, he builds cities only to tear them down, he hits himself again and again and again'."

The composed face of the Empress of the Valinor slips for a moment, and a shadow of a deep, passionate conviction passes through her eyes.

"Together we have at our disposal the means to defeat the Ortagan Hegemony, if at a considerable price. However, in securing our own victory we must take every step we can to prevent ourselves from laying the foundations that will destroy the peace that follows after this war."

Friedelinde nods her head toward Villers and Ginske, "I know all of you will say that you do not seek attrocities and that such is considered a crime most heinous, but what governments say and do is not necessarily always reflected in the actions of the governed or those who serve the government--the Ortagan Hegemony has taught us that as well. And often such declarations can become momentarily lost or forgotten in the general fog and chaos of war. Perhaps not by those who are in command, but those who command are not the only representatives of our nations."

"In the course of this war, Gentlemen, we must all work together to prevent even the most minor outbreak of attrocities across all ranks, from the soldier to the general and from the sailor to the admiral. I realize many of you my find this a thing with quite a bitter taste, as something should be when you give your enemy the respect and the dignity you know would be lacking if the situation were reversed. But if that is the cost for securing a future that will not know another war such as this, or one such as the War of the Lion, I for one am willing to suffer a moment of displeasurable taste. And now, do the other nations of the Inner Marches share this conviction?"

Seprodi finally stands, an odd change from the usual. Murphy is even a bit surprised but does not react too much, only turning his head to acknowledge him. "If you don't mind, Admiral," began.

"Oh... of course not, Nick."

"I did not join the service to kill women and children... or any man who did not wish to fight. The Ortagans responsible will pay the price for Hamunaptra in the war and the trials right after. If I may speak for my Admiral..." Murphy nods "... we will not become the tyrants we fight."

It was President Ginske who spoke in response to the Empress.

“The Concordat’s Armed Forces and especially the CSN has proven themselves to be a professional force. Any members of state military forces attempting to surrender will be made prisoners of war and treated with humanity, which is more they have done for their opponents in the past.”

“We must pursue this war to its end state, which will be the complete removal of the Hegemony’s government and Armed Forces as they exist today. We must also punish those responsible for the crimes inflicted upon our nations. Those men and women responsible for the murder and extermination of millions of civilians must pay the ultimate price, a precedence established with the Nuremburg Protocol back on Old Earth.”

“State here Empress that those responsible for ordering the murder of over a billion of my people will pay for their crimes with their death then you shall have my nations fullest cooperation …we all after all want to see justice done.”

Admiral Heddon is put off slightly when Ginske and Seprodi respond positively to Freidelinde's talk on not committing atrocities, when neither of them took his own appeal for the same terribly seriously. But, he figures, being the head of state of the Raumreich's foremost power confers much more respect than being a Lord of the Admiralty in the Robotic Flotilla Service.

Not being an inner march nation and not being at all known for committing even the smallest slip up with regards to noncombatants, Heddon doesn't think it necessary to reassure the other powers that the RFS won't do such bad things.

"Indeed, should we win this war, I'm confident that the Ortagan leadership won't be allowed to escape trial."

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Imperium of Vernii
6.01.1300 AF
1344 Solar Forces Standard

Hellings allows a wintry smile to cross his lips as he reads Holtzman’s last response.

“It is good to know that Governor Holtzman is not a complete idiot.”

“Admiral?”

“Nothing, Mr. Immerson, I was merely vocalizing my thoughts.”

“Ah, my apologies then, sir,” Hellings waves a hand in dismissal.

“Admiral,” raises the voice from flag sensors, “incoming translation fifteen thousand kilometer off our stern, the bridge is hailing now.”

Hellings nods and waits patiently, already certain of who the new arrival will be.

“New arrivals confirmed as General Weber’s convoy and its escorts,” says the flag com. “General Weber sends his compliments on decisively overcoming the Erewohnese and the Verniians, he is also holding for a direct link.”

“Forward it to my station, and if you would transmit the following message to Governor Holtzman,” Hellings double-taps the transfer icon on his data pad with his stylus.

“Yes, Admiral,” flag com responds as Hellings takes his seat elevated above the main projection and watches as the small hologram of the commanding officer of the Solar Marines in the Outer Sectors forms.

“Admiral,” Weber says with a deep bow of his head. “If the reports are to be believed it seems you have already largely pacified this system. I suppose I should have expected to be nothing more than the hired security considering who was engaging whom.”

“Rest assured, Orion, there will be more than enough to keep you and your command busy for at least several months. The Erewohnese are a stubborn people, and stubborn people inevitable believe they can stage a resistance campaign effective enough to deter our presence in the system permanently. However, the Seljukites thought the same thing and in the end they were educated to the fact that the Hegemony’s interests are not so easily derailed.”

“Indeed,” Weber says nodding. “May I inquire as to what my command’s operating procedure will be for the moment?”

“The standard operational plan we discussed, under operating Case Tango.”

“Ah, so Holtzman was persuaded to join our efforts?”

“For the most part it seems. I will of course be moving to make sure of it. As for the rest of the operation procedure, I want the remaining forces of the Erewohnese armed forces detained and disarmed—with the exception of local police forces. We can use their own installations to stage from, and the surrendered personnel will be brought to the space containers you brought with you for final processing. We can then move to secure the major population centers, and I will be declaring martial law once your troops land to expedite that process. Finally I also want you to coordinate with the onboard detachments in the fleet, we will be moving to take over operations of the orbital fortresses, shipyards, and orbital industry at the same time we are securing the bases and population centers.”

“That will stretch our operation manpower to a great degree, Doral.”

“I am well aware of that, Orion. However, we do control their space and once we can secure terrestrial FARP points, we can start deploying Shard fighters. Any resistance we meet can be rapidly dispersed, either with pinpoint air strikes or with orbital bombardments. And I want the entirety of those orbital facilities under our control before the special technical units and relief forces arrive from Axis.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The flag com looks up at Hellings, a nervous look in his eye. Hellings arches his eyebrow in response and motions for him to proceed.

“Priority message from Observer Marlow, sir.”

Hellings hisses, “Put it through. Excuse me, Orion.”

As he reads the simple text, Hellings eyes flash. However, he had grown increasingly concerned in the months prior to this operation about curtailing Marine…excesses given the wealth of goods they would be exposed to on both Erewohn and Vernii. And now it seems the only watchdog he had—however much he loathed to use them—was now firmly against him.

“I take it that it is less than good news, Doral.”

“It depends on who you are, Orion. Rest assured you will find out what Citizen Marlow wants soon enough. Proceed with your landings, I will have the fleet move in ahead of you and will broadcast the declaration of martial momentarily—and Marlow’s command. For now I have to make a report to Roum, and I need a drink before I deal with that or Marlow’s command.”

“Understood, Doral. I will have the convoy proceed with the fleet.”

Hellings nods and cuts the link.

“Mr. Immerson, I will be in my quarters. Have Captain Dortega screen me once we enter orbit on the outskirts of the Erewohnese perimeter.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

To: Governor Holtzman
From: Admiral Dolar Hellings, Commanding the Forces and Occupation of the Erewohnese system

Governor Holtzman,

My fleet and the Solar Marine forces under General Weber are proceeding in-system to oversee the transition of authority from local authorities to the representatives of the Hegemony. We will be taking up a position immediately outside the local defensive perimeter of your planet.

Once we have assumed a stationing orbit, you are to acquire transportation—along with your primary ministers and remaining ranking military personnel—and proceed immediately to the HSS Phoenix. While you are onboard my ship you will assist my forces in overseeing the disarmament of all standing forces of the Erewohn and the installation of the Solar Marines as the primary enforcers of law and order in this system. We will also be assuming direct control of the operations of any and all orbital and lunar facilities in the planetary system. As such you are to inform your civilian installations that they are to begin an orderly—and I stress that, Governor—evacuation to the planet. Your military facilities are to stand down their weapons and assemble to wait to be relieved by Solar Marines.

You should note, and make your surviving commanders aware, that any and all hostile actions—especially attacks on either my fleet or Marine transports—will result in the destruction of the offending facility or personnel in the very least, with the possibility of a retaliatory demonstration attack against an appropriate terrestrial target.

I will expect confirmation of your understanding of these directive and that your surviving military installations—terrestrial and orbital—have stood down within forty-five minutes. My fleet and General Weber’s convoy will be assuming a stationary position in exactly one and a half standard hours.

Whisper Palace, Silesia, New Ortaga, Roum System, Hegemony of New Ortaga
6.01.1300 AF
1438 Solar Forces Standard

The grim-faced members of the “Inner Council” sit in respectful silence as the holographic image of Admiral Hellings calmly finishes the report of the battle in Erewohn from its place in a holographic chair before the Hegemon’s desk.

“In conclusion, Your Excellency, the battle was concluded largely in our favor. Losses to our fleet were minimal, and General Weber and I are moving to secure the planet fully. I expect operations to complete the disarmament of local forces and establish full control over the urban areas and orbital facilities will take forty-eight hours.”

“Excellent, Admiral,” Ansel says with a slight smile on his face. “Your efficiency is commendable and your service to the Hegemony and the Revolution will not go unnoticed.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

“But there is one more issue before you are dismissed. Given the overall situation, including the information you have received from Strategos Garahou regarding Morning Star and Ticonderoga,” a brief wave of tension sweeps through the other members of the inner council, “what is your next plan regarding the continuation of our effort to remove the Verniian Imperium as a threat?”

“Your Excellency, I wish to make sure that Erewohn is fully secure before proceeding with any major operations against the Imperium. And to do that will require me to keep the bulk of my fleet here, in order to prevent a possible attempt by the Verniian naval forces in Gregor to liberate the system, at least until I am reinforced. However, I do intend to conduct raids on Verniian assets in both the Acler and Boroglia systems with the intent to destroy or damage as much of the systems’ infrastructure as possible—as well as to lure reinforcements away from the elements of the Verniian home defense fleet. But may I ask a question, Your Excellency?”

Ansel makes an opening gesture with his hand.

“When can I expect additional reinforcements from the other mobile elements of the Navy?”

Ansel leans forward slightly, “I have already deployed Admiral Kruger and his First Mobile Operations Group to our forward deployment area in system GM-34, and will be sending him orders to proceed to Erewohn with all due haste once this meeting is concluded. You should expect him to arrive in Erewohn in no less than two days. Admiral Proctor and the Second Mobile Operations Group are concluding operational readiness exercises in Xerxes and will be proceeding to Axis in two days. They will secure your additional arsenal reserve supplement, the special technical units recently acquired from Mesa, and General Brouchard’s Marine compliment before proceeding to Erewohn. Do we have an estimated arrival on Admiral Proctor, Cima?” Ansel turns to the Strategos.

“Allowing extra time in Axis, twelve days at the most, Your Excellency.”

“Twelve days it is then. Does that answer your question, Admiral?”

“Yes, Your Excellency, it does. I will resume active operations against the Verniians once Admiral Kruger has arrived. Unless Admiral Proctor takes longer than estimated, I will move to seize Gregor in twenty standard days.”

“Good, Admiral, and thank you for your report. Dismissed, and good luck.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

Ansel’s look of satisfaction evaporates rapidly after Hellings vanishes.

“It is good to know that there is at least one bit of good news in all this disgusting mess. Now does anyone else care to elaborate as to why we are still facing a war on three fronts rather than just one?”

A look of supreme discomfort arises, focused on Cima Garahou and Kendra Ansel.

“I believe the explanation is simple, Your Excellency,” Ginas Saharin interjects as he absent-mindedly studies his fingernails. “The absence of Solar Navy units in attacks against Morning Star and Ticonderoga meant our forces following the missile strike were insufficient to overpower the Silver Fleet or the Concordat Navy. The Observer-manned warships and their crews proved incapable of carrying out the most basic of objecti-“

“Ridiculous!” Kendra Ansel barks. “The only failure was on the part of your own technicians, Saharin. Obviously you failed miserably to gauge not only the amount of development those disgusting Wickians and the reactionary ‘Liberationists’ manage to scrabble together but also the true locations of their main fleet bases and defense centers.”

Saharin snorts, “Even if that were the case, Director-General, a proper Solar Navy task force would have been sufficient to cover discrepancy in targeting and force disposition. That is why I called for it in my initial plans. Obviously the Observers were incapable of fulfilling the requirements to adapt to a fluid tactical situation, which is not all that surprising considering the almost complete disregard for proper tactics in their ranks.”

“And that is why your vaunted naval task forces retreated at the first sign of aggression on the part of the Silver Fleet, Admiral?” Kendra says with a vicious gleam in her eye.

Saharin shrugs, “Commodore Odin made a logical decision to withdraw from the system rather than simply throw away his command in a hopeless situation. And it was not his obligation to remain in the system and engage. You specifically said that combat operations in Morning Star and Ticonderoga should be the soul province of the Observer Combat Corps.”

“This is preposterous! I will be held responsible for your failings, Saharin! If anything this further proves that you and your entire command should be reviewed entirely by the Observers and all your personnel should be subject to a full loyalty review. Not to mention-“

“Enough!” Channing Ansel suddenly bellows. “It is readily apparent that deviation from the original plan laid out by Ginias was a grievous error,” Ansel glares at Kendra and Garahou—the two primary advocates of the Observer deployment. “However, hindsight is twenty-twenty and completely useless regarding changing the current situation. Jordan, what effects did our assaults against Morning Star and Ticonderoga have?”

The Polemarch quietly studies his data pad for a moment, and then begins.

“Our agents in Morning Star have confirmed that the last-ditch strike by the Observers did manage to kill Admiral Setties and most of his officials. The path of governmental succession has been thrown into complete chaos, and with the absence of any competent central a massive insurgency that is being lead by surviving elements of the old clergy establishment has erupted. Without a central authority, there is a greater than seventy-three percent chance that the Collective Protectorates will simply dissolve into outright civil war—especially with the destruction inflicted on their government and infrastructure.”

“Ticonderoga is still very much an enigma. We still have no clue as to why the ansible malfunctioned during the engagement, although I am inclined to suspect Valinor involvement. Most likely the Observers either threatened Valinor citizens or interests directly, causing the Valinor—either directly or through the Vaku—to intervene on behalf of the Concordat. Either way it is quite clear that all Observer forces operating in Ticonderoga were destroyed and only minimal damage was inflicted on the Concordat military establishment. Unlike the Liberation, the Concordat is in a position to launch a counterattack, and I expect we will see that soon enough in the outlying systems around Dylar—most likely in Gryps, Thetis, and Yetti’s Star.”

“Thankfully we have largely withdrawn from those systems,” Ansel says quickly. “And the Verniians?”

“The Verniians seem content to do nothing more than to wait for an attack on Gregor. We have not even seen reports of their navy moving to reinforce there other colonies or their surviving major outposts in Acler and Boroglia. It seems we have shell-shocked the Verniian government and high command into inaction.”

“And once again good news is welcomed,” Ansel growls. “Now I think we have all seen how we must proceed in this war, and it is how we should have proceeded originally.”

The Hegemon once again glares at his daughter and his Strategos.

“When Admiral Hellings moves to take Gregor, I want Admiral Jerrod and the Third Mobile Operations Group to launch a new attack on Morning Star. He should be more than capable of dismantling the surviving elements of the Silver Fleet and securing the system. Once the Liberation and the Verniians are dealt with we can eliminate the Wickians once and for all. Cima, are all the Mesan units secured?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Good, I want all of them attached to Admiral Hellings’ and General Weber’s command at once, including the combat support units.”

“Your Excellency, I do not consider that-,” Garahou is silenced by the look of utter contempt from the Hegemony. “Yes, Your Excellency. I will transmit these orders as soon as I return to Axis.”

“Good. With any luck we can still salvage this disgusting mess and secure at least one—if not two of these fronts—before the month is out.”

Ansel picks up his data pad and allows his eyes to stab into the members of the “inner council” again.

“Now all of you get out.”

Galt, Saharin, Kagoshima, Kendra Ansel, and Garahou all rapidly stand and leave as the Hegemon reorients his chair to watch the Silesia skyline blaze in the brilliance of the final hours of the evening sunset.

General System Transmission from the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Occupied Territories of the Hegemony of New Ortaga
6.01.1300 AF
1558 Solar Forces Standard

Already the transition of power across the Erewohn system has already begun. In orbit over Erewohn, the vast arrays of military and civilian facilities are being surrendered to the Solar Marines. Once surrendered the facilities are thoroughly searched for any lurking traps or surprises left behind by the withdrawing Erewohnese. Orbital fortresses and other military structures find their weapons and sensors turned back toward the planet they were supposed to protect, as the vast horde of the Outer Frontier Security Fleet sits mockingly outside their perimeter.

On the surface of Erewohn the sound of landing heavy transports and the rumble of Solar Marine equipment is deafening in the cities. Solar Marines are rapidly appearing at every corner, support by heavy squads in full powered armor and a host of hover tanks and light combat vehicles. The bellowing scream of Shard class atmospheric fighters scream overheard, moving out to secure the air of Erewohn.

As the solidification of the Hegemony’s dominion over Erewohn and its people are secured, a full holographic message is beamed across every channel in the system. The view is that of Admiral Hellings, closely shadowed on one side by General Orion Weber and on the other by the red and black garbed Tactical Observer Marlow, standing on the bridge of the HSS Phoenix.

“People of Erewohn, by now you have heard of the surrender of this system to the Hegemony of New Ortaga and the forces of the Revolution. This is transition is being supported by all members of your former government, and as such any and all attempts at resistance to the will of the Hegemony and its representatives are futile.”

“At this time, as commander of the forces present in Erewohn and overall commander of the occupied territories controlled by the Hegemony, I am also issuing a formal declaration of martial law across the Erewohn system. As of this moment all judicial procedures and former law codes under the Verniian administration are suspended and are hereby replaced by the Standard Occupational Codes and Procedures of the Solar Forces. Full details on the Codes and Procedures are being posted on the local system data nets and will be publicly posted across the system. Any resistance to the enforcement of the Codes and Procedures—large or small—will be met with the full force of the occupational authority. The representatives of the Hegemony, in the form of the men and women of the Solar Forces, the Directorate of Observers, and the Coordination of Security and Intelligence have supreme local authority regarding all matters.”

“I also have an announcement for the Citizens of the Hegemony currently serving the Revolution in this system. Acting within his discretionary powers as ranking Tactical Observer in this system, Citizen-Observer Marlow has decreed that the men and women of the Revolution’s armed forces are empowered by his order to redistribute the illegally seized wealth and property of any and all Erewohnese plutocrats and oligarchs at their commanders personal discretion. The enemies of the Revolution have too long suppressed both the less fortunate members of their own society and have used their wealth to stand against the Revolution. As such, their property and valuables will be stripped from them and held in trust by the representatives of the Revolution until such time that they can be equally redistributed when this system becomes a full member of the Hegemony and a bastion of Citizens in Arms working to support the cause of the Revolution.”

“That is all.”

The message rapidly dissipates, and within an hour its effects are all too clear. Hellings, partially at the behest of Observer Marlow and partially because he knows there is no longer anyone to stop the cycle of looting by the victorious Solar Marines, has given his soldiers free writ to being their looting and pillaging of Erewohn. Even in the short time since they have arrived, many in the Solar Marines have seen all to well how lavishly the Erewohnese live compared to their own homes across the Hegemony. Traditionally drawn from the lower tiers of the supposedly “equal” Revolutionary society, the Solar Marines are like thieves given the key to the vault. Reports of property being seized out of stores, out of homes, and out of warehouses poor into the Erewohnese police stations. It is an outcry the police can do nothing about, to do anything to defy the agents of the Hegemony would result in the already vile occupation turning into an outright subjugation.

And so the great behemoth known as the Hegemony continues the vicious cycle it has wrapped itself in. Trapped in support its own massive welfare program and its ever-expanding military, the Hegemony resembles a beast eating its own tail. Eventually such a creature can only cause its own destruction, but in reaching that point that dying beast can take entire star systems and entire nations with it in its throws.

OOC: Will post regarding Dylar later.

"I believe we've covered most of this meeting's agenda," Murphy announces. "We've pledged to defend Vernii, we've pledged to remain united, we've pledged to not commit attrocities, and the Vaku have provided for the protection of Ticonderoga... but one thing we haven't covered is the defense of the Morning Star. Yes, the Silver Fleet has been left largely intact, but we cannot fend off an Solar Navy assault." Murphy then begins to walk from his seat around the table slowly, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Frankly put, the Morning Star still has the same manufacturing capacity as nearly all of Vernii and is positioned at the front of the war. Yes, I want my system to be saved, but I also believe losing it would be a powerful blow to the whole war effort. Would you agree, Leveson?" he inquires to his Verniian counterpart.

OOC: Guess Ill put a post in was waiting for Vernii first but I can be an ass enough on my own...

“Admiral” Villers said looking to the Liberation man. “I don’t doubt you don’t like half the words I say, I’d wager you have a lot in common with the Vaku. However if there is anything I understand it’s how it is to live with the knowledge that this day could be our last. That your entire system could be wiped out the moment the Ortagans gather enough strength to assault it.”

“In the end though admiral your system like Ticonderoga is expendable when it comes to the overall strategic goals of this war. Your system contains no wormhole that alone makes it a secondary objective for the Ortagans and ourselves as a defensive priority. Your nation like my own has to look after our own defenses, at the cost of protecting more important systems. Given your systems proximity to the Hegemony I do not doubt an attack will come soon. It is for that reason your Silver Fleet need not send forces to Gregor, where as the CSN will uncover much of Ticonderoga in order to deal a crippling blow to the Solar Navy's largest and best supplied expeditionary force.”

He wanted a moment to put emphasis on his next words.

“I do not doubt the Ortagans will return to your system in force Admiral, you insult them by having the gall to defeat their first attack, more will come that is inevitable. However whatever force is brought to protect your system comes from the forces dedicated to destroying Hellings fleet when it appears in Gregor, potentially vital ships in that most important of goals. Consider that-that is all I ask Admiral.”

"Villers," the Admiral replied, "First, I had posed the question to Fleet Admiral Leveson, and second, I'm starting to believe that your only purpose at this conference is to controdict every word that comes out of my mouth. Quite frankly, your nation has been given protection, allies are sending more protection to Gregor, and all the while my system, which altogether holds just around one seventh of the total production power in the whole reich, is being completely neglected; so forgive me if I don't concider my system expendable and ask for a little bit of help from my allies."

After the short awkward pause the most undoubtedly follows the admiral's rant, he continues. "Now; Fleet Admiral Leveson, I was hoping for your evaluation of the Morning Star's situation."

Castle Radcliffe

"No, I don't consider Morning Star to be expendable either, and of course, while the defense of Gregor is vital, the navy does have units it can spare. I can send a dreadnought division and roughly half of our battlecruiser units, plus a good chunk of the System Guard, reservists and second-rate warships, but their missiles can kill enemy warships just as well as anything else."

With that, he composed a short note and downloaded it back into the Navy's computer system for dispatch to Operations.

Erewohn

Hellings message received confirmation fairly quickly, and transport shuttles packed with workers began hurriedly evacuating personnel from the orbital stations.

The spherical sidewalls of the orbital fortresses vanished and their weapons went offline. Inside, crewmen had been busy destroying sensitive military equipment and wiping their computers.

On Erewohn itself, the Scütwerks armaments corporation had done likewise. Prototypes were destroyed, databanks were wiped, and sensitive files were burned. Billions of Verniian solaris worth of company assets were lost, but they couldn't be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Although, company financial analysts grimly noted, if the Imperium managed to retake the system, the corporation would most likely receive a tax cut to help it absorb the losses.

Civilian reaction to the occupational forces landing was initially rather passive. They were behaving on the assumption that if they gave the occupational troops no reason to bother them, then they wouldn't be bothered. With the outbreak of widespread looting by the Solar Marines though, that appeared to not be the case. The police, helpless to prevent it, find themselves trying to be mediators between the civilian population and the marines, following marines as they move through the business and residential districts to convince people to give up their goods and property without a fuss.

Scores of patriots, mostly made up of retired military personnel and emergency service responders, vanished into the countryside with survival equipment and weapons 'looted' from stores shortly after the surrender was announced. They would merely hide for now, since they needed to acquire supplies for long term survival and prepare a resistance strategy.

Governor Holtzman's private yacht Sophia launched from Farben Aerospace Port, its guest accomodations filled with high ranking government and military officials. Its graceful white hull swiftly left the atmosphere, swinging about onto a new course to dock with HSS Phoenix as instructed.

Harris Operations Center
Cardona, Vernii

Admiral Richard Keppel strode quickly through the spacious and crowded, white halls of the Harris Operations Center, obviously named after the famous fleet admiral who had died in the defense of his nation. Being an admiral had its perks, as he left almost a comet-like trail behind him as junior officers and enlisted men alike hurriedly moved out of his way with a flurry of salutes. Finally, he turned a corner, stopping before an oak door marked with the words Strategic Planning Committee. He pulled a gold pocketwatch out of his pocket, noting with satisfaction that he was on time. Keeping your superiors waiting was never a boost to a man's career after all.

He removed his jacket, folding it neatly over his arm, and walked through the door. Seven grim faced admirals, all of whom were senior to him, sat along a table facing toward the door. The Committee Chairman, Admiral Frederick Seymour, spoke first.

"Welcome Admiral Keppel, take a seat." He waved toward one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table. "Now, if you would be so kind, explain to us this idea of yours."

"It's two ideas actually, Sir. The first, I've temporarily named Operation Scalpel. As you are of no doubt aware, Fleet Admiral Leveson has just informed the rest of us of his plan to dispatch half of our battlecruiser strength to Morning Star. That leaves the other half here in Gregor. I'd like to take those units and raid the Hegemony's system of New Edo, although if a better target presents itself, that might change. It's a simple plan really, a hit-and-run on the system infrastructure, and I've outlined it in detail for all of you." He opened up his briefcase and pulled seven folders out of it, handing one to each admiral.

"With that, I'll explain my second idea, which I've rather uncreatively named Operation Hammer..."

Friedelinde leans toward Adonis, "Is there any way we could dispatch additional forces to assist in the defense of Morning Star?"

"Possibly, Your Majesty. It would mean that we would have to draw a greater number of heavier ships from Madras, Pelledrine, and Chandara. I will say we can commit a dreadnought squadron from Madras with some additional battlecruiser and screening reinforcement from Pelledrine and Chandara. Do you also want the Sardaukar expeditionary forces reinforced?"

"No, given the reports of the size of the insurgency I believe the intial force will be more sufficient to reestablish order in the system within the initial time frame we outlined," Friedelinde turns back to the other delegates. "Gentlemen, the Star Empire will also move to assist in the defense of Morning Star--or rather move to reinforce the commitment we have already made with the deployment by the Imperial Yaltan Navy and the Reichswehr units."

"However, there is one matter I would like to address. You already spoke, Admiral Murphy, that you have no interest in controlling the government of the Collective Protectorates--a welcomed change from the policies of your predecessor--but I was curious as to when we will see this start to form a reality. I recognize that the current crisis cause for more military thought than civilian, but surely the survivors of Admiral Setties civilian ministers could form a provisional government to handle the civilian affairs of Morning Star during this war. If there is a civilian authority present, especially after the insurgency is dealt with fully, it could be left to handle the affairs at home and would allow you to deploy additional personnel to the front. One of those rare instances were civilian authorities coincide with direct military benefits, don't you agree, Admiral?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Murphy's unfamiliarity with the term your majesty or anything similar to it stems from his never being trained to interact with any type of royalty, as even the Prime Guardian of the Collective Protectorates was to simply be addressed as sir by military personel. "Until the insurgency is contained, which from what I've seen, will be only a matter of weeks at most, the military will remain in control of the Morning Star, but as soon as possible we will be returning power to civilian leaders."

"Sadly, most of the Ministers have been reported dead or missing; but we have reason to believe Foreign Minister Darius, I think you might be familiar with him, and Security Minister Harding are currently in hiding somewhere in the Emperor's Basin on True Hope. Also, most of the Council members and some other officials have survived and are being held in a secret location in the Morning Star by my own men."

Aboard the Colin Olongwe, the sub-etha array recieves a message from the Robotic admiralty ordering it to make for Invergordon Depot as fast as its FTL drives can carry it, and join the newly-formed 4th Battle Squadron under Grand Admiral Qaboos Mallor.

The message comes at the right time, since Heddon doesn't see much more that he can contribute to the conference, and he assumes that Adonis will soon contact the Admiralty to give the RFS its deployment orders.

"I'm afraid we need to break off contact with the conference now, as we've been called away to join up with the fleet proper. Allied fleet command will be in contact with the Admiralty with its orders for the RFS, I gather?"

Hammersmith Palais Shipyard

Busier than normal with more than the regular battery of RFS-related orders on top of its standard projects, finding enough space to build a substantial Verniian dreadnought order was not easy, but the normally resourceful and effective shipyard workers manage to set aside no less than ten slipways. Construction on the Verniian dreadnoughts, the size of which Hammersmith Palais does not often deal with, begins in earnest. Before long, one can make out the shape of the dreadnoughts, and the yards are scheduled to finish P.Ver.49, the most complete of all the ships, within the week.

Invergordon Depot

A fleet the likes of which the Robotic Flotilla Service had never in its (well, rather short) history assembled gathers outside the usually sleepy and unoutstanding supply depot of Invergordon in the Invergordon system, a charactistic Robotic system. Its handful of planets, all gas giants, maintain either a very wide or very short orbit around the relatively small (pitiful, as one RFS sailor put it) star of Invergordon. Nowhere is permanent habitation possible and natural resources are both scarce and difficult to extract. Its crew, now aware of the depot's dangerous proximity to the inner march, is thankful for the protection offered by the large amount of battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and even, oddly enough, the usually independent monitors which saw fit to collect outside the depot.

In fact, once Grand Admiral Qaboos Mallor arrives in the refurbished spherical cruiser Hyderabad, the collection of warships will have a proper name.

A friendly *bump*

I guess everybody must be rather busy at the moment. No problem, take your time. ;)

The artificial environment created in Nu-Space for the War Council abruptly disappeared, leaving for only a second the Valinor and Wickian delegations alone in a bright white “Waiting Room”. The Council had concluded its agenda by the time the Robots left, The Liberation soon followed along with the Vernii. The Wickians were happy with the outcome, The Valinor now would enter the conflict when Hellings moved on Gregor, and their would be an Allied Fleet awaiting the most fearsome fleet fielded by the Solar Navy, the cost of that bloody fight would be high but for the first time there appeared to be a good chance of victory.

The white environment quickly changed into the black of space a single bright blue star formed at the center of the starscape, quickly growing larger until it was clear that it was the primary of Ticonderoga. The four satellites of the systems passed through the room, The Ice Planet and its orbital of Winchecki Station, the Gas giant of Baen, and finally the Field and the two planetoids with in it. The astute observer would have noticed the alert defensive posture of the six forts the Wickians maintained within the field and the patrolling squadrons of fighters and monitors, and noticeable battle damage rendered to several orbitals though it seemed not to affect their ability to function so much. What was surprising could be the lack of ships of the wall in the system no more then a reinforced BatRon were present, there was almost a palatable tension or uneasiness about the system inhabitants as those too old or to young were organized into evacuation convoys.
Side Six was the final destination of this little tour of the Wickian’s capital the two groups finding themselves standing in the personal quarters of President Ginske. The light were low like in most Wickian habitats, but the dormitory had a sanitary feel to it, like someone was trying to wash away his mistakes, but never could quite rid himself of their stink.

“Empress, Reichsprotektor, I thought we could hold a conversation in private. I think it must be the distance of our two nations but the opportunity hardly has presented itself in the past and so it must be taken, wouldn’t you agree?”

Friedelinde takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of Ginske's desk and assumes a position far more relaxed--almost casaul even--from the one she had maintained during the summit. Adonis follows shortly after, his posture remains the same, and the strange SI continues to stand slightly behind Friedelinde and Adonis.

"I would agree initially at the very least, Mr. President. Although I will admit that I do wish it was under somewhat more fortunate circumstances then having the possibility of the extermination of life as we know it in Raumreich being obliterated."

Friedelinde crosses neatly folds her hand in my lap, "And since this is for all intents and purposes the only instance the Concordat and the Star Empire have had any kind of appreciable dialogue, allow me to offer my condolences to the families of the soldiers and civilians who lost their lives in the recent attack. I apologize that I have not been able to do more for the Concordat then send a few ships and discreetly transfer some odd bits of technology under the table, but that is the unfortunate aspect of no longer being an absolutist state. Occassionally I do see why some of my predecessors longed for the days when they could just make their word into law, but I believe recent times have also shown us why it is a point of merit to have some measure of control on a government's executive branch. But it does mean that certain...'resounding' political idealists can effectively stop the best of intentions."

"Especially if they are spurred on by a fossilized boar of a man," Adonis mummers quietly and earns a slightly reproving look from Friedelinde. "Speaking only metaphorically for the most part, Your Majesty."

"Indeed. With that being said, what would you like to discuss, Mr. President?"

"Well, if that's all Mr. Seprodi and I should be off." Murphy announced after the departure of the Valinor and Wickians. He stood from his seat, Seprodi following close behind, and approached the Verniians and extended his hand once again, "And thank you for the support. Its good to know we have friends in the reich."

“I have had the unpleasant experience of removing two individuals whose words were made into law without question Friedelinde. One man was our greatest hero and the other was simply a man doing the best he could in a hard situation. Each cost our nation dearly, seems to me that the WIckian situation in the past was much like a certain other ruler.” Villers said refereeing to Protector Strength, Proprietor Ginske and Hegemon Ansel respectively.
“My Protector is right Empress, time has shown me some small amount of wisdom and has also shown many of us Wickians to not dwell in that past. It is better to look for hope in the future then be reminded of our pain memories in the past.”

The President confided in her,

“It is the Future to which I would like to speak to you about personally today Empress; The future…of both our nations.”

"Yes, part of the reason for this war is the fact that none of our nations ever fully tried to correct the conflicts and issues that generated the War of the Lion--the Star Empire included."

"However, Mr. President," Friedelinde says prying into Ginske's expression with her blue eyes, "'the future' is some what vague. While I do admit that a better future for the Star Empire, the Concordat, and the entirety of the Raumreich depends entirely on developing closer and far more pro-active international relations, merely knowing and admitting that does not make it so. Many in Lady Rolt's United Lords realized this after the War of the Lion, but the lack of any specific plan meant that nothing was accomplished."

"So, Mr. Ginske, what exactly do you envision in the future of our two nations?"

"My nation Empress has not been fortunate in the past in its choice of allies, yet in those years before the War of the Lion we had no choice but to ally with whom we did." Ginske paused a moment considering, "Now is different however in that we have a choice with whom our closest relations will be with after this conflict. I intend to establish a much closer relationship with your Star Empire. Yours is a nation I believe that would not betray mine for twenty piece of silver or to the aversion of spilling one's blood Empress. However Empress for a closer relationship between our nations to succeed we must have reforms enacted in the Liga, it must be made into an effective institution, I see a pact between our nations as something easily attained but what good is that pact if we allow the Raumreich to rot around us? Why has my nation sacrificed so much to take down one great tyrant only to see two rise up in his place.”

“Back on old earth in the late nineteenth century Otto Von Bismarck once remarked that ‘The great questions of the day will not be settled by means of speeches and majority decisions but by iron and blood’, and other men greater then myself would take one look at the anarchical nature of the Raumreich and declare that such a system can not be changed. That a nation’s only and best defense would be an unflinching respect for each other’s sovereignty and security through force of arms, that realism is our best course of action. It was that course of action which devastated Thetis, that brought us as a region to our current point, and I can not in good conscience allow such an environment to persist, I believe with every sinew of my being that we can change our situation that we must.”

The President stood and walked the few short meters to the wall displaying the area surrounding Side Six.

“The Liga is the instrument which will affact change in Raumreich, I hold an absolute conviction in that fact. But never has there existed an organization which has missed the opportunity to do so much good in the Raumreich. The Organization as it exists now is worth as much as a political dissenter on Roum. There must be reforms to the Liga, fundamental reforms which will make it an effective institution.”

“We Wickians know that the fundamental problems of the Liga and as such my government will be proposing three reforms. The first is one of the most important reform of the voting structure. Time and time again our nation was denied aid in its most dire of times because our enemies held a veto power. We must have some form of Interstellar Assembly which is to include all members of the Liga. This Assembly must be democratic, every sovereign entity of the Raumreich should have one equal voice in this assembly, from you Star Empire to the smallest single system in the Talbott Cluster. It will be the responsibility of this Assembly to maintain the peace through diplomatic initiative, to build economic ties between nations, to render aid to those who need it, it is the branch that will bind the Raumreich together at last.”

“The Second reform will be the creation of, for the lack of a better title, a Security Council. This element of the reformed Liga shall be responsible for keeping the peace, and enforcing the peace where needed. A permanent interstellar armed force shall be established to ensure the peace is kept, any member of the Liga has the right to volunteer forces into this force, they will be our peacekeepers in occupied or disputed territories , and they can also hunt down those who disregard the peace including outlaws and pirates. This branch shall monitor disarmaments of nations sun-buster and singularity weapons. It shall be presided by five permanent members, the Valinor, the Vernii, Vaku, LNH and the Wickians because we are the nations that will fight and win this war we together will ensure the future peace. There may also be added several provisional members at a later date. My nation Empress is sick and disgusted of war, and however idealistic it may be of me to believe so I feel we can stop conflicts the scale of which we have experience from occurring in the future at the very least we must try.”

Finally the President turned around and faced the Empress and her entourage again,

“You need only look at this display behind me to know my third and final reform is needed, a branch for reconstruction and development. That is the establishment of an Interstellar Bank for Reconstruction and Development, this bank shall be monitored by an Interstellar Monetary Fund which will determine when stellar nations are able to support the loans they receive. Contingent on receipt of these loans will be the nation's acceptance of the binding decrees of the Liga’s Security council."

The President seemed to be entering into his element now finally entering onto an economic subject rather then one of guns and fire.

"This final reform will bring our region stability and peace Empress. It will establish interdependent markets which will mandate peace. To go to war would mean the destruction of the markets our nations depend on. Put frankly it will become too expensive to go to war Empress, peace it seems will become much more profitable.”

The Presidents speech was concluded by a laugh from Villers.

“Never ask a true politician their view of the future Empress, they can rattle on forever. To make these reforms stick we need your support, in exchange for an effective LIga that represents the will of all the nations of the Raumreich, your nation will have our’s support. If a Liga is created that can promote good and peace the Wickians will staunch stand by its and your side. We want peace you want stability this plan will bring it and the Concordat to your side of the court. The question is will you accept the conditions of our fealty?” The Protector of the Concordat asked, it would take nearly a century to rebuild the destroyed Wickian Commonwealth, but the Concordat was a regional power, and would be one of the most influential in the “Southern Raumreich” after this war. Never had so much rested on the Empress’ next words for the Wickians, either she would work with them and receive their fullest cooperation, or she wouldn’t and the Liga would remain impotent and the Concordat would distance itself from everything they had built with the Valinor in the recent decade.

“You asked for my vision Empress I offered a plan in its stead, mistakes have been made, corruption of noble dreams allowed, but no longer. Let us change the future, Together….” The President said his green eyes staring straight into the Empress’ own.

Friedelinde pauses for a moment, a hand moving to rest against her chin for a moment as her eyes move between Ginske and Villers. For a moment her blue eyes are half-hidden behind their lids, and there is an escape of sound from her that is somewhere between a sigh and a mere deep breath.

"You present me with an interesting conundrum, Protector. But the duty required of me in my capacity as Protector of All Valinor means that I have little choice but to accept what President Ginske and yourself have proposed."

"Your Majesty..." Adonis says in a quick whisper that is rapidly cut off by a raised hand from his empress.

"A moment if you please, Sir Reynard," Friedelinde turns back to the Wickians. "However, Gentlemen, this does not mean I am going to grant your proposal my carte blanche support. As it is my duty to accept this proposal in order to uphold the ideals and principles held so strongly by my citizens, it is also my duty to say that there are certain elements of this proposal we cannot and will not support under any circumstances."

"The United Star Empire has always refused to participate in an alliance that called for the creation of a permanent military force. Inevitably such a force is either abused by factions within the alliance directly, or used by members inclined to use more insidious means to spy and steal from their allies under the guise of trust and friendship. We have not allowed this to become a factor in our alliance agreements in Sol, the Orion Sector, Xanthalian space, or in any of the sectors where we have interests in and I will most certainly not allow it to happen in the Raumreich."

"This does not mean I am denying this proposed security organ of the Liga the ability to call on ad hoc forces from member state in order to fulfill specific mandates and operate under a mutually cooperative international command structure, far from it. In order to secure lasting peace and stability in the Raumreich, it will be necessary to support the words and plans of peace with due and proper enforcement. But I see no reason why we should encumber the Liga, which is an essentially streamlined structure, with an organization that will only lead to bureaucratic accumulation and in-fighting. Besides, the Liga is an open international forum and a judicial body--not a sovereign nation--as such it has no need for a standing military."

Friedelinde focuses her gaze intently on Ginske, "I applaud your commitment to equality and international fraternity, Mr. President, but I am afraid my ancestors and the nature of thought from the Vaterland mean my own views are tempered with considerably more cyncism. Let me be quite frank, if any nation is going to bear the brunt of footing the reconstruction build it will be the Star Empire. The Ortagans have already thrown the Verniian economy into a paradigm shift with their occupation of Erewohn, and I sincerely doubt that even with the combined might of all our navies Gregor will escape Hellings' touch unscathed. The same applies to the economic state of the Collective Protectorates, and also that for all their economic vitality as a growing nation the Protectorates lack the depth to support an interstellar monetary assistance program across the entire Great March. And while I will be the first to applaud the efforts your own people have made here in Ticonderoga, Mr. President, I do not think you are ready to pay for the reconstruction of Erewohn, Morning Star, Gregor, and whatever Ortagan systems are ravaged in this war at the expense of the rest of your economy. As for the Ortagan Hegemony itself, Ansel and his cronies have already done a fine job of turning what was once one of the most viable economies in the Oversector into a stagnate cesspit. Given the nature of the war we will have to fight in order to bring a final end to the Hegemony's ability to make war, I doubt if there will even by a stagnate pit left for whoever becomes the new authority in Roum after the war."

"As for the Vaku," Friedelinde says with a somewhat cool smile, "I believe we both know what the position of Emperor Thrakhath and his Council is in regards to just handing out free assistance. It would be a long, fruitless season to spend waiting on their intervention."

"Given the nature of this arrangement, Gentlemen, I think it is ownly fair that each nation have exactly as much say in this monetary fund as it is willing to contribute to it. In order to do this, we can treat this fund essential as a business with each nation owning shares equivalent to the amount their contribution to the organization. The amount of shares held by a nation will be equivalent to a certain amount of votes on the board that has control over the fund. Finally, the nation holding the most shares--not a majority but the largest amount of shares--will be named the administrator of the fund and will handle the overall management of the fund's resources, programs, and day-to-day operations. However, the official acting as the administrator will still be answerable to the board and may be removed if his actions are to be found to be out of line with board decisions, or he is trying to corrupt the nature and intent of the fund."

Friedelinde nods toward Ginske, "I believe that is an essentially fair arrangement, Mr. President. And if I have that to carry back to Alpha Centauri, more of the Star Empire's private interests will be more inclined to support international rebuilding efforts."

"Finally we have the issues in regards to the leadership of the Assembly of the Liga and the proposed security council. I see no reason why we should abolish the position of Chancellor of the Liga in its current form. For the most part, those who have served in that office have served the Liga well in the management of the Liga's agenda, the maintenance of the Skye Complex, and generally working to ensure the openess and security of the Liga to the best of the abilities of the office. Not to mention the fact that the Chancellor has come to represent the symbol of the union of nations represented by the Liga. And the yearly rotation of the Chancellor means that no one nation or person can stay in power long enough to have a deterimental effect on the Liga as a whole."

"In regards to the proposed security council, even bodies of equals need an official to maintain decorum and a sense of order from time to time. I would propose that the security council have its own head who is responsible for overseeing the agenda and decorum of the council meetings, and also reports the final binding decisions of the council to the Assembly and the Chancellor. Like the Chancellorship, this position will rotate among the members of the council--permanent and provisional in order to ensure that no one nation can gain preferred control over the council."

"For the moment that is all I have to add. Your thoughts, Gentlemen?"

Cincinnatti

The actions undertaken against Clergy forces by Robotic marines in Cincinnatti are rather limited in scope, due to the fact that the entire RFS can boast only several tens of thousands of marines maximum, but as is the case with most marine operations they are marked by unusual proffessionalism and courage.

With the various transports moving Dragoon sections to attack the rear of Clergy positions, or take fortified buildings from the top down, the main body of the marines proceeds at street level. Brigadier Llewellyn is at the head of the rabble, pistol in hand, followed by a section of sappers, equipped with various charge-throwers and explosive equipment. After shooting dead a clergy soldier in the window, Llewellyn runs into the most recent in a series of buildings which the marines have stormed.

"Come on, lads!" he yells, shooting another clergy soldier at the top of the stairs before running up himself, followed closely by several other marines while more engage the remaining clergy troops on the ground level. Grenades preceede the Brigadier as he reaches the next story, shooting down several clergy troops before the following marines arrive in force, clearing out the enemy gunners at the cost of several marines killed and wounded. The process continues until the marines burst onto the roof, and immediately take heavy weapons fire. They dive to the ground and look for cover while the P(I)G launcher is brought to bear.

"Casualty count!"
"We've lost thirty-six, last my count, sah!"
"Bring up the radio!"

The radio corporal crawls up to Llewellyn, careful to keep as low a profile as possible.

"Tell them that we've taken one block already and are about to try for the next one. Leftenant, there!"
"Sah?"
"Move your heavy rifles to cover that building on the corner there. The rest of us will rush it."
"Aye, sah!"

Llewellyn makes his way off the roof and to the ground floor, followed by a steady flow of marines.

"Alright lads, let's go!"

Brigadier Llewellyn throws himself out of the door frame and makes for the wall. A pair of sappers follows close behind, carrying between themselves several shaped charges. They affix one to the outer wall of the building and blow it up, creating a hole through which Llewellyn directs the rest of his force to go. Several are hit by enemy fire and go down in the street. While running out to help medics get the wounded marines out of the line of fire, Llewellyn is himself hit...

“Yes, the joy of politics I am sure can be found in editing and modifying these recommendation Empress. It bodes well that you and hopefully other members of your government recognize that reforms are needed for the good of our region.” The President paused a moment to consider his next words. “It is a subject that the Protector is intimately aware of.” The President concluded allowing Villers to speak.

“It is a mater that shames us WIckians greatly that I whish to speak about next. The statistics of our people’s war against the Ortagans have been well known within the Liga, however I would remind all present that over one hundred and fifty millions souls were left behind in Thetis…undoubtedly most of these people were killed in strikes upon our orbital habitats in the initial and first confused moments of the battle. Our shame, the burden our soldiers bare since that bloody day is that of our inability to protect our own populace from harm. By the time I took command of our Navy it was all I could do to evacuate what was already mobile. The Navy sustained seventy percent of its losses that day buying time for the evacuation after Protector Strength had fallen. Only two out of ten of our warriors made it to Ticonderoga, and only five out of ten of our civilians. There were however still forty percent of our habitats still occupied, I have the sensor logs to confirm that number, forty percent…over 120 million souls left behind in Thetis and they did the only thing they could when we left them their Empress, they transmitted their surrender to the Ortagans.”

The last statement was almost choked off with hate and bitter remembrances of that day. “Yet, what have we heard of those who surrendered?” The Protector asked, “Nothing, they simply ceased to be, erased from existence by singularity strikes or perhaps they were used as slave labor for the Ortagans we know not. I ask this of you my allies now, that should the men who ordered these crimes against my people not pay the price of their crimes with their lives then this new found pact between our two nations will not endure. That is not a threat Empress only a statement of fact."

He concluded addressing the Empress with respect,

"I also recognize that your people have many more intelligence gathering assets then mine, any information you have regarding the fate of those who fell into the hands of the Ortagans would be much appreciated. We WIckians have lost much at the hands of the Ortagans and we will find justice for our fallen, preferably through the Liga however it this organization fails us again we will have no more faith in it as an institution or hope for its reform”

Cincinnatti

The actions undertaken against Clergy forces by Robotic marines in Cincinnatti are rather limited in scope, due to the fact that the entire RFS can boast only several tens of thousands of marines maximum, but as is the case with most marine operations they are marked by unusual proffessionalism and courage.

With the various transports moving Dragoon sections to attack the rear of Clergy positions, or take fortified buildings from the top down, the main body of the marines proceeds at street level. Brigadier Llewellyn is at the head of the rabble, pistol in hand, followed by a section of sappers, equipped with various charge-throwers and explosive equipment. After shooting dead a clergy soldier in the window, Llewellyn runs into the most recent in a series of buildings which the marines have stormed.

"Come on, lads!" he yells, shooting another clergy soldier at the top of the stairs before running up himself, followed closely by several other marines while more engage the remaining clergy troops on the ground level. Grenades preceede the Brigadier as he reaches the next story, shooting down several clergy troops before the following marines arrive in force, clearing out the enemy gunners at the cost of several marines killed and wounded. The process continues until the marines burst onto the roof, and immediately take heavy weapons fire. They dive to the ground and look for cover while the P(I)G launcher is brought to bear.

"Casualty count!"
"We've lost thirty-six, last my count, sah!"
"Bring up the radio!"

The radio corporal crawls up to Llewellyn, careful to keep as low a profile as possible.

"Tell them that we've taken one block already and are about to try for the next one. Leftenant, there!"
"Sah?"
"Move your heavy rifles to cover that building on the corner there. The rest of us will rush it."
"Aye, sah!"

Llewellyn makes his way off the roof and to the ground floor, followed by a steady flow of marines.

"Alright lads, let's go!"

Brigadier Llewellyn throws himself out of the door frame and makes for the wall. A pair of sappers follows close behind, carrying between themselves several shaped charges. They affix one to the outer wall of the building and blow it up, creating a hole through which Llewellyn directs the rest of his force to go. Several are hit by enemy fire and go down in the street. While running out to help medics get the wounded marines out of the line of fire, Llewellyn is himself hit...

Cincinatti

Major Khalid Musarriff and his squad of twelve other men and women had been, seperated from the rest of their platoon during a fire fight, and, after some badly given directions from an inexperienced tech at command, had ended up well outside thier patrol route. It was about then Corporal Scalia noted the gunshots a few blocks over and the group proceeded in that direction in hopes of linking back up with fellow marines or possibly even regular army.

They reached a building close to the firefight, Musarriff watching Llewellyn go down, and took cover. "Who the hell...?" Corporal Scalia inquired, not recogizing the foreign troops.

"Toasters! Their on our side!" Musarriff replied. He then directed his attention to clergy insurgents taking aim on the LRR units. "Alright, Scalia. Take Sanderson, Coalski, and Shamir and paste those fuckers on our 3. We'll go in and give the toasters cover. ruy?"

"Ruy."

With that Scalia and her three men went around the building, crossing the street while taking cover behind some rubble, and took up firing position on the clergy snipers. At the same time the rest of the unit rushed out to Llewellyn, making short bursts of fire on enemy positions, and grabbed what men they could to drag them to safety. About then Scalia and her men fire grenade and regular machine gun rounds, taking out a few of the move visable snipers but leaving still many more in other positions.

Konteradmiral Flynn stands quietly on the bridge, looking at the looming bulk of the Centris “below” the Reliant. He turns as Fregattenkapitan Durant approaches as salutes.

“Yes, Will?”

“Sir, Generalmajor Lannister is here to see you. He has his final deployment plan based on the recommendations of the Liberation officials ready.”

“He is in the ready room?”

“Yes, sir,” Flynn nods and proceeds toward the rear of the bridge, with Durant following close behind. Flynn keys open the room reserved for the battleship’s captain and flag officers to have privacy while they conduct their plans and to be somewhat removed from the frantic pace of the bridge proper if necessary. The Reichswehr officer already waiting stands and nods to Flynn.

“Admiral Flynn.”

“General Lannister. Will, has informed me that you have your deployment plans ready?” Flynn says as he takes a seat at the circular table, dominated by a mirrored center that delineates a holoprojector.

“Correct, I have taken the situation reports from the Liberation command, along with their recommendations under consideration, and have worked up what is a relatively accurate picture of the current situation. At the moment the insurgency is concentrated in a few areas, at least from what we know of Centris and New Hope, True Hope is still an unknown-“

“For their sake, let us hope the Liberation is keeping that situation ‘under control’.”

“Agreed, Admiral,” Lannister says, “if only because a successful spread of the insurgency there will bolster the centers of resistance on Centris and True Hope. The engagement on Centris around Cincinnati is primarily an urban operation with street clearing and building clearing the primary objectives. As such I am detaching Oberstleutnant Gorman with a contingent from my mobile battlegroup large enough to create an effective line regiment with a compliment of 2,558 Sardaukar, 130 various grav combat vehicles, and a total of 3,530 men when combat support services are included. I will also detach enough drones from our automated battlegroup to create an automated line regiment with 2,558 combat drones, 130 various medium drones, and 53 heavy drones for additional support.”

“Hansborrough and the Red Forest surrounding it appear to be the heavier center of resistance for the moment, or at least the area where the Liberation has had the least success in penetrating and stopping the Clergy forces. Taking that into consideration I am sending the bulk of my forces there, and will be personally assuming command of that front. I will detaching forces from my mobile battlegroup to form two assault regiments of 2,545 Sardaukar and 121 various grav vehicles, making for a grand total of 3,546 men each. However, I will be detaching all my grav-tanks to this unit giving my 265 units to deal with whatever these fanatics may throw at us. I will also be deploying all of the remaining forces from the automated battlegroup, while the remaining forces from the mobile battlegroup will function as our reserve force.”

Lannister eyes Flynn carefully, “Now we come to the issue of orbital support for this operation, Admiral. I realize you have already established the fleet at Centrist, but given the nature of the True Hope front I would suggest that the bulk of the fleet be moved to support our operations there.”

Flynn’s eyes flashed for a moment. True, Lannister was being incredibly diplomatic about it, but as an officer of Her Imperial Majesty’s Armed Forces rather than a dominion militia, he could order Flynn to redeploy his forces. It galled Flynn that a mere ground-pounder could order a fleet—any fleet—on a whim. Still, there was little that could be done about it, and so Flynn finds himself nodding.

“I agree, General. I will dispatch my second and third battelcruiser squadrons and their screens along with the battleships Redoubtable and Queen’s Glory to support your operations. The Reliant and the rest of the fleet will remain at Centris.”

Lannister nods and stands, “Thank you, Admiral. If you will excuse me I need to see to the deployment of my troops.”

Flynn makes a vague wave of his hand as Lannister departs; he waits until the Sardaukar leaves before turning to Durant.

“Have those orders transmitted to the fleet, Will. I will be drafting a message to this Admiral Murphy in my quarters if I am needed.”

“Sir?”

Flynn smiles, a cold display, “It seems I have forgotten to remind the Liberation that they now are working under a very strict timetable, and I believe I must attend to that detail. Also, inform Kommodore Bragdaile he will be in command of the True Hope deployment.”

“Aye, sir,” Durant says, eying his admiral warily as he departs.

**********

The four Reichswehr transports are a virtual swarm of activity for the better part of a standard hour, and then suddenly they begin to move into action. Two of the massive transports move off, escorted by a large portion of the Yaltan fleet, toward True Hope and take up orbits above it. Their two remaining sisters accelerate in their orbits above Centris, along with the Reliant and the rest of the fleet move to a position closer to Cincinnati.

The fleet bound for True Hope builds its acceleration, rapidly leaving the tidal pull of Centris, and then energy starts to build. In a heart’s beat the detached fleet and its two transports vanish in a momentary display of blue-white energy that rapidly dissipates. Only seconds later they reappear on the fringes of the True Hope planetary system and rapidly proceed to assume a planetary orbit.

Within fifty-two minutes a carefully orchestrated dance begins. A virtual tide of landing craft, assault shuttles, and orbital insertion pods spew outward from the transports above Centris and True Hope. They race toward Cincinnati, Hansborrough, and the Red Forest. Large contingents of the orbital drop pods start to break and separate upon hitting the atmosphere, rapidly deploying their cargos. Agile Needle-class aerospace combat frames, modified for either air superiority and interception profiles or ground support bomber profiles, break into the atmosphere of the two Liberation worlds, joining the Precentor- and Harbinger-class drones escorting the Reichswehr forces to their terrestrial destinations.

The transports and shuttles start to level off and make their final descent, carrying the amassed forces of Generalmajor Lannister to their battle to stop the Clergy insurgency. Inside their armored bulk are Leman Russ Mk. II grav tanks, grav coptors, mobile artillery batteries, and additional batteries and armaments for the Needlers. The Star Empire will soon issue the Liberation an ultimatum: end the insurgency or become a protectorate of Her Imperial Majesty. But at the very least, the Star Empire intends to make sure the ultimatum need not be fulfilled, and that the Liberation will not have to fulfill the demand specifications of it alone.

**********

To: Admiral Murphy, Commanding the Forces of the Liberation in Morning Star
From: Konteradmiral Michael Flynn, Her Imperial Majesty’s Imperial Yaltan Navy, Commanding from the HMYS Reliant
RE: Invitation

Admiral Murphy,

I wish to extend an invitation for a working dinner aboard my flagship this evening at 0700, standard time. There are several issues concerning the nature of the current insurgency in Morning Star, as well as the feelings of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government toward it, that need to be discussed. I would request that you reply as soon as possible.

Respectfully,
Michael Flynn
Konteradmiral

*Da-dum* the Admiral heard, a low pitched tone reminding him he has recieved a message. The tone repeated once more before he recognized it and put down the reports he currently held, reaching to the other side of his desk and pressing a small black button on a consul. He heard the message and turned his head to the right, sticking his tongue in his cheak. "Seprodi!" he cried to his subordinate, who quickly came out of the washroom. "I swear these Valinor couldn't grease an axel without holding a conference first. They want me to attend some dinner at seven hundred."

"Are you going?"

"Well hell no I'm not going. I've got things to do. The system could be invaded at any moment and I don't have time for tea and crumpets."

"Calm down, Admiral," Seprodi jumped in. "It'd be best if we didn't make our give our allies a reason to leave."

Murphy sat and thought for a moment. "Well what do you suggest we do?"

"Suggest you go to the dinner. The man is saving our asses in the Red Forest..." Murphy begins to speak but is cut off, "which you KNOW we haven't even been able to touch so the least we can do is attend the dinner."

Murphy sat for a bit longer. "Fine. I'll go, but I'm going to make this useful. We're going to coordinate all the forces in the system. Get me Evermann on the Telecomm, and reply to the Valinor telling them that if he expects me to come he had best invite the Verniians so we can get everything ironed out."

Seprodi quickly made a response to the Yaltans and called up Evermann.

Meanwhile on New Hope...

As the Needle-class craft, landing craft, and any other ships break into the atmosphere they are greeted by Ground to Space and then Ground to Air fire from batteries deep in the forest. The Clergy were borrowing a tactic used against them in the Liberation Wars, hoping that thier anti-air or space craft fire would be able to hold off the onslaught; though they had expected Liberation craft and were not prepared for the Valinor, so the batteries lost some of their effect to the superior foreign armor.

As they approach the ground, any Valinor with the ability to see the ground spots thousands of small green and brown beings moving about, flowing away from their landing point like the movements of cockroaches upon being discovered. The beings were Automated Infantry units, crawling about on four legs or walking on two, and communicating in seemingly untranslateable clicks and rattles.

As the Valinor exit their craft, many are sure to be cautious of the hoardes around them if not slightly creeped out; their insect like exoskeletons, spiderlike movements, and altogether creepy language. The hoard watches them curiously as they exit, and one drone comes out of the thousands, scouting out a Valinor leader. Upon finding him he begins walking upright and extends his hand. Unexpectedly, the jovial voice of what should be a biosterous man in his elder years comes out of the drone;

"Hello there. I'm Army General Eash (OOC: It might be Reed... I forget which one I had on what planet). Well... this isn't me, really. I'm commanding the drones from the Galantry, orbiting above. I would be on the ground, but my position demands I be up here."

It had been a very long time travelling. The fleet had set out from the industrial planet of Tyr nearly two years ago. Owing to the current position of the Crux Arm of the galaxy to Terra and its nearby stars, the trip had entailed travelling around the core, a lengthy pursuit even by FTL.

As a result of this tyranny of distance, no organised attempts to collect information on internal politics on the other side of the galaxy had ever been attempted. Which is why the discovery by short range reconnaisance that there was a war going on along their normal transit routes provided the fleet's commanding officers with a slight moment of concern.

Eventually, they resolved to keep moving, confident that their tightly packed battlefleet could prevent any real interference in their movements as they continued through to Sol and beyond. Of course, should they be communicated with, the tall humans were determined to prove cordial in the extreme, while making it very clear that servants of the Prince and Imperial Council would have a great deal of back-up along to avenge them. Eventually. Maybe.

As bluffs went, it wasn't much. But it was really all they had.

((With the kind permission of Valinon.))

Cincinatti

Major Khalid Musarriff and his squad of twelve other men and women had been, seperated from the rest of their platoon during a fire fight, and, after some badly given directions from an inexperienced tech at command, had ended up well outside thier patrol route. It was about then Corporal Scalia noted the gunshots a few blocks over and the group proceeded in that direction in hopes of linking back up with fellow marines or possibly even regular army.

They reached a building close to the firefight, Musarriff watching Llewellyn go down, and took cover. "Who the hell...?" Corporal Scalia inquired, not recogizing the foreign troops.

"Toasters! Their on our side!" Musarriff replied. He then directed his attention to clergy insurgents taking aim on the LRR units. "Alright, Scalia. Take Sanderson, Coalski, and Shamir and paste those fuckers on our 3. We'll go in and give the toasters cover. ruy?"

"Ruy."

With that Scalia and her three men went around the building, crossing the street while taking cover behind some rubble, and took up firing position on the clergy snipers. At the same time the rest of the unit rushed out to Llewellyn, making short bursts of fire on enemy positions, and grabbed what men they could to drag them to safety. About then Scalia and her men fire grenade and regular machine gun rounds, taking out a few of the move visable snipers but leaving still many more in other positions.

Cincinatti

Llewellyn doesn't see the Liberation marines coming, being preoccupied with trying to dress both his leg and that of another marine lying wounded next to him. As Musarriff's troops drag him to cover, the Brigadier lets out a torrent of obscenities in response to the terrible pain shooting through his leg.

With Llewellyn out of action, command of the brigade transfers to Leftenant Vasiliy Dogg, who runs out to meet Musharriff.

"Ah, reinforcements! Its wonderful to see you lads!" says the Leftenant excitedly, although his expression changes slightly when he counts not many more than twelve Liberation marines. "Come with me."

Brandishing a blaster rifle, the Leftenant ducks through one of the holes that the sappers blew through the building's wall, and emerges in the largely secure first floor. Gunshots and explosions echo down from the upper levels, along with a steady stream of wounded and several clergy prisoners. Barely pausing to look at the enemy troops, covered in dust, Dogg rushes up the stairs to join his troops in clearing out the structure.

Not far away, a Dragoon squadron goes into action. One of the bulky Walrus transports buzzes over the city at high speed, flying through clouds of smoke and debris and occasional small arms fire. Its gunners constantly shoot away at ground targets and intensify their efforts once the craft slows to enter a hover. Making for an intersection filled with a number of small figures, identified as clergy troops, the Walrus drops its ramp and prepares to make its landing...

Invergordon Depot

In a flash of light indicative of a hyperspace exit, RNS Hyderabad appears in space outside of the Invergordon station. The only one of the old Spherical cruisers in military usage (and for good reason, since the others have either been broken up or turned into freighters), the Hyderabad is arguably the oldest Robotic ship-of-the-line next to the Cressy-class ships, and probably one of the heaviest-armored as well.

"We've arrived, sah."
"Excellent. All vessels of the Robotic Gregor Expeditionary Force, form into battle order around the Hyderabad."

Indicators on the tactical display flash as the various ships move into formation and report their status to Admiral Mallor, and aboard the large cruiser itself preparations continue in earnest. With the last provisions from Invergordon Depot loaded safely aboard, the fleet is ready to move at a moment's notice...

Command Center of the HSF Astra, In orbit above Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0842 Solar Forces Standard

Commodore, First-Class, Kelly Lance could not bring herself to believe what she was seeing as she looked into the system map that dominated the command center of the Hegemonic Space Fortress Astra and the screaming klaxons of general quarters and battle stations continue to bellow. The heady sense of victory that had possessed the Hegemony’s fortress system since Admiral Hellings’ announcement of the surrender of Erewohn had just been boiled away and replaced by an unbelievable hell.

Lance continues to stare at the projection, her expression of horror mirrored by that of her staff around the map.

“This is not…it can’t…it’s not possible!” Lance hears herself say, even though it seems to come from miles away. Then a sudden realization slams into her with almost the same force as the Vaku armada hurtling toward her and the pitiful remnants of a fleet Hellings left behind to provide for the defense of Dylar.

Unless the Vaku stripped every system they have along our border and committed their main fleets to this attack.

And then Lance’s insides harden in fear, realizing what kind of attack she is face.

“Transmit an emergency message to Admiral Hellings now! Message is to read that Dylar is operating under Case Vega. Threat of being completely overwhelmed is imminent and probable. Now, Sub-Lieutenant! The ansible was disabled somehow in Ticonderoga, if the Valinor are responsible and are supporting the Vaku I want to make sure we can at least get off some kind of warning!”

“Yes, Commodore,” the stunned officer shakes himself out of his stupor and turns back to her terminal. Lance turns back to her staff.

“I want all remaining monitor squadrons scrambled at once. Com Captain Ventmore and tell him he is to take the HSS Morgana and the HSS Roberston along with his Hyperion and the remaining war-frigate to try and stall those fighters!”

“Yes, Commodore.”

“And have all the Golan platforms and mass driver batteries brought online and prepared to fire at once!”

“Yes, Commodore.”

Lance looks at the map once again, the flurry of red swarming in from the mid-system toward Dylar III. And then the holo of the planet surrounded by its labyrinth of dry-docks, ship-yards, testing facilities, supply caches, refineries, Golan defense platforms, monitor pens, and above all else three warp-gates.

“We must hold the line.”

Three Hegemon-II class dreadnoughts, twenty-eight Roum class war-frigates, and fifty-six Ansel class monitors build their acceleration and race outward from Dylar III, rapidly forming up to place themselves between the oncoming wave of fighters and the vulnerable targets surrounding Dylar. The outcome of the battle is already virtually assured, Captain Ventmore and his command at the very least will die and unless Admiral Hellings returns in force to Dylar it will only be a matter of time before the system’s static defenses fail as well.

Little does Commodore Lance know though of a simple maintenance error that is setting the war efforts of the Hegemony asunder. One of the old model Feather class satellites, used to network Dylar back to the main ansible connection in the Hegemony’s home suns, has a fried processing software program. Lance’s Case Vega is duly noted by the satellite and uploaded by its receiver, but when given over to the transmitter side of the satellite, the message essentially jams in the in-box.

The satellites rudimentary operating system, a very limited Resident Intelligence built over half a century ago by the Valinor, ponders this for a moment, then promptly enacts its attempts at self-repair. The RI quietly runs its routines, searching for an alternate path or a way to fix the faulty equipment. The process, on an older model Feather, is known to take up to forty-five minutes. It was a problem that was fixed by the Valinor technicians long ago, and now the satellites have been abandoned for more powerful ansible platforms within the Star Empire, but the Hegemony’s love of information control at all levels means old systems in drastic need of update have remained in place. And so, the determined RI continues to work, not even bothering to alert its operators there is an issue like even its already outdated descendent would. Locked into a process like this:

Method failed….

Abort…

Retry?

….

….

….

Method failed…
Abort…

It is a process that will go no where.

Solar Navy Supple Cache Facility #42, Gryps anchorage system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0859 Solar Forces Standard

Operating in a blissful vacuum of the battle that is about to be joined in Dylar, Admiral Hellings has dispatched Captain Kagoshima, nephew to the Hegemony’s Coordinator of Finance, to the Gryps system with a convoy of fleet tenders to transfer additional supplies from one of the system’s numerous supply caches.

Gryps has long ceased to be of any importance to the Hegemony and the Solar Navy except its status as an anchorage. In basic, rather than completely relocate the massive amount of supplies stored in Gryps before the fall of Thetis, Strategos Garahou and the general staff of the Solar Forces merely dismantled the shipyards, relocated the Golan platforms to Dylar, removed all but a single warp-gate, and left the seemingly endless rows of containers in place—dubbing it to be an unnecessary expense to relocate them all and saying the sheer isolation of the system would be defense enough.

And so, Captain Idoshi Kagoshima, commanding the HSS Solon (a Hegemon-II class dreadnought) and a trio of Roum class war-frigates overseeing the transferal of supplies from Cace #42 almost faints in shock when the remnants of the Gryps’ systems sensor net picks up the translation by a Concordat Navy force.

To Kagoshima credit, it takes him only a few moments to regain his composure, and he rapidly responds. Cache #42 is roughly 1.8-light minutes away from the Wickian arrival point, and after setting his small command on a course to drift safely through the neat grid rows of containers toward the Wickians, Kagoshima orders his warships and the tenders to cut their gravimetrics and run silent.

Kagoshima waits patiently for the sensor net to upload its final report regarding the composition of the enemy force, while he continues to make plans and waits for what he sincerely hopes is an unsuspecting prey.

Command Center of the HSF Watchtower, Wormhole Terminus Defense Zone, Thetis system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0843 Solar Forces Standard

Brigadier Dexter Antern of the Solar Marines watches the progress of the Wickian warships from the safety of the command center buried deep in the Watchtower, the center for the Hegemony’s operation and “occupational authority” in the Thetis system. In truth that last is a misnomer, the Hegemony long ago ceased to have interest in anything within the system except for the terminus connecting it to Erewohn. The only areas of active operations within Thetis except for the terminus and Antern’s command are four labor camps maintained in the asteroid belt by a combination of Observer and SecIn personnel, the last holdovers from the mass movement of the surrendered Wickians after the last battle in Thetis between the Hegemony and the Wickians. And prior to this moment, Antern had been sure those camps would eventually collapse of their own accord—given the rate their administrators were burning through the remaining prisoners.

Antern laughs slightly as he watches the ships proceed in-system, “Morons, they will have a nice surprised for them when they finally reach their ‘homeworld’.”

“I could not agree more, Dexter,” System-Director Citizen-Observer Alexandra Mavis says calmly. The Wickian homeworld, already ravaged by the destruction visited upon it when the Behemoth crashed into it decades ago, was thoroughly destroyed when—after the usable population was evacuated—Mavis had ordered Antern and his Solar Marines to carpet-bomb it with fusion warheads: “salting vile earth” was the term the System-Director had used.

“However, Ma’am,” Antern says eying Mavis with something more than Revolutionary comradely equality, “I believe it might be wise for you to call for the evacuation and destruction of our facilities in the belt. I think our recent arrivals typical primitive side may grab a hold of them if they see our mines in operation.”

“You will not be dispatching forces to defend them?”

“I have twelve war-frigates and twenty-four monitors at my disposal, and they could not intercept the destroyer or whatever those signatures it launched were before they reach the holding facilities. Besides, a single destroyer? I may not be a Navy officer, but if that is not a recon run for a larger attack, then I may as well be a Seljukite laborer. Destroying will most likely cause the fleet that spawned it to come running, and if it can reach us before Hellings could, it would not go well for us. But if we look like we are turtling up and abandoning everything but the terminus, it’s most likely the Wickians will wait for support from their Verniian friends before making a pass at us.”

Mavis snorts, “If they even get that chance.”

“Yes, well, when Gregor falls most likely the Wickians will go begging to the Valinor or the Vaku to save them. And the Valinor will muzzle the Vaku and we won’t have to worry about them again. Besides, what are we losing? The mines are not even producing a fifth of what they used to and the population is down to…?”

“Barely 2500, with 234 of my own men and forty-eight of Galt’s security troops,” Mavis adds.

“Waste of effort in my opinion.”

“I am inclined to agree. Com Hellings and tell him of our little visitor. I will com Warden-Director Certez and have him start the evacuation and scuttle the facilities.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

Mavis makes a vague wave, but Antern leans in and whispers quietly, “Dinner tonight?”

“Is the steak going to be Wickian?”

“I sincerely doubt it, my dear. Your man Certez has detailed all that’s wrong with Wickian meat before, and I doubt I could find the stomach to eat something so tough and rancid to begin with.”

“On that we can agree on as well.”

“Then let me go finish the message.”

A handful of minutes later, a message is sent to alert Erewohn to the Wickian probe. In the belt of Thetis, a flurry of shuttles, small-craft, and a few monitors race away from four points within the asteroid as brilliant fireballs of nuclear fire burn swaths in the emptiness of space.

Nu-Space Conference, Priority Encryption Vermillion, Priority Security: DS-EN

Friedelinde eyes the old Wickian quietly for a moment, “Lord Protector, however much some of the Centrists may wish it, we Valinor are not infallible and we are not omnipotent. In some areas the Hegemony remains a black holes even to us.”

“However, that does not mean we know nothing and I am aware that the ESS, OKI, and my Myrmidons managed to gather a certain amount of information in regards to fate of the surrendered Wickians in Thetis. I am simply not privy to all the details, my memory has its limits, and the time that these reports were gathered was also when a more…detached Alderman sat on the throne. But I do have someone present that would know,” with that she turns and beacons to the AI to step forward.

“My Lady,” the AI says in quiet tones that rebound through the fabric of the Nu-space world around them.

“Mr. President, Protector Villers, this is der Sonderling, my family’s personal servant and head of the Conclave of Sentient Intelligences. If my house and the Star Empire were aware of what happened to your people to any extent he will know. Sonder, I presume you heard the question.”

Der Sonderling studies the two Wickians with eyes as deep and as black as space. Unlike some of his fellows among the first hundred AIs in the Star Empire—collectively known as the Endless—der Sonderling is far from the most human. But then there are more than a few of the Star Empire’s sentient intelligences (the more powerful and non-standardized AIs) that share that characteristic.

“Polemarch Galt is very efficient at sealing Hegemonic space off from the rest of the Raumreich. But he has not been successful in sealing the Great March off completely. However, intelligence sources gathered by Kriegsmarine drones, informants within the Solar Forces working for the ESS, and several Myrmidon probes have managed to piece together a partial picture of what happened to the remaining survivors of the Second Battle of Thetis that surrendered to Admiral Hellings.”

“After their surrender and the securing of the system, the Solar Navy, the Coordination of Security and Intelligence, and the Directorate-General of Observers established a series of internment and processing camps near the asteroid belt of Thetis using several clusters of space containers moved in-system by the Solar Navy for that specific purpose. Reports were confirmed that the majority of the surrendered Concordat nationals were barcoded and ‘tagged’ by security agents, although what the process of being ‘tagged’ entail was never confirmed. Wickian prisoners were then relocated en masse using Solar Marine transports and prison ships to Dylar where they were used to assist in the construction of the Solar Navy facilities there. It is presumed that the internment camps in Thetis were deactivated and dismantled, although the last reports regarding the Thetis system—collected four standard years ago—confirmed that at least four of these original container yards remain in place, although activity around them appeared minimal.”

“Following the completion of the bulk of the Dylar facilities, the Wickian survivors were interned on the planet of Dylar III along with the surviving native populace of that world. At this time the survivors were still being held under the authority of the Coordination of Security and Intelligence, with limited security services being provided by the Observers. The Wickian internment period on Dylar III lasted a total of nine months. Then an edict directly from the office of the Hegemon and endorsed by the signatures of all the voting members of the Interim Governing Council were received regarding by Deputy Commissioner General Nordrick, commanding the internment camps on Dylar III.”

“The edict specified the fate of the majority of the Wickian survivors, and may represent the total numbers of those surviving as of 11.22.1338 After Landing, Imperial Alderman Calendar. Eighty million were given over to the authority of the Solar Forces Research, Development, and Special Operations Coordination under the command of Rear Admiral Ginias Saharin, with an addendum that at least one-third of that number were to be prepared for cryo-freeze transport to the as of yet unknown Ortagan facility simply referred to as ‘Pilgrim’s Star’. Eighteen million were given over to the authority of the Directorate-General of Observers for unspecified “research and interrogation” purpose. Twenty million were left under the authority of the Coordination of Security and Intelligence, and were to be relocated to the ‘Seljukite System Labor Project’ by order of Polemarch Galt. The remaining two million survivors reported lost from the Thetis system remain unaccounted for. Also there have been no further reports of any Wickian survivors or prisoners being moved in large numbers from Seljuk, Dylar, Thetis, or any other Ortagan held systems.”

“Further attempts to gather intelligence on Wickian personnel was ruled to be a tertiary concern by Director Sven of ESS in 1338. Last report filed to the Office of Kriegsmarine Intelligence was by Kapitan zur Sternen Ekaterina Tereshkova of the HMS Chimera, which said that she suspected a ‘large number’ of Wickian prisoners may be scattered throughout a network of Ortagan security prison camps placed throughout the Great March. This report was based on an interview with three Wickian prisoners, rescued from a Mesan Conglomerate slaving ship operating on the fringes of Ortagan space. Two of the Wickians died from wounds received in an attempt by the prisoners to seize control of the Mesan vessel during the conflict onboard the Chimera. The other was delivered back to Klein where he was attended to by the First Star Lord’s Bureau for Medical Services, and later given a passport, thirty-eight hundred reichsmarks, and the offer of Valinor citizenship before being released in the Dominion of Yalta. Subject has not been seen or reported by any known sources since, and is suspected to be working somewhere within the Star Empire, the Imperium of Vernii, or returned to Concordat space. Last report to Director Togashi was in a Great March probe that encountered three systems that had suspected Ortagan containment camps within the Great March in 1341.”

Der Sonderling’s eyes blink for the first time since he entered the room, “No further information on Wickian survivors following the conclusion of the Second Battle of Thetis exist.”

Friedelinde looks sobered by der Sonderling’s cold retelling of the fate of the Wickian survivors. And even Adonis’ jaw is set even harder and grimmer than usual.

“I am afraid that is all the available details we have, Protector,” the Empress says quietly.

**********

New Hope, Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope

An armored form bearing the two black diamonds and two black bars of an oberst rushes forward among the regimented chaos of the Reichswehr unlimbering its forces on the front along the Red Forest. The mirrored visor of his full power armor slides back as he approaches the drone.

“General Eash, I am Oberst Pter Sanderheim, commanding the Red Forest front until Generalmajor Lannister assumes command momentarily. General Lannister sends his apologies that he is not able to be on the surface presently, but he wishes me to inform you that he is preparing to conference with Admiral Murphy and Rear Admiral Evermann of the Imperial Verniian Navy in regards to the overall situation in Morning Star.”

“General Lannister ordered me to make sure we establish a base of operations around our landing zone. However, he also forwarded instructions that I am to assist you in active operations against the insurgents as soon as possible. Given what I need to assemble my basic perimeter here and fortify my position, that leaves me with one assault regiment to assist your operations for at the present. The rest of my command and the automated forces will wait until General Lannister arrives.”

“However, where can I deploy my assault regiment to support yours and the Robotic Collectives forces the most, General?”

Morning Star

In less than a second, empty space was occupied by the thirty-two million ton bulk of the Imperial Navy's dreadnought Solaris. Blue light shimmered along her warshawski sails as she bled off residual energy from the translation to real-space, as did the other fourty-five warships of her task force. Vice Admiral Harold Faulkenburg swept his eyes across the master plot of the ship's flag bridge, noting with satisfaction that the translation had been handled smoothly by the assembled ships under his command. His task force consisted of three other dreadnoughts, Phoenix, Capella, and Orion, five squadrons of battlecruisers, and two elderly battleships from the Gregor System Guard. Altogether, while a powerful task force, it most likely wouldn't be sufficient to repel a full Solar Navy attack on Morning Star, although thankfully other friendly nations had sent reinforcements...like the Yaltans.

The damn Yaltans, Faulkenburg mused, the Star Empire just had to send them, probably to prove a point to us. Oh well, dealing with them can wait till later. "Coms, signal system control, let them know we're here, and signal the Silver Fleet, find out where they would like us positioned, and if there's any situation they need assistance with."

New Edo

The Imperial Navy had eleven battlecruiser squadrons before the war started. One squadron had been mauled in their engagement with Nighwatch's Q-ships over Vernii, was currently understrength, and had remained in Gregor for repairs. Five squadrons had been dedicated to the defense of Morning Star, which had left the other five squadrons with nothing to do.

Until now.

They translated from hyper back into realspace roughly thirty light minutes "above" and "below" the planet of New Edo. Admiral Keppel, commanding from the battlecruiser Incomparable, felt the familiar ripple of nausea associated with translations back into realspace. It wasn't as bad as it usually was however, since they'd done a very gradual translation down from the higher bands of hyperspace back to realspace. This had been done to minimize the residual energy left over from the translation, energy that might show up as flares on enemy sensors. One side effect though, had been that they'd also kept very little of their velocity as well, but that was minor.

"All ships reporting in Sir."

"What's the status on the Brilliance?"

"She made it, currently holding station as ordered."

"Good, inform squadron commanders that their orders are to execute Operational Plan Tora."

One of the first things Keppel had done after receiving approval for Operation Scalpel was to give it a better name, he'd finally settled on "Tora" after the Japanese code phrase that had launched the attack on some naval base back during one of Earth's old conflicts. Technically, he was a bit too senior to be commanding mere battlecruisers, but the idea was his own, and he'd asked to be assigned to it, and so Operations had granted his request. His ships reoriented toward New Edo and lit their drives. Stealth systems and emissions control on the navy's battlecruisers were the best in the fleet, but even the obsolete sensor drones would eventually be able to notice them, and Keppel was certain that New Edo, while maybe not an important system compared to Gadsen or St. Ives, was sure to have at least decent protection.

His ships kept their acceleration at 530 G's, which was the maximum acceleration capability of the Brilliance, and Keppel's tacticians had calculated that by the time they reached missile range of New Edo and its assets, their velocity would be around 74,906 kilometers per second. The master plot displayed a large sphere, thirty million kilometers in radius, centered around New Edo. Time to cross that sphere, and engage anything within it, would be just over thirteen minutes. Of course, there was also the large possibility they'd be intercepted before hitting that zone, or pursued after they'd crossed it, but he had a few tricks waiting for then. This was an art, the fine art of a hit-and-run attack on a superior force.

New Hope, outside the Red Forest...

"Well, before we deploy anything I'll tell you what the Brass probably hasn't," the droid said, beginning to gesture toward the forest. "To the west, on the opposite side of the Red Forest from Hansborrough, is Babylon. You've been told there's a supply route going through the forest to Hansborrough, correct? Well guess where its coming from."

The Eash-sounding droid places its arm back down at it's side. "Babylon is the real strong-hold on this planet; held up so tight I doubt even you Valinor boys could take it too easy; so its been reserved as a test area for Automated Infantry in urban environments for heavy resistance. Then, for reasons I cannot disclose, the whole thing is being limited to Liberation forces anyway." Eash was no-doubt referencing the sensitive information and other vital government operations going on within the city of Babylon.

"So our job here is to break the supply route to Hansborrough so the alterboys can't completely take the city and then break out into the surrounding towns. We're gonna 'em off at the source. Now, anti-air fire is pretty damn hot so our air-strikes have been less than successful. Also, True Hope's local government has labeled this forest as historic, so not even federal forces can touch it; and if we let you nuke the whole thing then we'll have a situation on our hands. The plan is to take the forest ridge by ridge, river by river in short, powerful infantry charges with tank support in the thinner spots where the Ellswoods grow." Ellswoods are a tree-like organism native to True Hope. Naturally, none of the native species on the planet have any relation to those on earth and are therefore drastically different. Ellswoods are massive and take up equivilant amounts of neutriants; resulting in an expansive forest of trees nearly 20-30 meters apart with hardly any other undergrowth.

"If your men could support us in the first push, which should be about 300 yards."

In Cincinnatti

The LRR Walruses are greeted with light surface to air fire, scattered but still powerful. One clergy insurgent skuttles up atop a local Bunsin's Bakery(TM) and takes aim with his Javelin Mobile Anti-Air Missle Launcher, the most sophisticated missile launcher in use by Liberation Marines--chances are he took it off of one of their bodies. He takes aim at a Walrus and fires, the missile hurdling at high speed and pounding into propulsion of the craft with a powerful explosion.

On the Samson

"Verniians have arrived, sir. QC 4 dreadnaughts, 40 BC's, and another two ... Battleships, sir."

"Good..." Murphy replies, staring deep into the holo-projector. The whole system floats before him; the Morning Star, every planet, every moon, every ship. "That puts... us here... the Merchant Defenders, the 3rd, 8th, and 14th battle groups as bait out in orbit, the Valinor holding the other side... Lisa; bring up Tanzir." At that moment the moon Tanzir, orbiting around True Hope, became about the size of beachball within the projector. Murphy stares deeply into to, its hard, barren surface spotted with craters and colonies. "Put them on the inside of Tanzir. They'll swoop in around the back just after we come in from the flank."

"Aye, sir." As the comm officer begins to send the message, Murphy wakes from his trance and begins to think outside of purely strategizing.

"Wait, I'll greet them myself." He approaches the comm. "Greetings, brothers. Much thanks for your assistance. This is Admiral Murphy, acting Commander of the Silver Fleet."

Alpha Centauri

Grossadmiral Count Bafrid Leopold, Seventh Star Lord of Her Imperial Majesty's Kriegsmarine commanding the Vaterland Tactical Theater, resists an urge to massage his temples and retreat to his quarters. The section of HMSS Sanctuary’s command/control center responsible for system-wide traffic control and wormhole junction coordination is deathly silent. First the completely unanticipated arrival of the Regent of Wazzu and his fleet, and now this completely unannounced arrival of what appears to be a large colonization fleet on a trajectory that puts their final destination at Sol. The only good point about the day so far was that with the Ortagan Hegemony threatening Gregor—and conversely the wormhole terminus linking the Verniian home system to Alpha Centauri—the Imperial Centauri Fleet and the Kriegsmarine units in Alpha Centauri were already on full alert. As such, the recently unidentified arrivals are already finding themselves confronted with possible interception as no less than three dreadnought battle groups race to meet them.

“Still no response?” Leopold says, turning to Kapitan zur Sternen Thor Ogdin, his chief of staff.

“No, Your Grace.”

“Kommodore Voltemand reports that the HMICS Proxima and her battle squadron will enter optimal interception range of the unidentified flight in eight minutes, Grossadmiral,” comes the strained reply from one of the system defense coordinators.

Leopold nods gravely and turns to the young traffic control officer, “Try one more time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The officer activates his n-plants comm functions, “Unidentified vessels, this is Sanctuary System Traffic Control. This is your final warning, identify yourselves and state your purposes in Alpha Centauri or we will consider you to have hostile intent to the United Star Empire of Valinon and will engage to expel you from the system. I repeat, this is your final warning, identify yourselves or our forces will open fire.”

Morning Star

Fregattenkapitan Durant could almost feel the rage pouring off of Flynn when he entered the Konteradmiral’s personal office in his quarters. It made Durant wish fervently he had far better news to bring his commanding officer than the arrival of Verniian reinforcements in Morning Star.

“This is an outrage,” Flynn growls, half at Durant and half at the comp-pad in front of him.

“Sir?”

“The Kriegsmarine has decided to reinforce our strength here with joint elements from the Imperial Madrasi, Pelledriner, and Chandaran navies rather than supplement us with additional ships from our own fleet. As such overall command will be given to Vizeadmiral Drake, formerly commanding the Outer System Task Force in Alpha Centauri. I will be acting as the second ranking officer in the fleet. Not to mention the fact that Sanctuary has rescinded the order of our ultimatum, and has said that they will only issue orders to declare Morning Star a protectorate state ‘if it becomes necessary’ and no timeline will be given to the operational time needed to suppress the insurgency.”

“If I may, Admiral?” Durant looks in earnest at Flynn, who beckons with a contemptuous hand as he throws the comp-pad aside.

“Sir, wouldn’t the Kriegsmarine have to provide a ranking officer given the creation of a multi-dominion force? And could New Koln really afford to declare the system a protectorate with a Verniian picket in the system supporting the local military administration?”

“That is not the point,” Flynn growls. “For too long these Verniian bastards have looked down on Yalta, treating us like so much cattle in their eyes! This was our opportunity to show them the table has been turned, and that it is Yalta—not Gregor—that is the most preeminent star system in the Gregor Sector. Now…now we’re being preempted by this…this…Great Valinor upstart! And being denied the opportunity to spread a proper order and competent authority to Morning Star.

Durant doesn’t even bother to argue, or mention the fact that without the Star Empire and the “Great Valinor”—the inhabitants of the “old empire” in Alpha Centauri—Yalta would most likely be nothing but a Verniian protectorate or outward territory anyway. Or the fact that the Star Empire already decided once before that Morning Star, was essentially a strategic backwater in the eyes of Sanctuary and Imperial Centre and probably would be declared the same again once the war with Ortaga was concluded.

“I hope you will excuse me, Admiral, if I am the bearer of more bad news.”

“I fail to see how it could get any worse, Will.”

“Eight minutes ago, the Verniian Imperium reinforced its task force in Morning Star with strength apparently drawn from their main fleets in Gregor.”

Flynn hisses, “What do you mean by reinforced?”

“The Verniians have sent a dreadnought division, five battlecruiser squadrons, and two battleships. While they have not contacted us directly, we have picked up considerable encrypted chatter between Admiral Murphy’s flagship and the Verniian dreadnought answering to the name of the Solaris. As of our last OKI update, the Solaris carried the flag of Vice Admiral Harold Faulkenberg, and there have been no reports to suggest this has changed.”

“God take the Verniians straight to hell,” Flynn says as he glowers at his desk. Then suddenly he looks up. Durant can guess the reason as well, his own n-plants “skullphone” just chirped in his brain.

“Excuse me, Will,” Flynn says and his throat starts to pulse as he subvocalizes a conversation. “It seems are own reinforcements are about to arrive, that should knock the Verniian’s down a peg at least.”

Durant nods, cutting his own link and the watch officer that had given him a similar report.

“Was that all you had to report, Will?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Then you are dismissed. I must conduct additional invitations to this dinner to Drake and Murphy’s Verniian masters within the hour at the very latest.”

“Aye, sir.”

**********

In a more primal display than that of the Verniian warships, the combined fleet from the dominions of Madras, Pelledrine, and Chandara sent to reinforce Flynn’s original task force erupts back into normal space from a brilliant swirl of blue-white energy.

Eight dreadnoughts and four battleships bearing the eagle of the Dominion of Madras’ locally raised forces under the lion, sun, and sword of the Star Empire are at the core of the formation. They are escorted by a quartet of battlecruisers bearing the single green leaf of Pelledrine and another quartet of battlecruisers bearing the joined circles of Chandara. Around the dreadnoughts, battleships, and battlecruisers are four cruisers, eight frigates, and fourteen destroyers bearing the Pelledriner leaf, the Chandaran circles, the Madrasi eagle, and even a few with the golden six-pointed star of Yalta.

Less than an hourlater a lightly encrypted message is sent to Admiral Murphy and Vice Admiral Faulkenberg.



To: The Honorable Admiral Murphy, Commander of the Silver Fleet, & The Honorable Vice Admiral Faulkenberg, Commanding the Imperial Verniian Navy forces in Morning Star
From: Vizeadmiral David Drake, Commanding Her Imperial Majesty’s Forces in Morning Star
RE: Formulating Strategic Plans

Sirs,

With the decision by the nations of the Raumreich to create cohesive force to defend Morning Star from further Ortagan aggression, Reichsprotektor Lord Adonis and the Admiralty are moving to support Her Imperial Majesty’s decision to reinforce our own contribution to the defense of the system.

To do this, the Star Empire will be creating a force drawn from four of the dominion-maintained navies under direct Kriegsmarine command. Therefore, effective immediately, I am the ranking officer of all imperial forces within the Morning Star system—including the detachments of Her Imperial Majesty’s Reichswehr originally attached to Konteradmiral Flynn’s fleet. However, I will defer to the judgment of Generalmajor Lannister and the Liberation commanders in this arena.

But, even with my arrival, I still hope to see the both of you and your other commanders at dinner this evening aboard Konteradmiral Flynn’s flagship. That way we can work out a general plan of operations and defense for the system.

Respects,
David Drake


**********

Saanderheim looks thoughtful for a moment and then looks back to the drone.

“General, if I may I would like to offer a suggestion. Since the Star Empire’s operation in this system was going to have a considerable terrestrial component, Konteradmiral Flynn’s fleet and our own transports were equipped with Harbinger-class bomber drones with considerable caches of tactical support weaponry. Among these are warheads carrying Reichswehr infantry suppression agents, with chemical agents specifically tailored to attack Terran-based DNA and biology. If these trees are native species, as you say, we can employ them to eradicate the insurgents without damaging the local environment.”

“Personally, I would recommend Agent Fontein-13. It specifically targets the optical nerves and other sensitive tissues, and can quickly induce a catatonic state that is followed by death in most cases. However, General Lannister would have to give his authorization to any strike such as this.”

“But if you believe it would have a definitive effect on our operations to retake the forest, sir, I will draft a message to the General at once.”

B.O.Q. Lamoille Naval Annex
Orbital Station St. Croix
Side 42
Ticonderoga System

Kevan Giske didn’t know what tasted worst the old stale watered down beer certain shady bars served or the regeneration tank’s healing fluids. He had been out of the tank for an entire day and showered for just as long to get the film and stink of it off him but it lingered on, and try as he might he couldn’t get the repulsive flavor out of his mouth. His hands went first to his sides of his rib cage and then down to his abdomen, each were locations where splinters of his own ship had skewered him, now only jagged scars still raw marked his wounds. Say what you will about the Valinor living to be 400 or the availability of genetic modifications in the Imperium, Wickian bodies healed well and that suited Ginske just fine.

He was alive...at least he could say that, many others his friends and comrades could not say the same. He looked about his dimly lit quarters no more then 4x4 meter box, just enough for his rack, a desk and a wall locker. Not that he had much of anything in the way of possessions, everything had been destroyed with his ship. He stood and walked to the desk, everything he owned was gone, his squadron was devastated trying to blunt the Observers attack, of the twelve ships he had been responsible for only three survived the battle. Largely only the crews of the surviving ships survived, when monitors died they usually went quick, as a result only a third of his people survived the rest comrades and friends alike were now dead. What made things worst was that he their he couldn’t attend their funeral formation due to his wounds...there was no closure. Hell, he got a medal for killing his monitor squadron, even his father wrote him a electronic message saying he was glad to hear his son survived. Supposed as President he was too busy to grace him with a personal visit.

The chronometer on the wall reported the time 0330 local, he tried to sleep, he needed sleep but he couldn’t. Every time he shut his eyes he relived the battle, heard the screams of his friends as the overwhelming enemy devastated his squadron. It was funny Kevan knew many old veterans of the two previous battles against the Hegemony, they hardly ever recounted their stories to anyone. They were not proud of their actions, their hands were bloody, but always remembered a dark vacant spots in their eyes. He understood what that was now and it was something that could not be explained. He heard doctor’s try in the past, post traumatic stress disorder they called it…he supposed if the service wasn’t more strapped for officers they would have sent him to those doctors…instead they were sending him back to the war. No mater he had his own remedy for his problem. His shaking hand grabbed the bottle of whiskey on his desk, he took a long pull from the bottle. For a moment he couldn’t remember the painful memories of the battle or of his friends who had died.

0400...he stood up from his bed, he’d have to get to the latrine and get ready, he had to report to Commodore Horton in an hour…
+ + +

Gyrps solar system
Frontier System
Ortagan Hegemony

“Commodore Sensors are clear of enemy contacts, however the system is filled with large concentrations of what appear to be storage containers” The commander in charge of sensor and electronic warfare reported.

“No garrison force at all…something’s not right about that commander.” Commodore Vincent mussed.

“Sir, we know this system is relatively unimportant to the Ortagans strategic goal now that they’ve built up Dylar, however I think we can assume that the system contains at least some enemy forces, perhaps lying Doggo since our translation to real space. None of our vessels have the new jump upgrades so the translation would have been easily heard by anyone listening.” An old WIckian who was pushing 200 reported to the Commodore.

“Duly noted XO, I want a fighter screen ahead of the flotilla and assign a cruiser division to assume a vanguard 2 million klicks in advance of the flag.” His orders were acknowledged. “Our target is that concentration of containers 2 light minutes ahead of us, we will take them out with a missile barrage then move onto the secondary container locations. If there isn’t garrison force her we can at least deny them the logistic supplies of this system.”

“The gun captains were telling me just today that their crews could do with a little practice sir, ever since the Zeus scored better in the last exercise they’ve been having an axe to grind.” His XO told him happily. The Commodore’s thoughts were elsewhere though, no enemy force in system not even a picket? It didn’t make sense, it didn’t make sense at all but he had taken every defensive measure he could think of…

From the flight deck of his flagship the Dragon Sixty of the new Adder strike fighters launched and moved quickly ahead of the main fleet divided into their five twelve plan squadrons. These new fighters were designed to intercept the dreaded vortex missiles the Solar Navy favored, they also carried potent energy pulse weapons perfect for dealing with Ortagan monitors and missiles that could cripple far larger ships such as war frigates if needed. Two fighter squadrons pushed ahead of the main body, a squadron to each side and rear, they were the eyes of the fleet and its rapid reaction force. The three heavy cruisers of the 245th Cruiser division pushed ahead only 200 k-klicks behind the two lead fighter squadrons their sensors probing the system for the enemy that did not appear to be home, a dozen sensor drones spewed from their missile lauchers and moved into the system shrouded in their ECM.

Cincinnatti

Inside the Walrus, warning lights flash frantically as the flight crew tries desperately to perform evasive action, shooting off decoys and turning the ECM system to full power. The crew has mere seconds to react, though, and with the missile originating from a point not more than a few hundred yards away there isn't much chance of it missing by a useful distance. However, the Walrus is a rugged and heavily armored transport, and if one is about to destroy it in one go they should hit it with something larger than a manportable missile.

The Javelin takes out the port thruster, and the starboard is soon feathered. Without propulsion or power, the flight crew uses what little momentum they have left to crash on a nearby rooftop.

Of the thirty or so Dragoons in the walrus to start with, most are still alive and capable of performing a useful combat role. The flight crew is told to stay with the casualties while the other twenty or so Dragoons proceed to join the battle.

Ministry Of The Admiralty, Kingston-On-Irrawaddy

Admiral Heddon walks through the gigantic oak doors of the Admiralty building, flanked by the usual retinue of retainers. Inside the gigantic building, with its marble floors and high ceilings, the Lords of the Admiralty ponder over the present strategic situation.

Making for a flight of stairs, Heddon is joined by Lord Lester Usmon and his entourage of retainers.

"How was the conference, Admiral?"
"Eh, productive I suppose. I couldn't make much sense of it. Over our heads, I'll have you know."
"Oh well. We'll iron the details out with the Valinor later, eh? No big deal."

Usmon pushes another oak door, this one inlaid with gold and exquisitely carved to represent rolling fields of poppies, and enters the Sitting Room. The Sultan lies on one of the finely-embroidered sofas and a thick layer of smoke hangs about the ceiling, no doubt generated by the numerous hookahs in use by the various Royal officials present. Usmon and Heddon quickly slink through the Sitting Room and through another set of heavy oak double doors, into a long corridor lined with paintings and closets. At the end of the corridor, appropriately named the Janitors' passage, is an uncharacteristically unassuming wooden door, with the initials R.F.S. carved into it.

A short, sharp knock is quickly answered by a retainer.

"Come in please, m'lud."

A short, stocky man in Admiralty garb is immediately visible, sitting atop a tall stool.

"Ah, Lester! And...wait, don't tell me...Julian?"
"Simon, m'lud."
"Yes, Simon! Well, we've been waiting for you. Now that we've all the Lords assembled, let's get to business, shall we?"
"Hear, hear!"

The thirty-some Lords of the Admiralty and their combined two hundred or so retainers shuffle to their seats in front of the holo-plotter. One retainer hurriedly crawls into the tiny holo-plotter control station and brings up a star chart of the Raumreich Oversector.

"Here, we have the Raumreich Oversector," says First Lord Of The Admiralty Davlat Marley. "And here, we have Morning Star. Admiral Lem Ystad is here with our 2nd Battle Squadron, reinforced by Cruiser Squadron A under Admiral Eli Reba. We also have marines and light ground forces there."

Davlat points now to a different portion of the chart.

"At Ticonderoga, we have Zimbra Byrne's 3rd Battle Squadron. Horation Tindouf's 1st Battle Squadron is presumably in hyperspace, since we haven't heard from them in a while."

He now highlights the Invergordon system, a mere speck on the map.

"At Invergordon Depot, Admiral Qaboos Mallor is assembling the Gregor Expeditionary Force. He reports nearly full battle readiness. Invergordon is a relatively short hyperspace journey from the outskirts of Gregor, probably about two or three hours, and all we are waiting for there is Valinor and Verniian authorization."

He then moves the chart towards the right, pointing to the Ortagan systems.

"As for the Ortagans, we don't have any intelligence. So...er...what comes comes, I suppose. Not much we can do about it, really. We just have to hope they don't try and attack Invergordon until Mallor has left..."

“The fleet is at your disposal, My Lord Kalralahr,” Nar Hhallas recognizes the formal intonation of his flag captain, Kal Shintahr Dokir, with a crisp nod. Nar Hhallas represses the increasing urge to bear his teeth in a celebration of the victory he is about to achieve in the name of the Emperor.

“Confirmation on CIC’s analysis of the enemy force setting out from Dylar III’s orbitals?” nar Hhallas says quickly.

“Three Hegemon-class dreadnoughts, twenty-eight war-frigates, and fifty-six monitors, My Lord,” comes the quick reply from CIC’s adjutant on the bridge. “No additional forces have departed from Dylar III, but we have confirmed power spikes in four areas around the perimeter of the Ortagan fleet base. Power levels are consistent with Ortagan mass drivers readying for fire.”

Indeed it is better than even nar Hhallas’ most optimistic expectations were. Hellings, in his arrogance, had stripped Dylar bare of virtually all defenses. And there was little the forces he had left behind could do to stop the onslaught bearing down upon them. Nar Hhallas’ fleet had already deployed all its mainline fighter squadrons, previously held in safety in the hangers of the carriers and dreadnoughts. Now 320 squadrons, each of eight fighters each bringing the total to 2560 fighters, form a massive horde before the outer perimeter of the fleet.

A little over two-thirds of the fighters are Dralthi IV-class medium fighters—the basic fighter of the Imperial Navy—the others are mostly the oddly shaped Paktann-class bombers, with the remainders being the Vaktoth-class heavy fighters reserved for squadron and wing commanders.

Nar Hhallas watches as the ragged line of Solar Navy war vessels forms a formation roughly ten million kilometers out Dylar III, and a little over nineteen kilometers from his own force.

“Signal to all wing commanders. They are to engage their overdrive systems and close to proximity missile range with the Ortagans and engage. Then they are to proceed to engage the static defenses, assign priority to the mass drive emplacements.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Helm, bring us to maximum acceleration, and transmit similar orders to the fleet. Once the fighters complete their initial run we will engage the Ortagans ourselves.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Transmitting, My Lord.”

The counters representing the fleet start to increase their speed, rapidly moving toward the 590 gravities that is the safe maximum for the dreadnoughts—the slowest ships in nar Hhallas’ armada. But it is the fighters that truly race toward their Ortagan foes. The overdrive system installed aboard the Imperial fighters has been one of the closest kept secrets in the Greater Empire. Powerful, disposal “fusion battery slugs” are connected to the gravimetric drives of each fighter, each one allows the fighters’ gravimetrics to generate a “super-boost” that allows them to reach a maximum acceleration of 878 gravities for a period of twenty-five to thirty seconds before the battery is completed. A Dralthi IV and Vaktoth carry six battery slugs, and a Paktann-carries four. The system represents over twelve years of concentrated effort between Valinor and Vaku engineers, with almost four of those being spent stretching fighter internal compensator technologies to its limit.

Even then the Valinor and Vaku engineers provided the pilots with additional protection. For the period of the boost, the cockpits of the fighters fill with specifically designed gel-insulator pads that inflate to hold the pilot in place and support him during the stress of the boost. True it means a fighter in boost has virtually no maneuvering or firing capacity, but at that sort of acceleration who needs it?

And so the fighters burn through two of their battery slugs racing toward the Ortagan formation. Their boost cuts out, leaving them a little less than one million kilometers from the Ortagan ships. In terms of combat in the Raumreich, it is virtually point-blank range. The combined fighter squadrons instantly launch a missile salvo at the core of the Ortagan formation, centered on the dreadnoughts at war-frigates. The missile salvo is a fearsome thing to behold, 13,567 missiles race toward the Ortagan formation. Of the vast wave, 13,337 are X-ray warheads with their own dedicated EW suites—sacrificing some of their destructive power for jamming abilities that ideally will allow more of them to reach their targets. The remaining 230 are fusion warheads, imported from Valinon, and each carrying 2.1-gigatons of death to the Ortagan battle fleet.

After firing their salvo, the fighters engage their boosters again, seeking to drive straight through the Ortagan formation and carry the war to the heart of the Dylar system itself. Even as they boost once again, nar Hhallas’ main formation prepares to fire and then—as suddenly as the fighters own attack—the fleet belches over 78,000 missiles at the Ortagan formation. Most are X-ray warheads, but over a third of that number consists of imported Valinor Dazzler-class EW warheads. The fall of Dylar has been set into motion at long-last.

Thetis System
Former Capital of the WIckian Commonwealth
Occupied Territory of the Ortagan Hegemony

At long last the WIckians had returned to their home world in force, the Ortagan commander had been right the lone destroyer was an advanced scout for a much larger attack force. Eight dreadnaught sized vessels made translation into the Thetis system along their flanks was an equal number of battle cruisers aligned as a screening force, with twelve of the agile Wolf-class monitors acting as outriders. The ships turned toward and advanced onto the Wormhole terminus where the defenders of the system had taken up station.

Cast in the red light of battle alert was the flag bridge of the dreadnaught Revenge , a tall man dressed in the protective skin-suit of the CSN stood his eyes fixed onto the large holo-tank in the center of the bridge. He watched the retreating icons from the systems asteroid belt. His eyes seemed to know what the nuclear explosions claimed and they burned with determination to see that the Ortagans pay for their crimes. Captain Terrill now Commodore Terrill for the remainder of this operation intended to make the Ortagans pay. He hadn’t been to Thetis in fifteen years and each of those years away filled his heart with the failure of his ability to defend the system back then, now was the time for vengeance…he and his troops were determined to get some of that cold and delicious dish.

“Enemy positions confirmed sir, they seem to be massing around the wormhole terminus. CIC has recived a data-dump from Commander Johnson, composition of the enemy units is small flotilla of War Frigates and monitors, twelve of the former and twenty-four of the later.” The XO was acting in his capacity as captain of the dreadnaught now that Captain Terrill was responsible for the entire taskforce, with his brevetted rank of Commodore. The voice which just spoke was fulfilling the role of tactical advisor on the flag bridge was that of the young commander Garret assigned to his staff during the hurried preparations for this operation.

“Understood, commander. Fleet orders all LACs and strike-fighters are to launch and take the fight to those bastards. The Fleet will advance in support of their attack.”

With those orders it was revealed that Carrier Group Three made up four of the dreadnaughts in the system, they launched a total of 500 Strike Fighters and 600 LACs, the small craft quickly formed up into squadrons and advanced rapidly on the Ortagan force with a speed unmatched by any capital ship. Six hundred Lacs and Four hundred strike fighters moved towards the War Frigates and Monitors, an additional two hundred fighters stayed with the main body as a reserve. Any hope that the WIckians would dawdle on the system’s fringe would be a mere forlorn hope. They had returned home and they intended to strike back at their enemies quickly and harshly.

Many light years away in New Edo the Verniian maybe plied their abilities at the Art of raiding, but in Thetis the WIckians were practicing an art well known to them, it was the art of revenge , and may the gods grant mercy for those who stood in their way, because the WIckians would not grant any at all…


+ + +

“Empress, der Sonderling’s we most appreciate the information you’ve given us regarding our people. It is clear that the Ansel and his minion have much to answer for and I can not express how grateful I am for your participation in this war. I know your fear of escalating the current conflict, where as before it was just my nation at risk now it is the entire Raumreich. Nothing is easy or free though and we will both pay a price for brining this war to a conclusion but surely it is less then allowing Ansel’s regime to go unchecked. There is only one matter I believe we need to discuss, each involving the war, and each I did not want to present to the other powers during our earlier meeting.” The President stated, his Protector spoke next.
A map of the Home Stars of the Ortagan Hegemony appeared between the WIckians and the Valinor, along with the border regions of Erewohn, Thetis, and Gyrps. All burned a dark red hue, only to be contrasted by the bright green Icon of Ticonderoga , two Icons also burned in Gryps and Thetis representing the forces acting there.

“As you can see Gryps and Thetis are currently being raided by force of the CSN, these are strikes against the units of the Solar Navy currently garrisoning those systems. It is hoped that these raids will draw some of Admiral Hellings forces away from Erewohn. The Vaku strike in Dylar will also have the same affect in addition to removing a major source of support for Hellings Frontier Fleet.” He waited a moment before continuing…

“Our current strategy has been reactionary, we have always reacted to the Ortagans, they attack with overwhelming force at places and targets of their choosing, I can say for certain that I did not join the navy to await my enemies wrath. Do not misunderstand me, If Hellings moves into Gregor we must fight and defeat him there, but if the situation changes, the opportunity may present itself where we acting with a unified attack force could attack Hellings at his home field.”

Numerous Ortagan fleet Icons began to appear at each of their home systems, displaying their likely strengths compiled from the WIckian Scout Fleet and recent information given to the WIckians by a certain Kaptain.

“The numbers of the Ortagan fleet are daunting, but we should not mistake them. The Solar Navy is a gluttonous beast and sluggish, it can not project its power for all of its might it is quite a static force which can not afford nor is allowed to leave its home systems. With the exception of Hellings’ Frontier fleet and a couple rapid reaction forces the Solar Navy is I believe confined to its own territory. With Dylar gone his fleet however potent is on its own, and when we destroy it the Solar Navy will lose its most modern and effective fleet.”

A new green Icon appeared roughly in the middle of deep space between Seljuk, Erewohn, and Gadsen, below the Icon read the words Fort Defiance.

“This Icon represents on of my navies most important of secrets, five years ago we constructed it as a forward operations base to support raids against the Home Stars of the Ortagan Hegemon. You will notice that Ticonderoga appears rather uncovered, the majority of Home Fleet has been transferred to this base, and in roughly forty-eight hours they will launch a strike against Gadsen. It is our intention to ravish the industry of this vital system from its rim to the mid-system. It will be a lightning raid, in an out before their mobile forces concentrated deep in system can respond. The fleet will then fall back to Fort Defiance to regroup and I hope to coordinate with the Vaku for follow on operations. I feel the key to our success in this war will be a close cooperation between my fleet and that of the Vaku. We do not have the most friendly past but we have a common enemy whom I wish to join our forces together to combat. ”

“One of the largest problems we face is the force which I am responsible for creating. My navy was constructed as a force whose purpose was to remain in Ticonderoga to await the arrival of the Solar Navy, where upon we would fall upon them with the intent kill as many of our enemies as possible before we were overwhelmed. My navy is an assault force, we have a very heavy tonnage for the quantity of hulls we maintain, we are sluggers plain and simple and the unbalanced composition of the CSN limits our abilities in the more subtle areas of warfare, I ask you what aid can the Kreigsmarine render to disrupt the communication of the Solar Navy forces in Gadsen? I would also ask the cooperation of your forces with my own and the Vaku in future operations, we must work together. This war will not only be decided in Gregor, but this ‘Southern Theater‘ will prove critical.” The WIckian asked of his new allies.

HSS Retribution, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0900 Solar Forces Standard

“Any change in Alpha One?” Solar Admiral Midas Rackham says tersely as he reviews the deployment information on his data pad.

“No, Admiral. Hostile contacts have continued to build acceleration at 530 gravities, course remains on a plane that will allow them to enter their powered missile range with significant time to engage our Golan platforms and target over seventy percent of our orbital infrastructure.”

Rackham turns to his CIC adjutant, “Do we have positive identification?”

“Yes, Admiral. Based on sensor readings and reports from the second surveillance line, the hostile force is made up entirely of Verniian battlecruisers. Judging from the engine and power signatures, plus the formation being maintained, Alpha One consists of no less than five squadrons.”

“Have they started deploying pods?”

“No, Admiral, unless the Verniians are using some form of new stealth systems that can completely block even dedicated sweeps.”

Rackham nods. True the use of full active sweeps by the sensor platforms seeded throughout the system meant that they were as good as scrap, but given the nature of the situation he wanted as much information on his enemy as possible.

“Has Commodore Kerr reported his readiness.”

“Yes, Admiral. His squadron is assembled and awaits your command.”

“Good. Flag Plot, do we have an interception point with Alpha One?”

“Yes, Admiral. Displaying now.”

Rackham looks up at the main tactical projection and nods with satisfaction at the small red dot that appears. It is closer to the New Edo IV planetary system proper than he would like, but there is little he can do to change that.

“Instruct the Outer Patrol to maintain communications silence and wait. Also transmit a message to Admiral Takel in Roum, New Edo is operating under Case Threat Orange-Tango. Forward the same message to command in Citadel as well. And have Vice Admiral Zimmer, Commodore Kerr, and Commodore Fordham to proceed at full power to the interception point.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Rackham turns back to the plot, and watches as counters appear that identify the mass driver cannons and other defenses being brought up to full readiness. The group of counters tagged with the names of his own fleet rapidly charge out from the general cluster around the planet, headed for their engagement with the Verniian armada known as “Alpha One”.

The Retribution sits at the heart of Rackham’s formation, a fleet that is small by the standards of the rest of the Solar Navy. But then, Rackham was the head of the Solar Navy’s intelligence gathering operations, not its battle fleets. And so the formation he leads toward the Verniians consists of “only” the Phoenix class dreadnought Retribution, three squadrons of Hegemon II class dreadnoughts, thirty-six Roum class war-frigates, and forty-eight Ansel class monitors. However, the wiliest of the Solar Admirals has his own surprises, including the modifications to his war-frigates counter-missile support capabilities done by Saharin’s own technician crews. And the seven squadrons of stealthed monitors using technologies based on the Skipper class missiles stealth technologies. Soon the relatively quite outpost in New Edo would become a raging front in this growing war.

HSS Solon Solar Navy Supple Cache Facility #42, Gryps anchorage system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0916 Solar Forces Standard

“Wickian vessels have started targeting the supply containers, Captain,” Kagoshima nods as his sensor officer speaks in a breathless whisper, as if to further hide the presence of the Solon and its escorts from the Concordat Navy.

“What word on the parasite craft the enemy launched?”

“Sixty counters still confirmed, sir. They appear to be forming a screen along with the cruisers.”

“CIC?”

“Possibly a new Wickian fighter variant we have not previously encountered, Captain.”

“And the other signatures, Eyes?” Kagoshima encourages the young midshipman with the Solar Navy’s friendly term for its sensor officers.

“They are fluctuating locks, consistent with known Wickian ECM patterns.”

“Recon drones then.”

“Another three containers destroyed, sir.”

“Captain Kagoshima,” comes a harsh voice from behind the captain, “you must stop this travesty! The Wickians cannot be allowed to destroy the supplies of this system, or be allowed to harbor vision of superiority for the mere reason they have a few more of their cheaply crafted cardboard vessels in the system.”

Kagoshima eyes Citizen-Observer Walden with an emotionless gaze.

“Citizen-Observer, we still have no clue as to what happened to the monitor flotilla sent in to Ticonderoga. If the Wickians have some new form of weapon that can disable our shields as has been suggested-“

“Nonsense! The Wickians are savages, Captain. All they have is what technology they can beg off their betters, or steal from us if Galt’s rats are to be believed.”

“With all do respect-“

“Oh, be silent, Captain. I will hear no more of your excuses, or allow your cowardice to allow the spread of the Revolution to be hampered. You are to engage the enemy now, or I will use the power invested in me by the Citizen Director-General and His Excellency the Hegemony to remove you from your post. Do I make myself clear Citizen Captain?”

Kagoshima’s gaze grows even colder, “Understood, Citizen-Observer.”

“Good, now do your duty to the Revolution.”

Kagoshima turns and eyes his grimfaced crew, “Harold, have the Wickians penetrated our engagement zone?”

Commander Harold Stark, Kagoshima’s executive officer nods.

“Yes, Captain. The Huntress and the Lancer have the forward screen of the Wickians in their sites.”

“Wickians have destroyed another two containers.”

“Inform Commander Harding and Commander Juno that they have my permission to engage the enemy. Have Lieutenant Commander Sterling bring the Centurion in to support the Solon and we will move to join the rest of the task force.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Kagoshima’s command rapidly drops its carefully maintained concealment in a single breath. Suddenly the Adder class fighters find themselves facing a continuing missile salvo from the batteries of the war-frigates Huntress and Lancer, still seeking to impose the bulk of the surviving containers between themselves and the rest of the Wickian battle group. Each ship launches forty-six missiles every three seconds, and after launching two salvos at the fighters, they rapidly turn their attention to the Wickian cruisers.

Deeper within the container field, the massive signature of the Solon’s gravimetrics roar into existence, and are closely shadowed by the remaining war-frigates. Kagoshima has committed his forces to what will inevitably be their final battle.

OOC: Dylar and Thetis will be edited tomorrow afternoon. You can all celebrate New Year's Eve with my literature, and be grateful for it!:)

Gyrps solar system
Frontier System
Ortagan Hegemony

Onboard the Armored Cruiser Ajax
Flagship of CruDiv 245

“Sir, I’m receiving the first dump from our drones…” Lieutenant Hawkins the Ajax’s Electronic Warfare officer report, “They are detecting some anomalous readings from the supply caches, here and further in here.” She said plotting the anomalies on a small holo-tank next to her display.

“Hmm…”Mumbled the XO as he considered the Lieutenants report. She was young for her rank like all junior officers in the Navy, he himself though was a career XO lacking the initiative and intuition needed for command, he was however one of the best XO’s in the fleet. He knew his subordinates, he knew their strengths and the lieutenant had a smart head on her shoulders. She could one day make a fine captain he knew, EW officers were quick thinking and naturally suspicious… “There’s a lot of junk in this system, what up with these anomalies?” He asked her for clarification.

“Most of the containers in this system are comprised of standards cheap alloys sir, however in this two areas sensors are picking up reports of titanium and neutronium, all are used in warship armor…I suggest that we send a drone into those container locations for a close look, if there are ships lying doggo there that’s the only way we will be able to see them…” She had a point, at this range the only place for the enemy to hide would be inside the debris of those containers, if there was a Solar Navy TF in system they could be awaiting to ambush the flotilla as they closed,

“Sir, EW reports anomalous readings from the container fields, possible enemy contacts lying doggo, we are dispatching a drone for confirmation.” He told the Captain, and the Captain issued his own orders without delay.

“Division orders, defense formation Alpha, alert the fighters to possible contact.” The cruisers were previously moving in system in a lose wedge now they moved online and turned their broadsides to the container field bringing their most numerous offensive and defensive weapons to bear, the formation was almost completed when Five red and hostile contacts appeared on the holo-tank…the missile alarm suddenly bleared in its angry tone.

“Missile separation! 142 contacts on interception with the fighter squadrons….Incoming…”Three seconds later, “Incoming, 142 contacts on our position, 72 missile broadside cycling every three seconds.” Reported the tactical officer, a young man from Side Six.

“Two War Frigates bearing 358 degrees, 33 degrees above, 3 million klicks, Single War Frigate and Hegemon II 15 million klicks!” Hawkins reported the confirmed contacts at the same time the missile reports were being issued the bridge of the cruiser became hectic all in a single moment. Captain Gannon however was a veteran and able to disseminate what vital information he needed his was the voice of calm,

“Classify near war frigates as Bogey November Alpha and Bravo, Classify Dread and Far Frigate as Foxtrot Alpha and Bravo, send classifications to all ships. Division orders target November Alpha initiate retrograde movement to the main body.” Thrusters on the flanks of the three cruiser fired propelling the vessels backwards at 300 gravities, allowing the vessels to keep up defensive fire while they withdrew. The Wolverine-C class cruisers used by the CSN were gutsy fighters larger and better armed then those maintained by other navies and could have fought against the dual War Frigates however they could not survive an engagement with a dreadnaught if that beast closed, and so the “retrograde” maneuver was needed…

The Concordat Navy had great experience in dealing with anti-ship missiles and the broadsides spat from the War Frigates were dedicated boomers, no ECM or other penetration aids masked their approach as such each was clearly visible by the point-defense of the three cruiser, counter missiles along was able to knock out ¾ of the initial broadside, the emerald stilettos emitted by the Phalanx laser clusters swatted the rest from space. It would take far more then 72 missiles or the addition of dedicated ECM platforms in a broadside to penetrate the concentrated point-defense of three WIckian Cruisers…

The three cruisers of the 245th division were relics of the first battle of Thetis each more then a hundred and twenty plus years old. The only new construction from WIckian shipyards were Dreadnaughts and Carriers in some cases the new Battle Cruisers…there was not the space or time to construct new cruisers or destroyers. And so old models had to be retrofitted with new technology. As such these Wolverine-C class armored cruiser had as much in common with their Wolverine ancestor’s as the Iowa-Class battleships of the Second World War on Old earth had with the refitted Missouri in the first Gulf War…The hulls were the same but the technology inside was drastically changed…

In the first Battle of Thetis in a single broadside a cruiser could have launched just over 45 missiles now the numbers were much lower, though much more deadly. Sixty missiles were launched from the three cruisers, the cruisers each rotated and fired another sixty missiles with four seconds, in a double broadside, and so the Huntress would find 120 missiles fired at it every four seconds, Of the incoming warheads only half had the potent 4 gigaton fusion the warheads favored by the CSN, the other half were dedicated ECM platforms or Dragons Teeth which sent out a dozen decoys designed to overwhelm enemy sensors with false contacts…the Ortagan EW officer’s viewing 120 missiles would have suddenly been confronted with more then 500 contacts.

If the enemy closed they would find out the reason why the missile broadsides of the WIckian Cruiser was nearly cut in half….

CNS Dragon
Flagship of Expeditionary Taskforce 4

“Contact, Four enemy vessels, Single Dreadnaught , three War Frigates… The Van has been engaged sir!” Reported the flag bridge’s tactical officer excitably, the result of meeting combat for the first time no doubt. Commodore Vincent grunted at the report, he half expected this outcome, the perhaps of the Van and its fighters was to establish or regain contact with an enemy force. It was a classic movement to contact mission which was also inherently dangerous, one establish contact with the smallest element possible to allow flexibility to position his assents once contact was made. He watched the maneuvers of Gannon’s units they were falling back in good order and returning fire, he didn’t blame the captain for not wanting to close with the dreadnaught which was moving to support its two detected frigates…

Even as he watched seven fighters fall victim to the initial missile broadsides, he knew the enemy made a mistake. They were concealed lying doggo, if the enemy waited only twenty more minutes that dreadnaught could have gotten a first strike in on his flag, now though he just let his cat out of the bag prematurely his best chance ruined. But that was a dreadnaught over there The Hegemon-II class was the workhorse of the Solar Navy while its cousin received more fanfare the Hegemon-II could deal out a lot of hurt very quickly. Every bit the equal even the better of the Dreadnaughts fielded by the Commonwealth Navy of the past. The Commodore smiled, his ship was a Covington class designed to be worth at least two of the ship in front of him, designed to tangle with a Phoenix class, it was time fore revenge…

“Order the Fighter screen forward, The flotilla will advance on enemy dreadnaught. Estimated time until optimum missile range?” Two minutes was the respond, two minutes and the WIckians would have there revenge in Gyrps as well.

HSS Hyperion, Flagship of the Dylar System Defense Force, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0858 Solar Forces Standard

Captain Ventmore, a thirty-eight year veteran officer of the Solar Navy, barely has time to assess the hammer that has been brought to bear against the remnants of Hellings’ Outer Frontier Security Fleet left to provide support to the static defenses of Dylar. As the Vaku fighters release their attack, he bellows orders to his bridge crew and to his communications officer to coordinate the battle group’s missile defense efforts. It is a valiant effort, but valiance alone does not win either battles or wars.

Agile Witch variant counter missiles soar out from the dreadnoughts and the war-frigates filling space with their bomblets designed to intercept as many missiles as possible. The launchers on Ventmore’s warships blaze continually, trying to destroy as much as the wave of death as possible. Laser clusters send beams of energy stabbing out into the void as the counter missiles start to fail and the monitors perform erratic maneuvers and serene flips to try and free themselves from the targeting computers of the Vaku missiles. When the bulk of the efforts of the minute fleet headed by the Hyperion are done, over half of the missiles launched by the fighters still remain. And then Ventmore’s formation is consumed in a storm of energy and nuclear flame.

Sensors across the system register a vast flash and a momentary blind spot in their eyes, even the most advanced opticals in the system focused on the stricken battle group can only make out glimpses of movement and silhouettes of ships. Then the storm starts to subside, and electronic vision is restored.

The Hyperion is gone, with only a cluster of wreckage to mark her passing. Her two sisters, the dreadnoughts Morgana and Robertson have also felt the chilling clutches of death. The Robertston spirals out of control, her gravimetric signatures fluctuating and failing and armor falling from her like bark from a rotten branch. Lifeboats start to shoot away from the dreadnought, seeking safety from the chaos of the battle. The Morgana, venting atmosphere and trailing pieces of her hull, turns faithfully to engage her opponents, spatting a defiant salvo of only forty-three missiles toward the Vaku fighters that rapidly are overtaking her position.

The smaller warships of the battle group have been devastated. Only eleven of the war-frigates remain combat operational, the rest are all destroyed or reduced to floating hulks, and even the survivors have taken heavy damage. Of the remaining monitor squadrons, only twenty-two remain, and they all turn to give pursuit to the Vaku fighters.

Before any commands to regroup or retreat can be given, the missiles from the main Vaku armada descend upon the shattered body of Ventmore’s command. The Morgana ceases to exist in a massive fireball that rapidly dies. All but two of the war-frigates are destroyed, and of the survivors one merely drifts mindlessly-its bridge destroyed. Its soul heir retreats rapidly back toward the safety of the Dylar orbital platforms.

Even the surviving monitors feel the sting of the second wave of the Vaku attack. Those monitors slowed by damage or merely having taken a moments pause to pick up scattered lifeboats perish in the second wave of flame, reducing their surviving number to a mere fourteen.

The monitors vent their wrath at the speeding forms of the Vaku fighters, sending fire from their capital ship grade energy weapons racing toward the fighter squadrons as they give pursuit.

Command Center of the HSF Astra, In orbit above Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0900 Solar Forces Standard

Shock once again has its paralyzing grip on the heart and mind of Commodore Lance as she stares into the depths to the tactical projection. Her knuckles are white as she grips the edge of the projection and remains dumb-founded at the scattered signals representing the broken pieces of Ventmore’s command fleeing toward the safety of her own Golan class platforms and orbital emplacements.

An entire battle group, however miniscule, gone in less than twenty minutes. It was eradicated as if it had never existed. A defeat like this hasn’t been known to the Solar Navy since the Colonial Wars.

“Incoming fighters, Commodore! They are entering our outer engagement perimeter, Ma’am.”

Lance’s eyes light with fire, “Hit the bastards! Give the go ahead for all Golan platforms and missile batteries to engage. How long before the main enemy force enters our engagement perimeter?”

“At current acceleration, fifteen minutes, thirty-two seconds, Commodore.”

“What mass drivers have optimum trajectories on the enemy fleet?”

“Batteries one and three, Ma’am.”

“Have them target those dreadnoughts and open fire.”

“Commodore,” Lance’s second in command-the aged senior captain Fest says quietly, “we know the Vaku have access to Valinor gravimetric technologies and their maneuvering systems at this range they could very well avoid our mass driver rounds with ease. Perhaps we should wait until they enter our outer engagement perimeter?”

“Arthur, the Vaku have access to more than just Valinor designed engines, they also have access to Valinor missiles, energy technology, sensors, ECM technology, and probably Valinor plumbing technology! Likely as not their main force will not even enter our outer engagement perimeter to deliver their blow. So it matters very little if we fire now or later. However, your objection will be noted, for what it is worth.”

Fest pauses for a moment and then nods, “Shall we have the other mass drivers repositioned then, Commodore?”

“I think that is in order, Arthur.”

“I will see to it then.”

“Thank you.”

As the two other mass driver batteries reorient and assume new positions, their siblings fire massive titanium and battle-steel rounds at the Vaku formation accelerating toward Dylar III. The rounds bleed off energy as they race toward their enemies. In their shadow the Golan platforms and remote missile batteries lock on to the approaching fighter wave. The speed and smaller profiles of the fighters make, as well as the presence of the monitors, makes targeting incredibly difficult. Still the platforms and the batteries send 9,589 missiles toward the Vaku fighter wave, paltry compared to their collective power, but the only ones that could be sent effectively to engage the formation and not risk damaging the static defenses few remaining mobile support assets.

Brigadier Dexter Antern’s Private Quarters, HSF Watchtower, Wormhole Terminus Defense Zone, Thetis system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0927 Solar Forces Standard

Antern looks up as the door chimes and then suddenly slides open without the typical announcement by his honorary guardsman. His eyebrows arch as he sees the expression on Alexander Mavis’ face.

“Alex, what’s the matter?”

“We have a problem, Dex, a rather large one,” she throws a data pad at him and he rapidly skims it over.

“So the Wickians are playing their little war games again, Alex. I fail to see how this affects us.”

“It’s a goddam fleet,” Mavis says tersely-irregardless of the fact that religion was murdered and buried with the Corrins.

“It’s a few carriers, a few of the surviving dreadnoughts that probably are leftovers from the last time the Wickians gave battle in Thetis, and a handful of battlecruisers. Nothing more.”

“That’s more than any heavy assets you command, Dex.”

Antern smiles, “My dear, we are setting in the middle of a formation of Golan platforms, mines, remote missile batteries, and Saharin’s new toy missile platforms. That alone is worth three times the force the Wickians are jokingly sending against us. We’ll send them off to whatever gods they believe in with the war paint still on their cheek bones and bald scalps in a matter of minutes.”

Mavis is calming down, and Antern stands and smiles, approaching his lover and supposed watch-dog with ease. He leans in and graces her neck with a few kisses.

“Now, shall we go to the command center and watch this show? I will have coffee sent up.”

Mavis nods, “Yes, yes I think we should.”

“Good, good!” Antern hits the com link on his wrist.

“Officer of the Watch, Commander Nordred speaking.”

“Commander, Citizen-Observer Mavis and myself will be arriving in the command center shortly. She has delivered the report of our little intrusion to me, and I will be assuming full command of the wormhole’s defense. Sound general quarters throughout the Defense Zone and prepare to engage the enemy. Have our missile platforms reposition to assist in the defense of the terminus. And have all station commanders note that they are to wait until I release them to engage.”

“Yes, Brigadier.”

Antern cuts the link, “Let’s go, Love, we wouldn’t want to miss a single moment of this. Perhaps we can even capture a few of these would-be warriors to rebuild the mines, eh?”

Combat Bridge of the HSS Phoenix, Erewohn system, Occupied Territories of the Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0945 Solar Forces Standard

The confines of the combat bridge of the HSS Phoenix, the quintessential throne room from which the most powerful fleet ever assembled by the Hegemony is ruled, holds a respectful silence. Quite mummers and hushed activity rule its background as tactical coordinators and flag communication officers busy themselves with their own activities of maintaining the burgeoning Outer Frontier Security Fleet as the Solar Marines and Observers busy themselves with the rape of Erewohn. But at the heart of the combat bridge, the course of the war is being dictated-much as the newly united allied nations did in the Valinor Nu-space realm only a few days earlier.

Solar Admiral Doral Hellings stands at the central tactical projection along the Solar Admiral Demetrius Kruger, commanding the First Mobile Operations Group. Kruger’s command has recently been transformed to become part of Hellings own force, by the direct order of the Hegemon and the Strategos.

“It does seem we have thrown the Verniians into disarray, Doral,” Kruger says quietly, studying the projection that consists of the Erewohn and Thetis sectors of the Great March, plus the majority of the Gregor Sector that burns bright with the flags of the Valinor and the Verniian empires. “No appreciable reinforcements of any of the other Verniian governments, hell the only movement the Verniians have made so far is to reinforce their picket in Morning Star. It appears that Calimar’s warlords are actually going to be stupid enough to just allow us to pick the time, place, and manner to deal with Gregor.”

“It means that we are dealing with a cohesive force though, Demetrius,” Hellings says, forming his own thoughts about the projection. “And it is not just the Verniians that are sending forces to Morning Star, from Galt’s reports it appears the Valinor are involved as well.”

Kruger arches an eyebrow, “Are they declaring war?”

“Not so far, and Morning Star was formerly their protectorate. Most likely the Valinor Admiralty fears we may move against Klein from both Seljuk and Morning Star, if we can take and hold the Liberation’s system. They’ve protected it before for their own strategic purposes, and we have seen often enough that just because the Valinor strategic designs align with others does not mean they are committing themselves to an alliance,” Hellings words are chilled, remembering how the Valinor abandoned their alliance with the Hegemony following the deposing of Gustav II.

“And these rumors about Forrest?”

Hellings snorts, “Even Galt, suspicious as he is, says they are just rumors. If the Valinor have reactivated his commission, then they did it merely to give their academy more prestige. No, it seems we are seeing the old lion perform its same tired tricks.”

“Scaring us away with their mere presence and involvement you mean?”

“Essentially, yes. Besides, taking and holding Gregor and the rest of the Verniian empire is far more important than Morning Star. I said that much in the reports I forwarded back to Roum and Axis.”

“And judging from the engagement here that will be relatively easy. It appears the little bastard child of the Valinor tried to grow up to quickly,” Kruger says, gesturing at the paltry fleet counters in the Verniian systems of Acler, Boroglia, Stocurm, and Kerezin. “Most of their colonies might as well be undefended.”

“And I believe it’s high time we took advantage of that, especially with the arrival of your own force,” Hellings changes the projection to center on Verniian space, centered on Gregor. “With the arrival of your command, Demetrius, we can once again start active operations against the Verniians and their allies without having to uncover Erewohn and leaving it open to a possible counterattack by Vernii.”

“What about the Wickians? Or the Vaku?”

“The Wickians have withdrawn all their forces abroad and reassembled at Ticonderoga. It seems there has been a change of administration, apparently Villers’ replacement is less inclined to commit himself to a war that his nation only has a passing involvement in. And the size of the Wickian navy limits them to barely being a threat at all, personally I disagreed with attacking Ticonderoga at all. The Wickians have no power left in their arsenal. As for the Vaku, they appear content to fortify their outlying colonies and depend on the protection of Valinon. No, our principle enemies are the Verniians and the Liberation. And the Liberation is politely disabling itself with its little internal escapades.”

Kruger smiles, “It appears the Observers are good for something after all.”

Hellings smiles as well, “Agreed, especially since Marlow has taken to skulking in his own quarters. But here is my plan for resuming active operations. Gregor will have to wait, the forces defending it are simply to powerful for even our fleets combined. Once Proctor arrives we will be ready to move against it.”

“The great idiot that he is, with any luck he’ll ram himself into a Verniian fortress.”

“We can hope, and even if not, Proctor will serve his purpose as the mindless fanatic well. He can keep the Verniians off balance because he will keep attacking when any sensible commander would withdraw. Our little storm trooper if you will. But I wouldn’t mind drawing the Verniians out even more. And in order to do that we need to expose the vulnerability of the other Verniian worlds to their own citizens.”

“Raids….”

“More than just a few raids, Demetrius. We need to devastate the outer Verniian colonies, to where public outcry will force Calimar and his warlords to move to protect their colonies. We can dismantle the local forces easily enough, and then the Verniians will have to deploy forces from Gregor.”

Hellings starts to highlight points on the projection, “First we strike at Acler, since we control Erewohn it is the only major colony of Vernii left. Three squadrons of Hegemon II class dreadnoughts, one from my own command and two from yours, supported by two squadrons of war-frigates and a monitor flotilla will do. They will move in, destroy the local navy and the Imperial Verniian Navy units, and then destroy all of the system’s orbital infrastructure. We will hit Stocurm an hour later with two dreadnought squadrons, a squadron of war-frigates, and four squadrons of monitors. One hour after that we will hit Boroglia with a similar force, and two hours after that a single dreadnought squadron supported by three squadrons of war-frigates and five monitor squadrons will storm Kerezin. In Boroglia, Stocurm, and Kerezin we will follow the same pattern: destroy the defending force and then destroy the space-born infrastructure. The remnants of Vernii will be sent into a panic, their navy and their government will be forced to act or risk losing control of their remaining territory.”

“And when will this operation commence.”

“After dispatching the forces from our fleets, it will take at most four days for our forces to get into position so they can jump into the systems to follow our timetable, two if we wish to rush it.”

“Is there really a need to rush?”

“Given the actions of the Verniians currently, no, I don’t see one.”

A nervous looking tactical coordinator approaches Hellings and Kruger, “Sirs, I have a priority message from Axis. It’s flagged as top priority.”

Kruger arches an eyebrow at Hellings as Hellings takes the disc and puts it into the data pad. After a few moments he looks up at Kruger.

“Two days it is then.”

“We are to be rushed?”

“Yes, Demetrius, we are to be rushed. Our Verniian doppelgangers finally recovered their senses long enough to realize something must be done to respond to our war efforts.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Verniian forces have invaded our space in the New Edo system; they are moving to engage Rackham’s command and the orbitals.”

Classroom 230, Wainright Memorial Complex, University of Silesia, Silesia, New Ortaga, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1732 Roum Local Standard

“I am aware that many of you consider it too early in the summer to contemplate Valinor history,” Catlyn Ansel says as her eyes sweep the lecture hall. “However, I know full well how interest wanes and self-driven expectations fall as the summer term continues based on experience.”

If they existed at all, she adds quietly in her head. This is her eighty-ninth year as a full professor at the University of Silesia, and her seventy-third as the leading instructor of Greater Raumreich History and Political Affairs, a class either taken by truly interested souls or those floundering in their catalogs for what they hope is an easy six on the scale. The latter was to be sorely disappointed. And of course there were also more than a few hopefuls hoping they could get the blessing of the Hegemon’s sister to advance their own careers. They were also to be sorely disappointed. Catelyn has no interest in politics and very little in the Revolution, her ties to it are the accident of birth not fervor.

“The simple fact is that the bulk of the Raumreich’s history cannot be understood without first understanding the history of the Valinor and their empire. They have had the greatest impact on the course that has lead us to our own present version of the Raumreich, and continue to have a great impact on international affairs and the affairs of all the other nations in the Raumreich.”

“Our own authors have often summed this up enough. Wainright himself said: ‘The Valinor are like master clockmakers who have forged the Oversector. They scrutinize with calculating eyes and sit with skilled hands poise. Cold creators who always remain at the ready to subtly turn a gear or replace a part when their clock no longer follows their designs.”

“And then there is the poem written by Sandor Pycelle, the noted poet who was slain by Loyalists during the Revolution. ‘The Glory of Valinon, its Wealth and its Power, shines as bright as a Pure Diamond’s Fire, its Splendor and Majesty, its Silver and Gold, are all that a Man could Desire.”

“The Valinor have influenced our own nation as much as we have influence theirs. A strange duality has always existed between Valinon and New Ortaga, one that has yet to be undone by any device—Valinor or Ortagan.”

“With that being said, its time we started to delve into the Star Empire. In order to do this we must exam House Alderman. For over 1300 years, the Aldermans have controlled and dictated the course of the Valinor from Proxima Centauri…” Catlyn continues on for two hours, her evening class has to cover a week’s worth of material since it only meets on one night. Occasionally she pauses to take questions or debate an issue with one or two students.

At 1903 she is rapidly winding down, seeing the glazed-eyed look start to consume the entire mass, even among the most devout of students. And as she eyes the dulling eyes, she suddenly stops.

She wonders how long he has been sitting there. Those intent eyes latching on to her every move from the very back of the room, as he merely absorbs every word of her lecture. His hair has been shorn, she knew that much from his speech a few nights ago, detailing the victories in Erewohn, Morning Star, and Ticonderoga. The last few times he had come here, he had become increasingly adapt at appearing unnoticed, even the Crimson Guards could not be spotted until she scrutinized just beyond the door. How he avoided the student sitting at the opposite end of the relatively empty last row was straight-forward at least, giving the fact the student was zoned out with eyes locked on the ceiling. Their eyes lock for a moment, and Catlyn breaks of the tale of the beginning of the Collective Wars in Valinon and the fall of the absolutist rule of the Aldermans.

She glances at her watch, clears her watch, and picks up her lectern data pad, “I believe we can call it a day early tonight. I shudder to think how the chancellor would react if I killed a whole room with sheer boredom after only two class periods. Have a good night.”

There are the typical mummers of conversation and rustle of bags as they file out. Her brother unfolds an old-fashioned news-paper and holds it up, why her nation had latched on to keeping that particular antiquated medium remained beyond her knowledge. It echoed strangely of the Valinor obsession with old hard-bound paper books. Strange fetishes kept by strange people that were similar and dissimilar all at once.

After the students leave, trying hard not to eye the red garments and faceless gazes of the guardsmen as they pass, she drifts toward the final row of seats and takes the one next to her brother.

“I do keep office hours you know, Chan.”

“Yes, but generally you are busy furthering education, Cat,” Channing Ansel says as he folds the newspaper up. One of his guardsmen drifts in and takes a position inside the lecture hall.

“If you say so, personally I think I’m speaking into the void and getting as much to show for it as if I really did that.”

The Hegemon locks his gaze with his sister, and Catlyn watches as a strange look crosses over her brother’s face.

“You’ve never been happy with all this, I know Cat, but it’s something that needed to be done.”

“Sometimes I just wonder, Chan. I wonder if it was all really necessary, or if we just become so content with our own distortions of the facts it has become a justifiable necessary. But that is old ground, we don’t need to cover that again. And neither one of us will yield to the other, so lets just forget it. Although,” Cat smiles sarcastically, “I hear that my own stubbornness may be a threat in the eyes of my beloved niece.”

Channing sighs, “My daughter has many ideals and many opinions regarding ideology. But that does not make them right or turn them into absolutes. It may be high time I educated her in that regard.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

Ansel shrugs.

“Why have you come, Chan?”

Ansel turns back to his sister, eyes searching hers, “I need your advice or at least your thoughts, Cat.”

“Isn’t that what the Council is for?”

“Don’t be an ass, Cat. Most of them have developed their own agenda; half of them are not the men and women I knew. And the other ones have become people I no longer recognize. The only ones who can be trusted are Jordan and Saharin. And Jordan thinks more and says less, no matter what he is encouraged by. And Saharin…Saharin is Saharin, his thoughts are often beyond those around him. And who can say what he truly believes.”

“Your grand viziers are not earning their keep then?”

“Did they ever?”

“You tell me.”

Ansel sighs, “It doesn’t really matter. But I came for your thoughts, Cat.”

“Chan, you know my position in regards to politics. I do what I love, I love my family, I live my life and I try to keep the wolf of politics and bureaucracy away from my door. It’s what keeps me sane.”

“I know, Cat, I know. And I’ve heard words like that before, and not always from you. Although it has been a long time since I heard them from another.”

“Forrest you mean?”

“You know me to well.”

“I’m your sister, you moron,” Catlyn says playfully. “And by this point one of you should have swallowed the pride and tried to lay that old dagger aside.”

“It’s far more complex than that.”

“Men and your complexities. Fine, we’ve covered the old business, lets move on to the new. I can’t tell you my thoughts if I don’t know what you’re asking about.”

Ansel closes his eyes for a moment, “I have been wondering if it was the right decision, Cat. This war is rapidly spiraling beyond what I expected it to be, and I suspect even what Jordan and Saharin expected it would be. But those two keep their silence if they believe it, and try to balance their own equations on how it should be run.”

Ansel turns back to his sister, “The Council thinks they hide it from me, but I do hear of the desperation that plagues the outer cities and the troubles on the outer colonies. I’ve taken to sending out the guardsmen to keep me abreast on the entirety of the Hegemony. And each time they come back it seems like our world is dying, and that all I’ve done to save it is being mocked by Poul Corin and Gihren Zabi from their graves.”

“I led us into this conflict believing it was the only way to preserve our nation, the only way to be sure that we had peace indefinitely this time. With Vernii and its allies gone all the threats would be gone, and it would be just the Valinor and ourselves, as it used to be all those years ago. But now, now I don’t know. I can’t tell if there will ever be an end to it all. And I need to know what someone who isn’t poisoned by sycophancy and self-interest thinks. I need to know what you think, Cat.”

Catlyn looks into those searching blue eyes and takes a long deep breath.

“Chan, I’m not going to delve into the politics of the matter so this answer will probably be shorter than you’ve ever heard. But putting that aside, I’ll tell you what I believe to be the truth.”

Catlyn takes her brother’s hand and traces the tattoo he had done when he first joined the Solar Navy, like she used to do when they were both so much younger.

“There is a time and a place for everything, Chan. A time and a place for nations, people, empires, actions, ages, and anything ever created by all men. And like all things that have a time and a place, eventually that time passes. People die, empires erode and fall, actions are forgotten, and even ages fade away into myth. It will happen to us, it will happen to the Wickians, and it will even happen to the Valinor and their empire. It may be tomorrow or it may be a hundred thousand years from tomorrow, but eventually it will all end. No one can stop this, no one.”

She looks up at her brother, “But here is also what I believe. For all my disagreements with it, I believe you chose the course you did believing it was the only way to save our nation from being destroyed by people like Poul Corrin and Gihren Zabi. And given the fact I still can’t think of an alternative, I can’t really protest that. War is not a kind thing, nor should it be. But I look at you and see that same look I saw when Zabi was sending his men to hunt down the elected representatives of our government. If there was another way to save our world, I know you would have taken it, and that is all I need to know. I trust in you, Chan, I always have. I trust that you will see all of us, especially me,” she smiles as a small smirk creeps across her brother’s face, “through this and make sure our time does not end so quickly. And that is all I need. That’s what I think about all this.”

Channing Ansel smiles and releases a long slow breath. He stands, and Catlyn moves rapidly to follow. Her brother is taller than her, and has been for more than two centuries now. He kisses her on the forehead, like he did when he came back on leave from the ships of the old navy.

“Thanks, Cat.”

“Although,” Catlyn says with another playful smile, “sometimes I wonder if those same people would trust you if they knew half of what I knew.”

Ansel’s eyes roll, “You’re disgusting.”

“We’re from the same genes, Chan. I wouldn’t be so quick to belt that insult out.”

Ansel chuckles, “I need to go-“

“Yes, yes. Affairs of state, the Revolution, hail to the Hegemon, and all that, I know.”

“Dinner tomorrow night?”

Catlyn’s eyes narrow, “Will my beloved, darling niece be there?”

“I’m sure you will cry your eyes out when I tell you she’s in Axis on some business of her own.”

“I’ll try not to drown, Chan. I will try very hard.”

“I am sure Kendra will do the same.”

“You mean she’s stopped believing I’m going to derail the whole Revolution and progress as a whole be speaking to you?”

“Cat…”

“Alright, nevermind. Yes, I will join you for dinner in that great brooding edifice of yours, with those disgusting decorations in its courtyard, and the bats in the belfry.”

“The Whisper Palace does not have a belfry.”

“Damn it, I’m the sister of the Hegemon! A mere building should conform to my every whim and command. Otherwise what’s the point in being related to you, Chan?”

“Shall I have a belfry commissioned then?”

“Hell no, it will make the brooding rock even more brooding. And probably attract rock ravens. Tomorrow evening, Chan. I take it one of your festooned men will see me to the Palace?”

“Jordan would be pleased if I did conform to a few protocols of his.”

“Then I suppose I will submit. Maybe I’ll get another bottle of wine on Winter Day for my good behavior, the last one was exquisite.”

“I could order him to…”

“Chan, when will I ever get to use my womanly wiles if you do that?”

“And I that note I leave, before you scare me into an early grave trying to demonstrate those same wiles.”

“Ass!” Cat calls as her brother moves toward the door and his awaiting guardsman. He flashes a fiery smile at her as he leaves.

Catlyn continues to stand for a long time after he leaves, then she finally moves and shuts of the lights of the hall.

“But sometimes,” she says to the empty chairs, “I wonder if we aren’t all blind to possibilities we should see, Chan. Sometimes I wonder that above all else…”

Invergordon Depot

"Admiral, sah!"

The control crew on RNS Hyderabad snaps to attention as the RFS's senior Flag Admiral, Qaboos Mallor, ambles onto the bridge. Dressed in his finest Admiral's uniform, festooned with various awards earned in his seventy or so years of service, and topped by a Bicorne hat with RFS ribbon, the Admiral starts towards his place at the very center of the bridge and takes a seat.

"Leftenant Rahmananov at your service, sah."

Mallor's new aide takes his seat to the left and rear of the Admiral, hidden in a cluster of displays and communications gear. Ever since Mallor's last aid, Leftenant Manley, had been killed when the Birkenhead was ravaged by Ortagan missiles, he hadn't been feeling at all happy, and he'd just as soon have no aide, but he is too polite to tell Rahmananov away.

"I had an uncle named Rahmananov. Julian...yes, Julian Rahmananov. Any relation?"

"Eh, no, sah. I don't believe so." The Leftenant occupies himself with fleet communications, not wanting to be drawn into a doubtlessly boring conversation with the ageing Mallor.

"A shame, that. He was a wonderful man. Well, how does the fleet report?"

"All ships indicate full battle readiness, Admiral sah."

"Excellent. Well, I should tell you Rahmananov that I'm glad to have you, all you fine sailors, here at this pivotal moment. We are about to participate in what is no less than the most important, and potentially most disastrous, armed conflict in the modern history of the Raumreich Oversector. Along with our Valinor, Verniian, Liberation, Wickian, and Vaku allies, it is our responsibility to halt the forces of oppression and totalitarianism, embodied by New Ortaga, and protect the rights endowed to all sentient beings. The Ortagan Navy is the most formidable opponent we have ever had to face, and there is a real possibility that this battle could be the last one fought by the Robotic Flotilla Service. I have, however, no doubt that these crews of ours are the very best in the Oversector and will acquit themselves with the utmost levels of bravery, honour, and proffessionalism. If it is our lot to be destroyed, which I assure you it is not, we will go down knowing that we did our very best and that is all that can be asked from any man or robot."

Mallor's impromptu monologue is cheered by bridge crews across the fleet, and he smiles a satisfied smile, before getting right back to work.

"Alright, so, seeing as we're all ready, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't give the order to hyperspace for Gregor."

"Aye, sah. All ships, plot a course for the Gregor system. Prepare to engage hyperspace drives!"

Aboard the Hyderabad itself, engineers switch on the hyperspace drive, adjusting this knob and that lever in order to keep current levels inside the most efficient regions. After perhaps a minute, FTL drive indicators flash full power.

"All ships, engage hyperspace drives on my count. Five...four...three...two...one...now!" Every ship, from the massive Hyderabad to the small destroyer Lochinvar, disappears in a massive flash of energy at nearly the same instant, shooting off towards Gregor to join the combined allied battlegroup there.

Acler

(OCC: If this is wrong or anything just let me know. Its sort of an ill-concieved attempt to get the RFS involved in some action.)

Surprisingly enough, the RFS was able to scrounge up the resources to organize a somewhat half-hearted expeditionary force to the Verniian colony of Acler, it being the closest Verniian colony to Ortagan possessions 'as the crow flies,' and according to the Admiralty a sane place to deposit spare vessels with nothing else to do.

At the head of a force of Cambiran-class light cruisers and assorted monitors, RNS Lord Ix is one of the RFS's newest vessels and in that is more threatening than other RFS ships by nature. The Lord Ix and other Royal Edward class battleships aren't the kind of lightly-armed, cheap, and role-flexible armed freighters that RFS battleships used to be, but rather heavily armed and armored ships-of-the-line with the latest in weapons technology and detection systems. Without a doubt the Royal Edwards' most fearsome weapons system is the new 370cm anti-ship torpedo, the size of which the RFS has never operated previously. While many have doubts about the weapon's effectiveness in battle, if it hits something such a torpedo is bound to do a significant amount of damage.

The Cambrian-class vessels, in this case RNS Concordat, Calcutta, Carysfort, Caroline, and Coventry, are also rather more warlike than the average RFS vessel, although a much higher value was placed on speed and manouverability in their construction than necessarily on weight of fire.

"Attention Acler system control, this is the Robotic Acler Expeditionary Force. We request battle orders, over."

Alpha Centauri

Katherine Adonis neatly arranges her silverware in her empty plate and idly tosses the napkin bearing the imperial lion and sunburst on one corner and the crest of the HMS Reich, the leading ship of the Kriegsmarine’s vaunted super-dreadnought class. She looks up at her host, a feeling of reassurance filling her as she studies the white uniform of the grossadmiral he once again bears.

“It’s good to have you back, Quentin. I had missed Jonas’ veal.”

Sir Quentin Forrest smiles slightly as he swirls the remnants of his merlot in its glass, “I still intend to pursue retirement, Katherine. Her Imperial Majesty is aware my tenure will last only so long as it is needed to conclude the business of this war and to end the power of the Ortagan Hegemony. Besides, I am a grossadmiral that does not sit as a Star Lord of the Admiralty, when has that ever happened?”

“Never in the entire history of the Kriegsmarine, but I think commanding a fleet made up of the navies of six nations, not even including our own, more than makes up for it.”

Jonas Storm, Forrest’s steward, suddenly reappears by whatever strange devices the stewards of the Kriegsmarine use to know when their “wards” have need of them. He moves to refill Forrest’s class, but the newly reinstated grossadmiral holds up his hand.

“I believe I will have some coffee instead, Jonas. There’s business to attend do, and I’ve soaked myself enough as it is. Katherine, would you care for some?”

“If you could, Jonas.”

“I will, My Lady,” the steward departs by way of the door leading to his pantry after collecting the empty plates.

“Did you have time to look over the directives I’m sending out to the rest of the alliance?” Forrest says as he finishes the wine and mulls over it for a moment.

“I did, Quentin. The Wickians and the Vaku will not be happy about the general order to cancel all further offensive operations until further notice. The Verniians may be angered as well.”

“It’s essential to the war effort though. Our efforts against the Ortagans are only going to be diminished more and more if we continue to allow this haphazard pattern of operations. The Ortagans have enough reserve forces to easily repel raids and any offensive if they come in such a sporadic fashion, especially in their home space. And hitting their home systems without achieving any decisive victories will only result in making Roum and Axis nervous enough to call for something drastic. But if we fall back and engage Hellings and his fleet and then push the Ortagans out of the Thetis and Erewohn sectors, we will only have to fight a war on a single front. If the current strategy prevails, we will be fighting the Ortagan home fleets on one front and Hellings on another.”

“And their numerical advantage means that pursuing that will only lead to defeat.”

“Precisely, but at the same time their resources are not bottomless and their doctrine even further restricts their ability to conduct war. With so many of their ships being permanently assigned to defend specific home systems, and with most their reactionary forces supporting Hellings operations, they have a glaring vulnerability. Eliminate Hellings as a threat and then launch an all out also across the outer core systems—focusing on Axis and possibly Gadsen—and the Ortagan military will be paralyzed by its own doctrine and bureaucracy. If we strike hard and fast enough throughout their home space, we can destroy or disable the Solar Navy’s core elements piece by piece.”

“You have my support, Quentin, if nothing else than the fact that a centralized allied force will be able to counter at least some of the numerical advantage the Solar Navy enjoys. But you mentioned that you wished to discuss the appointment of theater operation commanders with me.”

“I did,” Forrest says calmly as Jonas reenters with two cups and saucers with the Reich’s heraldry and pours the pair rich caffeine from a silver butler. “Your father and I have discussed the fact that we will need to draw from across the allies in order to assure our allies we are not trying to turn them into satellites. He highlighted the fact that this will involve giving command of our units—dominion forces and Kriegsmarine—to other officers of the allied fleet.”

“The Centrists will love that.”

“Yes, and at the same time we will also have to appease our ‘allies’ at home. Probably by handing von Richter or one of his chosen lap-dogs command of allied ground forces somewhere in the Great March close to Ortaga proper. Your father and Her Majesty can trouble themselves with those particular details. But I have my own candidates for the disposition of allied fleet command.”

“I’m listening.”

“Villers and nar Hhallas represent a capable pair. Both are experienced combat veterans and accomplished tacticians, and I believe they can over come their nations’ political differences for the sake of the current war at least. I am going to place Villers in overall command of allied operations in the Erewohn and Thetis sectors of the Great March. Nar Hhallas will be his second in command. But part of my concern is the relative size of the forces fielded by both the Concordat and the Greater Empire. Their capital ships are powerful and their fighter compliments give them considerable skirmishing ability, but they want for escorts and more mobile capital assets.”

“Hence the transfer of units from the Pelledriner and Chandaran forces to Ticonderoga?”

“Yes, but I also have someone in mind to command that detachment. And that is one of the major reasons I need to discuss this with you, along with the issue of command basing from Archangel. I want to promote Ekaterina Tereshkova to Vizeadmiral and give her command of the force we are sending to support Villers and nar Hhallas, along with a battle squadron to lead her command, from the Kriegsmarine not the dominions.”

Katherine’s eyes darken, “Quentin, you know damn well what Tereshkova did during the Occupation. To give her command…”

“She has had command, Katherine. And in her exile she has proven herself time and time again. Frankly, you cannot name another officer that has a more intimate knowledge of the Great March in our own forces. She will supplement Villers’ and nar Hhallas’ knowledge well.”

Forrest’s locks his own brown eyes with Katherine’s glowering blue, “I have spoken personally with Kapitan Tereshkova. She is not the woman who left Gregor. Bitter she is, and who wouldn’t be with no rank advancement in over half a century? But she is one of the ones I honestly believe was doing nothing more than discharging her duty in Gregor. The War of the Lion was a mistake, Katherine, and what happened after it was even more of a mistake. However, we cannot undo it now. And with the stresses and fractures your father keeps telling me about within the United Lords, we need to hold our own politics together at least until we can deal with Ortaga. Reynard agrees, Tereshkova is at least one bone we can throw to Metternicht, von Richter, and Doucet, but she will not be their creature.”

“Or so we have to hope.”

“There is no other way at this point.”

“I will do it, Quentin. I will not say I do not believe that you and my father are mistaken, but I will do it. The both of you have too fearsome a track record for being right for me to challenge, especially as sober as the last few days are making us all.”

“Then we’ll move on to the next issue. We’ve given the Vaku and the Wickians their share of the burden of command, now we have to see to the Verniians as well. The campaign being led by the Dominion of Archangel’s High Fleet and the Kriegsmarine units represents the only other major command theater. After we defeat Hellings, I intend to give that area over to a Verniian officer. Their Admiral Leveson may want it, but I’d rather keep him close at hand.”

“Still not trusting of our ersatz orphans, Quentin?”

“There are certain members of the alliance that need to be watched, Katherine, that is all. Tereshkova can keep an eye and stop nar Hhallas and Villers from allowing their more fanatical commanders to have a free hand. But Leveson and the Verniians are not so easily cowed. So far they haven’t been too aggressive in asserting themselves, but I’d rather be close by in case they do.”

“Fair enough, and at least there is no bad blood between the Falas and the Verniians.”

“No, but it does leave you with the wonderful task of trying to find a flag officer that won’t mind taking commands from a Verniian.”

“I have a few in mind, but it will cause quite a stir no matter what.”

Forrest sighs, “Allies make warfare into such a deluded mess. They’re a political liability, like everything political. But I cannot say that they aren’t essential.”

“You’ll learn how to handle politics soon enough, Quentin.”

Forrest’s eyes flash for a moment, and Katherine is taken back.

“No,” Forrest says coolly. “No, I do not think I will. It is not a path I find to be either healthy or rewarding.”

The fire rapidly recedes, “But now perhaps we should discuss the situation in Morning Star?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

Jonas reenters the room carrying two additional saucers.

“Jonas, I said no dessert,” Forrest growls.

“Why let food in the pantry go to waste, Sir?”

“One day I will have your head, Jonas.”

The steward turns to Katherine, “Madam, if at such time my admiral decides to have me court-martialed for my cooking, would it be possible for me to resign my position?”

Katherine laughs after swallowing a bit of the bananas foster, “Jonas, if Quentin ever is foolish enough to get rid of you, I steal you away to be my own chef.”

“Thank you, Madam,” Jonas leaves without another word. And the two grossadmirals continue reviewing the plans for the allied war effort.

**********

OOC: Will edit Forrest message to the other allied commanders tomorrow

Commodore Maxwell had been the commanding officer of the Gregor Free Legion since its formation after the reinstatement of Vernii government in Gregor after the War of the Lion. Roughly fifteen million WIckians had sought refuge in Gregor mostly to the planet Endicott during the war, as a result of this influx the Concordat commissioned the Free Legion for their defense. It was one of the first Mercenary units established by the Concordat and has since its formation be employed and financed by the Imperium. At first it was only a motley collection of cruisers and battleships, but today it was as potent as any unit around. Maxwell himself as a member of the Old Guard, a veteran of both Ortagan battle which the WIckians found themselves in. He did not have the tactical intuition of someone like Protector Villers, he did not have the strategic genius of someone like Reynard Adonis, nor did he have the omnipotent aura of Sir Quentin Forrest. He did know his strengths though as well as his weaknesses, his strengths as a naval officers reflected his physical stature, he was large and burly, he was the man you wanted by your side in a bar fight. Strength, honor, loyalty, dependability all of these attributes were manifest in this WIckian. Needless to say he was not the kind of person who enjoyed sitting in a garrison with his thumbs up his ass when there was a war on. He had a plan to change that, which was what brought him into Fleet Admiral Leveson’s presence this day, the Verniian by terms of their contract was his Commanding officer…

“In summation sir, I request the authorization to move the Legion into a concealed position in Acler. It is a good bet that Hellings will strike your Imperium’s colonies since they are exposed due to our concentration of force here in Gregor. Acler is the most important of your colonies and so I propose to move my Legion there. If the Solar Navy moves against it we will be able make them understand their not wanted, if they don’t move against Acler before they come here with our ships jump engines we should be able to return to Gregor in time to support allied efforts here.” The WIckian concluded his proposal there.

Priority Message via Nu-space ansible connection

To: Admiral of the Imperium Heinrich Leveson, Protector of the Concordat Markus Villers, Admiral of the Liberation Sean Murphy, Lord Kalralahr Ralgha nar Hhallas, Admiral of the Robotic Collective Qaboos Mallor, Admiral of the Wazzu Raven
From: Grossadmiral Quentin Forrest, Commanding the Allied Fleet
RE: Establising Operational Command and Operational Doctrine For Operations Against the Ortagan Hegemon
ENCRYPT: HIMK LEVEL: SCARLET; NCRYLVL: OMEGA-OMEGA-OMEGA 1; PRIORITY: RED-3

Gentlemen,

By now it has become clear to all of us that the only way to defeat the current offensive launched by the Solar Navy and to end the threat of the Ortagan Hegemony to the Inner Marches and the rest of the Raumreich is to present a united and coordinate front against the Hegemonic government and military.

In order to do this, it is essential that we abandon the current operational doctrine of scattered raids and limited-scope offensive currently being undertaken across the Great March. Therefore, effective immediately, I am canceling all offensive operations against the Ortagan Hegemony except for the raid against New Edo, the strike against Dylar, and the strike against Thetis.

This does not mean we are abandoning all hope of taking the war to the Ortagans, far from it. But with the numerical advantage the Hegemony enjoys, we cannot allow ourselves to be drawn into a two-fronted war. If we continue to pursue operations in the Ortagan core systems that is exactly what we will face, trying to fight the Ortagan defense fleets in their core systems and Admiral Hellings forces on the other.

Our primary object for the moment must be the defeat of Admiral Hellings and his command, as well as the removal of the Ortagan presence from the Gregor, Erewohn, and Thetis sectors. In order to do this we need to lull Admiral Hellings into moving against Gregor with false information, allowing him to believe that he only faces the Imperial Verniian Navy in Gregor. When he finally moves to take the system, we can move to counter him in force. Therefore, I would formerly order any and all forces that can be spared by the Concordat Space Navy and the Liberation Silver Fleet to redeploy to either Yalta or Alpha Centauri. I have already readied the forces of the Kriegsmarine and the dominion navies of Yalta and Alpha Centauri to move to Gregor at a moment's notice. We will move to defend Gregor and smash Hellings fleet when he seeks to seize Gregor and Vernii proper.

In order to secure our other objective of removing the Ortagan presence from the Erewohn and Thetis sectors of the Great March, I am creating the Thetis/Erewohn Operational Theater. Protector Villers will be in overall command of this theater, with Kalralahr nar Hhallas as his second in command and Vizeadmiral Ekaterina Tereshkova commanding the Kriegsmarine and dominion units assigned to Protector Villers' fleet. Protector Villers, I have given Vizeadmiral Tereshkova command of a battle squadron, two battlecruiser squadrons, four cruiser squadrons, and a destroyer flotilla. She should arrive in Ticonderoga in no more than four standard days. Once she arrives, I want you to move to Dylar and join with Kalralahr nar Hhallas' fleet and move against the Ortagans. I wish to be kept abreast of your plans in the theater in order to coordinate our overall strategy. You will have full access to any and all intelligence gathered by allied sources.

Once Admiral Hellings and his command are removed from the board, we can move to commence operations against Ortaga proper. I would like to note that the following plans are only an initial outline, as none of us can determine what position the battle in Gregor will leave us in.

In order coordinate the assault I am creating three bases of operation to stage our initial assault in the Yalta, Archangel, and Klein systems. I will take the bulk of the units from Gregor to Yalta to resupply and prepare for the offensive. Admiral Leveson will be my second, with Admiral Mallor commanding the allied screening units. Admiral Murphy is to take the units of the Silver Fleet and move to the Klein system, where he will join with Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn, commanding the Kriegsmarine mobile assets in Klein. Admiral Murphy will have command of the forces operating from Klein, with Admiral Tolwyn as his second. Admiral Leveson, I wish you to name a candidate from your command to lead the joint Falas High Fleet, Kriegsmarine, and Verniian force that will operate from Archangel.

Once our forces are redeployed and resupplied, we will move to take the war to Ortagan home space. A multi-system strike is the best option, denying the Ortagans the ability to reinforce one point and drive us back easily. Therefore we will move against Axis, Immolan, and Seljuk from Yalta, Archangel, and Klein, respectively. The road to victory in this war runs through Axis and Roum, only by taking these two systems will we be able to defeat the Hegemony. Once we have secured these three systems we can plan a final attack against Roum, or additional operations against other key systems like Gadsen and St. Ives.

Admiral Raven, I would greatly appreciate it if your forces would form part of our reserve in Yalta. That way they can quickly reinforce any of the three operational centers, you will be in overall of our reserve force consisting of the Wazzu fleet and the remaining forces of the dominion navies.

Gentlemen, we cannot expect our enemies to surrender. Whether driven by a fanatical devotion to their Revolution or merely by a desire to remain in power, the politicians and warlords who control the Hegemony cannot allow themselves to admit defeat. To do so would mean they would have to answer for their innumerable crimes they have committed against the sentient beings who live under their control. They will use any means at their disposal to forestall defeat. Expect the unexpected, and do not count any act on the part of our enemies as too heinous or too disgusting for them to carry out.

In response we cannot allow ourselves to think of surrender or to consider the possibility of defeat. Our enemy seeks to conquer us all, and reduce us to prisoners, or worse, on our own homeworlds. From this moment forward we are committed to stand or fall together in this war. For if we are defeated, it is doubtful that our enemy will even give us a chance to surrender. I pray that we can all live to see the day when we achieve victory over the Hegemony, and care not to even think of any other outcome.

With respects,
Quentin Forrest

Leveson's office

Leveson idly tapped his pen on his desk as he thought, almost half a minute passing before he responded. "That sounds like a great idea actually. I don't have the tonnage to spare for the defense of the other systems, and the travel times there and back would be prohibitive, but your ships can. So yes, you have my approval to take the Free Legion and reinforce Vice Admiral Yularen at Acler. If you need, you can pick up a load of missile pods for your ships from the distribution warehouses. And now, if you'll excuse me, I must respond to Grossadmiral Forrest's letter I'd received shortly before you came."

***


To: Grossadmiral Quentin Forrest, Commander of the Allied Fleet
From: Fleet Admiral Heinrich Leveson, Imperial Navy of Vernii

With your approval, I submit Admiral Mary Windsor for the command of the forces that will operate from Archangel. I have attached her service record (although no doubt ONI has a copy already), and I trust that you will find her a competent and intelligent officer.

~ Fleet Admiral Leveson

***
New Edo

"Well, they certainly know we're here. Time to abandon any attempts at sneaking in and simply make it hard to see us."

Admiral Keppel glanced at the master plot, displaying the small red icons of the sensor drones that had been actively pinging them for several minutes now.

"Instruct Intimidator to destroy any that are in range. Also, order the fleet to bring up their electronic warfare systems and deploy EW drones. Begin course alterations as well, though I'll leave that up to each captain."

Seconds later, the first missile traces appeared as the lead battlecruiser in his formation opened fire upon the unlucky platforms within range. Of course, sensor buoys weren't exactly hard targets, and thus the effective range against them was even greater then the thirty million kilometer powered range each missile had.

Two electronic warfare drones shot away from each battlecruiser, most beckoning enemy sensors with false emissions signatures, and others putting out powerful bursts of jamming, almost like electronic strobe lights. The battlecruisers themselves began course corrections, shifting about with their drones to further confuse enemy sensors, while also keeping the distortion effects of their drive fields between the enemy and the Brilliance. After all, it wouldn't do to have the enemy discover that Keppel's command weren't just battlecruisers, not until it was too late anyway.

“This is a load of shit Markus!” Caitlin Kuzack roared at Protector Villers as she finished reading Forrest’s orders. We can’t suspend operations we need to do everything we can to keep the enemy off balance. It the initial reports from Dylar are accurate Hellings already lost his primary base of operation. By hitting Gyrps he is also going to lose a good chunk of the remaining supplies available to him here on the ‘Frontier’. We will be hitting Gadsen soon and you can’t tell me the Hegemony wont feel that strike…”She grumbled.

“You know how I feel about it Cat” Villers spoke quite in informal tones to the commander of Home Fleet. They had known one another for almost a century and a half, she herself was the third most senior member of the CSN only Peregrine and Villers had a more senior commission. It was more then that though, they had been lovers once shortly after the First Battle of Thetis, he was still in grief over losing his fiancée Alyssa Covington in that battle, Kuzack helped him out of the grief… “I still maintain that if we hit their home system it will weaken Hellings own position when their planetary governments start calling for reinforcements. Their maybe something else at play here though by raiding the Home Stars, we will infuriate the Ortagans they could strike back at us in force, and I need not tell you that many of the Imperium’s colonies have meager defense forces, retribution could be sever.”

“If Forrest wants to eliminate Hellings fleet why wait, He has the Kreigsmarine behind him, with the Imperium’s Fleet and the CSN we should move on Erewohn and take the fight to the enemy, I still think its folly to invite an attack, even if it is to be a trap. I find it hard to believe that with Galt’s rats about that Hellings seriously believes that it will just be the Imperium’s fleet in Gregor. Already Brooks’ fleet is in orbit of Endicott and has been for several months! He must know the Valinor and the Dominions are massing their forces at Yalta, I doubt that could go unnoticed. We’ve both seen and experienced what happens to fleet that await a concentrated attack by Hellings, we should take the fight to them for once!” There was a passion as well as a deep frustration in the Admiral’s voice.

“I know Cat I’m on your side remember? Honestly I don’t think the Valinor care what damage happens to the Vernii in this war, say what they will I don’t think their two nations have reconciled completely. In any case we have our orders and no mater our feelings about them it is our duty to obey them as best we can. I’ll be leaving shortly for Fort Defiance I am going to reassemble the Raider Fleets into a coherent Task Force Then we will move to Dylar and coordinate with the Vaku… I would like to bring our combined fleets here to Ticonderoga, but we will see what the situation becomes. Expect word from the fleet in Seven Days, until then you will need to hold the fort here alone…I know your going to be strapped for forces but the good news is that the Valinor task force is only four days out, the Hussar’s should be arriving shortly as well. If you come under attack here hold the enemy off for as long as you can, send word to Dylar and Fort Defiance, and Gregor, we will come back as quick as we can…” They both knew the chances of any relief arriving in time would be slim but still possible, her forces had hold the enemy for longer then the entire Grand Fleet of the Erewohnese managed if it was to happen though. On paper Ticonderoga still had Home Fleet guarding it in reality it did not, but the Ortagans didn’t know that and so it was still hoped that the illusion of home fleet presence would be enough to prevent an attack.

“Understood sir, we will do our duty.” She replied formally. It was both their fears that Hellings would move in force on Ticonderoga to finish the job he’s tried twice in the past to accomplish. Perhaps that is why they wanted to take the fight to Hellings in Erewohn, because they knew all to well which other systems could be devastated before Hellings decided to move on Gregor…

+ + +
To Grossadmiral Quentin Forrest, COIC of Allied Fleet
From[/I] Protector Villers, COIC Southern Theater
[b]RE Situation Report
ENCRYPT Level Omega Secret Priority AAA-1

Grossadmiral,

This is the first of the updates you’ve requested. Currently there are three active offensive operations in the Southern Theater being conducted by the CSN. Two of these you know about being the raids in Gryps and Thetis. However the majority of Home Fleet is currently staging at the jump base Fort Defiance inside the home space of the Hegemony. There is no Nu-Space coverage in that area as such communications is much slower, I will attempt with every effort possible to abort that mission as per your orders.

I will travel personally to Fort Defiance to reorganize the raider fleets and proceed to Dylar to unite the CSN and VIN fleets. From their the Allied fleet will garrison Ticonderoga until such time as Hellings moves against Gregor. Estimated time for the Allied Fleets arrival at Ticonderoga is seven days.

It is my intention when Hellings Frontier Fleet moves against Gregor to launch a counter attack against Erewohn to retake that system, at which time the combined fleet will move at best speed through the wormhole to support operations in Gregor.

News of the arrival Vizeadmiral Ekaterina Tereshkova taskforce is welcome news as Ticonderoga is lightly garrisoned until the arrival of the VIN/CSN fleets. Currently there is only a single reinforced BatRon and reserve forces amounting to 22 dreadnaughts 12 battle ships and 35 battle cruisers. It was hoped that the current raids could be completed and the fleets recalled before the exposed nature of Ticonderoga would be noticed by the enemy.

+ + +

“Attention on Deck!” Commander Kevan Ginske voice rang loud and clear, as the Protector of the Concordat entered the small bridge of his monitor. The three others on the bridge stood quickly coming to attention.

“As you were, A fine vessel you have here Commander agile and deadly. My compliments on your actions in the battle last week and your quick recovery, the Navy needs all the good officers it can get right now.”

“Thank you Sir.” Ginske said uncomfortably, “ We are ready to make the Jump as soon as you order it sir.”

“Understood, jump when your ready Commander.” Villers ordered, he could see the nervousness on the young commanders face disappear as went about the business of making the jump, it wasn’t every day a ship like a monitor was used to taxi the highest ranking member of the Navy. Due to the Articles of War Villers being the ranking officer on the warship could only give operational orders. How those orders were interpreted and carried out was the prerogative of the ships Captain. On WIckian vessels the Captain word, no matter how junior he could be to a flag officer was law. Ginske was all business as he ordered the jump.

He heard the commander's orders and the small vessel ceased to exist for a moment as it completed its jump. The vessel appeared in deep space not terrible far from Erewohn and a great percentage of the Solar Navy. It would take two days for the jump engines to recharge, he couldn’t wait that long though, Peregrine was to launch against Gadsen as soon as he deemed it necessary…Villers intended to reach Fort Defiance before he did.

“Commander complete the jump…” It was risky to complete two jumps it was possible but the chances of a an engineering casualty would be nearly five percent…

“Understood sir, Lieutenant Danvers override safety protocols, authentic Ginske, Commander, authorization Romeo, Bravo, Quebec One, three."

"Override Authorized." The lieutenant responded as she entered her own code into the ships computer.

"Transfer battery power to the jump engines, spin up the FTL, calculate a new jump to Fort Defiance…” The procedure of the jump was now routine barring any mishap in the jump itself, there was none this time. Ten minutes later the ship jumped appearing in deep space once again, only this time they were not alone.

Fort Defiance was the largest jump base maintained by the Navy its static defenses and infrastructure were enough to support an entire Task Force. Icons quickly appeared inside the monitors small holo-tank, almost a hundred-fifty burned brightly the icons of capital class ships, it was Peregrine’s raiding force and the systems picket. Villers had arrived in time to stop the raid, as Admiral Forrest ordered.

He heard the Commander respond to the challenge of the systems picket, the CSN's frontier fleet was alert to any new contacts in the system ever aware of their forts exposed position in enemy territory. Just as Villers picked up the communication headset to contact his Fleet Admiral the icons representing his units blinked quickly before they disappeared from the Holo-tank.

He had not arrived in time after all…

“Damn…” Villers mumbled as the ships left the system. They were off to destroy to industrial infrastructure of the Gadsen system, just as he order shortly after the Observer’s attack…They would return when that mission was completed and now he had no choice but to await their return…

+++

OOC: LRR have your admiral contact or send a shuttle to the flight deck of the CSN Intolerant, that’s Admiral Kuzack’s flagship…we can talk there.

Ralgha nar Hhallas focuses on the holotank, watching the graceful, swirling dance of his fighter squadrons as they weave their way to engage the surviving Ortagan monitors and the static defenses protecting Dylar. If he allows his eyes to close halfway he can almost feel the explosions and see the blazing brilliance of the fireballs as missiles fly toward the Ortagans and the response comes in kind. A dutiful homage to Sivar and her glories, not to mention a fitting way to announce the true prowess of the Greater Empire in the Great March.

“My Lord,” Shintahr Vak nar Hhallas, the Lord Kalralahr’s cousin, mummers as he steps up next to Ralgha, “our wing commanders report growing losses due to crossfire between the platforms and the monitors. Not enough to be an operational detriment, but it could become one if they hold to the current operation strategy.”

“Agreed, Esteemed Cousin. Commsman!”

“Yes, My Lord!”

“Transmit a message to Kal Khantahr (Vice Admiral) nar Krallahr, all his wing commanders are to break off their current attack and disperse-“

“My Lord, energy spike from the mass drivers! They are firing! In bound mass driver rounds on heading one-zero-zero-three and one-zero-three-eight! Point of origin 19.3 million kilometers and closing fast.”

“Evasive maneuvers!” nar Hhallas barks. “Have the fleet break off all current attack patterns and get out of the range of those projectiles!”

The regimented order of the Imperial Navy’s armada was already starting to react by the time nar Hhallas’ formal order reaches the section and squadron commanders. Abruptly the previously continuous formation sheers off into four distinct pieces, seeking to create two wide gaps for the mass driver rounds to waste themselves in. Dreadnoughts, carriers, cruisers, destroyers, and escorts heavy and manipulate space with their gravimetrics imposing radical changes that leave some of them at vertical angles.

Unfortunately the rounds come in fast, too fast for even the distance to allow for all the fleet to reach safety. A quartet of destroyers are obliterated into no more than a shower of Valinor produced neo-titanium and space-born shrapnel; a cruiser follows suit; another cruiser is simply sheared in half it’s bow and forward quarter cut off by a “graze” from the mass driver round; and even one of the invaluable carriers of the Imperial Navy suffers a near miss.

Ralgha nar Hhallas sees the counter of the VIS Craxtha, the nearly stricken carrier, and his eyes widen. He sees reaction mirrored by his cousin Vak across the holotank.

“Status report from the Craxtha!”

The comm section becomes a flurry of activity and chatter, as they seek to find out the status of the carrier.

“Kal Shintahr nar Nomrah reports limited damage to his forward sensors and forward shield generators. Minor warping of the forward hanger bay is being cleared and repaired.”

“Thank Sivar,” mummers Vak.

“Thank Sivar,” Ralgha returns. “I believe I have just found a new target for our wing commanders. Commsman, inform Kal Khantahr nar Krallahr his wing commanders are to focus all their efforts on destroying those mass driver batteries. Authorize the use of the Kane-class fusion missiles.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

He turns to Vak, “We need to reform the fleet and engage the orbitals. It is clear these Ortagans have no intention to surrender control of the system. So they must be destroyed.”

“The Bane warheads, My Lord?”

“Without question,” Ralgha turns to the comm section once again. “Dispatch orders to Kal Khantahr nar Krallahr, Kal Khantahr nar Vaktaar, and Khantahr (Rear Admiral) nar Juktath that they are to implement the Breakthrough Formation and prepare to engage the orbitals. All ships are to be ready to fire on command, dreadnought”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The four pieces of nar Hhallas’ fleet start to rejoin each other, eventually reworking themselves into a complex, staggered formation that leaves relatively few central groupings of the larger carriers or massive dreadnoughts. The cruisers, destroyers, and destroyer-escorts continue to screen, although their new formations are far more open to sudden maneuvers than before.

Meanwhile agile fighters continue to fight and die. While the mass drivers struck out at nar Hhallas’ main force, they have continued to seek out targets in the form of the fixed missile satellites, Golan-class platforms, and the pursuing numbers. They launch wave after wave of stinging missile assaults and even close to use their lasers and small caliber grasers. But for each strike there are brilliant flairs and bold, suicidal ramming runs that mark either the instantaneous death of a fighter and its pilot or the last act in the name of the Emperor, the Greater Empire, and Vakutu. All told, already 248 fighters and their pilots have died, thirty-one squadrons worth reduced to mere claimants to the imperial rolls of honor and merit.

But in the blink of an eye the fighters reform, once again becoming solid formations of fighters and bombers. Their booster systems engage once more and send them flying toward the two mass driver batteries that opened fire on their parent ships. The fighters and bombers move to have their revenge, and space is once again filled with missiles. The fighters spend their specially fitted ECM warheads, designed to screen the bombers birds, and launch 2,344 in all—roughly divided in half between the batteries. The bombers follow seconds later, releasing their heavier payloads. They send 6,778 missiles flying toward their enemies behind their screens. Among them are 988 of the new Kane-class fusion missiles, modified Valinor drone round carrying a 43.7-megaton fusion warhead and a limited ECM screening suite.

Ralgha nar Hhallas’ eyes glitter with predatory satisfaction as he watches the fighters strike at the mass drivers. He turns to the comm section.

“All ships have my order to open fire, target the orbital platforms and the space fortress.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Three minutes later, the main fleet speaks again with its missile batteries. This time the salvo is far larger, as the Imperial Navy staggers its fire in order to deliver a larger yield more quickly. Over 20,000 missiles race toward the Ortagan lines—7,688 are the modified Vaku variants of the Valinor Dragons’ Teeth-class ECM missiles; 11,314 are the deadly X-ray pumped “shipkillers” common to Raumreich warfare; and 998 are the infamous Bane-class fusion warheads manufactured by the Valinor Kriegsmarine. Each of the Bane-class warheads carries a 15.4-gigaton fusion warhead and limited ECM capabilities, it is the most powerful fusion warhead manufactured within the Raumreich.

As their missiles race to deliver their fire, the ships continue to accelerate toward Dylar III. They rapidly descend below the sixteen million kilometer mark, seeking to engage their enemy with the full might of the energy weaponry and lay the Ortagan fortress world to ruin.

Reichsburg, Greater Prussia

“Heave her! That’s right, boys, lift her gently there, don’t hurt her, she’s gentler than she looks, careful, careful!” The voice belonged to Sergeant-Major Hans Rimajjer. He was a strong, burly-man, with well-developed muscles – even though at this stage of his career he wasn’t really using those muscles himself. Instead, he was commanding a small team of soldiers loading up a Vanguard-class cruiser with the many different important supplies it needed for an extended campaign against the Ortagans.

Above Rimajjer’s head, a crane moved swiftly and almost silently, moving the large steel crate towards the ship without a seeming effort. Rimajjer had a very good reason to worry about those particular crates – this was his own ship, and when it took off for the stars he would be aboard it as a member of the crew. He wanted everything and anything aboard the Georg Fabricius to be perfect.

“Now lower her… slowly… carefully… that’s right… very good, very good!” – he shouted, pointing where the crate was being lowered into the belly of the warship. Only when it went all the way down did he wipe his hands off his pants and smile, calm now.

And then, he saw her. His wife, Bertha Rimajjer, standing there, on the very edge of the working platform, smiling sadly, her large, blue eyes beaming at him, holding her baby in her hands. Their baby. Little Oscar. This was beautiful…

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!!” – screamed Hans. ‘You shouldn’t be in the Army Docks, here! How did you get in?!”

She blushed a bit. “I knew you were leaving, my love. I wanted to be sure I see you before you leave – so I asked your base commander very nicely and he let me in. And besides, Oscar must see you at least once before you leave. After all, you are his Daddy.”

“DA-DA! DADA!” – whispered the child, extending his hands happily towards his father’s face. For a second, a happy smile lit up Hans’ face… and someone patted his shoulder. It was colonel Holgerson, his unit commander.

“I am sorry, Sergeant Rimajjer. I know this is important, but I must give you and your wife no longer than five minutes. Then, your expertise will be needed again. We must load up and move out to the Raumreich within two hours.”

Strangely, Oscar did not cry.

10:42 AM Reichsburg, Reichskamphen (Capitol of the Greater Prussian Empire)

All had fallen quiet in the Place de l'Empire at the heart of the city. The throngs of people gathered there stayed behind the barricades. A heavy Gendarme presence made sure of it. Since the foundation of the city, the Palace of the Arch Duke of Reichsburg, the facade of which sat on the Place de l'Empire, had been used by Kings, Princes, and Arch Dukes to make announcements and speeches to the people. Even when the King of Reichskamphen built a palace a distance away from the Square, and the Emperor built his a distance away from the square, they travelled back to that most famous of balconies to address their people.

Representative units of the 1st Army of the Imperial Guard were gathered below the Palace balcony in columns after having concluded a great parade along the Via Victoria. They now waited earnestly for the appearance of their Monarch, the Emperor of Greater Prussia.

At 10:45 on the dot, the doors opened and the Marechals and the Emperor of Greater Prussia walked out onto the giant, elevated marble balcony. "Citizen Soldiers!" the Emperor shouted out to the ranks. "You are about to embark on perhaps the largest military undertaking in Space that the Empire has ever ventured. You will be fighting a new kind of war, with new kinds of pressures and obligations...but back home...we won't change! The Empire will remain ever constant, and ever victorious by your efforts. And before you depart into the blackness of space, you shall recieve your new standards, the Golden Eagles of the Empire that will one day be planted on the soil of the New Ortagan Homeworlds and will serve as a sign of freedom to all."

Marechal Brune, the most seniour Marechal de l'Empire then stepped forward and unrolled a parchment scroll. "Soldiers of the Guard...ATTENTION! We will now perform the ceremonial readministering of the Imperial Oath." He cleared his throat. "Repeat after me: I do solemly swear to serve, protect, and defend the Greater Prussian Empire from all enemies, Foreign and domestic. Furthermore, I do solemly swear eternal loyalty upon pain of death to His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Napoleon IV and the sons of his dynasty. I do furthermore swear to protect the weak, the infirm, women and children, and all those who beseach me for protection. With Liberty as my aim, Napoleon IV as my Emperor, and God as my Witness I shall perform all of my duties to the best of my ability and to the greater Glory of God and the Empire."

The large screen's installed in the square flashed images of soldiers taking the oath, and then flashed to the image of what appeared to be a 10 year old boy holding an Imperial Flag and wearing one of those souvenir Imperial Guard Shakos, and trying to repeat the oath as well.

When Brune had finished, he closed the scroll, turned to Napoleon and saluted. "GOD SAVE THE EMPEROR!" The crowd quickly picked up the line and errupted in patriotic fervor. Soon they began to chant it. "God Save the Emperor, God Save the Emperor!"

Napoleon stretched out his hand to quiet the crowds, and they slowly fell silent. "Soldiers of the Imperial Guard, you will not only be fighting for Your Emperor and the Empire in this war. You will be fighting for the freedom of countless millions of people from enslavement by New Ortagan overlords. You will be slaying the great Genocidal Monster and laying it low that the whole world may see...Civilzation will prevail even in the darkest hour. You may not get to see action until relatively late in the war due to the tactics of this modern warfare...but when you do see action, do your duty. The people you will save will not be a few, and all life is precious in the eye's of God, our Lord. So March on Christian Soldiers, Spread the light of Freedom wherever your foot may fall."

Invergordon Depot

"Eh, sah, I think we might be well off giving Gregor a miss this time around."

Deep in the Hyderabad's spherical frame, engineers scramble to shut down the hyperspace drive. Just in time, the energy indicator dials start to wind back down and the engineers waste no time in checking the FTL drive thoroughly, in case the rather abrupt shutdown had the not unusual consequence of blowing up some current regulators.

"Quick, check the capacitor banks!" shouts one of the RFS's erstwhile robot machinists as the gigantic cruiser's engineer complement sifts through the forests of superconducting electrical cable, capacitors, safety shut-offs and indicators. "I'll see to this junction!"

"The capacitor banks are undamaged," reports one of the engineers. "How about the rest of it?"

"Quite good, mates. FTL module to bridge, everything checks out."

"Good show, machinists," says Admiral Mallor from his admiral's chair. "Now, what does this teletype say?" The aging admiral delicately withdraws his spectacles and looks over the Valinor communique, projected onto the table in front of him. "Hmm. Yes, Yalta it is, then. Navigator Wilson?"

"Yes, sah?" says one of the bridge crewrobots at their battle stations in front of the Admiral's pedestal.

"Plot a course for Yalta, good sir, and have the fleet do the same."

"Aye, right away. All ships, plot a course for the Yalta system and prepare to re-engage your FTL drive units."

"Oh, and Leftenant Simonon...if you wouldn't mind, we need someone to liaise with the WIckians...so, if you could, mind visiting Admiral Kuzak once we arrive nearby, we'd all greatly appreciate that."

"But of course, Admiral sah."

"Alright, now that as much is settled, prepare to make our Hyperspace jump!"

"All vessels, prepare to hyperspace."

Mallor's battle squadron, arrayed in battle order, vanishes in a flash of light and energy characteristic of the high-speed Robotic FTL drives, this time headed for Yalta. The RFS's Faster-than-light Drive Unit Type 2900-D is unquestionably one of the best available, being fast and accurate. But when it comes to short-distance or tactical FTL manouvres, the 2900-D is severely handicapped. There is no element of stealth involved, the drive's massive energy signature readily apparent to anyone remotely nearby, and the navigation system cannot follow courses under a certain distance.

These qualities might make the RFS one of the less well-informed choices for reconaissance and screening tasks, but they are of course offset by a weapon that the Robots have never before deployed in combat to any great extent; electronic countermeasures drones. Fired from destroyer torpedo tubes, the missile-like drones come in many different forms, from infra-red devices supposedly capable of simulating the heat signature of a light cruiser and radio wave interrupters covering all practical frequencies, to sensor decoys that simulate radiation signatures of capital ships. Not to mention, Robotic sensors technology is probably top-knotch, with low-frequency radars and highly sensitive optical and infra-red devices.

Time will tell if the RFS's attempts at modernization and technological advancement will come to anything, however, and in the meantime all Mallor and the Admiralty can do is cross their fingers.

Just before Mallor's squadron sets out for Yalta, a small sub-etha drone is dropped behind. It transmitts a message to Invergordon Depot, which relays it to the Admiralty, where it is eventually passed on to Admiral Forrest over the course of several hours.

To: Grossadmiral Forrest, Commander In Chief of the Allied Fleet
From: Admiral Qaboos Mallor & Crews

Dear Admiral,

We have finally left Invergordon Depot and are making towards Yalta with all possible speed as you read this dispatch. We hope to arrive at a convenient time, but the trip will take perhaps two days as you measure them. Our squadron includes my own Hyderabad, two dreadnoughts detached from Horatio Tindouf's picket squadrons, eighteen medium ships-of-the-line, twenty-two light cruisers, and on the order of thirty five destroyers. I am deeply sorrowful that no more ships could be rallied but our resources are stretched to the maximum as is.

It is a pleasure to be of service,

Grand Admiral Qaboos Mallor

-=Ultani Estate, Ondataru

The man stood silent on the marble balcony, overlooking the lush green horizon of his land, as the setting sun cast its soft beams on the world. He silently sipped a glass of wine - from Earth, even, finely aged - as he considered things. The man was High Admiral Ultan of the Third Fleet, the ancient and venerable commander himself. He was on vacation once again, but to him, he might as well have been vacationing for the long years before that. Nothing but patrol duty, speeches, and lectures at naval academies. It wasn't that it wasn't prestigious, even glorious, but it wasn't enough, not for him at least. He set the glass down and went inside his estate. As he walked in, his hoverstation floated over to him and announced in its sythesized voice,

"Call for you sir."

"Put them through."

"Admiral Ultan," announced a more organic voice, "I trust you are well?"

The Admiral did not know who this one was - and the ID readout claimed this transmission was coming from the Fist of the Empress! "I am well - who is this?"

"Ah, manners - this is Julius, digisent resident of the Fist. I have news for you, my Admiral. The Greater Prussian Empire is currently going to war, and they have chosen us to lead the attack, and consequently, the Empress has chosen you to lead their task force."

The Admiral was taken aback by the news. "What? You do know I am on vacation..."

"Oh come now Admiral," replied the digisent. "Don't tell me that you would turn down such a command? That you haven't been chafing chasing pirates around the Outworld colonies? This is a major action - short of declaring a Temporal Crusade, I couldn't see a more important one arising even in the next century. There are many Admirals in the fleet that would die for this command."

Admiral Ultan sighed. "Whats the command ship?"

"We asked specifically if we could use one of our own vessels for this. We have prepared the Elissa class battleship, The Invisible Hand, for the task."

"Elissa class eh? They haven't been really battle-tested yet."

"This is why we're deploying it, Admiral - it needs the experience. I know it's not quite what you're used to, but it will be more familiar than the more exotic vessels in the GPE task force."

"True. When does all this go out?"

"2000 hours your time, Admiral - sorry for the rush."

"What? You call me up on vacation for an assignment which leaves station in about three hours?"

"You'll have to make your choice post-haste then," replied the digisent.

The Admiral sighed again. "Fine. I'll go get ready then."

"Excellent, I will inform the Empress of your decision immediately. Good day, Admiral."

-=1.5 Hours later, The Invisible Hand

The door to O-deck opened, and as the High Admiral stepped onto the bridge, as one the other officers gave a sharp salute.

"At ease, men," he said. Striding to the CCS, he asked, "what are our orders then, Captain?"

"Sir, we are to rendesvous with the primary GPE task forces at Reichsburg, and from there make a jump to the Alpha Centauri system. Once done we will receive further orders from the GPE high command."

"Is the Hand prepared to embark?"

"The last of our marine complement is getting aboard now, sir."

"Excellent. Is the gate prepared for our arrival?"

"Ready and waiting, sir."

"Prepare to embark then. We should be outside the Alpha Centauri system within a couple hours."

Forces Deployed:
-Combined Earth & Mercury GPE Task Force:
1 Elissa Class Battleship
1 ZMI Management Buyout Class
40 Jormundgand Class Drone Carriers
60 ZMI Warliner Class Battleships
80 UFS Arrow Class Cruisers
120 Harsh Market Conditions Beam Frigates
15 Golem Class Carriers
130 Vanguard Class Cruisers
260 Stahldolch Class Destroyers
650 Hughie Mk II Class Gunships
65 Sicarius Class Missile Frigates

OOC: I am sorry to interfere - I am in no way participating IC - but Arizona, there's an error in that fleet composition listing, of which I informed you through telegram.

OOC: Due to the state of the recognition of Allanea as a nation, a people, and everything else, I wish to make it clear that so far as Ortaga is concerned Allanea does not exist and never has, as such the corporation known as Allanean Arms could not exist and could not produce ships or anything else. That is all for the moment, I will post later in the week.

In the midst of attempting to contact the Verniian detachment which had just entered the system, the comm officer recieves another message.

"Sir, we have another message... from Valinor Admiral Forrest, sir."

"Direct it to my room."

"Aye, sir."

"Captain Perona, you have the bridge," Murphy declares, heading for the door and his room, TacOp Seprodi following as usual.

"Aye, sir," the short, blonde, officer replies.

In his quarters, Murphy reads the message from Forrest aloud. He continues normally until reaching "Admiral Murphy will have command of the forces operating from Klein, with... [i]Admiral Tolwyn as his second... Tolwyn... Tolwyn. I know him."

"Aye, sir." Seprodi replied. "One of the first sent from Valinon to negotiate with the Morning Star."

"Alright. I want all the information on him I can get."

"Aye, sir," Seprodi responds, getting out a small tele-comm and making a few selections with his pen. "During the War of the Lion he was a Kapitan zur Sternen of 'considerable service in that capacity,' he distinguished himself by taking of Acler, and was also a commodore of the dreadnaught squadron that defended Boroglia during the First Boroglian War... He was then promoted to Vizeadmiral and helped rebuild the Yaltan fleet... Then he was promoted to Admiral and stationed at Klein. At Klein he commands the main battle fleet and mobile assets of Klein Tactical Theater. Grossadmiral Dame Pae Mi-soon, Ninth Star Lord, is his immediate superior... He has total command over Klein and its assets. From his record he looks like more of a by the book tactican, with considerable experience in mobile operations."

"This war leaves little room for 'going by the book,' Mr. Seprodi."

"Agreed, sir."

"They probably stuck me with him to keep a tight leash on me. Maybe even expected me to relinquish command... He's been in command of the assets of Klein for some time. He'll be useful in knowing what they can do."

"Aye, sir."

"It appears I've been handed a mighty weapon, Seprodi. Lets hope they'll let me use it as I like."

"Aye, sir."

OOC: I get the point New Ortaga.

IC: The Earth Taskforce continued to remain in orbit over Greater Prussia. Word had been recieved that the Ships from Arizona Nova, containing the commander of the newly formed New Ortagan Task Force, would be arriving shortly. The HMS Napoleon Bonaparte, the Flagship of the Earth Taskforce, continued to be the central focus of action...for now.

A few hours ago, Marechal Alexandre Brune, the most seasoned and seniour Marechal de l'Empire, had arrived aboard the ship which would be his residence for the journey. The Emperor had ordered to strip both the Earth and Mercury Task Forces down to bare bones and send everything that they could. The officers of the fleet had recieved memo's about their new commanding officer coming from Arizona Nova, but few of the rank and file had any idea who their commander was, and would very likely have wished that Grande Admiral Bernard Pichegru, the commander of the Earth Taskforce, had been appointed the duty rather than some unknown from an FCA Country.

The Elements of the Mercury task force that were going to be galavanting off to Alpha Centauri had only arrived very recently and the staff officers were quite busy comparing notes and ensuring that all vessels, persons, and cargo were accounted for and prepared.

Marechal Brune, for his part was splitting his time between the hanger deck welcoming the new arrivals of the Imperial Guard First Army, and the Bridge where he oversaw and organized the dispersion of Imperial Guard Platoons and Support units accross the various ships. He knew that it was necessary to have plenty of troops aboard certain key vessels incase of a boarding or something else unforseen. Further, for a group of nervous sailors who had grown up around the symbols of the Empire, the Imperial Guard meant safety and security...if only the illusion of it. Several supply ships donated by various national Starfleets, and operated by Imperial Skeleton crews, were continuing to recieve transports from the surface. Most of the Imperial Guard's support units and equipment were in these ships. There were certain other ships, enough to make a differance, in which the correct ratio of supplies, ground troops, and support troops was kept so that the contents of the entire ship could be quickly deployed and an intact fighting unit put on the scene of any trouble very quickly.

Currently 70% of personel and equipment had been loaded into their intended ships and within another hour, everything most certainly would be finished.

"Marechal." Alexandre Brune heard the voice of the Grande Admiral call him through his earpiece. "We have picked up the ships from Arizona Nova, they should be coming out of hyper drive near our location in approximately 5 minutes. It may be best if you were on the bridge."

"Indeed, Citizen Admiral." Brune replied, and quickly made his way up to the bridge where the images of the approaching Arizonian ships were displayed the central display.

"Hail the flagship." Grande Admiral Pichegru ordered the Comm Officer.

"Channel Open Sir." the officer informed him.

"God Save the Emperor! Are all within unharmed and safe?" Pichegru called out. This was a secret code and greeting known only to the Captains of the vessels of the Royal Reichskamphian Navy during the 1700's. During that time Pirates had made a habit of stealing the high quality Warships produced by the Kingdom, and flying the Royal Flag, all except during raids, in order to ensure their safe conduct. After three ships had been stolen, and others ambushed by these ships which they had thought to be friendly, the Royal Navy developed this greeting, the answer to which, the Arizonian Admiral knew quite well as this formal greeting in the Royal Navy had found its way into the Stellar Navy.

"All are safe. We procede with Care, for His Majesty's realm shall not fall to Corsairs." the Arizonian responded.

"High Admiral Ultan. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance." Grande Admiral Pichegru continued. "I have with me orders from the Emperor, and I am going to play them for you now. Turn on your display for this one."

The display onboard the Napoleon Bonaparte displayed the orders from the Emperor on the screen as they were being transmitted to the High Admiral.

The Emperor appeared in a casual Imperial Guard uniform. "High Admiral Ultan, greetings, and many thanks on behalf of myself and of the Empire.

Your orders are thus: Finish preparations for departure, and proceed immediately to Alpha Centauri. In the belly of the Flagship is a Star Gate sold to us by Northrop Grumman that we have kept in mothballs. There are technicians aboard who can set it up. You are to deploy this Stargate as soon as you drop out of FTL and leave a small compliment to guard it. Do not go into this lightly. Rumour has it that the Ortagans have been launching raids into nearby systems and there is a small possibility they may try to jump you as you come out of FTL. Also be wary of the Valinor. I am sure they will not betray us, but keep your eyes wide open. At the first sign of trouble, you hightail it out of there. If FTL inhibitors have been set down, use the Stargate. The Stargate shall likewise provide the fleet with a means of quick escape should we be defeated by the Ortagans. Defend the Empire and the oppressed people of these systems. Equally important...we cannot afford to lose this fleet. Be as conservative as you can in your deployments. God be with you."

The Image faded.

"On behalf of his Majesty the Emperor," Pichegru said after the orders had played, "I hereby transfer the command of this taskforce into your able hands, High Admiral Ultan."

Admiral Ultan stood stiffly at attention as the recording from the Greater Prussian Emperor played, giving a quick glare at the officers who were not saluting him, even if it was a recording. As it finished and Grande Admiral Pichegru gave his last benediction to the crew, Admiral Ultan spoke up,

"Danke schön, Admiral Pichegru. It is an honor to be at the command of such an august body of sailors. God grant us the victory in this undertaking!"

He began to, somewhat automatically, pace the elevated walkway that towered over the pits teeming with various ensigns and officers observing and managing the myriad functions and controls of the ship.

"The path we take today, however, will be a long and hard one. I have every confidence, however, in the ability of you, crewmen of our motherland Arizona, and you, crewmen of the Greater Prussian Empire. Our combined strength will break the back of this tyrant once and for all, and justice will be restored to the Raumreich Oversector! Now, to business - Solomon, have you acquired the addresses of all vessels within the fleet?"

The avatar of the shipboard digisent materialized, and he responded, "Yes, all channels compiled and bound sir."

"Excellent," replied the Admiral. "Prepare for the jump into hyperspace at these coordinates," he said, summoning a three-dimensional map of local space out of a holo-grid on the CCS, "on my mark."

"Right away sir," replied Solomon.

Admiral Ultan looked out the windows of the deck at the gathered fleet below.

"It is like the days of the First War come again," he said to himself, "what a great armament this is!"

"All ships returning green for jump sir," said Solomon.

"Engage," replied the Admiral.

As one, the armada's engines flashed brilliantly, and the vessels vanished into hyperspace.

-=Somewhere outside the Alpha Centauri System

The fleet soon arrived at its destination, the grand armada sliding back into realspace, with the massive battleships at its core.

"Begin engaging sensor sweeps," ordered the High Admiral, "in case someone is sneaking out there. Full spectrum - gravity, subspace, the works. Napoleon Bonaparte, begin deploying the stargate. We will await the arrival of the Valinon fleet and further orders."

The Napoleon Bonarparte began busying itself with disgorging and deploying the stargate from within itself as the rest of the fleet scoured the void, all waiting the arrival of the allied fleet.

OOC: New Ortaga, would you be kind enough as to recognise those ships as produced by Greater Prussia? (which is what indeed happened, I didn't even OOCly design them. The Allaneans only ICly designed the Porcupine, in fact a product of the player behind ZMI?)

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache Facility #42, Gryps anchorage system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300
0930 Solar Forces Standard

“Commander Harding reports that he has linked his counter-missile fire with the Lancer’s, and is now holding is own against Force Alpha. He requests permission to continue the engagement with fusion warheads and ECM rounds.”

Kagoshima glowers across the plot at Observer Walden, who is absorbed by the tactical plot as a young child might be by a new data-pad game.

“Did Commander Harding forward a damage report?”

“Yes, Captain. The Huntress has lost her bow sensor array, has sustained damage to her superluminal communication section, and taken heavy damage to her primary hanger bay. The Lancer has lost two missile tubes and one shield projector.”

Kagoshima nods. All in all relatively good considering the continuous fire being hurled at the two war-frigates, still the Wickian cruiser was throwing light salvos for a ship of her class. Thankfully, the last upgrades to the war-frigates before their campaign had made use of the latest rounds of counter-missile laser coordination software, improved decoy buoys, and counter-missile counters that were based heavily on designs lifted from Valinor mercenary firms. Still the Huntress and the Lancer cannot hope to hold if that dreadnought, now designated as Force Beta, were to close. And Kagoshima had a feeling he knew why the cruiser’s missile salvos were smaller, given the reports of headed modifications within the Concordat Navy.

“Have Commander Harding continue the missile engagement, but instruct him that he is not to close to energy range until we arrive.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Guns, is that cruiser in our engagement zone?”

“There are a few containers that remain in optimum flight patterns, sir. But other than that the cruiser is easily within our powered missile envelope.”

“You have my permission to fire, Guns, engage that cruiser. Com, have Commander Sterling do the same with the Centurion, but tell him he is to go ahead and network his counter-missile network with the Solon’s.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Kagoshima turns back the plot. He is not a stupid man, the probability of achieving a victory in the Gryps system against the force arrayed against him is slim. But if he can knock out the screen and then damage the Wickian dreadnought, there is a chance that he can force a mutual disengagement from the system. A slim chance and an even smaller hope, but Walden has given him little choice.

The plot changes as the two blue icons of the Huntress and the Lancer move to take the offensive against the cruiser. The war-frigates fire a total of 90 missiles every three seconds, but this time their load out is substantially different. The Solar Navy has long come to terms with the fact that its own ECM measures and EW support cannot fully challenge the Valinor or the nations they support. But they have learned to compensate quite well. Of the missiles fired, 66 are the powerful, if primitive, Banshee screamer warheads take the front. Lurking behind them are 24 Hell fusion warheads, each carrying a 7.8-gigaton fusion warhead toward the Wickian cruisers.

Across the distance, the Solon and the Centurion join the battle. From there totally power 256 missiles race toward the Wickian cruisers. Their loadout consists of 90 Banshees, 142 Fist x-ray warheads, and 24 Hammer fusion warhead from the Solon carrying their 10.7-gigation fusion warhead. The Solon and the Centurion fire a new salvo roughly every four seconds, although some of their number are lost, destroyed because they are unable to maneuver around the containers lying between the dreadnought and the war-frigate.

HSS Retribution, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300
0912 Solar Forces Standard

Midas Rackham watches as most of the icons for the sensor platforms around the Verniian force wink out of existence. A few that were not ordered to use their active sensors remain, continuing to ping the Verniian navy with passive sensors. But then the data suddenly drops below even what should be gathered by passive sensors. The Verniian force is covered in the opaque fog of the Raumreich’s electronic fog of war.

The fog fools electronic eyes and ears, perhaps. But when the data feed suddenly turns into a garbled mess of confusing counters and movements, Rackham knows what he is seeing. The Verniians are infinitely predictable, and he almost wishes for a Valinor, Vaku, or Wickian opponent. At least then he might see some innovation, the Imperium’s goal is glaringly obvious at this point even. It’s a smash and run attempt to seed as much destruction in New Edo as possible. Rackham sighs, although he is thankful some of the Valinor or Wickian tactical innovation did not rub off on their Verniian associates.

“Prepare the Retribution’s primary battery to fire. And have Commodore Marner and Vice Admiral Sulla prepare the First and Second Battle Squadrons to support a singularity strike.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Time to see if you have any capacity for intelligent thought, O Enemy of Mine,” Rackham mummers.

The bow of the Retribution and each end of its three wing pylons suddenly become focal points of energy. With a calculated ferocity Rackham makes his first strike against the Verniian raiders. The green beam lances out, a swirling nexus of death. Not that Rackham honestly expects the blast to do much damage, more that it will gain soft-kills against the Verniian EW platforms and will make the armada break up to be more vulnerable to a singularity strike.

Command Center of the HSF Astra, In orbit above Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0921 Solar Forces Standard

In such a short time Kelly Lance’s world has fallen apart. She watches in absolute horror as one of the mass driver batteries simply breaks apart. The innermost defensive perimeters of the Dylar system has become a swirling storm of destruction and chaos, as auto kill-satellites and the Golan platforms send missile after missile and brilliant daggers of energy after the Vaku fighters harassing their flanks. The missiles are largely being wasted in vain, but at least the platforms energy batteries appear to be beating back some of the agile little knives of the Vaku fleet.

Lance’s knuckles are white as she clutches the edge of the tactical projection in a death grip. Her mind struggles, trying to make sense of what is happening.

“Commodore! Commodore! Kelly!” comes a sharp voice. Lance shakes off her stupor and turns to face Captain Arthur Fest.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Ma’am, we have a massive inbound missile salvo. The outer platforms are throwing everything they’ve got at it but…”

“But it won’t stop it.”

Fest looks shamefully at the plot, “No, Ma’am, I’m afraid it—“

“Hits! Multiple hits on the outer perimeter! Massive explosions! Registering as multiple gigaton fusion warheads! My God….the outer platforms…they’re…they’re gone…”

Lance and Fest both look at each other and then turn to the plot. It’s a nightmare with no end. Of the fifteen Golan platforms tasked with defending the Dylar facilities, seven have suddenly just vanished into a massive, boiling cloud of destruction. As the blinding light clears the optical sensors reveal charred hulks, shattered skeletons, and the drifting wreckage of men and machines.

“It’s over,” Lance hears Fest mummer quietly.

“Not yet, Arthur,” Lance hurls herself around on her heel. “Signal to the entire perimeter, all batteries, platforms, and the mass drivers are to target that fleet and fire everything we’ve got at it. If the Vaku have sent their entire fleet let’s see if we can make this so costly they’ll withdraw. And send another message to Axis and Roum! We need reinforcements!”

Fest eyes Lance coolly, “And if that does not work, Kelly? Or if there is no response?”

Lance returns the gaze, “Then it may be time we called Observer Hidarst, execute Plan Constance, and salvage what we can.”

Fest’s eyebrows arch and his eyes widen.

Around the hollowed out asteroid called Astra Dylar’s defenders commit themselves to a desperate, last-ditch attempt to hold off the Vaku war fleet. In a coordinated action, every missile battery, Golan platform, and mass driver fires or exhausts itself in a space of a breath. Twenty thousand Banshee jammers, 49,000 x-ray warheads, and 421 10.3-gigaton fusion warheads race to meet nar Hhallas’ fleet. They are joined by two mass driver rounds, the third mass driver the Vaku fighters targeted having lost most of its reactors and can no longer fire.

Gravechenko Spire, Central Offices of the Coordination of Security and Intelligence, Centris Sector, Silesia, New Ortaga, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1948 Roum Local Standard

“With the fact that the Wickians and the Liberation remain in the war, how likely is a fully victorious outcome under the current operational plan, Ginias,” Jordan Galt, Polemarch of the Hegemony, says as he watches with irritation as Saharin starts to examine one of his pieces of art.

“The current operational plan may as well be disregards, except for the portions regarding the Verniian Imperium. Kendra Ansel’s meddling has effectively ended the strategic viability of the other portions. What is this, Middle Corrin Roman Revival?”

“Yes, and stop playing with it,” Galt’s voice is a knife of ice. Ginas Saharin sighs as he sets it down.

“So protective, I do handle fragile and exotic tidbits in my professional work, you know.”

“Yes, and I also know what most of the things you touch end up looking at. And I would rather not have my collection start sprouting third arms.”

Saharin sets the statue down and stands to look out the windows looking out over the busy sky-lanes of Silesia’s Centris Sector.

“We can still achieve a victory, Jordan, but it will be more costly than before. We can dismiss the Wickians for the moment, regardless of what the Observers think. After three wars they can only manage limited offensives to harass us, or work with their allies in defense of their systems. The main threats are the Verniians and the Liberation, although I must admit that civil war is a rather nice little favor the clergy is doing us.”

“And the Vaku?”

“Given your reports the Vaku are shuffling their ships around and trying to scare us. So far they have not launched an attack, and I doubt seriously that carrier squadron in Gregor will stay that long when we move to take the system. Either Vakutu will recall it, or the Valinor will force the Vaku to. And if the Vaku do choose to attack us, well we can deal with them along with the Verniians. Besides, if they don’t intervene until after we take Gregor, it will be too late. Save for the Valinor suddenly descending upon us from their Mount Olympus.”

“I prefer always to plan that as a possibility, if only to avoid surprises.”

Saharin nods, “I will make arrangements to that effect then.”

“Now, how do you propose we change our overall strategy to compensate for Kendra’s miscalculations.”

“Admiral Hellings can take care of the Verniians for us, and as I have already said the Wickians are not a serious threat. But we do need to move against Morning Star and end its threat to us, even if we do not necessarily take and hold the system. We need to dispatch Admiral Jerrod and the Third Mobile Operations Group to Morning Star while Hellings is in Gregor. With Gregor and Morning Star gone we can move on Ticonderoga and the remnants at our leisure and push the Vaku back if need be. Of course if Kendra and Cima interfere again we may very well end up with the same end result.”

Galt smiles slightly, “Leave them to me. I will meet with the Hegemon prior to the inner council meeting tomorrow and discuss the initial details with him when I make the weekly intelligence brief. I trust you will have a more finessed version of this plan ready by then?”

“But of course.”

“Good, I think that is all. But I do want to know how your little child protégés are—,” Galt looks irately at the d-phone that has started chanting a tone on his desk. “One moment,” he picks up a headset.

“Yes, what is it.”

Saharin watches as Galt’s face becomes a subdued mask of annoyance and what may be a hint of surprise. The Hegemony’s mastermind of the war and military research feels his interesting peaking.

“I see. I want all details we can get from New Edo and a full brief from Admiral Rackham,” Galt jerks the headset off.

“Trouble?”

“It appears the Verniians finally found their wits, their spines, or both. Admiral Rackham just sent word that a fleet of Verniian battlecruisers has jumped in and is making to launch an attack on the system’s infrastructure. Admiral Takel is already preparing the Emergency Response Force to counter the attack.”

Saharin’s eyes narrow, “It appears the Verniians have chosen to behave unexpectedly.”

“To put it mildly.”

“Any word from any other systems?”

“No, not so far.”

“One raid in one system, I applaud the Verniians’ courage but not necessarily their intelligence. If they seriously thought one raid will make a difference, well this war may over with sooner than we thought.”

“Perhaps, Ginias, perhaps. But in the meantime forgive me if I still feel this means I need to step up my observation of the Verniian fleet assets. It may even be time to create a little more havoc in Gregor. Tell me could you spare me a squadron or two of monitors?”

OOC: Vernii, I will start the raids after Dylar is concludes. It shouldn't take that much longer.

Now, in regards to you Allanea, no that will not work. I've seen your work and kept up with your innumerable forays into Mars, the ESUS, and beyond. Open the door one inch and you will shove in the rest of the way in whether you're welcomed or not. All this right now is just your latest attempt to worm into the Raumreich, and frankly I'm not going to allow that on any grounds. Personally I think that Valinon is being to easy on GPE seeing as how they actually bother to recognize you. My decision still stands, if it has any Allanean name or was formed by your nation in any way it does not exist.

OOC: Ortaga, let's all play nice. We will send something else to replace those ships.

OOC: Going to try something here…Italics is the battle taking place in Gyrps…A side note Ortaga doesn't play nice its not in his nature, after a fasion i suppose that is a complimint. It is strange though how a whole Navy has been deployed so quickly to AC ur nations uncovering thier homeports all because of a single conference on old earth? Wickians are weary of such blind devotion and sudden concern in our region and cause, oh i do hope we meet IC'ly it will be fun!

IC:

Main Ampitheater
Wickian Military College
Scorpion Fleet Base
Ticonderoga System

“Room Attention!” The deep voice of Command Sergeant Major Damien Ross filled the Amphitheater of the WIckian Military College. The resounding bang of 10,032 cadets heels contacting as they came to attention was almost deafening as the 5,0016 cadets came to their feet. Two officers marched quickly down the center aisle to take their place on the stage behind the podium. Behind them a single marine stood bearing the black and green colors of the Concordat. The tall barrel chested General was recognized immediately by all those gathers as the Commanding officer of the WMC his famous limp betrayed his nickname of Peg-leg a wound he suffered in hand to hand combat with a Vaku Marine who shredded his hamstring with its claws. The other women wore the rank of admiral but she was not known to most of the cadets. The general spoke,

“This is a ceremony that I take quite serious…and I am sure will come as a surprise to some of you. This is the night of your commissioning.” Despite being at attention, mummers and whispers moved quickly throughout those gathered. “You are our first class to be commissioned on the accelerated course, you will have no midshipmen cruise, no trail to test your mettle. You are as of this date Ensigns and Lieutenants in the Navy and Marine Corps. You have learned well, remember your training and stick to your duty and you will perform your duties fine.” He let his words sink into those gathered. “This is Admiral Kuzack I have asked her to speak with you today so that you will know what to expect.” The general about-faced with a precision one would not think a crippled man could perform and returned the salute of the women behind him. She walked up to the podium and spoke her voice filling the amphitheater.

“Take your seats.” She waited for them to do so, she looked out among them, at the thousands of eyes all that looked back at her. She remembered her commissioning over one hundred thirty years ago. It was back on Thetis in the Denar Archipelago. She remembered the much more formal ceremony and the warm sun of that tropical location. She missed it and yearned for it, but it was gone forever. Her world had changed, just as the Navy had changed. She looked out at the newly made officer standing before her. They were young she suspected some were even younger then the minimum sixteen required T-years for commissioning, it was a two year course to become an officer and those not aged sixteen were allowed to enlist so long as they would be of legal age at the time of commissioning. Needless to say the youth of the Concordat had many reasons to join the Navy, it was a well paying job, and one which would get them away from the fate of working in the foundries or other job needed for the developing nation.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, In a few days you will report to your first duty stations, some of you will be ensigns on large dreadnaughts , others will be assigned to cruisers, or even become commanders of monitors. Each job before you is essential you are the newest link in a chain of responsible , service of duty and sacrifice which has been forged in the fires of War against our most mortal enemies. It is a heavy duty to ask anyone to bear but you have answered the call take strength in that but know it is a service that will end for some of you in death. We are at War…even now those who wear the uniform are fighting and dying…

The three Cruisers withdrew in good order, their data-linked point defense beating off the increasingly effective fire of the dual War Frigates. The addition of the ECM platforms however meant that more missiles began to penetrate the defensive fire. Laser heads began to impact the lead cruiser in singletons and pairs. The shields flared brilliantly under their hate, but they held. The CSN enabled by tech transfers from the Valinor, installed layered shields on all their combat ships, the first layer of shields may be penetrated by the sub layers held against the weakened beams. It was then that the new broadsides of the Dreadnaught and its sister ships struck…

“Your instructors have prepared you for this duty, as best that is possible. The truth is though that nothing can prepare you for the moment when you face combat, where life is something that is easily and quickly destroyed…”

Initially the three cruiser stood up well against the Solon’s and its consort’s broadsides. The Fusion missiles exploded at distance the highest priority threat. Even a proximity hit could cripple anything smaller then a battle cruiser. The lead cruiser bucked as the more heavy laser heads of the Solon began to strike home. One hit in particular was nasty, the cruiser visibly vented fire, atmosphere and bodies. For moments the forward point defense of the cruiser slacked as it was forced to transfer its commands to a secondary array. That was all the time it took for a single fusion missile to penetrate its point defense. In that moment the 330,000 ton cruiser which had fought so valiantly was engulfed by the warhead’s explosion…

“ To turn away is simple, it ensures survival but it is an insult to life. Because there can be no redemption, no second chance. Beyond death there is nothing, just darkness and cold. Every action I take, every breath of my life is horrifyingly clear, out there somewhere tonight our enemy sends our son’s and daughters, our friends and loved ones to that cold dark place, and they will not stop until we stand before them and face the moment…”

The two remaining cruiser sped quickly back to the main body of the WIckian Flotilla as more missiles began to overwhelm their defenses. It would take only another minute maybe more for them to reach safety but as more laser heads began to impact, as more fusion missiles were intercepted closer and closer to their vessels it was clear that they would not make it, as the two pursuing War Frigates drew closer just outside energy range…

“In that moment you will have only three things to support you. Your training , your courage, and the tradition of the Navy. Some of you will rise to the moment and overcome it, some of you will try with all of your might only to discover that all the courage and training in the world did not make you immortal…”

The second cruiser was struck amidships by another quartet of laser heads, each of these dug deep into its armor, its shields had been destroyed. Its engines faltering it turned suddenly on the two pursuing War Frigates, who were just within energy range. The four bow grasers of the Cruiser went to continuous fire on the lead war frigate. The beams pumped their hate at the enemy frigate for more then forty seconds before its capacitors overloaded and more explosions the death of its over burdened circuits. The results would have been telling as the four grasers were more powerful then what those on a Verniian dreadnaught were capable of…As the lone cruiser made its stand the other had finally escaped into the protective umbrella of the main body of the WIckian Taskforce.

“This is the task to which you have been called, it is the burden that you have volunteered to bear for the Concordat and its people. We have chosen to place ourselves and our lives between the people and the nation we love and our enemies. To protect them to defend them and if need be die to protect them. Stand to your duties, when the moment is before you face it with every fiber of your being. Fight it tooth and nail do not let it consume you but consume it, and you will survive it and know clearly who you are.” As she turned to leave the stage silence filled the amphitheater only the sounds of the beat of her march were heard.

OOC: Sorry to make an OOC post (should we make an OOC war thread?), but whats up with all these Sol nations joining in? No offense to the formerly mentioned Sol nations, but the reason I like being the Raumreich is because it is it's own microcosm where I don't have to worry about dozens of outsider nations free-for-all-ing at every thread and conflict.

You guys may be great RPers, I have no doubt about that, but for the sake of the region and this RP I think it'd be best if we kept a tight leash on these things.

OOC: Our Home ports aren't uncovered. They have been garrisoned with national fleets. In Greater Prussia, there are Imperial Fleets, with each ship being property of the Imperial Crown and all officers serving the Crown...and there are national fleets...that being fleets employed by each nation. The Emperor sometimes will ask individual nations to put national ships in the service of the crown temporarily. In this case, large portions of the Imperial fleets from Earth and Mercury have convened on earth. These are all Imperial vessels that will be going to the Raumreich. I did this because I am sure you don't want fiftymillion other nations in the Raumreich screwing around. It would take much longer to cobble together a combination Imperial/National fleet, but since all these ships are under one command, and all they need do is get orders from the Crown to convene on one place, take stock, and then head off to AC. It isn't a very difficult feat administratively above a certain level. If you would have us drag out the time we were in hyperspace instead of cut it short, we can do that, but I see no use to it. Further, it isn't solely due to a conference. Valinon is an ally of Reichskamphen, and therefore the Empire in my eyes, and as I was asked to help, I have.

I will be making a post soon myself, but as I am not so tech saavy, I am going to have to double check everything first.

OOC: This post will be turned into an IC post, but I have a few statements and requests to make. For starters, please forgive my recent inactivity. Recently I was in a car wreck, which, while not major or life-threatening, has left me dealing with a string of other issues outside NS. Reichskamphen and New Roan are both allies/associates of the Star Empire of Valinon, and are not just wildly galavanting into the Raumreich. Obviously both sides have issues regarding some of the nations the GPE includes in its own ranks, however, that has been sorted out enough to alleviate the problem at least for the moment. Now on to some more pressing matters.

In regards to travel time, I would like to highlight the fact that the GPE forces are merely going to Alpha Centauri. And given the fact that Alpha Centauri and Sol are only seperated by four light years and some change it's not that hard for traffic to come from Sol quickly. It's something the Kriegsmarine has made use of numerous times, and has often made its own rapid deployments to Sol on short notice. If not for the wormhole junction, Alpha Centauri would barely be involved in the Raumreich at all. Only the wormholes and the accquisition of property on the opposite side of the wormholes have made Valinon into the Raumreich power we all know, and of course love without question!

However, I do realize there are certain issues, and I would request that all parties (excluding New Ortaga, the Wick, and Vernii in the battles they are currently engaged in) please stop posting into all those can be sorted out. I will be making myself available on MIRC and AIM as much as possible to get some quick resolutions to all the various issues cropping up. Reich, we also need to talk about how the Imperial Fleets are going to fit under the allied command structure under Reichsprotektor Adonis, Grossadmiral Forrest, and the other allied commanders.

Skye Complex, Isle of Clouds
Proxima Centauri,
Alpha Centauri system,
Capital of the United Star Empire of Valinon

Ambassador to the Liga der Raumreich Darrell Whitcomb called for a special session of the assembly. He looked about those gathered he noted with approval the arrival of the first ambassador form the Talbott Clusters Federated Commonwealth. He invited the man to dine with him privately a few nights ago, the man was no genius but that was a good thing, he was simple and plain thus he did not have feelings of elitism or superiority that often breeds itself deeply in the diplomatic corps of nations. He called for a small private meeting of the leaders of each of the Liga’s delegations.

The CSN did not maintain a presence in AC, however a single Cruiser maintained orbit of Proxima Centauri acting as Whitcomb’s transport, and to show the Flag so to speak. The Diligent had transmitted to his office something quite interesting. The appearance of a whole unidentified fleet, and what appeared to be the construction of some kind of warp gate. His office nor had any of the allied powers been informed of the arrival of this fleet.

“I see that we have all arrived. Chancellor nar Kiranka, I’ve asked for this meeting to present to all of us gathered here the sensor logs of the CSN ship in orbit, the Diligent. As you can see for yourselves numerous unknown contacts have arrived in-system and their mass and silhouettes do not match any vessels currently used by our collective navies. Who are they? Why are they here? And why was none of our offices informed of their arrival?”

He turned to Mr. Prange.

“I’m sure you know about these new arrivals Mr. Prange, the Kriegsmarine keeps a tight lid on this system, however we would like to know who in the name of the Tester they are.” Whitcomb asked his counterpart from the Star Empire respectfully. “And if they are Allies I would very much like to hold a conversation with them about both their intentions and motivation for coming here during a time of war!”

Rakti nar Kiranka, current Chancellor of the Council of the Liga der Raumreich, looks at Whitcomb with a tired gaze. Frankly, if it had been possible, the aging Vaku would not have summoned the Council on behalf of Whitcomb—especially given what had happened the last time an “emergency session” had been demanded by Hegemon Ansel—but he was not granted the power to do so. He does enjoy the momentary feeling of peace by noticing the fact that position reserved for the representative of the Ortagan Hegemony remains empty.

“Ambassador Whitcomb, the Office of the Chancellor is not at this time aware of any details regarding the recent arrival of apparently foreign military forces in the Alpha Centauri system, and as such cannot answer your question. Therefore the Chair will be yielding its position as primary speaker to Sir Gordon Prange, representing the United Star Empire of Valinon. However, the Chair wishes to remind the Concordat that the Office of the Chancellor is only required to be made aware of affairs within Alpha Centauri if they will directly affect the Isle of Clouds, the Skye Complex, and the functions of the Liga der Raumreich.”

“But,” nar Kiranka says, turning toward Prange, “the Office of the Chancellor and the Greater Empire of Vakutu would be quite interested to know if the recent arrival of outside military forces in Alpha Centauri does bear direct implications in regards to the intent of the Star Empire’s recent efforts to make a commitment to an allied war effort against New Ortaga.”

Nar Kiranka tries to leave the Valinor representative a way out, just in case the Ortagans should decide to make an increasingly rare appearance in the Council chambers. Thankfully, as of late, the Ortagans had only bothered attending Council sessions if it had any direct implications on their own nation. The Hegemonic representatives apparently found no way the arrival of a few ships in Alpha Centauri could possibly affect their own endeavors outside the Great March.

Alpha Centauri system

Prange is dressed in a somber three-piece suit, with a watch chain visible across his vest. He nods toward Chancellor nar Kiranka.

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” he then calmly stands at his own position—the only filled veto-power “consul” seat immediately to the side of the Vaku Chancellor. “I would like to remind my fellow esteemed ambassadors that Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government continue to view the Alpha Centauri system as the sovereign territory of the United Star Empire of Valinon—excluding of course the international zone of the Isle of Clouds—as such that means the business conducted in it is strictly the business and province of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government. We may exercise whatever power and take whatever action we want within our own systems as long as they are in compliance with the rulings and restrictions of the Liga and other international agreements that our nation is a party to.”

“Unless the other nations of the Oversector want their actions in their own systems to be constantly questioned and scrutinized by the Star Empire before the Liga, I would strongly encourage that the other members of this Council not abuse the good graces of the international territory—and the treaties guaranteeing safe transport to it there in—in the future.”

“However, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government recognize that these are desperate times and that standard decorum has certainly seemed to have fallen aside—but that does not mean it has been abolished. Therefore I will answer the questions put forward by Ambassador Whitcomb and the Concordat of the Wick, in the spirit of international cooperation and reassurance during this time of international crisis.”

“The recently arrived fleet comes from the nation of Reichskamphen and the Greater Prussian Empire, a long-time friend and ally of both Her Imperial Majesty’s family and the United Star Empire of Valinon. Given the recent tensions in the Oversector, and the considerable reports of wanton atrocities perpetuated by the Ortagan Hegemony,” Prange takes some small satisfaction in delivering that line without an outburst from some upstart Ortagan diplomat, “His Imperial Highness, Emperor Napoleon IV of Reichskamphen, has dispatched elements of his own armed forces to help in the defense of our citizens, our territory, and our allies. These forces are working in full cooperation with Reichsprotektor the Lord Adonis, the Kriegsmarine, and the Reichswehr.”

“Does that answer your questions, Ambassador Whitcomb?”

**********

Quentin Forrest does not look up when he hears the door that leads to his day cabin open. Instead he continues to pour over the reports of the fleet dispositions of the Kriegsmarine, the various dominion navies, the Imperial Verniian Navy, the Imperial Vaku Navy, the Concordat Navy, the Silver Fleet, and the other contributing allied nations over his n-plant and a more traditional comp-pad. Plus there were the responses from the allied fleet commanders in regards to his original message to contend with, and the night was already well on its way to becoming morning.

The steps hesitantly approach, and Forrest calmly sets the ‘pad down and looks up at the younger Kapitan zur Sternen, silver wreathed lion of the general staff branch, carefully approaches. Forrest represses a sigh, longing for Virgil Severns—the genetically engineered Perfect—to be his chief of staff again. But not even a grosssadmiral’s will can turn a vizeadmiral into a chief of staff.

“Your Gra-,” Corryton Farragut stops, cut off by a raised hand from Forrest.

“Corryton, we have been over this time and time again. I believe I have specified what rank I want to hold precedence, and it is not one that the Imperial Court has saddled me with. Now, shall we try this again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Forrest smiles slightly, “Thank you. Now, what do you have for me?”

Farragut hands Forrest a data disc for the ‘pad, “Our rim probes picked up a number of gravitic and mass disturbances on the outer system ten minutes ago, with positive identification being confirmed by a Precentor flight four minutes ago. It’s the forces being deployed by the Greater Prussians, sir.”

Forrest hastily reviews the images and statistics provided by the long-range reconnaissance drones and the Precentor-class space-superiority interceptor drones.

“Straight-forward development, and certainly good to hear,” Forrest says quietly. “I realize it’s late, Corryton, but could I trouble you to have the comm get one more message off?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

Forrest nods and takes a few moments, using his n-plants sub-vocalization functions to draft a quick invitation. He reviews it, uploads it to the comp-pad, and then hands Farragut back the same disc with his invitation.

“Thank you, Corryton. I believe that will be all for the night, get some rest. I will be turning in myself soon,” Forrest smiles inwardly, it is a lie he used to fool all his staff—past and present—save for Jonas Storm, his steward, and Virgil Severns.

“Yes, Admiral.”

Forrest picks up his ‘pad again and inserts another disc, reading the response from Fleet Admiral Leveson, commanding the Imperial Verniian Navy. He opens the attachments to the message, and then forwards a request to have the Office of Kriegsmarine Intelligence transfer its own files on Admiral Windsor. He does take a moments pause to finally remove the upper portion of his simple, stark white day uniform and drape it across the chair, and he glances at his antiquated wrist chrono—a gift from a young Ortagan captain so many years ago. Forrest rubs his right eye, Nova Tech swears the “itching” and other symptoms from their n-plants and the associated hardware are nothing but mental figments, but so far he has been unable to convince his own brain of the same. He reaches for the ‘pad, mentally promising to make it to his bed before the clock rolls around to 0200.

**********



To: The Honorable High Admiral Ultan, Commading the Imperial Fleet of the Greater Prussian Empire’s Expeditionary Forces, Alpha Centauri
From: Grossadmiral the Count Sir Quentin Forrest of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine, Commanding the Allied Fleet of the Raumreich
RE: Invitation
ENCRYPT: HIMK LEVEL: CRIMSON; NCRYLVL: ALPHA-ALPHA-BETA-1; PRIORITY: GREEN-3

Admiral Ultan,

On behalf of Her Imperial Majesty, Her Majesty’s Government, the United Star Empire, and the Allied Nations of the Raumreich I would like to welcome you to Alpha Centauri. Your nations’ and your command’s contribution to our ongoing efforts to remove the government and military of the Ortagan Hegemony as a threat to the Raumreich Oversector’s international community are greatly appreciated.

Given the fact that this is an ongoing international operation of considerable size, depth, and complexity, I would greatly appreciate it if you would join me for dinner aboard my flagship, the HMS Reich, at 0600, Imperial Military Reckoning. You will find an appropriate time counter-program has been attached to this message, along with coordinates for the bulk of the allied fleet awaiting deployment to the Gregor system at the Alpha Centauri/Gregor wormhole terminus. I would encourage you to move your own forces into formation with my own, that way we may be ready to move to defend Gregor at a moment’s notice.

Respects,
Sir Quentin Forrest

OOC: Not that im against new nations RP in this region, its just that was a lot of ships. And WIckians hate foreigners and strangers as it is. Don’t mind ya OCC’ly but Im a jerk IC’ly because well im a very Bitter and Cynical nation. This is my way of saying Welcome!

IC:

"I believe it answers my inquiry quite well, and I thank you for me so understanding my concern. As you said these are troubled times, and while AC is undisputedly the sovereign territory of the Star Empire it is also the gateway to the Raumreich. I merely believed the appearance of an entire Navy's worth of ships is enough to warrant concern." The WIckian said amicably.

"You will also I hope, excuse my impertinence to voice such concern, I think however that there is cause for it. Everyone in this room I believe is well aware of how the rules and restrictions of the Liga have been twisted and abused in the past, or perhaps just how benign friends of the Star Empire are, and just because they are friends of the Valinor do not make them friends of the Concordat. " The WIckian stated bitterly, by international law only the use of sun busters were prohibited. There was nothing at all wrong with massed fusion strikes of civilian centers for instance, and may Tester forbid anyone but the Ortagans due that lest the Valinor get angry at allied barbarism. And of course he finished with the jab at the Ortagan Hegemony.

“We do have a working connection to Nu-Space in Ticonderoga and as such we are not completely cut off from the ever so important events which occur in Sol, such as the recent Conference on Genocide. I think many WIckians were touched by the show of support and alarm act the events which were inflicted upon my nation in the past. However I must ask myself where was this show of support and where was this fleet 100 years ago or even fifteen years ago as my people were slaughtered standing alone? I think perhaps there is something else for them to gain at thier entrance at this late stage in the game, after all it is clear they are not here because they care about atrocities or I would think they'd have arrived long ago!” The WIckian shook his head disgusted.

“I didn’t mean to force this all on you Mr. Prange, however it did concern me. I think perhaps I feel there are already too many “Emperors” in the Raumreich, do we really need the influence of another? I’ve seen the fervent nationalism of these Reichers, it seems a bit like the fanaticism of the Revolution. Perhaps its just my paranoid nature, we WIckians have few friends and even fewer that we trust implicitly.”

Yalta

Qaboos Mallor's battle squadron arrives in Yalta somewhat sooner than estimated, although it isn't much consolation when the Valinor see what kind of resources the Admiral brought with him. The total number of ships comes to a little over seventy, the bulk of them destroyers, but with a fair number of light and heavy cruisers and battleships. Severely limited by shortages in metals and large shipyards, Mallor's relatively tiny force represents significantly more than half of the Robotic Flotilla Service.

FTL drives are cooled down and the squadron forms into parade order, proceeding further into the system at a steady pace.

On the bridge of the Hyderabad, the scene is one of well-practiced efficiency and order. The navigation system is re-targeted to reflect the squadron's new position and reports from the various ship stations are projected onto the numerous display screens and readouts.

"Leftenant, there!" calls the Admiral. "Contact the Yaltan system control."

"Aye, Admiral sah. We are in contact."

"Yaltan system control, this is Admiral Qaboos Mallor reporting in."

It is of course highly unlikely that the Valinor haven't detected and classified his squadron yet, but for protocol's sake a proper introduction should be made.

Hammersmith Palais Shipyard

Five shapes formerly alien to Robotic shipbuilders slide out of their berths towards the edge of the forest of scaffolding. Although construction commences on new ships almost immediately after the first five are released to the holding yard, the controllers and engineers allow themselves a brief moment to survey their handiwork. They aren't quite combat ready, lacking many crew furnishings and with no short amount of systems in need of calibration. For just that purpose, one of the shipyard's calibration-configured LF-260s motors out into position and prepares to undertake its duties.

Inside the vessels, a mixture of Lunkwill & Fook quality control engineers and Verniian navy representatives go over each and every detail of the ship's construction, making sure that everything is up to specification. Attention to detail and uncompromising quality are both principles held dear ever since Lunkwill & Fook's start as Robotstani Aerospace Industries, making Hurricanes during the great fixed-wing craze of the late 1930s. Hopefully, the Verniians will be sufficiently impressed with the first five dreadnoughts to continue Lunkwill & Fook's contract.

A communique is transmitted to Gregor via the Sub-etha net. It reads:

Dear Imperium Of Vernii,

We are pleased to inform you that the first batch of five (OCC:(name)) dreadnoughts, Project 2802A through 2802E, have been completed on time and on budget and are ready for delivery. We would be happy to deliver them to a location of your choosing for no additional cost per order of Emergency Fleet Programme 8-C, or if you so desire it is quite alright to deliver crews to Hammersmith Palais shipyard and take charge of them at the facility itself. We are also pleased to inform you that construction on the next group of five dreadnoughts, Project 2802F through Project 2802J, is currently underway and estimated at 10% completion.

Honored to be of service,
Lunkwill & Fook Shipping and Shipwrights

OOC: My apologies for the lack of posting, I'll attempt to rectify it in the coming days of the week. One thing though, LRR, I thought the contract was for a squadron of dreadnoughts?

OOC: My apologies for the lack of posting, I'll attempt to rectify it in the coming days of the week. One thing though, LRR, I thought the contract was for a squadron of dreadnoughts?

OCC: Dreadnoughts? Oh, I'm afraid I got the types mixed up! I'll just change it around there. Sorry Vernii, I sort of deleted the telegrams which detailed our agreement and since then forgot about the specifics.

OOC: Quite alright, LRR. And yay, I've finally overcome laziness and writer's block.

New Edo

"Energy spike detected!"

"Wall formation!"

Battlecruisers nimbly wheeled around, twisting their bows away from the enemy and rolling up behind the protection of their drive bands. The forward-most squadron became like a Greek phalanx. Moments later, green energy splattered across the fields of gravitic force like water hitting a window, but Rackham's secondary purpose was accomplished. The leading EW drones were helpless in the face of that fury and died instantly as it touched them.

Keppel grimaced as their icons winked out on the main plot, "Deploy a fresh wave of recon and EW drones." Drones weren't cheap of course, military equipment never was, but they were still cheap enough that they could afford to be lost. Of course, they took time to deploy and during that time the enemy had robbed them of precious extra eyes and distractions.

"Admiral, Intimidator requests orders for weapons release."

"Denied. Remind them to hold their fire until I give the order, I don't want to waste missiles. At this range, none would get through, we don't have enough salvo density for it."

He spared a moment to give the hostile red icons of the Solar Navy a hateful glare before continuing on, "Have Squadrons II and III take up screening position around Squadron I, Brilliance can stay where she is for now. What's the status for Vice Admiral Early's task force?"

"They report that the enemy hasn't engaged them yet sir."

"Remind him to be cautious, that probably won't last much longer."

Squadron I remained in wall formation, continuing to shield Brilliance from enemy sensors with their drive bands, as the other sixteen battlecruisers took up a loose circle around the wall to provide screening fire as the two task forces continued to close with the enemy.

***

Morning Star

To: Fleet Admiral Sean Murphy, Commanding Liberation Forces in Morning Vice
From: Vice Admiral Faulkenberg, Commanding the Imperial Verniian Navy forces in Morning Star
Subject: Greetings
Thank you for the warm welcome! It is a pleasure to be here to stand with such a dear ally to His Majesty, and I have confidence that our combined forces will show the Solar Navy that it picked the wrong nations to start a fight with. I will position my forces on the inside orbit of Tanzir for now as you recommended.

~Harold Faulkenburg

To: Vizeadmiral David Drake, Commanding Kriegsmarine Forces in Morning Vice
From: Vice Admiral Faulkenberg, Commanding the Imperial Verniian Navy forces in Morning Star
Subject: Re: Formulating Strategic Plans
I would like to express my sincere satisfaction at your arrival, Vizeadmiral Drake. And of course, my subordinate officers and I would be delighted to join you and Admiral Murphy aboard Konteradmiral Flynn’s flagship for a planning session in the event of a second attack by the Solar Navy or Observers. I shall see you this evening then.

~Harold Faulkenburg

OOC: Tag. Will post later.

OOC: Tag. Will post later.

What the hell? Is the entire GPE joining in?

Valinon, at first you were going to wait until Ortaga tried using a star-burster on Gregor before you joined in the war, next you headed the first damn allied conference. Now you're dragging in every ally you've accumulated outside the RR to help out? If this continues any futher, Ortaga is going to get trounced in about a week from allied numbers alone and this will be the lamest war of expansion since Desert Storm.

On NS there's always bigger fish, or an infinite number of smaller ones, so its impossible to do anything unless you've set aside you're own pond. This pond is getting crowded.

I wont sully this thread with more OOC comments will express my complaints and or feelings in a post ….

CNS Defiance
Liberty Class Dreadnaught
Scorpion Fleet Shipyard
Ticonderoga System

A light laughter rolled through the air of the small galley, it was a dark room light dimly by candles whose light was obscured by the haze of smoke from not only the candles. Idle chatter about the day joined the laughter. The six flag officers of the CSN’s Home Fleet knelt around the low circular table where they were just finishing their evening mess. It was held as tradition that a commanding officer hold an evening mess with her commanders at least once a week, for Admiral of the Red Kuzack that tradition was a daily invitation. It was a relaxed informal affair, as a sign of comradeship and mutual respect each officer dining had removed their heavy tunics, their existed no rank at evening mess, none of the constraints and bureaucracy of the military. Here, now, they were equals, brothers and sisters in arms.

“The Valinor taskforce is due to arrive in another couple days, I’ve never cared much for its CO but it will be nice to see their ships finally in system.” Rumbled the deep baritone of Commodore Fox the commanding officer of the 7th Cruiser Flotilla.

“Agreed Seamus” Answered Commodore Trell, “Remember the Vizeadmiral is not the same person she was during the War of the Lion she has change and for the better I believe.”

“Aye, but is it so much her regard for WIckians which caused her to act in our defense or her hate of the Ortagans, of that I am not yet convinced.” Fox finished as Kuzack spoke,

“Does it really mater?” She asked rhetorically. “Our motives are not so altruistic are they, Half the fleet is in Gregor because we know the Solar Navy will strike there and we want revenge, we are certainly not their to protect their citizenry.” She laughed bitterly, “We see how they’ve protected ours in the past but at least we have Calimar’s apology…As well as Freidlinde’s or so Markus told me the other day.“

“I only wish they submitted them in paper, perhaps then I could wipe my ass with them, the apologies might be of some use then!” Fox said loudly to the laughter of his comrades. “What about all those Sollies cropping up in AC? I don’t seem to recall the Valinor needing someone else to fight their battles in the past”

The idle banter continued on for a while longer while Kuzack nursed a long slender cigar and enjoyed the peace of the after meal. She did not think they would have many more such nights as this. There was a lull in the war right now that would not last. When that broke the Raumreich would bear witness to the largest war its powers have committed which had the potential to kill them all.


Gyrps System
Frontier of the Ortagan Hegemony

The coordinated point defense of the seven remaining Concordat cruisers and two battle cruisers established a perimeter which swatted the Ortagan missile barrages out of the Sky. Some penetrated further into the defense then others but the Ortagans no longer faced the rapidly withdrawing vanguard but a fully prepared taskforce of the CSN.

“Captain Garret send Captains Folly and Tigard my compliments they are weapons free on target group November.” Once the orders were received by Terrils two battle cruiser captains their ships dorsal thrusters fired briefly slightly present the top of their ships to the two War Frigates which had so severely attacked the Vanguard. With their main energy batteries presented to the enemy their plasma mortars fired in unison, a dozen plasma bolts were shot from each ship every two seconds. These weapons had nearly twice the effective range of Grasers roughly 2 million kilometers but they lacked the accuracy of the other form of WIckian energy weapons. They however were nearly twice as powerful as their counterparts so when a bolt struck it did so with brutal intensity.

The WIckians tactic were clear, their forces would concentrate their firepower on the smaller consorts of the Ortagan task force, they were not nearly as well protected as their flagship but together they posed just as much of a threat. The two battle cruisers should be able inflict significant damage on the exposed pair of War Frigates before the enemy dreadnaught closed to within a million kilometers. When it did it would discover how much the WIckians had learned from the Solar Navy. Terrill’s palms sweated as their ships closed range soon the enemy would undoubtedly target his flagship but their shields were strong and their armor thick. It would not be long now until the gun captain would announce that they had reached optimal range for the Spinal Gravimetric Graser.

As dozens of the elongated green plasma bolts filled the volume of space the two commands continued to close with one another, the large dreadnaught had held its fire for the entire battle as it charged straight at the Ortagan dreadnaught closing range rapidly.

.:ooc:. Sorry for the late post. Back in classes again, and the first response I wrote I didn't like very much.

.:ic:.

To: Grossadmiral the Count Sir Quentin Forrest of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine, Commanding the Allied Fleet of the Raumreich
From: High Admiral Ultan of C-GPE Task Force
RE: Invitation
ENCRYPT: RETURN ENCRYPT

Greetings to our allies in Valinon, Alpha Centauri and the Raumreich Oversector! It is my personal pleasure to be at the head of this task force, and I hope that with our combined strength we might defeat the menace of Ortaga once and for all. As well I would be honored to join you for dinner, and will depart ship at the dispatch of this message. Orders for the task force to form up with the rest of the allied fleet have been relayed as well.

Regards,
High Admiral Ultan

http://anikari.zioncreation.com/GPESeal2.gif
Greater Prussian Empire - Combined Earth/Mercury Task Force

http://anikari.zioncreation.com/SealofAnikarNavW.jpg
Third Fleet Command

What the hell? Is the entire GPE joining in?
OOC: No, but I'm the Arch-Chancellor of the GPE, soooo.... >.>
However, due to RL concerns, I can't be that active on NS at the moment, so you may get lucky. :D

Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga

Rapidly barked reports fill the normal calm of the bridge of the VIS Hvar’kann, and Ralgha nar Hhallas finds himself staggered by the amount of firepower rapidly racing toward his fleet. It is an expression he rapidly restrains. Across the holotank he sees his cousin doing the same. Nar Hhallas turns calmly and starts to bark orders.

“The fleet is to prepare for an emergency micro-jump to forward location 445-3A, immediately. All ships are to jump at their convenience and resume engagement with the Ortagans as soon as they complete the Verner transition.”

“Yes, Lord Admiral!”

Nar Hhallas turns back to the plot and watches as the indicators next to the fleet icons start to flash blue and white, signifying Valinor constructed Verner superluminal jump drives coming online. Micro-jumps were at one time a risky proposition, and still are unless one has reliable navigation systems and intelligences. But the Imperial Navy had wasted no expense in bringing in the best navigation systems from Valinon possible, so long as they didn’t rely on the quasi-independent Sentient Intelligence community of the Star Empire.

Squadrons and task forces start to vanish in the blue-white warping of the Verner drive. But Nar Hhallas can already see it will be too late for some. As the Hvar’kann prepare to transit, the counters for a pair of dreadnoughts, a carrier, four cruisers, and nine destroyers flame and vanish as the Ortagan attack claims them and their crew. But then the Hvar’kann and the remaining ships of the fleet vanish from the space they once had inhabited. Missiles and continue to race aimlessly through empty space, straining their sensors to find targets that are no longer there.

But suddenly blue-white eruptions of energy appear less than ten million kilometers directly “above” the Ortagan defenders and the third world of the Dylar system. The Imperial Fleet’s main armada reappears in a strange piece-meal pattern, and starts to resume its engagement against their enemy.

Nar Hhallas studies the holotank, noting with satisfaction the now improperly positioned mass driver batteries and various kill-sats.

“Commsman, the fleet is to assume the Hammer Formation. Instruct Kal Khantahr nar Krallahr and Kal Khantahr nar Vaktaar to give primary targeting over to the Golan-class platforms and the mass driver batteries. They have my permission to use Bane-class as they see fit.”

“Yes, Lord Admiral.”

Nar Hhallas glances at the fleet’s overall damage control report. Besides the ships he had seen lost, three additional cruisers had also been destroyed, with two dreadnoughts and another carrier showing significant damage. But now it is the Vaku’s turn to return a blow.

As the fighters continue to target the surviving mass driver batteries and defense satellites, the recently repositioned fleet resumes its engagement with the Ortagans. Nar Hhallas’ fleet rapidly starts simple salvo patterns as they start to descend and close distance to optimal energy range. At relatively normal three minute intervals, the combined fleet launches close to 4,000 EW warheads; 7,500 X-ray warheads; and finally between twenty to thirty Bane-class fusion warheads. As destruction races down toward the Ortagans, Nar Hhallas turns calmly.

“Instruct all ships to be ready to discontinue salvos at my command. There is no reason to exhaust all our reserves before the munitions tenders reach us.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Nar Hhallas turns back to the ‘tank, studying to see if his enemy has any surprises left to be brought to bear.

Thetis System
Occupied Territory
Ortagan Hegemony


The thousand WIckian light attack craft and fighters speed in an arrowhead shaped formation towards the enemy flotilla guarding the wormhole to Erewohn. They were still a considerable distance from the wormhole the ships and the static bases guarding it. Yet, they were closing at a rate now capital ship could match soon enough their battle would be joined.

“Contact sir, encrypted hyper grav-pulse transmission, marked eyes only. Upload the information to your display.” The voice of Commodore Terril’s communication officer reached his ears. He imputed his CSN authentication codes into his data terminal allowing the burst transmission to be decrypted the process still took two minutes.



Contact with Mourning Star.
Weapon is armed.
We await your Command.



He knew this moment was coming since his departure from Ticonderoga and the WIckian Commodore dreaded what his orders were going to force him to do. But he had a duty to perform and by the gods and the Tester he would do it. He would be the destroyer of his own home.

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache Facility #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0949 Solar Forces Standard

Kagoshima feels his gut wrench as he watches the damage counters on the two leading war-frigates start to react to the withering fire from the single Wickian cruiser holding the rearguard. Commander Harding’s Huntress pulls back from her pursuit, but Commander Juno’s Lancer takes the brunt of the attack and its icon starts to scream red.

“Damage report from the Lancer!”

“Commander Juno says he has lost almost all his bow and starboard batteries, sir. Shields are barely stabilizing at less than fifteen percent of normal levels and there are hull ruptures across fifty-seven percent of the starboard surfaces and over seventy percent of the bow surfaces. Last reports from his damage control says that the forward quantum reactor was failing. He requests permission to fall back from th-“

And suddenly the icon representing the Lancer blinks out of existence on the tactical projection.

“Hail Commander Juno,” Kagoshima orders rapidly, desperately hoping.

The com officer desperately manipulates his panel, speaking with a dreadful determination into his minute headset.

“I am sorry, Captain, there is no response.”

Kagoshima nods soberly, glaring out of the corners of his eyes at Citizen-Observer Walden who stands off to his side.

“Com, have Commander Harding bring the Huntress back to join us. Then contact the resupply convoy and tell them they are to prepare to jump back to Erewohn and alert Admiral Hellings of the Concordat offensive. Tell Lieutenant Mitchell that we will try and lure the Wickians away for him for as long as possible.”

“Sir! Wickian battlecruisers are opening fire, and the dreadnought is also accelerating. She is bearing down at us on a heading fifteen degree above our present position, and has passed below the ten million klick mark.”

“She-“ Observer Walden starts to tirade against the use of the pronoun when addressing the Wickian ship.

“Citizen-Observer, we can discuss the proper gender address for our enemies warships at a later date. For the moment I would like to try and salvage this situation as much as possible.”

Although I doubt that is even possible any more, Kagoshima adds silently in his head. Surprisingly the Observer shuts up, although his glare is one of damning ice.

“Reassign priority targeting to the dreadnought. Have Commander Harding fall back from engaging the battlecruiser and tell him to focus on keeping his ship alive. Having him follow Commander Juno will serve no purpose at all. Tell him he is to network his own point defenses in with ours and the Centurion’s as soon as he can.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Guns, target that dreadnought with everything we have. I want it taken out. If we can destroy or cripple it we may be able to force a mutual withdrawal. Helm, take us on a course along the ecliptic that has us heading toward the system’s primary. Com, how long before Lieutenant Mitchell’s command can break off from the cache and jump to Erewohn?”

“Lieutenant Mitchell says he needs at least twenty minutes, sir. One of the freighters docking clamps has locked up.”

“When it rains it pours,” Kagoshima mummers. “Alright, we need to buy at least twenty minutes, preferably thirty. Let us see if that can be done. Guns, you are released to fire.”

“Yes, sir!”

Kagoshima scrutinizes the icon for the Huntress, rapidly turning to accelerate toward the Solon and away from the Wickian battlecruisers. By the carefully denoted information, Harding is pouring the remaining power aboard his ship into the gravimetric engines and shields, virtually breaking off the engagement with his superior opponents. Still the damage icons are on the verge of spilling over in the red, and the enhanced optics show that Harding’s ship is trailing shattered hull plating and venting atmosphere along his bow.

Two war-frigates—one mauled—and a single dreadnought against the pressing Concordat task force, Kagoshima believes he knows what option he will be pursuing before his ship’s clock reaches 1100, but if he can defeat the dreadnought there may still be a chance. He watches as the counters for the Solon and the Centurion erupt in a wave of lesser counters denoting missile launches directed at the closing dreadnought. One hundred and twenty Banshees escort 121 X-ray warheads and sixteen additional fusion warheads toward the Wickian dreadnought. It is Kagoshima’s desperate gamble to try and force the Concordat to allow his own force enough time to retreat.

But Kagoshima does have some of his notorious uncle, the Coordinator of Finances for the Hegemony, in his veins. And he studies Observer Walden when he moves to the other side of the tactical projection, already forging a fallback plan in case his gambit fails. Quietly he opens a concealed compartment in the projection pedestal and withdraws a compact needler that he conceals in a skillfully tailored pocket along his tunic’s side seam. Now it is just a matter of waiting to see which desperate gamble will be needed.

HSS Retribution, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0922 Solar Forces Standard

A small smile cross Midas Rackham’s lips, “Perhaps you are a challenge, sir.”

Rackham turns around, “Com, Commodore Marner and Vice Admiral Sulla are to be ready to commit to a singularity strike on my mark.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Guns, prepare to fire our primary battery again. Judging from the ECM and interference we are still getting the Verniians are just redeploying. You may fire on my mark for the singularity strike.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Rackham nods confidently as he studies the bridge’s tactical projection. On any other flagship in the Solar Navy there would be a flag captain commanding the Retribution in his admiral’s name. But Rackham had never been able to allow his fate to be dictated by any mind other than his own. So not only was he god of his own fleet, he was also still god of his own flagship. And that suited the Solar Admiral just fine.

“Guns, Com, you have my mark.”

“Yes, Admiral!” the two say in unison.

The assembled defenders of New Edo prepare to land their deadliest blow so far against the would-be raiders of the New Edo system. Rackham’s formation suddenly erupts in a storm of Banshee class EW warheads. Over fifteen hundred Banshees screen the true power of Rackham’s attack. Ten Vortex singularity warheads and sixty-five Hammer class fusion warheads reach out to strike at the heart of the Verniian battlecruisers’ formation, and teach the Verniians what cost it will be to intrude on the home suns of New Ortaga.

Command Center of the HSF Astra, In orbit above Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0927 Solar Forces Standard

Shrieking alarms and the shouts of damage reports are all Commodore Kelly Lance knows as she stands quietly at the tactical projection of the HSF Astra. Her hands are clasped behind her back with such force that her knuckles hurt, but the pain seems distant and totally unconnected to her.

She watches as another counter representing one of the few surviving Golan class system defense platforms disappears from the tactical projection. It leaves her command four Golan platforms to defend the system, all of which are reporting losses in sensor, weapon, and point defense capacity. The missile platforms and laser mines are rapidly dwindling in number, and the single surviving mass driver battery has its targeting systems disables. Its crew is trying valiantly to network it with the surviving system sensor network, but their ability to succeed is dubious to say the least.

And then Lance’s final hope of salvation from the home suns or Erewohn are suddenly shattered.

“Commodore,” says a nervous voice. “Commodore?”

Arthur Fest looks at his commanding officer, “Kelly?”

Lance shakes her head and then turns to the young comsman, “Yes, what is it Mr. Datsun?”

“Ma’am it’s the Feather satellite. I’m afraid…I’m afraid…perhaps it is better if you read the report.”

Lance takes the data pad from Datsun, and seconds later finds herself repressing the growing urge to scream loudly and tear at her hair.

“There is no chance our distress call made it to Axis, Roum, or Erewohn?”

“I’m….I’m afraid not, Ma’am.”

Lance hands the data pad back to him, her face is that of the doomed and the damned. She turns to Arthur.

“Arthur, contact Citizen-Observer Hidarst and inform him I need to speak with him immediately. Then instruct Major General Hacker he is to execute Plan Constance at once, tell him I will be transmitting to the Vaku momentarily.”

Fest bows his head courteously, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Datsun?”

“Ma’am?” the now very scared comsman mummers.

“Forward a message to our surviving monitors. They are to break off engagement and make for warp-gates at full speed. They are to carry our distress beacon to Roum and Axis, and inform both that I am surrendering to the Vaku.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Lance turns back to the projection, and watches as the final mass driver battery ceases to exist. Ten minutes later, and after another Golan has been reduced to a shattered hulk—and the vital shipyards and supply caches have started to report damage across the board—Citizen-Observer Hidarst enters the Astra’s command center.

“Commodore Lance, I trust that you are doing everything in your power to repel the enemies of the Revolution from this system?”

“I am, Citizen-Obsever, but I am afraid everything in my power is not enough to turn the Vaku away from the doorstep.”

Hidarst inclines his head, and remains silent for a few moments.

“Then it is up to us to make the wretched aliens pay for striking at the Hegemony with every bit of energy that remains to us.”

Lance steps toward the Observer, “No, Hidarst, that is not what will happen here.”

The Observer’s eyes narrow, “Come again, Citizen-Commodore?”

“I said that is not what will happen here, Hidarst. I am going to transmit my unconditional surrender to the Vaku momentarily, and will seek to save as many lives as possible. Although there is no doubt in my mind I have wasted far too many good men and women for the sake of your Revolution.”

Hidarst growls and turns to Fest, “Captain Fest, it seems that Commodore Lance has forgotten her duty to the Revolution and its Citizens. Therefore, by the power invested in me by the Hegemony, the Director-General, and the Interim Council, I am relieving her from her duties and placing you in command of the continued defense of Dylar and its facilities. Specialist,” Hidarst says turning to the Marines, “you will escort Commodore Lance to the brig.”

Hidarst eyes widen as Fest laughs quietly, “With all ‘due respect’, Hidarst, go to hell.”

With that the Marines bring their weapons to bear on Observer Hidarst and fire two quick needler bursts into his torso. The Observer drops rapidly to the command center’s plated floor, and a pool of blood starts to spill outward. Suddenly a sensor tech rises from his console, bring a compact needler up and taking aim toward Lance. There is a bark from behind him and his head suddenly disintegrates. One of the section chiefs calmly holsters his pistol and salutes Commodore Lance, taking little notice of the dead Observer mole.

Lance returns the salutes, “My thanks.”

“It is my duty, Ma’am.”

“It was your choice, Ensign.”

The section chief nods and turns back to his post. Lance looks to Datsun.

“Do we have word from General Hacker?”

“We do, Ma’am. He says the other platforms are secured, along with the Marine installations.”

“And the Observer and SecInt outposts?”

“No word, Ma’am.”

“That is not our battle, Kelly,” Fest mummers at her shoulder.

“Let us hope not, Arthur. Com, prepare to transmit the following on general system-wide broadcast.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Attention Fleet Commander of the Imperial Vaku Navy, this is Commodore Kelly Lance commanding the forces of the Solar Navy and the Solar Marines in the Dylar system. At this time I offer my and my command’s complete and unconditional surrender to your forces and formerly request a cease fire. The forces of the Solar Navy and the Solar Marines will stand down and await your instructions. As a sign of our surrender we will be striking all shields and silencing our own batteries. Please respond.”

It is formal words that have not been transmitted by any Solar Forces ship or station in over two centuries, since the last of surrenders during the Colonial Wars. Lance watches as the signs of the platforms shields disappear and missile fire stops. Even the shields around the dry-docks, shipyards, supply containers, and orbital factories drop. And three lonely monitors race away from the installations around Dylar, the last messages from the falling fortress.

The surviving defenders of Dylar wait with trepidations, waiting the Vaku response.

Command Center of the HSF Watchtower, HSF Watchtower, Wormhole Terminus Defense Zone, Thetis system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0952 Solar Forces Standard

Brigadier Dexter Antern nods and hands the data pad back to the lieutenant who had brought him the readiness report. He runs a hand through his hair and looks across the projection at Citizen-Observer Alexander Mavis.

“As usual the Wickians want for variety, but there headlong charge will at least make this easy to conclude. Commodore Redmon reports that his squadron is assembled and at full readiness.”

“What about these ships?” Mavis says as she points a well-manicured finger at the bulk of the Wickian capital ships, still proceeding ponderously behind their fighter and LAC screen.

“Acceleration differences, that is all,” Antern smiles wolfishly. “Or perhaps their commander is actually stupid enough to believe he can finish off our defenses with a massed fighter wave.”

“The Wickians are not known for their intelligence that much is common knowledge. Still they should be trying to commit their full strength to the battle shouldn’t they, Dexter?”

Antern shrugs, “Who can tell how their minds work. It is not like it matters. Com, have Commodore Redmon and the other platforms prepare to fire. I want to cut back that mob before it does get in too close. And tell Commander Reading he is to prepare the missile platforms to support our attack.”

“Yes, sir!”

Antern smiles confidently at Mavis, “You will see soon enough. This battle was over the moment the Wickians entered the system.”

Personal Office of Channing Ansel, Whisper Palace, Silesia, New Ortaga, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
2048 Roum Local Standard

Channing Ansel leans against the front of his desk, the room around him is caught up in a dreading silence. The data pad he threw on the table before him actually had enough force behind it to cause several small objects to clatter to the floor.

“Can any of you explain this? Without blathering excuses?” He glares at the assembled Inner Council: Polemarch Galt, Strategos Garahou, Coordinator Kagoshima, Rear Admiral Saharin, and Kendra Ansel.

“I believe it may best be described as one of the mere chaotic factors of war, Your Excellency,” Saharin says calmly. “The Verniians threw us a curve ball. Given the volume of space we are dealing with we are bound to have a few incidents were we cannot keep track of every single Verniian task force.”

“Nonsense!” Kendra Ansel blurts out. “The attack occurring in New Edo system clearly shows that our intelligence—both state and military—are failing us and must be scrutinized and brought under the more direct control of the Hegemon and the Revolution.”

“With all do respect, Citizen Director-General,” Jordan Galt says in his quiet tones, “I report to the Hegemon and have for over a century. If I was as disloyal as you are caring to suggest I would have claimed the title of Hegemon and had you and your Observers publicly executed.”

“You dare to speak as such!” Kendra roars. “I will have your head on a spike, you vile little spider.”

“You will have nothing of the sort,” Channing Ansel’s voice freezes the room with a more deadly kind of ice than all of the anger his daughter could ever display.

“You heard what-“

“Yes, I have heard, Kendra. I have also heard what Galt says and it is just as true. The Polemarch has not failed me or sought to usurp me, as such that topic is close. Now shut up. Cima, has Admiral Rackham made any additional reports on the Verniian intrusion?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. He reports that there have been no additional forces committed and he is moving to engage the Verniians using singularity missiles and the Retribution’s main battery. He also says that in his personal estimates this is nothing more than an attempted rearguard raid by the Verniian fleet commanders, and suggest it be treated as an isolated incident. Personally I do feel this is a prelude to an attempt at a last-ditch offensive on the part of the Verniians and not just a raid. I wholly recommend we order Admiral Hellings to commit his fleet to an all out offensive at once.”

“Commit an all out offensive because of one incursion into a single system?” Ansel’s eyes flash. “Will you also let the Verniians dictate every other factor of the operational timetable, Strategos?”

“I will not allow them to dictate anything, Your Excellency. I merely believe they intend to strike at targets key to our war effort such as Gadsen and St. Ives.”

“And has something recently happened to render our defense fleets inoperative, Cima?”

“No, Your Excellency.”

“Are the defense fleets diminished in any respect?”

“No, Your Excellency.”

Ansel turns to Galt and Saharin, “Could the Verniians, the Liberation, or the Wickians moved significant forces outside of their own territory to launch a campaign on the home suns without either of you becoming aware of it?”

Galt shakes his head, “No, Your Excellency. Our last reports confirm that the Liberation is still mired in trying to sort out its internal issues and the Verniians have continued to build their defenses in Gregor. The Wickians have sent out ships from Ticonderoga, but these are most likely attempted probes at Thetis and Gryps, possibly Dylar. The bulk of their fleet, including recalled mercenary units, remains at Ticonderoga.”

Saharin eyes the Hegemon, “I would go farther than that, Your Excellency. I believe we may have forced the Wickians and the Liberation into a momentary im passé, and we should use this to deal with the Verniians as quickly as possible. Once the battle in New Edo is concluded, we should order Admiral Hellings to retake the offensive and begin raiding the Verniian core systems. We may also want to reconsider the issue of moving against Gregor sooner than expected.”

Ansel arches an eyebrow, “You believe the Verniians are ready to fall, Ginias?”

“No, Your Excellency. The Verniians will resist, but as you said we need to bring our campaigns to some fronts to a close as soon as possible. The Valinor are gathering their fleets—most likely as a scare tactic—but the longer this war continues the more likely it will cause them to act.”

“You concur, Jordan?”

“There is merit to Admiral Saharin’s argument, Your Excellency. I have no concrete proof that the Valinor intend to move against us, but I have no concrete proof that they will remain neutral indefinitely.”

“And here lies our eternal conundrum,” Ansel says in a low growl.

“Your Excellency,” Garahou rallies again, “I still believe we need to reinforce our defenses and prepare for a—“

“For what gain, Cima? You do not win a war by barricading yourself in a castle and waiting for your enemies to die of old age. I will not recall any of Admiral Hellings fleet, and I will be ordering him to commence offensive operations against the Verniians immediately. This farce has gone on long enough. I will see at least one front of this war concluded within the next few weeks or someone will pay for it.”

“Then perhaps we should demonstrate our conviction to end this war to Vernii and its allies,” Kendra Ansel says with a chilling smile on the corners of her mouth. “We can accomplish two objectives easily. Send out the Anubis and destroy Ticonderoga once and for all. We will eliminate the Wickian threat and show the Liberation and Vernii further resistance is ultimately futile.”

Saharin gags on his drink of water, Jordan Galt’s eyebrows resemble steeples, Kagoshima looks ready to have a stroke, and Channing Ansel’s own expression looks as if he is ready to separate his daughter’s head from her shoulders with his teeth.

“And call down every ship of the Kriegsmarine and the Valinor down on our heads,” Kagoshima says with fear in his eyes. “It would be madness, and the purpose of this war was to gain viable territory. Not run about the Oversector eliminate worlds like some insects. This is madness.”

“I could not agree more,” Ansel says coolly. “This meeting is over, and if the violation of the Gadsen Accords are suggest again I will remove their advocate from this council. I hope that is crystal clear. Now all of you leave,” the Hegemon pushes himself off his desk and storms out of the door.

Perdition, the Isle of Peralityn, New Ortaga, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
2120 Roum Local Standard

Yuri Kellarny represses his urge not to be simply ecstatic at the news he is delivering to the carefully assembled members of what has been dubbed the “Verge Group”—the increasing numbers of Solar Army commanders working to end the corrupt regime of the Hegemony along with the surviving political resistance groups. The flickering avatars of poor quality, heavily encrypted Nu-space com arrays surround him at his table in his estate of exile.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe Matsuoka and General Tai has some good news for us all,” Kellarny gestures to the representative of the New Edoian Resistance Front. Matsuoka nods.

“General Tai and I wish to confirm the fact that the Verniians have launched an attack against the Admiral Rackham’s forces in New Edo. We doubt they will liberate the system, but it is clear that the Allies do have the capacity and the ability to penetrate the home suns.”

Tai, a grizzled Solar Army veteran nods, “While I am inclined to believe this is no more than a raid. I do believe this visibly demonstrates that the war is weakening Ansel’s control on the entirety of the Hegemony.”

General Actinger, commanding the forces around Silesia holds up his hand, “The Solar Navy is having problems adapting to such a large scale offensive. Their mandate structure requiring so large of their fleets to remain in the home suns means that Hellings forces are ultimately limited. If the Hegemon does order the home sun units to active engagements, it may be our prime opportunity to strike.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kellarny says. Since the war started they had been drastically short on good news, and the Allied cause had looked more precarious every day.

“But I believe you also had something to add, Lord Marsh?” Kellanry turns to the leader of the Loyalist resistance—still supporting the long dead Archduke and Grand Duchy. The Loyalists have become the financers of Kellanry’s conspiracy as well as suppliers, drawing on contributions from sympathetic members of the Valinor aristocracy—and if rumors are to be believed from House Alderman itself.

“I did, General. The Valinor have secretly agreed to support the Allied cause. They will join with the Verniians to defend Gregor, and my contacts in the Star Empire have also said that the Vaku are moving to attack Dylar and the Expansion Zone.”

“Does the Hegemon and the Council know about this?” General Mengsk, the oldest active Solar Army officer says in his hesitant tones.

“To our knowledge no,” Kellarny says—looking at Actinger. “If Ansel and Saharin were aware of Valinor intervention I am sure they would be moving far more quickly than they have been.”

“Valinor intervention does not necessarily equal victory,” Comrade Marshal Drucker, leader of the Collectivists adds in a bored tone.

“You are correct, it does not,” Kellarny says. “But Valinor intervention may cause enough of a panic in the Hegemonic government to allow us to make our move. And if the Solar Navy, the Marines, SecInt, and the Observers are having to worry about the Valinor they will have little to spare for us.”

His eyes sweep the table, “I think it is time we readied ourselves to make our final move. We need to move into the final preparatory phases for Operation Fall Down now. Lord Marsh, can you see to the final distribution of the Valinor equipment now?”

“The increased scrutiny of vessels will make it hard, General, especially in Roum and Gadsen.”

“Will it mean possible exposure?”

“In those systems yes it would.”

Kellarny looks to Actinger, then to Mengsk, and finally to Christopher Phillips—the leader of the largest resistance group, the Liberationists, who support installing a new version of the constitution of the old Federation of New Ortaga that they have dubbed the Articles of the Federated Suns. These three, along with Marsh, have formed the core of the Verge Group.

“Then I believe we will have to rely on the Solar Army’s resources in these systems, and what you have already managed to provide us. Distribute the rest of the arms to New Edo, Gadsen, St. Ives, Immolan, and Xerxes.”

“What of Berchest?” says General Perriham, by far the most nervous of the Verge Group.

“General Hauler and Commodore Griffin have chosen to withdraw from the Group,” Kellarny says reluctantly. “They have decided to side with Dexter Templar and his plan to lead an independent Berchester state. They will support us as they can, but no longer see a future with any authority from Roum.”

There are some vague mummers from the assembled. Most have realized a break with the Berchesters, the only ones still advocating full secession of all the home suns from Roum, was inevitable. Still it is distressing, and that mood is reflected.

Kellarny cuts off the noise with a motion of his hands, “We can deal with the issue of Berchest and the issue of the final establishment of our plans for what we will do when Ansel and his fellow criminals are apprehended later. For now we need to focus all our attention on Fall Down. Prepare yourselves, our final chance to destroy the Hegemony of our own accord and escape the wrath of a unified Raumreich is rapidly approaching. Good luck.”

The holographic avatars disappear one by one, until only Kellarny, Actinger, Mengsk, Phillips, and Marsh remain

“You had another issue you wished to discuss, Lord Marsh?”

“I did, General. There is a fact that both the Loyalists and the Valinor have quietly concealed from the rest of the Raumreich. But my colleagues and I think it is time to break our silence. In Pelledrine there is a surviving member of the…”

Alpha Centauri

“Ambassador Whitcomb,” Sir Gordon Prange says wearily as he eyes the Wickian envoy from across the Liga chambers, “with all due respect His Imperial Highness, Emperor Napoleon IV of Reichskamphen, is one of the foremost allies of Her Imperial Majesty and House Alderman. The interests and concerns of both Her Imperial Majesty and His Imperial Highness are one and the same when the Raumreich Oversector is involved.”

“In regards to past events, Ambassador, I would like to say for the record that the nature of previous Wickian governments have been intensely isolationist. That has substantially prevented the spread of your plight to the rest of the international community. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government do not even begin to consider that this makes them right or acceptable, but it does mean that the fact that no assistance came should not be a surprise.”

“However, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty’s Government do strongly believe the time has come to temporarily put aside old disputes and old hatreds for the sake of pursuing a united effort against the Ortagan Hegemony. We can return to the discussion of prior transgressions after our the current foe is defeated. Do you not agree, Ambassador Whitcomb?”

**********

Forrest shakes his head as he studies the new forms of the recently arrived cruisers, destroyers, and modified carriers fresh from the Kriegsmarine’s Schmeide facility.

“We may be crossing a line I am not sure that we should cross, Corryton.”

“Sir?” Farragut says.

“Fully automated warships, Corryton, I do not know if we are wise to create them. Do not get me wrong, I do not oppose the use of the drones or the Mobile DOS network—the lives they saved in the War of the Lion alone make them an invaluable research. But taking our men and women out of entire ships seems to be too extreme.”

“They still can hold crews, sir. Project DOSEV just means that the crews are no longer necessary for full operation. But from what I have seen, policy will still call for maintaining crews for long-range patrols, and single ship missions.”

“There is always the chance we may make war too easy an option to pursue,” Forrest says as he at last turns away. “There are some things in this universe that should always have a cost, Corryton. I may be wrong, but I fully intend to see the uses of these new vessels are restricted to more traditional fleet engagements. The demands for decision making on long-range patrols, specialized missions, and single ship operation require an actually officer, Corryton. Plus we do not know what kind of Pandora’s Box we are opening. If we start using fully automated units indiscriminately, how long before the other nations of the Inner Marches pursue similar projects?”

Farragut starts to reply, but Forrest just shakes his head.

“Nevermind, Corryton, it was not my decision and clearly Project DOSEV had the backing of Her Majesty and Lord Adonis. You had something else for me?”

“Yes, sir. High Admiral Ultan, commanding the Imperial Prussian Navy’s detachment, is inbound from his flagship and will be docking momentarily. Kapitan Constantine says she has already assembled the duty party, she was leaving the bridge she commed.”

Forrest nods, “Then I believe it is time we headed for the hanger ourselves, Corryton.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

New Edo

Keppel drew a sharp intake of breath at the sudden appearance of a new electronic 'storm' on the tactical plot. It was something that had been done far too often, and generally meant only one terrible thing, a singularity attack.

"All squadrons, break now! Inform Vice Admiral Early that his task force has served its purpose, he may fire at will and then withdraw."

The green icons of his ships twisted around and went to their max accelerations away from the enemy, as the tiny blips of counter-missile canisters spilled from them toward the angry red lights of the enemy missiles. It all seemed like some sort of innocent game of light vs light, where two of opposite colors met, they vanished in unison. The reality was much more gritty of course. Counter-missiles screamed suicidely through space, burning away their energy reserves in mad dashes to ram enemy missiles with their drive bands, destroying both instantly. Finally the enemy missiles hit energy range, and point-defense laser clusters swiveled and spat their fury.

Space lit up as fusion bombs vented their fury against sidewalls and drive bands, and the battlecruisers Ajax and Gloire bled streams of atmosphere and debris, and then tragedy struck. A single Vortex got through the formation's desperate defensive efforts, and all eight ships of BatCruRon II vanished into oblivion. Keppel stared at the plot, vainly hoping for even a faint trace of even a single escape pod, but there were none. There was never any escape from a ship caught by a singularity.

"Orders sir?"

"...withdraw." He glanced down at his command chair's displays, brought up the link to the tactical plot, and designated the single Phoenix class dreadnought lurking at the heart of the Solar Navy's formation as his primary target. "Squadrons One and Three may commence firing."

The missile pods studding the hulls of his ships released their grips, drifting away and firing manuevering thrusters to reorient toward their target. Each battlecruiser had tractored one hundred and fifty pods to its hull, containing ten missiles each. Each of his sixteen remaining battlecruisers thus had a combined total of twenty four thousand missiles, although one out of every ten simply mounted an expanded EW suite.

"Sir? Vice Admiral Early has commenced firing as well."

"Good, it might provide a decent distraction."

Keppel smiled in temporary satisfaction as another twelve thousand missiles bloomed into existence on the other side of the enemy formation, spawned by Early's fleeing warships. Of course, their starships only had enough telemetry links for only 40% of the salvo total, and even with rotating telemetry links, a substantial number would lose their links and revert to local control.

"It's time to make another distraction for our enemy. Activate the Brilliance!"

She'd already been revealed to enemy sensors when his three squadrons had first broke formation in response to Rackham's missile attack, and had already suffered a stray hit from a fusion warhead that had gouged away armored hull plating on the starboard side of its bow hammerhead, but she remained combat effective. Or at least as combat effective as an automated hulk could be. She was a remnant from the War of the Lion, and had sat away the decades in silence in the Navy's storage planetoid. Then, finally, engineers had come for her, removing her from the darkness, bringing her into the harsh floodlights of a secondary shipyard near Vernii's moon. There they had given her a new life as the modern equivalent of a fireship. Secondary systems had been removed, her boat bays, life support, water tanks, crew barracks, everything that wasn't welded down. The hardwired safeties on her compensator to limit acceleration had been cut, and her entire broadside had been gutted.

Missile pods had been mounted into the broadside space between frames, where energy batteries, fire control sensors, and missile tubes had once been. The Erewohnese engineer in charge of the project hadn't been satisfied with that though. They'd then proceeded to fix pods to the frames themselves, overlapping over the broadside ones. When they'd finished, Brilliance was capable of tossing out twice the salvo of a regular dreadnought, although that was it. Once she'd fired, she'd be nothing more then a giant target.

Activation orders coursed through her computers as they removed themselves from the remote links to Incomparable. Fire control sensors lashed out at the enemy as tactical computers searched for targets, and then her impeller drive went to its maximum acceleration of 900 gravities. Any human crew would have been reduced to paste as over 400 Gs past what her normal operating ability hammered at everything within her. Her internal compensator field had been reconfigured, refocusing on keeping her computers, drives, and weapons from harm, but allowing everything else to experience almost the full might of that force. A secondary generator for one of her bow PD clusters broke away from its mounting, crashing aft like a cannonball and punching through bulkhead after bulkhead before finally smashing itself to bits against one of the armored compartment divisions.

Five seconds after she engaged her drives, the pods on her hull fired, tossing four thousand missiles toward the Retribution, and followed shortly after by another four thousand as her internal pods fired. Tactical computers noted they had fired all weapons, and secondary orders flashed through her. Her compensator field refocused yet again to concentrate only on her drives and main computer systems, and her hapless battle computers were hammered into worthless wreckage as their protection was lifted. She threw every ounce of available power into her drives, charging suicidally toward the Retribution as Keppel's final distraction to cover his withdrawl.

Underground Kuma-Adad safe house somewhere in the Emperor’s Basin…

Darius sits on the bed of the small bedroom provided for his family, holding Talia, curled up and leaning against him, wearing the fresh clothes the agency had provided for her when they arrived at the base. He strokes her back gently, looking down to notice she’s drifted off. She’s been exhausted ever since Lucy was born.

Lucy was somewhere in the underground complex in a medical center for the night, or at least that’s what the agents had told him. Darius had never trusted the Kuma-Adad. In the beginning it was made up of old Clergy turncoat thugs but headed by Liberation agents, but over the years the thugs got promoted and now the entire agency was independent and no-one really knew why it kept doing the bidding of the Collective. But it did, and as long as it did Hudan always used it, and so did Setties (no matter how much he hated them because of his navy background). In any case they had just come from visiting her and she was just as beautiful and healthy as before, so he had no reason to believe they were mistreating his daughter and theirs was the only accessible hospital.

Over to the left there was a light knock at the door. Darius turned his head to the door and then back to his wife, who he laid down on the bed slowly while standing to get the door. When he opened it the other Minister rescued, Andre Jacobs, the Liberation Minister, stood before him looking somber, just as Darius did. “Darius, would you mind joining me for a walk?”

“Oh, no… of course not. Let me grab my comm and I’ll be right out,” he replied, striding back into the room and grabbing the small device off of the bedside table and stuffing it in the pocket of his slacks. He then exited the room, closing the door behind him softly, and began to follow Jacobs.

They walked and talked about many things, the baby, Talia, and how Jacobs’ family had been lost in the blast before Darius got directly to the point. “What did you want to talk about?” Darius inquired, puzzled by Jacobs who was rarely forthcoming.

“Its about the situation up top… on the surface. It’s falling apart, Dar.”

“Yes… I know.” Darius felt a grim hollowness in his stomach. The Liberation, the great cause he had lived for and so many had died for was near collapse and he knew it, though he was distracted by Jacobs’ voice. It seemed deeper, rougher.

“Our boys can beat the Clergy insurgents… but that won’t mean a thing if the Collective comes apart. New Hope never wanted to be a protectorate, even after it was Liberated and we all know how Centris feels. We need to do something, Darius. You need to do something, and I think we both know what it is.”

Darius was confused. He looked deep into Jacobs’ eyes, “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean?’ I mean we need the people to know that the Liberation still stands,” Jacobs says, his voice raising from the slight tone it had before, “and the only way to do that is to bring back the Guardian.”

“… and that should be… me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why m--?” Darius blurted out louder than he wished, calling the attention of a passing female agent. “…why me?”

“You know how to work the people, and they love you. No one--”

“No one?”

“No one else could pull them together, Darius.”

“I just…”

“Think about it. Think about what you could do for the Liberation right now. You’re the only one that can save it, Darius.”

By this time they made the lap around to Darius’ room and they made their goodbyes, Darius heading back inside and laying next to his wife, troubled.

Meanwhile Jacobs proceeds down the halls and into passageways and corridors deeper and deeper into the complex. After a while the walls turned from a painted tope to a standard military gray, and then into metal paneling. Soon he reached a door guarded by four men and placed his hand on the scanner on the right. The computer buzzed as the door opened, revealing a clean-white laboratory. He stepped inside, passing by several scientists working with any number of machines, chemicals, and genetic materials until reaching a young man with green tags on the collar of his coat, denoting him as a project leader. “Good evening, Dr.”

“Good evening…” the doctor replied, “But I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name, Special Agent.”

“Smith. Special Agent Scott Smith. Now, where is the child?”

Yalta

Waiting is one thing that the Robotic Flotilla Service is particularly used to, and in Yalta it does just that. The battle squadron sits in battle order, not knowing quite what to do, and waits for orders from their Valinor overall commander. For all the RFS's good training and drilling, the one thing that it lacks more than anything else is strategic initiative, and the Admiralty has no more authority over fleet deployments than any individual flag Admiral. Yes, the occasional cruiser detachment or destroyer division will sortie out and dip its toes in the water, but the coming battles will probably make it quite clear that the RFS's leadership should not be left to make its own descisions.

On the bridge of RNS Hyderabad, Mallor blithely swivels in his chair, watching the shipping go past outside. "Are we even sure this is where Forrest wants us to be?"

"As far as I can tell," says Leftenant Rahmananov, leafing through reports from the Admiralty's Technical Evaluation Section. "Forrest's communique does seem to be a bit vague as far as we're concerned, but it certainly didn't point to any better a destination."

"I suppose its safer here than in Invergordon Depot, eh? Well, let's hope we get some action soon. And Leftenant, don't bother with those reports. The Technical Evaluation Section doesn't have any better an idea of the Ortagan fleet than we do."

Rahamanov closes the report without comment and sets it back down on top of the other reports, all spat-out of the teletype machine just hours before, and returns to another detailed study of the fleet inventory.

"Leftenant, I've been thinking about our part in this whole combined fleet here, and it strikes me that we might do well to subdivide the squadron."

"Eh, why, sah? We're small as it is and to divvy the squadron up would only make it easier pickings for the Ortagans. We've never faced them in battle, so we don't know how they fight...we don't even have reliable intelligence reports on their tactics."

"I don't know, Leftenant. The Ortagans are as likely to rip us apart together as they are split-up. Smaller, faster, screening units can evade Ortagan heavies while conducting the same threat evaluation and diversionary missions, methinks. That would allow us to keep our battleships and dreads in reserve until needed for a major engagement. There's no need to waste them on screening raids."

"Quite true, sah. My apologies."

"No need, Leftenant. Transmit my orders to the squadron. Attention docking bay!"

"Docking bay reporting to bridge," comes the response.

"Prepare a Walrus. I am going to meet with the Valinor command myself."

"Aye, sah!"

The docking bay intercom station switches off and Mallor lifts himself up and off his chair. "Gentlemen, I shall see you later," he says as he straightens his Bicorne hat, and shuffles off the bridge.

Parliament House, Kingston-On-Irrawaddy

"...I trust, Admiral Lord Usmon, that this government's money is being well spent. I needn't remind you that Fleet Programme Number 8-C provides for the national treasury to spend sums in excess of any paid for defense-related expenditures since the explusion."

"Yes, m'lud, I can assure you that it is indeed being put to the best possible use. Lunkwill & Fook reports that all construction projects are on schedule, including the Verniian Naval Assistance Levy, and several new classes have already entered service. Notable among these are the C-class scout cruisers and Royal Edgar class cruisers. The Greyhound-class destroyers are also coming along very nicely."

"But, Admiral Lord, what of the future? We have all read the projections, no doubt. Some of them predict that this war will cost nothing less than the entirety of the Robotic Flotilla Service. Ortagan force projections seem to confirm this. We have not fought a large-scale fleet engagement since the Nathanielstan fiasco, and we don't have nearly enough capital ships to bear attrition in a prolonged battle. In any event, it seems inevitable that we will lose an unacceptably high portion of our already inadequate combat strength."

"I am well aware of this, m'lud, and I am afraid that the Admiralty cannot propose any effective solutions at present. It does look set that we will be rid of many good ships and good sailors at the end of this unfortunate affair, but it should teach us a lesson; namely, that we cannot expect to exert an influence on the affairs of the greater Raumreich with the present Robotic Flotilla Service. If the right honourable ministers would please consult page 1,102 of the Parliamentary Book...If your imperial majesty the Sultan would permit me additional time to present the provisions of Fleet Programme No.9."

"His imperial majesty the Sultan recognizes and consents to the right honourable Admiral's motion."

"My most gracious thanks, your majesty. If the right honourable ministers would consult the provisions of Fleet Programme No.9, it suggests the formation, at the soonest time possible, of a constituent commission to examine the feasability of the construction of a new dreadnought force, numbering forty hulls of no less than 1,500 metres length, amongst various other increases in number for the Flotilla Service."

"All in favor? It is, therefore, decided. This Parliament moves to create a constituent commission for purposes enumerated by the right honourable Admiral at the soonest possible time."

Dylar

"The Sh'ar and the Prad'atak are engaging the fleeing monitors, Lord Kalralahr! All three enemy vessels appear to be making for the warp-gates or optimal jump transition points."

Nar Hhallas growls. The Ortagans damnable warp-gates are one of the greatest unknowns in fighting the Hegemony, allowing the Ortagans to make instantenous transits across their vast empire where they are present.

"Inform First Fangs nar Narthok and nar Jud'ara that they are to destroy those monitors at all cost."

Vak nar Hhallas looks up and approaches Ralgha, "With all due respect, My Esteemed Cousin, perhaps we should recall those ships in order to help us conclude our main offensive."

"No, Esteemed Cousin, I am afraid that is not an option. If the Ortagans are dispatching monitors that means there must be a problem with their ansible connection to their Nu-space network. If we can prevent the departure of those ships, the Ortagan high command may not even know Dylar has fallen."

Ralgha watches his cousin pause on the verge of making a retort, but then the younger slighlty younger nar Hhallas bows his head.

"I concede to your point, Lord Kalralahr."

Ralgha nar Hhallas nods and turns back to the 'tank. He watches the last icon representing an Ortagan mass driver battery vanish.

"Prepare to retarget all fire on the Ortagan's central fortress complex, it is time we beheaded our enemy like the great Karga did."

The commsman suddenly look up his face confused, "My Lord, I am getting an open transmission from the Ortagans...I believe it requires your immediate attention."

Ralgha looks to Vok, both meet the gaze with raised eyebrows.

"Bring it here, Third Fang," Ralgha accepts the comp-pad and looks at the message. For a moment Ralgha cannot believe what he sees, an Ortagan surrender seems an impossibility--alien to the Vaku mindset, even after years of training at the Valinor Kriegsmarine's academy. The Ortagans have never surrendered, not since the darkest days of their Colonial Wars. But then again, their military has rarely found itself in a situation so dire.

"My Lord?" Vok nar Hhallas asks quietly. Ralgha hands the 'pad to his cousin.

"The Ortagans are offering an unconditional surrender."

"What?" Ralgha watches as his cousin pours over the message. "This is unheard of."

"Unheard of for a long time, certainly, but this proves the great Ortagan beast may not have as many claws and teeth as we believed," with that Ralgha turns back to the commsman.

"Transmit a reply to Commodore Lance, inform her we will accept her total and unconditional surrender. She is to continue to hold the cease fire and to leave her shields disabled. Inform her that she has one standard hour to evacuate all defense platforms, shipyards, dry-docks, and construction facility and relocate them all to a land base of her choice. She is to transmit the location of this base and will be met by a full detachment from the fleet upon landing, and she and her ranking officers will oversee the surrender of their arms. Any violations of the cease fire, hostile actions toward my forces, or reactivation of the shields will result in a tactical bombardment of all military installations on Dylar."

"I will send the message, My Lord."

"Also," Ralgha says after a moments thought, "inform Commodore Lance she is to turn over all Observer personnel to our direct control immediately, and is to transfer all data she has on the terrestrial infrastructure of Dylar III."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ralgha turns to his cousin as the commsman retakes his station.

"Congratulations on your victory, Esteemed Cousin," Vok says with a slight bow. "A decisive victory for both the Emperor and Sivar."

"Indeed. Now, I must draft a message to His Imperial Majesty and see to it that the other nations fighting against the Hegemony receive word of the fall of Dylar. If we can garner additional support, we may even be able to hold this system."

"You believe the Ortagans will seek to drive us from the system?"

"Believe it, Esteemed Cousin? I consider it an absolute."

Alpha Centauri

Rakti nar Kiranka suddenly clears his throat and raises a hand, cutting into the discussion between Sir Gordan and Ambassador Whitcomb.

"Gentlemen, before I go on I would like to make it known that I am not against this discussion--in fact His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Thrakhath, would no doubt be greatly interested in any further details. But perhaps it would be wise to consider a more private venue to continue this conversation in? After all," the old Vaku's eyes move to the empty seat reserved for the Ortagan envoy, "not all eyes and ears that may enter this chamber are friends to our cause. And if any information can be denied them, we should take steps to make sure it is not so freely given. Agreed?"

C.N.S Dragon
Gyrps System
Frontier System
Ortagan Hegemony

A cheer emerged from some of the more junior members present on the flag bridge as the single War Frigate vanished from the holo-tank. Commodore Vincent however remained silent, this fight was far from over and there remained much more to do.

“Ajax reports that her shields are at 10% coverage sir, her engines and point defense is really the only effective systems remaining on board.” the CIC officer report.

“Understood, order them to withdrawl from battle detach the Regress to escort her back to Ticond.” Already his screen was depleted by four cruisers, his force was inflicting losses now equal to what it has sustained but the scale was far to even, it could still tip either way.

Commander Anders, the ships tactical officer reported,

“ Solid lock Confirmed sir on the withdrawing War Frigate., Range is now 2.5 million klicks. He’s on the fringe of the engagement window but Guns predicts 90% chance of a devastating hit sir.”

The Ortagan vessel was sticking to their tried and true tactic of tanking as the CSN called it . That was where a Solar Navy ship would dump all available energy, including those of its weapons systems, into its shields. It was a defensive tactic that caused their vessels to lose much of its offensive capabilities but it made them a very hard nut to crack as well. The CSN’s new Covington-class dreadnaught was designed to crack that nut, specifically a tanking Phoenix class dreadnaught. The vessel her main battery now targeted was far weaker than that it was designed to hull… Commodore Vincent had wanted to wait before unleashing this new weapon on his enemy, but they had both the chance to destroy an enemy unit in a single shot, as well as sow confusing that would undoubtedly follow the unexpected discharge of such a power beam.

“Noted Commander, you have my permission to engage with the main battery.” He told the commander, as she turned to relay his orders the Commodore continued to issue orders, this time to the comms officer. “ Orders for the CAG, he is to proceed with all but the CAP to intercept those freighters past the enemy main body. I believe this force is attempting to by those units time to escape. He is to disable those fighters for capture however if that it not possible he is to render them ineffective.” His orders were acknowledged, and the Commodore noted with satisfaction as over 100 strike-fighters broke quickly towards the enemy freighters though they would be some time in reaching their targets .

The Covington-class dreadnaught was merely average sized when compared to others of he class among the other nations of the Raumreich, but she was a nasty brawler. Her mission was simple to close with the enemy and to destroy them with violent and decisive action. The Dragon was 2.2 kilometers in length but over 2/3 of that length was devoted to the necessary capacitors and reactors need to power the 1.5 km long spinal Graser mounted in the core of the dreadnaught. The gamma radiation used to form the destructive power of the bomb-pumped was forced through a gravimetric lens in the bow of the ship which turned the raw energy into a coherent and extremely powerful beam which has been rated to be equivalent to the main battery of a Phoenix class dreadnaught.

Deep in the fringe of space that is the Raumreich hulks of dead Ortagan dreadnaughts had been examined in every considerable way, so in fact some of what was necessary to construct this spinal mount was learn from the Ortagans themselves. Most of the weapon though was merely a refinement of existing systems only produced to a much greater scale. Discharging the main battery did not come without a price, all other energy mounts on the vessel with the exception of point-defense was drained of power and even the dreadnaughts engine velocity would suffer a 20 % decrease in thrust for a couple minutes after firing.

It was a light speed weapon, and its destructive power was not visible to the naked eye, though sensors could clearly identify what would have cause the destruction of the War Frigate….for its crew they would never know what caused their deaths.

HSS Retribution, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0944 Solar Forces Standard

Midas Rackham smirks slightly as he watches the rearguard of the Verniian formation empty their pods and fire their primary missile batteries.

“The Verniians will never learn. Com, tell Commodore Fordham he may assume control of the coordination of the fleet’s defenses.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The outlying perimeter of Rackham’s command, made up of thirty-six Roum class war-frigates, reorients itself. They shift the angle of their course so that their broadsides are brought to bear against the missile launched by the Verniians squadrons. Each one of the war-frigates of Rackham’s command have been modified by Rear Admiral Ginias Saharin’s adapt technicians. They have sacrificed large portions of their energy armaments for additional missile launchers (designed to fire fusion warheads for mass missile interception) and launch ports for pinpoint laser mine deployments. When take together, the ships represent a formidable barrier against the massed missile strikes favored by the Verniians. True they are more primitive than the platform system being used by Admiral Hellings command, but they are still very capable of fulfilling their mission profile.

“Fordham should thank the Verniians, they are making his job easier,” Rackham mummer as he watches the missile shift to where they are nearly all focusing on the Retribution.

Three lines of war-frigates, one on each side of the dreadnought core and the final one above the entire formation, release their response to the Verniian missiles. The war-frigates release a flurry of 1.7-gigaton fusion missiles and “single-shot” laser mines. Space around Rackham’s fleet becomes an endless storm of nuclear born fireballs and stabbing lances of laser beams. As the Verniian missile wave presses onward, the war-frigates start to engage with traditional counter-missiles and are joined by the Hegemon II dreadnoughts. Thousands after thousands of missiles are consumed, and as the missiles accelerate toward the Retribution even the agile monitors start to engage them—combining their fire with that of the Retribution’s own point defense systems. Rackham pursues his lips, watching as enemy counters still bleed through.

“One hundred and seventeen missiles still in bound, Admiral,” Rackham nods at the report from the tactical section.

“Reassume control of localized defense, Tac. Com, inform Commodore Fordham we will reenter his defense network momentarily.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The long, spindle like form of the Retribution’s main body and wing-pylons becomes a focused weapon of destruction. Banks of pulse cannons sweep in coordinated arcs, trying to cut through as many of the surviving missiles as possible. Even some of the monitors race in, dodging along the bulk of the dreadnought to provide additional support where able. But sheer volume still accounts for at least a little.

Fifty-three missiles impact the Retribution, twenty-three hit an outlying Hegemon II dreadnought—the Warspite, and two war-frigates are destroyed entirely. As the first series of warbling alarms sounds along the bridge, Rackham turns around.

“Damage control report?”

“Loss of three missile batteries along the portside, Admiral. Also the PD sensor network on wing pylon three is several damaged and is no longer integrating with fire control. We have also lost ion cannons 3 and 7.”

Rackham nods, “Single to the fleet, prepare to retarget the enemy vessels. Was our quantum cannon damaged?”

“No, Admiral.”

“Prepare to target the closest Verniian battlecruiser formation, I want to strip the Verniians of their remaining pods.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Sir, there is a Verniian dreadnought accelerating toward our formation! It appears to be on a collision course.”

“What?” Rackham rapidly scrutinizes the tactical projection. Then whirls around on his heel.

“Helm! Bring us about, center us on that dreadnought. CIC, do we have any additional details on that ship?”

“Engine output and hull put it as being a pre-Great War PRN dreadnought. But her density is far below what it should be for that class.”

“Ram ship,” Rackham whispers. “Guns, retarget the main battery to fire on that dreadnought. I want it gutted now!”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The Retribution comes about in space, bringing the stub-nosed end of its bow containing the primary focusing lens of its super quantum discharge cannon to bear on the Brilliance. Sickly green energy starts to build along the wing pylons and bow of the Retribution and then a massive, twisting beam of energy stabs through space and races toward the Brilliance, seeking to gut the ship from end to end.

But as the Retribution fires, the Brilliance launches its own attack. On the bridge of the Retribution Rackham’s eyes widen to the size of small moons. The war-frigates and the dreadnoughts of the fleet hurl into action. Fusion warheads erupt and laser mines carve into space, counter missiles from the Retribution and the Hegemon II class dreadnoughts scream outward. But Rackham’s fleet was woefully ill position to counter the unexpected front of the Verniian attack.

The bow of the Retribution suddenly erupts in an explosion of fire and shattered hull plating. The wing pylon whose sensor network had failed finds itself shortened, its focusing crystal and gravimetric engine both lost. A host of other smaller explosions erupt.

“Damage!” Rackham roars as the bridge finally stops shaking and he pulls himself up from the floor using the tactical projection.

“Main focusing crystal is destroyed, Admiral! Ion cannons 2, 4, 6, 13, and 22 out. Portside pulse cannons are down, trying to restore localized control systems. Engines are reporting a thirty-three percent reduction in over all output. And CIC has been destroyed.”

Rackham growls, “Com, tell Vice Admiral Zimmer we are going to launch an all out strike. Then contact Commander Daven, his monitors are released to engage the enemy.”

“Vice Admiral Zimmer reports the fleet is at the ready, sir. He also wishes to know if you want to transfer your flag to his vessel.”

“No, and give the order to open fire!”

As if enraged by the blow landed against the Retribution, the entirety of the Ortagan formation responds. The war-frigates and the other dreadnoughts open fire with all their missile batteries, even as the Retribution gives what strength it can. Sixteen hundred Banshee EW missiles screen another four Vortex missiles, but it is the rest of the fleet that contributes the majority of the attack. Going to continuous fire, the other ships of the fleet launch 1200 Banshees, 8000 X-ray warheads, and 1347 fusion warheads at roughly two minute intervals. Under the cover of the fleets scathing attack, the forty-eight monitors attached directly with the fleet race toward the Verniian battlecruisers, rapidly seeking to close and bring their energy armament to bear.

But behind the Verniians position is where the threat will truly come from. The 108 monitors that had been lying inactive since the start of the battle, less than two million kilometers from the Verniian formation suddenly activate their gravimetrics and race toward their enemy. As they close, the modified monitors fire eight X-ray warheads each, opening a new front on the battle raging across New Edo. They race along with their warheads, ready to carve into the battlecruiser with their powerful energy compliment.

Command Center of the HSF Astra, In orbit above Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0935 Solar Forces Standard

Kelly Lances watches as the monitors streak away from the battle. One is icon suddenly winks out of existence, a victim of the two Vaku destroyers pursuing the would-be messengers. The two remaining ships continue their erratic and near suicidal course toward the cluster of warp-gates located along Dylar III’s orbital pattern. Another one disappears, given the size of the monitors and the weapons being used against them it is quite likely all hands are lost. The last one nears the warp-gate, but suddenly veers off and then activates its own jump drive, leaving the Dylar system behind.

“At least one thing went right,” Lance says as she turns to Fest. A squad of Marines are tending to the bodies of Hidarst and his agent, removing them from the bridge.

Fest extends a data pad, “We have the Vaku reply, Ma’am.”

Kelly reads over it rapidly and then nods.

“Give the order to evacuate to the Crystal Lake facility, inform General Hacker he is to do the same and instruct his men that they are to prepare to lay down their arms once they reach planetside. And make sure that all our personnel realize this is a permanent evacuation.”

Fest looks quizzical.

“Don’t fool yourself, Arthur. The Vaku are evacuating us so they can destroy all of Dylar’s infrastructure. The nature of their attack shows that they have no interest in preserving these facilities, otherwise they would have made more of an effort to make precision targeting. If you will excuse me, I am going to go collect a few effects from my quarters. I would suggest you do the same.”

Lance turns to leave, barely noticing the body bags being carried out. But she stops and turns to Fest.

“How many Observers did General Hacker arrest, Arthur?”

Fest consults his data pad, “Twenty-two.”

Lance shakes her head, “I hope their fervor for the Revolution can withstand the Vaku’s rage. Tell General Hacker he is to transfer his prisoners to the Vaku as soon as possible.”

**********

Kelly Lance stands carrying a small rucksack and watching as some of the last Marines and crew of the Astra walk toward the three remaining shuttles. Arthur Fest approaches carrying a very faded and worn backpack.

“Astra has been evacuated, Commodore. Lieutenant Viggost also saw to the destruction of the facilities computer core, just in case the Vaku do actually decide to board the facility. He paid special attention to the warp-gate access codes.”

“Good,” Lance says and turns toward the waiting shuttle. “Time to go planetside then, Arthur.”

“I do wonder, how long it has been since a soldier of the Solar Forces was a prisoner of war,” Fest says as they walk toward the shuttle.

“I would rather not think about it, Arthur. Especially considering who are captors are in this particular situation.”

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1002 Solar Forces Standard

“Commander Harding is reporting a fluctuating in his quantum reactor, sir. He says he will be transitioning to his antimatter secondary.”

“Any additional damage?” Kagoshima says quickly as the Solon and the Centurion send another missile salvo hurtling toward their enemies.

“No, Captain. Commander Harding says that all other sys—Oh My God!”

There is a massive surge of energy from the Wickian dreadnought, and suddenly the Huntress simply shatters into flying wreckage.

“Pinpoint that energy source!” Kagoshima barks. “CIC, give me a report now!”

“Energy spike originated from the Wickian dreadnought, Captain,” comes the report from the sensor section.

“Unknown energy weapon, sir,” comes the voice of the CIC report. “No previous record of any weapon of this magnitude in use by the Concordat or the Commonwealth. It is not as powerful as a Phoenix dreadnought’s main battery, but it is not that far from it either.”

“Also getting an overall drop in power from the dreadnought, Captain,” the sensor section reports again. “General energy signature and acceleration all decreased shortly after the blast. Acceleration dropped at least fifteen percent.”

“What was the distance of the Huntress from the dreadnought at the time of the attack?”

“Two and a half million kilometers, sir.”

“Helm, I want us kept at a range of no less than three million kilometers from that dreadnought. Com, pass the word along to the Centurion to do the same.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Sir, Wickian fighters are breaking off! They are moving to intercept the convoy.”

Kagoshima swears under his breath, “Break off the engagement with the Wickian vessels. Go to full acceleration and prepare to intercept those fighters. I want our point of interception to be at least four million kilometers out from the freighters. Com, how much more time does Lieutenant Mitchell need?”

“He says eight minutes at the most, Sir.”

“Small favors. Guns, are we in range of the fighters now?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Engage them with proximity warheads, Guns. Forget the Banshees, the ECM suites on those fighters can only do so much.”

“Yes, Captain!” the gunnery officer says with relish.

The Solon and the Centurion veer away from the Wickian dreadnought and the rest of the task force. They reorient and start to accelerate to intercept the fighters racing toward the convoy trying to disengage from Gryps as soon as possible. The Solon launches a salvo of 1.8-gigation fusion and X-ray warheads toward the Wickian fighters, 22 fusion warheads and 78 X-ray warheads race to meet the Wickian fighters.

Dylar

Ralgha nar Hhallas glares at the planet of Dylar III as the small flotilla of Kor-lah-class assault transports carrying troops of the Imperial Legions and the escorting Dralthi IV-class fighters start to breech the atmosphere and begin their final approach to the Ortagan based located next to the body of water Commodore Lance had identified as Crystal Lake. It is not the surrender, or having to deal with the dead weight of prisoners of war that is bothering nar Hhallas, it is the escape of the monitor from his own forces. Now nar Hhallas finds himself dealing with something that is perhaps most aggrieving, an unknown timetable for an Ortagan battle group arriving to try and “liberate” Dylar. Not to mention that there are still a few strongholds of resistance from a few surviving Observer diehards and the Ortagan security forces installations and what appear to be labor camps.

Nar Hhallas looks to Nadak nar Qarg, Kal Shintahr of the Legions. The Vaku have long had an intriguing system that not even the Valinor have trained out of them. Both the Imperial Fleet and the Imperial Legions use the exact same ranks. This is due to the fact that the “ranks” designate seniority and authority, rather than any particular branch of service. So Lord Vakka nar Qarg, heir to his clan, holds the rank of Lord Kalralahr of the Legions—similar to nar Hhallas’ rank of Lord Kalralahr of the Fleets.

But there is also another distinction in the Vaku military. The nar Qarg (who control the Legions) and the nar Ragitagha (who control the Fleets and of who nar Hhallas own clan is a banner clan to) openly despise each other—based on an ancient dispute over whose area is the most preemenient in the military. Since the very foundation of the Empire and even before the nar Qarg and the nar Ragitagha feuded with one another. The foundation of the Empire and the creation of the Imperial Claws have seen the feud give way somewhat—but it still remains. That is at least one of the reasons a nar Ragitagha banner clansman, and not a nar Ragitagha pureblood, is commander of the Fleets.

“Once I oversee the formal surrender of Commodore Lance the planet is yours to contend with, Kal Shintahr. You are to police our prisoners and see to it strict control is maintained. I have no doubt Baron Jukaga’s agents will wish to speak with the ranking officers soon.”

Nadak nods quietly. Baron Jukaga nar Ki’ra and his clan are hereditary holds of the title Master of Assassins and Shadows and control the organization known as the Krahnakh Ghayeer—the Unseen Death.

“You are also to dispatch with the remaining centers of Ortagan resistance as quickly as possible. Commodore Lance has confirmed that these forces have chosen to remove themselves from the terms of the surrender agreement, and as such it is your prerogative to either grant them mercy or not. The Fleet will remain at hand to support your operations, and I have also sent word via courier to Vakutu that we will need additional men and support if we are to hold Dylar against the event of a possible Ortagan retaliatory strike. Given that this will take time, you also have my leave to pursue any means necessary in order to root out the Ortagan security forces. As for the Observers, kill them all.”

Nadak bears his teeth and growls victoriously, “My Honored Lord is too kind. If nothing else, your leadership of the Fleets—inspired by the hand of Her High Grace Sivar—shows that perhaps all the nar Ragitagha and their claws are not such sedentary fools.”

“It is wise of you to say so, nar Qarg. But do remember, the blood feud serves no purpose in our war against the Ortagan paki—and if you attempt to pursue it I shall personally feast upon your blood and give your bones over to my heirs.”

“I will not violate My Honored Lord’s trust, you have my oath.”

“Good.”

“But I do have a question if it is permissible, My Honored Lord.”

“It depends upon the question, but proceed.”

“The Observers captured by the orbital forces, what do you intend?”

Ralgha nar Hhallas’ eyes flash, “They will be part of a special demonstration to their former colleagues. I intend to show the Solar Forces that to continue to follow this self-righteous Revolution means that they will be delivered unto Sivar for more immediate judgement.”

Nadak gives a growl of pleasure as the shuttle prepares to level off and touch down. Ralgha nar Hhallas looks out to see the bustle of the recently overstaffed installation, awash in a wave of refugees from the orbitals. His eyes search for any sign of a naval officer, but fail him for the moment. Personally he believes that Commodore Lance should praise him for his mercy—he could have easily accepted her surrender and then burned her from orbit. The Ortagans have shown that they were willing to dispense with their own honor, with luck this war would instruct the fools that the same course would not be a wise one in the future.

Thetis System
Occupied Territory
New Ortagan Hegemony

“Commodore! Priority grav-pulse transmission from Ft. Defiance. Eyes only, Security code Zulu.” The communications officer told Commodore Terrill in quiet voice. His Dreadnaught was a Command variant of the Covington Class, officially designated as Covington-C. It sacrificed a quarter of its missile broadside for the fitting of a hyper pulse generator. This large communications array allowed for the transmission of short grav-bursts between similarly equipped vessels or bases over vast interstellar distances, with a range of approximately 150 light-years. Only simple text messages could be transmitted, in a since it was for the WIckians what the telegram was for nations long past.

“Authenticate the transmission then upload it to my terminal…” He told his officer and waited for him to confirm that the message was authentic before he flipped open the terminal on his command chair. The small LCD display showed a blank box that soon became filled with six asterisks as he entered his command code, soon a short message was displayed.

Com. Terrill,
Mission Scorched earth is cancelled, FRAGO as follows:

Transfer warheads from Mourning Star, destroy base once as many warheads are evacuated as possible. Enemy must NOT learn of the true nature of this mission. Engage enemy positions around terminus, unfavorable exchange is expected, upon reaching calculated losses establish siege of terminus.

See to your duty.

Strength & Honor,

Protector Villers CSN, commanding.

There would be no sun bust in Thetis this day, he had returned to their old home only to destroy iot using the weapons the Vagrants themselves used not so long ago to subject their slave. Now he had orders only to secure those weapons and he would, at the expensive of the lives of those under his command. Yet, he had his orders and he had his duty to fulfill and by the Tester he would do it.

“Contact Fighter and LAC wings they are free to engage the enemy defenses”…Terrill ordered knowing he was throwing his light units into the teeth of the enemies’ defenses for a purpose even as a decoy, did not make it any easier a pill to swallow.

Dylar System
Allied Occupied System

“Prepare burst transmission to Swiftsure, send the essentials of our Recon Drones readings and order them to jump to Ft. Defiance to relay the results of the battle to Fleet Command.” The voice of Lt. Commander Kara Napoli sang softly in the small bridge of the recon cruiser Principality, the sleek 600 meter ship had the displacement of a light cruiser of the old Commonwealth Navy, but it bore little offensive armaments at all. Instead it was a dedicated scout cruiser of the CSN which excelled at squatting in an enemies solar system without being notice. The Scout Corps of the CSN took great pride in their work and their ability to live up to their namesake, “The Shadow of the Fleet”.

Within three minutes a single Wraith-Class Scout cruiser jumped, and the Principality went active sending out a single gravimetric post announcing to anyone listening in system of their position.

Gyrps System
Frontier System
New Ortagan Hegemony

The fighters did not die easily nor quickly, the fighters of the CSN were first and foremost an anti-missile asset and could swat vast numbers from the sky with ease. It was a gamble to send them against the Ortagan Freighters, it didn’t pay off. In the intense and violent exchange of fire which ensued over eighty percent of the fighters sent to destroy the freighters did not survive. The shattered survivors scattered from their formations and attempted to return to the fleet.

On the bridge of his flagship Commodore Vincent swore to him self, his fists curled tightly trying to control his anger. It was bad enough the Ortagans sent such large fusion missiles at his own dreadnaught, but now they used the devastating weapons against something as small and fragile as a strike fighter. Only Ortagans would use a sledgehammer to kill a chipmunk, but the fighters sacrifice forced Kagoshima to commit his second mistake in this battle. The first was his premature engagement, the second was his concentration on Vincent’s fighters, although the opposing dreadnaught still attempted to keep the range open between them no longer had it fired on his ship. This allowed for the WIckian to borrow a tactic from the Ortagans, energy from their shield systems was transferred to their engines, while their shields were operating at only fifty percent efficiency now, the WIckian Dreadnaught had recovered from its previous discharge and now moved at speeds a battle cruiser would enjoy.

“Range to enemy dreadnaught is now 4.2 million kilometers sir, they appear to have noticed our rate of closure sir…”

“Understood Astro…” That Ortagan was no fool, he could have initiated this battle better but his every move since that fault have been well executed. He knew not to allow his ship to close with him, smarter then your average Ortagan…It was well known that the effective range of the main gun on a Phoenix dreadnaught was 3 million kilometers, it just so happened that the WIckian gun could hit at a further range, however the process did have its risks…

“Guns, override the safeties on the spinal, configure for Sharpshooter mode. I want to nail that bastard.” His tactical officer confirmed his order with enthusiasm, with the overrides disabled the spinal mount could target at much further ranges or could hit much harder at shorter ranges. Of course there was a good chance of a catastrophic failure which could cripple the entire mount or worst. But the WIckians were known for their willingness to take a chance and their disregarded for safety procedures whenever it would allow them to kill Ortagans. The shot would be a nice one coming it would impact along the broad top of the Ortagan vessel…

“Guns, Aim amidships see if you can hit his propulsion systems”

“Aye, aye, sir. Target vessel locked. Ready to fire on your command.” Mere moments later the main gun on the WIckian Dreadnaught fired for the second time in anger, this shot would be 15% weaker then the previous but it was much more focused, a surgical strike to the normal brute force beam rendered by most weapons of its type. It had to potential to hit from an unexpectedly distant range, with great accuracy.

Crystal Lake Installation, Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1011 Solar Forces Standard

Commodore Kelly Lance tries to impose some small sense of order back on her day-uniform as the harsh angles of the Vaku shuttle settle down on the tarmac at the edge of the Marine installation. Standing next to her are Arthur Fest, General Hacker, and Brigadier Gena (commander of the terrestrial forces).

But Lance remains plagued by a host of doubts and fears as the massive forms of armored Vaku soldiers start to file off the shuttles and the agile fighters scream through the air above her. The Coordination of Security and Intelligence (SecInt) forces on Dylar III, who supervised the various prison and security installations, refused to obey her surrender and apparently were readying their own defenses around their network of bases on Dylar III’s smaller northern continent. And rumors abounded that they were purging the prisoner populations, attempting to hide their years of dominion.

Above all else there were the few hundred surviving Observers that were further complicating matters. They had fled both Marine and SecInt installations, and now were conducting pointless and erratic raids on both Marines and SecInt installations. In one case, at the Great Cape Installation three Observers had even launched a suicide bombing run against the “traitors” of the Revolution, killing at least 45 Marines.

And given the reputation and attitude of the Vaku, Lance personally felt she had all the reason to fear her captors. After all there was no guarantee the Vaku would recognize the difference between the Marines and the other rogue forces on Dylar III. All the more reason to try and endure herself and her men to the Vaku now.

Lance approaches the lead shuttle, closely followed by Fest, Hacker, and Gena.

“Sir,” she says to the Vaku wearing a naval uniform, “I am Commodore Kelly Lance, commanding the elements of the Solar Forces in this system. These are my officers, Captain Arthur Fest, my executive officer; General Hacker, commanding officer of the Solar Marines space forces; and Brigadier Gena, commanding the Solar Marines terrestrial forces. We are fully prepared to cooperate with you in full and oversee the transfer of power in this system to your forces.”

**********

“The progress so far is entirely unacceptable,” Major General Phillips (commanding the forces of SecInt on Dylar III), “it is only a matter of time before the Vaku start to move north to disarm us. And when they do I want to make sure we are not burdened by an overwhelming number of useless bodies. Is that clear, Captain Saget?”

“Yes, General. Does that mean you are authorizing the use of the neuro-toxin?”

“Implicitly, Captain. We have 123,477 prisoners—Wickian, Vaku, Cluster, Seljukite, and Edoians—I want them all gone and burned before 1700, understood?”

“Yes, General.”

“Good, then you are dismissed, and send in Major Himmer. I need to make sure Mount Installation is ready for our arrival.”

“Yes, General.”

Command Center of the HSF Watchtower, HSF Watchtower, Wormhole Terminus Defense Zone, Thetis system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0947 Solar Forces Standard

“Enemy LACs and fighters inbound, sir. They are leveling out and assuming an attack vector, coming in from below our plane on the ecliptic.”

“Give the order to prepare to engage the LACs and fighters. What of Group Beta?” Brigadier Dexter Antern points toward the second enemy group made up of the Wickian capital ships.

“Still proceeding in-system, sir, their course will take them away from the terminus zone.”

“That makes no sense,” Antern mummers to himself.

“They’re up to something,” Observer Alexander Mavis says as she steps up behind Antern.

“That is rather obvious,” Antern says angered by the fact that Wickians have unrestricted access to his system. “Com, contact Lieutenant Datsun, he is to take his monitor flight and shadow Group Beta. I want all the information he can get.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Guns, range of Group Alpha?”

“Nineteen million klicks and dropping, sir.”

“Engage,” Antern says calmly as three monitors accelerate away from the Terminus Defense Zone, and rapidly accelerate on a long circle that will put them closer to Group Beta.

The Golan and missile platforms of the defense zone send off their first salvo against the Wickian fighters. Twelve thousands are X-ray warheads, 400 1.2-gigaton proximity fusion warheads, and fourteen EMP pulse missiles scrounged from an old arsenal race to meet the Wickians.

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1007 Solar Forces Standard

“Enemy fighters are withdrawing, Captain! They are moving to rejoin their main force!”

A small series of cheers erupts across the bridge as the Solon continues its hopeless fight against the infinitely superior Wickian force. Captain Kagoshima allows himself a slight smile and then turns to Commander Brian Eastman.

“Brian, how much longer does Lieutenant Mitchell need?”

“Less than two minutes, Captain.”

“Good. Guns, prepare to reacquire the forward screen of the Wickian task force and open fire. Com, pass the word along to the Centurion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Captain, another energy spike from the Wickian dreadnought!”

“What? Helm, distance from the enemy dreadnought?”

“We are 4.2 million kilometers away and still accelerating away, sir. I have been trying to keep us out of the range since the last attack from the dreadnought.”

“Energy levels are increasing, sir! Reaching levels similar to that of time of the destruction of the Huntress.”

“Tactical, do we have any containers in reach of the grav-beams?”

“Yes, Captain,” the grav-beam controller looks confused. “There are four containers in range.”

“Acquire two and impose them between our force and the Wickians now!”

“Yes, sir!”

As Kagoshima’s forces continues to race away from the Wickian force, two massive containers are suddenly hurled from their stable positions to act as a shield for the Solon and the Centurion. But Kagoshima’s momentary brilliance is not enacted quickly enough. The Wickian dreadnought fires its main weapon again. The container put in front of the Solon suddenly shatters, venting limited atmosphere, stored munitions, and shattered hull plating. But the container only stops half the attack.

Kagoshima and Eastman find themselves thrown into the tactical projection, and Kagoshima looks in time to see Observer Walden go hurtling overhead vanishing somewhere into the crew pits. Kagoshima rapidly stands up and slaps a hand to his forehead, seeking to staunch a trickle of blood.

“Damage report!”

“Heavy damage taken to our central gravimetric block, Captain. Acceleration is dropping, along with total engine output. Engineering is estimating final stabilization at forty percent of normal operational levels, most likely thirty-two percent. We have also lost two gravimetric shield projectors, the network is being rerouted to be run with the remaining projector emplacements.”

“Com, what word from Lieutenant Mitchell?”

“Convoy is starting to transit to Erewohn, Captain! FT-37 and FT-42 are already preparing to jump. Lieutenant Mitchell says that FT-22, FT-68, and FT-98 will began transit procedures once the first wave leaves.”

“Then we still need to buy time. Guns, keep engaging the forward screen. Helm, gain as much acceleration as possible and take us into the main container field have the Centurion follow us.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they turn to find some sanctuary in the main container field, the Solon and the Centurion launch another salvo of missiles toward the Wickian screen. One hundred thirteen X-ray warheads, nine fusion warheads, and 137 Banshee warheads race toward the pursuing Wickians, trying to buy a few crucial seconds.

Gyrps System
Frontier System
New Ortagan Hegemony

“Commodore enemy freighters are jumping away, I could nail the remaining ones with a spread of missiles before they jump.” Announced the tactical officer excitably as the freighters entered optimum missile range.

“No Guns, I didn’t join the Navy to pop freighters, “ Vincent said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “ Squadron Orders: All ships are to launch nuclear and fusion missile strikes on the container field which those ships just sought cover in. We will burn them out.” The WIckian flag officer stated coldly, the freighters have gotten away but it would be days until they reached their nearest friendly port, and perhaps their news of the effectiveness of the Covington-Class would give the Solar Navy something to ponder. .

The wave of Ortagan missiles rushed to meet WIckian counter fire of the 1500 missiles launched against them thirty three managed to elude their opposing counter missiles and point defense clusters…their laser heads detonated, three striking the Battle Cruiser Zeus each ripped into its armor, gas and flames from secondary explosions flared briefly into space before the affected areas were depressurized. They were impressive hits but to a ship of its mass only flesh wounds. The last fusion warhead was detonated dangerously close to the dreadnaught its fireball would have made an impressive sight to behold by any spectator.

The WIckian ships responded with their first concentrated missile barrage of the conflict, they flushed their entire external racks containing 1000 missiles for each of the Battle Cruisers and twice that number form their dreadnaught. four thousand plus missiles soared towards the container field in the end, forty of them from the broadside launchers of the Dreadnaught, each a 15 gigaton tactical fusion warhead. Soon there would be no place for the Solon to hide.

Thetis System

In the inner system battle was join furiously. Ortagans missiles met the brutally effective point defense capabilities of WIckian fighters and light attack craft. WIckian fighters were armed to deal with enemy missiles and their pulse weaponry cut a preverbal swath through the Ortagan missiles which were not shroud at all my ECM. It seemed the commander in Thetis was not as astute as his counterpart in Gyrps. Yet for all their defensive capabilities there were losses among the light craft but the gaps torn into their lines were filled and they continued to close with the Ortagan Fortresses.

Their original mission had been to cover the deployment of a sun buster weapon to destroy the Thetis system, but that mission was scrubbed now, a contingency plan would be put into action, which would result in the destruction of Ortagan installations currently in system.

One last grav-pulse message appeared on the Commodore’s terminal,

TF Trojan,
Tactical and strategic Data received. Awaiting your signal to commence attack.
RA-Anderson

“Task Force Orders: CLAC’s and BatCruDiv 26 are to maintain station at current location. The remainder of the task force will advance upon the enemy position around the terminus” The Commodore ordered coolly. His taskforce now advanced towards their enemies around the terminus, soon though the Ortagans would have much more to worry about as he transmitted his reply to the waiting hyper-pulse receiver 10 light-years away.

Dylar system

Eight minutes after the Principality transmits its primitive grav-pulse message, it receives its welcoming party. Two flights of four Dralthi IV-class fighters each swoop in on the reconnaissance ship, one from diagonally above and one from diagonally below. A harsh voice, with the growling accented Imperial English of the Vaku responds to the Wickian ship’s message.

“Unidentified Wickian craft, this is Third Fang Kal’ahr of the Imperial Navy of the Greater Empire. The Dylar system is now under the occupational administration of the Greater Empire and Lord Kalralahr nar Hallas. You are to identify yourself and state your purpose in this system immediately or you will be disabled and transported to the Dylar III planetary system. I repeat, failure to comply with this request will result in your vessel being disabled and involuntarily transported to the Dylar III planetary system. Respond, over.”

The Dralthis continue to accelerate toward the Principality, and they ping the ship regularly with their missile and laser weaponry targeting programs.

**********

Ralgha nar Hhallas looks down on Commodore Lance, not uncommon considering the Vaku easily stand at least a full foot above the normal average height of humans—generally more. He notes with internal satisfaction as Kal Shintahr nar Qarg’s Legionnaires snap to attention, forming neatly ordered rows of silver armored forms . The Vaku’s armor is a thing of harsh angles and sharp edges, enhancing their already predatory appearance.

“Commodore Lance,” he begins, “I will consider this statement to be your formal surrender to the Greater Empire of Vakutu and the His Most Imperial Majesty Emperor Thrakhath nar Caxki—First Emperor of the nar Caxki dynasty and First of That Honored Name. From this time forward you will cooperate in full with Kal Shintahr Nadak nar Qarg, the commander of the Legions attached to my command. He will be assuming the role of occupational lord of Dylar III. All of the Solar Forces are to comply with the full surrender by handing over all armaments and munitions to the control of Kal Shintahr nar Qarg’s forces by no later than 1800, local standard time. Also your forces at this installation, along with officers from the other installations, are to assembly at 0700, local standard, for an announcement and demonstration,” Ralgha nar Hhallas smiles slightly.

“Commodore, there is also the matter of the Hegemonic forces still resisting my forces and ultimately defying the surrender agreement. As of this moment I am declaring them to be operating outside the normal chain of command and classifying them as irregular local forces. Due to this they will not be protected by the terms of the surrender agreement and will be summarily executed upon capture, do you disagree with this point?”

Message from Nar Hhallas

Meanwhile, three hundred light years away, the courier ship Ralgha nar Hhallas dispatched reenters normal space, completing a Verner jump. Now in range of the ansible connection for the Nu-space network, it uploads its briefs and forward them to its intended recipients in Vakutu, Alpha Centauri, Ticonderoga, Morning Star, and Gregor.


TO: His Most Imperial Majesty Emperor Thrakath nar Caxki, First Emperor of the nar Caxki dynasty and First of That Honored Name, and Grossadmiral the Count Sir Quentin Forrest, Supreme Allied Fleet Commander
CC: Fleet Admiral Leveson, Imperial Verniian Navy, Protector Villers, Concordat Armed Forces, Admiral Murphy, Liberation Silver Fleet
RE: Dylar system
ENCRYPT: VER: 13334322-AAAD, TRANS: 4444153-DLK, CODBK: 2151515-J

The Imperial Navy has captured the Dylar system and its facilities from the Solar Forces of the Ortagan Hegemony. Both the Solar Navy and the Solar Marines have surrendered to my forces, and are currently being registered as prisoners of war on the planet of Dylar III. The Observer and Security forces on Dylar III continue to resist my forces, defying the terms of the surrender agreement. I have classified them as irregular local forces and will deal with them as such. My command is also prepare to dismantle and destroy all existing orbital infrastructure in the Dylar system, to deny the Hegemony any further access to this facility.

However, my continued presence here maybe impossible if the Ortagans respond in force from either their home systems, Erewohn, or both. I will not risk the bulk of the Imperial Navy in a battle that there is no benefit in engaging in. I would formally request that additional allied forces be moved to support my own forces, and would recommend these forces be deployed from Ticonderoga and Morning Star—as these represent the forward most deployment points for the alliance. Grossadmiral, I would also greatly appreciate any help at all from the Kriegsmarine and its units.

In most honored service of His Most Imperial Highness and Her High Grace Sivar,
Ralgha nar Hhallas, Lord Kalralahr of the Fleets

OCC: Just a side, Vakutu, I don't know if you forgot, discounted, or deliberately excluded the RFS from the recipients of that Dylar telegram. Not to be mean or anything, just wanted to make it clear that the RFS is here and does have its own command structure (although it is essentially tied to the Valinor).

I don't mean to be a nuisance, so don't feel pressured, and the RFS's presence is indeed quite small relative to other nations, but it is there none the less.

IC:

Yalta

While combat operations for Qaboos Mallor's squadron are still quite a ways off, ships continue to trickle in, many of them straight out of Lunkwill & Fook's yards. The cornerstone of the new ship classes are the two new battleship runs, the Royal Soveriegn and Royal Edward class, touted as an affordable way to compete with the larger navies.

No fewer than ten of these vessels arrive in Yalta as 4th Scout Flotilla, under the command of Second Admiral Imomali Bustamante aboard RNS Resolution.

"Hyperspace transmission complete, admiral sah."
"Excellent work, lads. All ships, form into parade order behind Resolution."

Admiral Bustamante's robot form stands in front of the Resolution's steering station, watching the tactical plotter. The trajectory to 4th Flotilla's assigned station on the wing of Mallor's greater squadron is highlighted against a view of the open space between the two, overlaid with various indicators and statistics.

Once the range reads 600,000 kilometers, the helmsmen (more appropriately helmsrobots) ease back on the numerous throttles and control levers until they indicate 0% forward, 12% back, the setting recommended by the newly-opened operator's manual. Tickers on the overlay record a steady drop in velocity as the reverse valves open up, it taking only a fraction of combat thrust from the oversized MPD thrusters to slow the relatively small vessel.

"Attention Hyderabad, this is Resolution. We are closing on formation."
"Ok, Resolution. Maintain your present course."

New Edo

Admiral Keppel's surviving sixteen battlecruisers streaked away as their power plants put as much energy as they could into their drive systems without overcoming the intertial compensator fields that protected their fragile crews. The formation's tactical computers noted the fresh enemy launches, brought up suggestions to their tactical officers, got approval, and went about refining their data and adjusting firing plans. Canisters streamed from broadside launchers, breaking open and sending clusters of counter-missiles ripping into the enemy salvo, reinforced by point defense laser clusters stabbing out viciously at the missiles seeking to destroy them.

They got most, but most wasn't all, and twelve hundred missiles broke through into the inner zone of Keppel's point defense network. Each ships computers noted this, and began rolling to interpose their drive bands between their hulls and the enemy. Out of the nine-hundred surviving enemy missiles, six hundred battered themselves into scrap against impeller bands. The remaining three hundred managed to manuever around. PD clusters managed last-second kills against some, but two hundred and twenty survived to attack range, and space lit up with flashes of x-ray warheads. Sidewalls bent and twisted their beams, but it wasn't enough to stop all of that energy.

Gloire, already damaged from the previous enemy salvo, was hurt the worst. Armor plating distorted and shattered under the pounding, and one of her primary starboard sidewall generators was simply wiped away. Magnetic containment on her number three fusion plant dangerously fluctuated, and the split second engagement of an emergency shutdown saved the ship. Her sidewall strength dropped as power output declined, then came back up as emergency capacitors took up the slack.

Keppel noted the damage icons blinking next to the green dot of Gloire on his display. "Instruct Captain Hartmann to move his ship to the center of the formation, we'll try and protect him from any further enemy salvos. Damage report for Ajax?"

"Captain Amherst reports moderate additional damage, port sidewall is operating at 70% capacity, and his ship is missing Radar Two and Lidar Five."

"Extremely lucky for him then."

"Admiral, situation report from Tiger, Captain Butler is dead, Commander Hartley has assumed command.

"That's unfortunate, instruct him to --"

"Contact! Multiple enemy contacts, bearing one-six-five, oh-three-two!"

Keppel jerked around to the plot as he was interrupted by his chief sensor officer, just as the enemy fired.

"Point defenses are free to engage. What's CIC's estimate?"

"Most likely enemy monitors sir, they've probably been shadowing us by hiding under their stealth systems."

"Instruct all commands to engage with nuclear mines and missiles. Concentrate our missile fire on their lead squadrons."

Six hundred and eight total missiles fired from the battlecruisers' broadside launchers, reorienting in flight to race back towards the pursuing Ortagan monitors. Stern hatches opened, and low powered launch systems began kicking dull black spheres into space. They were only one meter in diameter, containing an x-ray warhead with a yield of 15 megatons, a simple targetting system and IFF reader. Their casing was only a thin metal layer, coated in a radar absorbing material and then painted dull black to hide from any visual sensors. In effect, their tiny radar signature and extremely low power output meant they were hard to spot by most systems that weren't specifically looking for them, and Keppel was betting that the computers and sensor systems of the enemy monitors would have more pressing issues at hand then to look for something that they didn't know was there.

Well, a lot of somethings that is. Sixteen hundred of them in fact.... Keppel thought to himself. "If they're smart, they'll back off," he remarked to no one in particular.

Alpha Centauri

“Thank you, Amil,” Friedelinde Alderman mummers as Amil Gehn—the majordomo of the Aldermans’ virtually hereditary servants—sets a glass of spiced rum before the Empress. “Would you care for anything, Konrad?”

“No thank you, Your Majesty,” Konrad Sven, Director of the Ministry of the External State Security (ESS). “Tiring day?”

Friedelinde sighs, “We are contemplating war, Diedre has assured me that if the Hegemony does fall the United Lords will splinter, I have had to deal with Archduke Metternicht and the rest of the Shadow Cabinet, and I still have Reynard and Quentin’s brief on our own force disposition and that of the other allies to digest. You could say it has been a tiring day, Konrad, but I would find that to be a gross understatement. But what do you have for me?”

“I wish I could say more of it was good news, Your Majesty. But I am afraid it is not.”

Friedelinde takes a long drink, “There is a point where you just become resigned, don’t spare me an inch. Go ahead and make the transfer.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sven syncs his n-plant files with the Empress’ own. And Friedelinde’s eyes half-close as she skims over it.

“As you can see, Your Majesty,” Sven starts his typical briefing, “the situation in Morning Star remains virtual unchanged. Admiral Murphy’s forces are still trying to put down the religious insurrection across the Protectorates, although now he is being supported by both Vizeadmiral Drake and a recently arrived expeditionary force from Vernii. With the power of a combined force, the insurrection should be dealt with quickly enough—and I fully believe an outright civil war will be readily avoided.”

“Your report mentions that the Reichswehr is proposing the use of chemical agents against the insurgents?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. But so far it is only in the Red Forest area. The insurgents are heavily entrenched and using more exotic means will allow for control to be more quickly reestablished. It will also severe the insurgents’ vital supply lines.”

“I will make a note to discuss casualties with Sir Reynard. The possibility of civilian casualties will weigh heavily on my own decision there. And this report from the Vaku, you are certain this is verifiable?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Nar Hhallas has indeed seized Dylar from the Ortagans, but how long he can hold it is debatable. I would fully endorse sending additional reinforcements to his position, and also seeing if we can try and turn more attention to the Great March on the part of the alliance. If we can undermine the Ortagans positions there, we may be able to force the Hegemony to abandon its offensive initiatives.”

“If only our opponents behaved in such clean, predictable manners, Konrad. Unfortunately the Ortagans rarely behave as most nations would, and they tend not to turn away once they have started on a course—especially if that course involves the subjugation of another nation. Sir Reynard and Sir Quentin both agree that the only means to defeat the Ortagans is to demolish as much of their offensive war machine as possible, it is a point I am inclined to agree on. But I will make sure that additional support is sent to Dylar as soon as possible. Now what is this about Emperor Thrakhath’s health?”

“Nothing good, Your Majesty. Emperor Thrakhath continues to retreat more and more from affairs of his office, detailing most to his subordinates or the other members of the Council of Eight. If the Crown Prince were not in Gregor, I believe Thrakhath would be trying to transfer most of his power to him. As it is now, most power is ending up in the hands of Baron Jukaga and his associates. Your Majesty, I am not entirely sure this is a beneficial development. I realize Baron Jukaga and his faction have always been very conscious of our policies, but if another dynastic war erupts now-“

“It could effectively destroy the alliance’s front in the Great March,” Friedelinde finishes. “Perhaps it is time we explained to Baron Jukaga the necessity of maintaining the current balance of power for so long as the current conflict continues.”

“Should I send someone, Your Majesty?”

“No, I believe I will attend to this personally, Konrad. Is there anything else?”

“One more item, the matter of the Concordat?”

Friedelinde smile speaks of winter as she sits down her empty glass, “A perennial problem.”

“We are still receiving only very limited information from the Concordat and Protector Villers, Your Majesty. There is also a large portion of the Concordat Navy that is completely unaccounted for—neither my own informants nor OKI’s know where it is. Also, Protector Villers dropped out of sight shortly after Grossadmiral Forrest dispatched his first orders to the alliance. We are still trying to ascertain his location. I would greatly appreciate it, Your Majesty, if part of Vizeadmiral Tereshkova mission in the Great March would be to observe and report on the activities of the Wickians. And to also try and establish just exactly how extensive their infrastructure is.”

“Yes, that is something that I am also curious about, Konrad. I will make sure Sir Quentin makes that order. Is that all?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Konrad. I want you to bring me another report in, will three days be convenient?”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

“Good, I will…look forward to it.”

“Your Majesty is too kind.”

**********

Lady Diedre Rolt-Adonis, Prime Minister of the United Star Empire of Valinon, releases a groan of anguish and pushes her comp-pad, the data discs, and a host of formal—but entirely antiquated—hard copy documents toward the edge of her desk. She turns her and gives the command for the study’s windows to lighten. The muted lights and sweeping architecture of New Koln’s night are refreshing. She watches the flitter of lights along the ridgeline, the lifeblood of the Empire flowing out and in to the capital city of Valinon.

There is a slight whisper of movement and suddenly two hands rest on her shoulders.

“I think you must find your colleagues tiresome, Di,” Reynard Adonis mummers.

Diedre turns around, “Whether we win or lose in this war, Reynard, I have no doubt it will see the end of the party. Adrian, Orsini, and all of our other members are starting to pull it in different directions. If we no longer have the Ortagan threat to rally around it is only a matter of time before the division starts to take its toll.”

Diedre sighs as they both look out at New Koln. Over eighty years ago the United Lords was founded as an umbrella party for those that originally fought against Gustav II’s and the Centrists’ (a misnomer in politics, as no greater reactionary or conservative force could be found in Raumreich politics) domination of the imperial government. Even after the fall of the Lion Emperor the numbers of the United Lords had been needed to stave off the still substantial Centrist numbers. Then their solidarity and unity had been essential in the on-going cold war with the Ortagan Hegemony and the Ansel Revolutionary Movement.

But as the balance of the power in the Raumreich started to shake and crumble, and the Ortagan Hegemony raged across the Oversector, the United Lords had started to crumble. Now the various factions, the more conservative members under Duke Adrian Sterling, the Greater Raumreichers under Count Orsini, and the more moderate elements under Diedre’s own banner were starting to divide more and more—not to mention the host of smaller parties the United Lords had also absorbed over the years.

Reynard shrugs, “All things pass in time, Di. I have seen my share, and then some. I can even remember before there was a Centrist party at all. Besides this may be for the best.”

Diedre looks up at her husband. Very rarely does she think about her husbands age, but he and she do stand a generation apart. Reynard was born in a time when Valinon didn’t even control of Alpha Centauri and had barely conceived of an interstellar empire. She was of the generation that had matured under the fire of a united Twin Suns. They had originally met on Sol, she a younger idealists fighting the corrupted and increasingly pointless United Nations and he was serving out his term in exile under the Mironenko Government. It had taken the better part of a century and a half before they had finally thrown caution to the wind and announced their engagement. Many had cheered them on, some had murmured about too much power in one family, and others had snickered about a cradle being stolen. In the end all that matter little, but on occasion Reynard himself opened that rift. And Diedre was baffled by some of the things he said.

“I am not sure, I understand.”

“Let us just lay aside the possibility of defeat, Diedre. I would rather not think about that reality. If we win the world we have become accustomed to will be forever changed. Power in the Raumreich has been polarized for over a century, first between the alliance of the Ortagans and ourselves against Vernii and its allies. Then it was replaced by our little cold war with the Ortagans. When we have our victory, the Hegemony will be gone and all the power it once held will be divided. It will diffuse, either among the heirs to the Hegemonic empire or into the hands of the other members of the alliance. In that world, no one nation can hold absolute power. It is like the system that has taken hold of Sol. Power is wielded by groups of nations against groups of other nations, similar civilizations unifying then clashing with opposing civilizations in an endless cycle.”

Reynard takes her hand, “If we have to adapt to that type of system in the Vaterland itself, it may be better for us abroad. It is not like the Empire is always so openly for change. It took an out and out coup against a mad man to give us a government that could truly contend with the nation we have become. And if there is more power distributed about the Oversector, I am not so sure I want to see our nation made vulnerable again.”

“Change for changes sake is ridiculous. All the progress we have made in the last decades may be lost, especially if the Centrists fill the gap. What then?” Diedre looks at her husband.

“I have no doubt you and I will be there to push back when the Centrist shove, Di. Besides even the Centrists are changing, von Richter and his cronies may roar and bare their fangs but the majority under Metternicht are moving toward a less obstinate view. If they can change, shouldn’t we?”

“I just…I just cannot believe that breaking apart now can serve any purpose.”

“We can’t see everything. Maybe you should speak with Togashi the next time you are at the Palace?” Reynard smiles slightly. “Come on, I think there have been enough politics and procedures for one night. A glass of wine and a bit of time with Vivaldi would do us both some good. The days just keep getting longer and more taxing.”

“The Ortagans?”

“Are always a bother, my dear. But so is running a military that includes Quentin Forrest on one end and Gunther von Richter on the other. Thank God the two are at least in different branches. Now let’s go, we can discuss the woes of our working trials later, alright?”

The two drift toward the open sitting room that looks toward the splendor of Imperial Centre and the Palace, a common feature in the small enclave across the river, commonly known as the Towers where most of the members of the Congress of Lords maintain townhouses so they can relax while being close to the center of government. Diedre has noted that their walk is a bit slower than it used to be, and that Reynard is more and more quiet, his eyes sliding off into the distance. But it is something they never discuss, and she doubts they ever will.

**********

“This is a war we shouldn’t even be in! Who cares if the Verniians, the Liberationers, and the Wickians have caused a war with the Hegemony? Most likely they brought it on themselves. We tried to sort out the damn mess the rest of the ‘Sector had become eighty years ago and no one bothered to help! Well, let them hang!”

“It’s not that simple, Mom,” Vergyl Afterman, Oberleutnant of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine, says quietly. The small dining room in the house he had called home is a golden-red, a product of the two suns of Alpha Centauri that are starting to set in the Southern Barrier region of Proxima III.

The small town Vergyl grew up in was called Empire. It was founded shortly after the end of the Outer Dominion Wars, by Valinor colonists moving into closer to the endless scorched sands of the Great Wastes in territory that had once been part of the Dominion of Outer Centauri. Even to this day, over three centuries later, Empire remained very much on the frontier. It was one of the last towns, the hopes of spilling over into the vastness abandoned as the Star Empire grew even farther. And Vergyl had always thought of it as a crossroads. Its aerospace port was often visited by those from the Raumreich dominions, and even Sol, used by those who wanted to tour the wild hinterland of his homeworld. Then there was the most interesting and unusual visitors of all, the few Scorpions that would pass through to collect supplies before vanishing to their desert enclaves once again.

In Vergyl’s mind Empire represented Valinon itself, a realm perched on the edge of the frontier a crossroads of peoples and places from all over the galaxy. And that needed to be defended above all else, which is why he had joined the Kriegsmarine and stayed even after his conscription turn was done. But he had never expected to be called up to be the flag leutnant of the Admiral.

“There is no sense in this, Vergyl! A war with the Ortagans, we all know what they are like…they…they.”

“Kill the innocent? Burn cities without a care? That is why we need to stop the Ortagans, and unless we do it no one will.”

“It is not our war,” she mummers again, eyes starting to water and she hurriedly wipes them. “Look at what good the last one did. And look at how many of ours didn’t come home.”

“Look how many did.”

Vergyl looks at the obstinate defiance in his mother’s eyes, something his father always said they both had too much off.

“I think he has heard you, Margaret,” Eric Afterman says quietly. Turning away from the small kitchen window and carefully folding the formal paper that his son’s orders had come on. “Our son has just received what is perhaps the greatest honor I can even think of. How many can claim that they have actually served with Grossadmiral Forrest? Not served under him, served with him. I may not have been an officer, Margaret, but I did do my time as an enlisted matrose. Forrest was a legend then, to be his leutnant…,” the elder Afterman shakes his head and looks at his son.

“Saying you have made me proud doesn’t do this justice, son.”

Vergyl stands stiffly as his father puts an arm on his shoulder. His father looks over at his mother, now sitting at the table with abject defeat filling her eyes and mild sobs starting to echo across the darkening kitchen.

“It’s not our war, it’s not our war…”

Eric Afterman walks over and pulls his wife to her feet, holding her close.

“No, it’s not our war, Margaret. But we are Valinor, and that carries a price with it. It is not a price that comes easy, but it is one that we have always taken. And we are a better people because of it. Someone has to stand up and put a stop to the madness coming from Roum, if we don’t who will?”

“But it’s not…”

Eric kisses his wife forehead, “It is our blessing and our curse. Forrest has lead more men and women back home to their families than any other I can even think of, trust him and trust Her Majesty. They will not fail us without a fight.”

His mother shakes her head and pushes away. Then she moves toward her son, grabbing him around the waist. She backs away, a hand to her mouth, and then she releases a slow, staggered breath.

“I think I am going to go to bed. I will need to get up early tomorrow.”

Eric Afterman nods, while Vergyl goes over and hugs his mother again.

“Goodnight,” he mummers and his mother smiles slightly.

“Coffee?” Eric Afterman says quietly after his wife leaves. He moves toward the cabinet and draws out the ‘pot.

“Sure, Dad.”

A few minutes later the rich scent of the Solarian coffee Eric Afterman always favored, no matter how much Margaret groaned about the expense, fills the kitchen. The two sit at the table, a few stories are swapped. Eric retales his old stories of service in Sol and later with the Ortagans. When he finishes, he shakes his head.

“I don’t know what went wrong with them. Used to I got letters from Damien and Mederoc. But when the Grand Duchy fell, they just stopped. I don’t know if they all changed or if the government just took control, but something changed in Roum…in all of Ortaga. But remember, Vergyl, there are still people in Ortaga. Just because their government and their military perpetuates evil does not mean they all are evil, don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.”

“Do what you can to see that the Grossadmiral doesn’t forget it either,” Eric Afterman says, hiding a wire smile behind his coffee mug. “Can I take you to the aero port tomorrow?”

“Sure, Dad.”

The older Afterman nods, and pours them both another cup of coffee. They sit for a little while longer, Vergyl’s father laughs at some of the stories of pranks pulled at the Academy on Proxima. And looks in wonderment at the images his son shows him of the Vaku homeworld, where Vergyl was briefly stationed in the wormhole terminus.

“So much has changed, and more will too,” Eric says as he stands and cleans his cup.

As his father leaves, Vergyl looks up.

“Dad, did you mean what you said earlier? Is this war our duty.”

Eric Afterman stops, hand resting on the door frame.

“We are Valinor, Vergyl. We have lead the Raumreich and served as the only voice of sanity since we discovered the wormholes. It does not mean we are loved, generally it means the opposite. But if we don’t stand up and at least try and make sure what needs to be done is done to make sure order and decency are kept, no one will. We do what we must, from the Aldermans to the Pelledriners. And no one can every say otherwise.”

Crystal Lake Installation, Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1021 Solar Forces Standard

Lance nods rapidly. She had expected the terse manner nar Hhallas presents, the Vaku are not known through the Raumreich for their conversation skills. But the fact that her command would be attacked by the flag officer of the entire Vaku navy was something of a shock, mentally she ponders just how much of their navy is now away from Vaku territory on the far side of the Great March. As for the rank of nar Hhallas’ “marine” officer or any of the Vaku she could only wonder. The Hegemony’s security services had been fully unable to establish an exact hierarchy for the Vaku outside their high command.

“Sir, General Hacker’s and Brigadier Gena’s will comply with your demands in full. We will complete the disarmament of our forces at no later than 1800. However, I would greatly appreciate it if your own forces will provide for our safety if there are further attacks from the forces of either the Observers or the Coordination of Security and Intelligence. All of my officers have been ordered to cooperate with your commanders in full so that we may stop these attacks.”

“I also fully concur with your declaration regarding any additional forces operating against forces of the Greater Empire in the Dylar system. They are outside my ability to control—as well as that of any of my officers—and in some cases are just as much a threat to us as they are to you. Their fate rests in your hands.”

Lance’s eyes dart to Gena, whose eyes flash momentarily. Several elements of his command on the northern continent close to the SecInt facilities had not reported in. And Lance had little doubts about what they were doing. The SecInt may have forced their involvement, but given their ties to the SecInt “programs” she suspected little “force” would have to be applied.

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1028 Solar Forces Standard

Captain Kagoshima braces himself again as his ship baulks under another barrage from the Concordat forces invading the Gryps system. He is steadily losing the game of hide-and-seek with his enemy. The Wickians have continued to lay into the container yard, with the engagement becoming increasingly one-sided. The Solon and the Centurion have continued to give what they can to their enemies, but the Centurion now trails debris from its heavily damaged portside and the Solon’s shields are fluctuating erratically. The last barrage had overloaded almost all of the forward shield projectors, and now the engines were showing signs of instability.

There is another groan and shudder from his proud vessel, and this time a wailing alarm sounds. Kagoshima grimaces.

“Damage report, Mr. Eastman!”

“Captain, Commander Seden is reporting that the jump drive is offline. Offline meaning that a missile managed to breech the main core block. The only way to restore it would be yard time.”

Kagoshima bites his lip, feeling a copper tinge on his tongue.

“Com, query the Centurion. See if they believe they could clear to jump without putting themselves at risk.”

There are a few moments of whispered conversation.

“Centurion responds as finding that unlikely, especially given the damage to her own shields.”

Kagoshima sighs heavily and pulls the pistol from his uniform. It seems unnecessary now, Observer Walden was in sick bay—along with far too many of the Solon’s crew. But for a moment Kagoshima wonders if it would not be more merciful for him to shoot the Observer in the head and end it quickly rather than hand him over to the Wickians. It would be another decision fate decides with damn little attention given to his own opinions on the matter.

“Guns, cease fire. Com, transmit to Centurion and tell them to do the same. They are to follow our new course to the letter. Helm, take us out of the field. And get me an open channel.”

Kagoshima looks at Eastman. His exec’s eyes are very, very somber. He looks at his captain as he pulls out a rather battered pack of cigarettes.

“I do hope the Captain will indulge me if I see do not see the necessity of following regulations to the letter at the moment.”

Kagoshima nods slowly.

“You have the channel, Captain.”

“Attention Commanding officer of the Concordat Navy, this is Captain Ruroni Kagoshima of the Solar Navy of the Hegemony of New Ortaga, commanding the Gryps system anchorage. At this time I offer my complete and unconditional surrender to your forces and formerly request an immediate cease fire. The Solon and the Centurion will stand down and await further instructions. We will strike our shields and silence our batteries now.”

Monitor NE-06, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
0958 Solar Forces Standard

Lieutenant Commander Dalton, commanding the monitor flotilla sorting against the Verniian raiding force looks at the feed forward from the sensor officer on the cramped bridge of his leading monitor. The vague returns on the masdar are far to consistent to be mere ghost, and they obviously are showing enough distinct characteristics that the analysis programs aren’t dismissing them as debris. Dalton had pulled his monitors back a little, and they now circled around—seeking to approach the Verniians from a forward diagonal.

“These returns are limited to the stern areas of the Verniian fleet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell Wing 14 they are to fire weapons at full power into this area of the signatures, Eyes. If this is some sort of weapon, it will no doubt be as vulnerable to soft kills as anything else the Verniians have deployed. Most likely more so given the size the comp is trying to spit at us. The rest of the flot will proceed with the next attack run. And forward a copy of this data to the Retribution.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dalton’s flotilla twirls in an eerie resemblance to a school of Old Earth fish, and descends on their “prey” once again. The monitors lay into the raiders with their energy weaponry—dreadnought caliber weaponry cruelly tasked to infinitely more vulnerable hulls. One three-ship wing element does separate off and directs its own fire into the cloud of “ghost signatures” detected by the outlying ships of the monitor flotilla.

Personal Quarters of Strategos Cima Garahou, HSS Dauntless, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
2232 Roum Local Standard

Kendra Ansel slams her fist into the paneling of Garahou’s appropriated quarters as the Dauntless makes its way to return to the Axis system. After the end of the council meeting, Garahou sought desperately to remove herself from Silesia and New Ortaga—an environment that gave far more to Galt and Saharin than it did to her. And she had impressed upon Kendra Ansel, her increasingly impetuous partner in the growing conspiracy, the need to regroup away from prying eyes.

“Galt will destroy the Revolution before it is all over! He and Saharin would like nothing more than to setup their own perverse little version of the Grand Duchy and plunge us back into the dark ages,” she snarls. “It is disgusting that my father listens to them. Such men should not be trusted at all, such men should be hanging on the cross along with Gihren Zabi!”

Garahou licks her lips. Personally she thinks that Saharin should have been among the first to share in the more direct methods of the early Revolution, but Galt is a far different story. Not to mention that fact that Galt is infinitely more deadly than any other resistance they may face.

“Unfortunately we cannot undo previous mistake,” she murmurs quietly. “But it seems we have no choice. We need to bide our time.”

“If we keep biding our time there will be nothing left of the Revolution! No, I am through with waiting, Garahou. The time has come for us to move toward direct action before Galt, Saharin, and their lackeys subvert the government entirely. And the time has also come for the Hegemony to start demonstrating that it is a super-power.”

“I was under the impression we were already doing that.”

“Don’t be naïve. We fight our war and deny ourselves options—acting like frightened little children wary to break the rules the Valinor,” she spats that word, “have imposed on us. It’s disgusting, it’s sickening! We are not subject to the mandates of Alpha Centauri. The Revolution transcends the needs of the Valinor and their precious ‘balance of power’. And we can show them that once and for all if we use the Anubis.”

“The Hegemon has explicitly forbid the deployment of the Anubis—“

“My father is failing to see reason, that is all. And I intend to change that immediately. When we return to Axis I will gather my personal security teams and return to Roum as soon as possible. I will also have Director Gates prepare his men to secure the Anubis at our signal.”

Kendra Ansel looks at the struggling emotions in Garahou’s eyes.

“Do you honestly think the Verniians and the Liberationers will continue to resist if we make it clear that will result in their total destruction?” The younger Ansel smiles wolfishly, “The Verniians and their ilk are spineless and when confronted with the inevitability of the future will surrender and seek to save themselves. Let them, then we can throw them to the fire of the Revolution and let their story be done.”

Garahou pauses for a few moments. Certainly she cannot argue that the Liberationers and the Verniians are not among those she considers to possess considerable fortitude. And the simple fact of the matter is that the Valinor do seem to merely protect their own, after all they have done nothing to stop the war so far. If the war can be concluded quickly, and without using the plans of Ginias Saharin, the structure of power in the Hegemony will be altered—in her favor. But there is still one issue.

“And what of the Hegemon? If he does fully oppose this, I do not know if we even have a chance at success.”

Garahou represses a shudder as Kendra Ansel’s face twist in that parody of a smile.

“Leave my father to me. If he will not see reason, then he will be isolated to where he cannot oppose this until it is done and we have our victory. Ultimately the Revolution supersedes the needs and whims of any one man—even that of a Hegemon.”

Gyrps System
Frontier System
New Ortagan Hegemony

“Commodore we are receiving a message from the enemy flag…” Vincent was taken back for a moment fore there had never been any communication exchange between WIckian and Ortagan units except their own mutual hate for one another.

“Put it over the wireless, XO if you would….” It was common procedure to have the two senior officers on the bridge listen to any sensitive messages. The voice of the Ortagan officer was heard in his earplug,

-ptain Ruroni Kagoshima of the Solar Navy of the Hegemony of New Ortaga, commanding the Gryps system anchorage. At this time I offer my complete and unconditional surrender to your forces and formerly request an immediate cease fire. The Solon and the Centurion will stand down and await further instructions. We will strike our shields and silence our batteries now.”

“Squadron orders, all ships are to cease fire, the Flag and the BatCru’s will close to 1 million klicks of the enemy dreadnaught. Screening units will encircle the enemy ships. Vincent out. Coms. prepare to record message for transmission, voice only.” The commodore continued when the young officer signaled she was ready.

“Captain Kagoshima your unconditional surrender is acknowledged and… accepted.” He said after a long reluctant pause “The crews of your screening vessels will evacuate their ships and proceed to my flag for internment. Your vessel will remain disarmed and defenseless. Your crew is to evacuate the ship to be detained by my forces. Your officers will remain onboard with a skeleton crew and be prepared to be boarded. You will not wipe your ships logs or computers and you will not scuttle your vessel. You will not resist our boarders. Your full cooperation is expected, any resistance or neglect of these orders will result in the complete destruction of your command and execution of your surviving crew.” The cold frustration in Vincent’s voice was tangible. He like most WIckians had lost loved ones to the Ortagans, there should be no doubting his resolve. “Obey these surrender terms and your men will be afforded the respect due to their service and rank. Commodore Vincent Out.”

It was clear that the WIckian did not want to accept the Ortagans surrender but rather to simply wipe them from existence. Death was the only surrender terms the WIckians received from the Solar Navy in the past and they were the terms the WIckians desired to give the Ortagans here. An old proverb states that “an eye for an eye would make the entire world blind“ If that is true then a WIckian would respond, “At least I wont be the only blind man around.” Yet, Vincent had his orders from higher and he would follow them whether he liked it or not.

“On the chip sir, sending it now” the Comms. officer said with some eagerness.

“XO, Take command of the boarders and secure that vessel. Prepare for return jump to Ft. Defiance.” Vincent ordered finally. “Its time to head home.”

+ + +

Four Heavy Assault Transports exited the docking bay of the WIckian Dreadnaught. Onboard was Alpha and Charlie Companies of the 21st WIckian Marine Corps Battalion. Each of the Two hundred marines were equipped with full power armor, WIckians were born natural to be larger, taller, and stronger then normal men. The marines making this boarding were behemoths, preverbal goliaths in their armor, and carried large Flechette guns and heavy pulse rifles that a man without powered armor would even be able to lift off the ground. Of course one marine in every squad was equipped with a repeating gauss rile designed to destroy armor vehicles and fired its HE projectiles at a rate of four rounds per second, was clearly present for intimidation unless any remaining aboard that dreadnaught was prepared to resist…

Two of the transport docked in side the docking bay of the Solon the other two placed themselves at strategic points on the bow and aft of the ship and began to cut through the vessels armor. Before the two transports in the docking bay even touched down two squads of marines exited the craft using their jump jets to lower themselves to the deck, their weapons and eyes trained for any threat or a welcoming party.

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supple Cache #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1031 Solar Forces Standard

Kagoshima freezes for a moment upon hearing the reply from Commodore Vincent and whirls around. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Commander Eastman doing the same, both trying to stop what is a procedural doctrine. When there eyes move to the young officer operating the information systems station in the communication section they both blanche visibly. The red bordered screen with its status bar showing the progress of the mandatory storage wipe is already well on its way to fifty percent.

"Cancel the wipe!" Kagoshima roars. "Com, give word to the Centurion to do the same!"

Two of the bridge crew whirl into desperate action, and the sysop's hands are a pair of sprites playing rapidly over his keyboard interface. But even with his speed the wipe has soared to over sixty percent completion.

"Wipe stopped at 67 percent completion, Captain," he says weakly.

Kagoshima inhales sharply, "Get me a channel to the Wickian flag."

"Yes, Captain."

"Commodore Vincent, this is Captain Kagoshima. I have heard and understand the terms you have presented and accept them when able. However, as is standard procedure aboard a Solar Navy vessel, a memory wipe was commenced upon the beginning of my transmission of a surrender. I have ordered the process to be halted on both the vessels under my command, but the wipe on the Solon had reached 67 percent completion when it was stopped and I am sure the Centurion has a similar status. You and your officers will have access to my own personal logs, those of my executive officer--Commander Eastman --, and other relevant officers."

"I will receive your boarding parties at the hanger along with Lieutenant Colonel Frederick, commanding my Marine detachment. Commander Eastman will be preparing our prize crew and see to it that all additional personnel are ready for the evacuation. Kagoshima out."

"Captain, we have four inbound standard Wickian assault transports," comes the report from the sensor section. "Two are making a direct course for the hanger, and the other two are making for the bow and stern."

Kagoshima bites back a groan and moves toward Eastman, "I won't even try understanding the Wickians. Just make sure the surrender holds and prepare the crew to evacuation. Keep the bridge crew on duty and have Commander Seden select all essential engineering crewmen she needs to maintain the ship at readiness. I will have Fredericks select a small duty party from his detachment to assist us in running the ship."

"Yes, Captain."

Four minutes later, Captain Kagoshima and Lieutenant Colonel Fredericks stand ready to receive the Wickian boarders. At their backs is three-quarters of the 500-man marine compliment of the Solon dressed in the gleaming white power armor of the Solar Marines. Kagoshima looks to Fredericks as the Wickian marines start to file out of their transports. The Marine officer has a vague smile on his face, amused a little by the Wickian attempt to intimidate the personnel of the Solar Forces two best equipped branches by scampering about with their own little artillery pieces. The expressionless visages of the white power armor and the Solar Marines own corresponding weaponry makes at least partial mockery of the Wickian tour de force, even if all the Solar Marines weaponry are held with barrels pointing straight down at the deck.

Kagoshima and Fredericks walk slowly to meet the Wickian marine contingent off the lead shuttle even as the other boarding parties that cut their way through the hull are met by small duty crews assembled and dispatched by Eastman. As they walk Kagoshima finds himself starting to have hum the same tune Fredericks is belting out.

"What is that?" Kagoshima whispers to the Marine.

"The World Turned Upside Down, seems appropriate don't you think?"

"It seems to be a little too much."

"Perhaps, Captain," Fredericks says quietly. "But then again I need something to keep myself from pulling out my needler and simply shooting one of these bastards through the face."

"Point."

Gyrps System

Black Six, Red four, Contact made with elements of the ships crew proceeding to Engineering. The voice of the Plt leader of one of the detached shuttles reported. Soon enough the other detached unit reported in and made their movement towards the vessels bridge. Both strategic locations which would become vital if the Ortagans chose to resist their capture.

The WIckians in their power armor established a perimeter around the assembled Solar Marines. Their own weapons trained on their enemies just begging for the order to gun them down. It was quite a stark contrast of forces. Ortagan propaganda would often attempt to classify the WIckians as alien barbarians, with inferior technology when compared to the might of the Hegemony and its forces. Perhaps even some of that would have appeared true in this scene in the docking bay. The gleaming neat shining white armor of the Ortagans was contrasted by the battle scared and well used armor of the WIckian Marines. Where the Ortagan armor had a sense of elegant lethality to it the WIckian versions appeared to be more industrial, rugged If an Ortagan Marine was a fencer the WIckian would have been the Barbarian Axman.

A man approached the Ortagan officers, he did not wear the armor of the marines, instead he wore only the formfitting grey green skin-suit of the CSN. All sailors and marines were these suits in combat conditions, they were air tight and complete self contained, if one suffered trauma the suits had tourniquets and painkilling drugs that would be realized automatically, or in the case of marines adrenaline as well. The skin suit also second only to powered armor in its defense capabilities. They were specifically designed to be effective at negating kinetic attacks from weapon such as pulsars or needlers, though as with all armors ever created they could only protect so much.

“Captain Kagoshima, Commander Tryol Concordat Space Navy. I will be assuming command of this vessel and it will be made ready for travel within the hour.” The WIckian said stiffly. “I have also been instructed to also render aid to your wounded should you desire it, I have several surgeons standing by. Several of your support vessels have taken substantial damage, they must be evacuated completely, we will be demo-ing them before we depart the system. Your Marines must also at this time clear their weapons and surrender them to my marines. Finally I need to have a list of any Tactical Observers, Naval Intelligence, assigned to your command. Do you have any question at this time or have you understood what is required?”

+ + +

Thetis System

A violent exchange of energy and missile fires was evident between the WIckians light forces and the bases of the wormhole perimeter. It was a bloody affair the Lacs concentrating on a single base wrecking it with damage however it was a fight that the Ortagans would seem to win out of mere attrition given enough time.

There time just ran out.

The Lacs and fighters had transmitted specific sensor data back to the CSN flagship currently in system. This vessel with its new hyper pulse generator was able to relay this information to a nearby by fleet lying in wait only 5 light years away. With this jump information the main attack force would be able to jump into optimum range of the Ortagan defenses and catch them unawares, and those few moments of surprise and confusion would equate to a devastating first strike, or so the brass back at Ticonderoga thought.

With the sudden unexpectedness four battle lines of capital ships materialized 1.5 million kilometers from the enemy defensive line. Each battle line consisted of eight ships, three of them were the 2.5 km battleships used by the former Commonwealth Navy, they were in fact the original garrison of the Ticonderoga system, heavily refitted and upgraded by a WIckian mercenary Group known as the Ticonderoga’s Bastards. Debris seemingly detached from these battleships, or so it would appear on any lidar returns, however these were the missile pods attached to the external racks of the battleships. Tens of thousands of capital class anti-ship laser heads streamed towards the enemy base line, at this range response time would be minimal. A second group of capital ships also made the jump consisting of eight dreadnaughts, of the old Liberty Class the predecessor to the new Covington, currently a third of the CSN battle line included these vessels. These old dreadnaught was in fact officially part of the CSN but was the Fleet Reserve, the so-called weekend warriors of the Navy, well here in Thetis they would prove their proficiency and worth. Like their consorts in this battle they too flushed their external missile racks. These ships did not have the immense spinal batteries of the Covington class however they were like the accompanying battleships fully refitted with plasma mortars and powerful broadside grasers all of which followed up the initial missile barrage with sudden and terrible energy.

Dylar System

Lt. Commander Kara Napoli was not amused at the Vaku’s tone, she was to young to have participated or remembered the last battle between the VIN and the CN but it was still a blood feud well remembered by most WIckians. WIckians were a picky people like that, they always remembered whom they owed and who spilt the blood of their comrades.

“Fang Kal’ahr, this is Lt. Commander Napoli of the Concordat Space Navy Scout Corps. We have been in system for months now on a surveillance mission, we couldn’t quick miss your fleets entrance. A courier has been dispatched to Fleet Headquarters updating them on the situation here in Dylar. Be advised we received a dispatch from Fleet Command stating that the forces of the Vaku and WIckians are members of the Southern theater of operations and thus this system is under Allied sovereignty and that Admiral NarHhallas is under the command of Protector Villers the Theater Commander…”

Dylar system

Ralgha nar Hhallas contemplates Commodore Lance for a moment.

“Your compliance is greatly appreciated, Commodore, and will be remembered with respect to the treatment of your officers and personnel. Kal Shintar nar Qarg will see to the security of your men from any additional Observer attacks. They will be dealt with in short order. Also note that the orders regarding the assembly local time is not to be violated under any circumstances.”

Nar Hhallas turns to nar Qarg, “Kal Shintar, you will be in charge of the prisoners, the camps, and eradicating the remnants of the Observers. Kill them all, we have enough for a sufficient demonstration.”

Nar Qarg bears his teeth, ”With pleasure and zeal, My Lord. Shall I also prepare troops to head north to dispatch the other Ortagan redoubts?”

“That will not be necessary. The Fleet will deal with the northern Ortagan presence. I will leave to see to that now.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

Ralgha nar Hhallas turns back to Lance for a moment, “See to it that the terms of the surrender are followed implicitly, and that you do not disobey the orders of the Kal Shintar or his seconds. Your life and those under your command rest wholly upon that fact. Good day, Commodore.”

**********

“We are well aware of Grossadmiral Forrest’s words, and will follow them implicitly, Lieutenant Commander,” the Vaku pilot seems to stumble briefly over these words. “You would do well not to forget that for a single moment. However, the Lord Kalralahr is the ranking officer in this system until such time that he is relieved. And he has issued an order than any and all Allied forces operating in this system while he is in command will immediately proceed to Dylar III and await additional orders.”

“Violations will be forward immediately to the attention of Protector Villers and to the Grossadmiral. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant Commander?”

Even at this distance from Dylar III it is clear there is some amount of new activity going on. The dreadnought core of the Imperial Fleet is redeploying to achieve better angles on the surviving elements of the Ortagan infrastructure in the Dylar III planetary system. Meanwhile, another quartet of large singles—presumably carriers—are drifting toward the northern polar regions, accompanied by two dreadnoughts.

OOC: Text in red is in Vaku ICly.

New Edo

Keppel's battlecruisers continued pumping missiles into space as fast as their launchers could cycle, sending just over six hundred missiles racing at the enemy monitors every thirty seconds. Then, as the enemy monitor flotilla swept back around and began its attack run, each ship began a 60 degree rotation around their 'z' axis to present their drive bands toward the enemy. Energy beams splashed harmlessly across the fields, but the enemy had sufficient numbers to disperse their approach vectors enough that the fields couldn't stop all the attacks.

Intimidator lost a fourth of her starboard weapons as enemy fire slashed across her broadside, stabbing deep into the ship and taking out her primary CIC and a secondary damage control center. Ajax's already weakened port sidewall collapsed under fire it was never designed to withstand even when operating at full capacity. Her broadside was gutted open, ripping open interior compartments to space. Fusion Two almost lost containment on the magnetic bottle keeping her fuel under pressure, but automated safeties reacted fast enough to save the ship. Power output dropped by 30% as Two went offline, and emergency capacitors throughout the ship came online to help take up the slack.

"Signal Ajax to switch positions with Reliant, keep her in the interior of our formation." Keppel spared a moment to glance the master plot, noting that Captain Amherst's Tiger was already rotating to snatch her dreadful wound away from the enemy.

"Signal all units to come around and clear their broadside arcs for action. Return fire on my command, use Fire Plan 5......fire."

The intimidating barrels of numerous 100 cm lasers and 155 cm grasers swiveled in their mounts, tracking their targets across the heavens. Then, as a single command screamed through the computers controlling them, they fired in unison. Each ship concentrated all of its firepower onto a single target, where it would hold their destructive beams upon it until it was destroyed or the targetting lock was broken, and then seek out a new one. And then, the darkness of space lit up as Tiger's plasma torpedo battery went to rapid fire, hurling out packets of superheated plasma contained in an electromagnetic 'bottle'. The duration was short, barely more than a second, but that was sufficient to give it a range of approximately three hundred thousand kilometers.

"Time to the hyper limit?"

"Seven minutes, fourty-five seconds Sir!"

"All ships have permission to translate as soon as they hit it."

Morning Star

I should have asked first if he'd preferred reds or whites. Vice Admiral Faulkenburg thought to himself. "Ah well, he probably won't appreciate it anyway."

"Sir?"

"Oh, I was just speaking to myself, Alexei. I was thinking that Konteradmiral Flynn probably won't appreciate the merlot."

"Ah, I understand, Sir."

Faulkenburg sighed, leaning forward in his comfortable seat aboard his pinnace, staring across the wide aisle at his chief of staff, Lieutenant Alexei Harazym. "Relax. It's a working dinner, not an Inquisition."

"I'll try Sir."

"Good. Pilot, what's our ETA?"

"ETA to HMYS Reliant is approximately five minutes, Admiral."

"Thank you." Faulkenburg looked back at Alexei. "Just enough time for some music...Computer, play Tchaikovsky, 'Pas de deux.'"

With that, he leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes as the opening notes of the ballet flowed gently through hidden speakers. Alexei removed a remote control and headphones from his seat pocket, then switched the 2D visual display that had been showing their approach to Flynn's flagship to something more interesting, a newcast from True Hope, and routing the sound to his headphones as to not disturb the Vice Admiral.

Time slid by as the small pinnace slowly closed the distance to the Reliant.

Yalta, 0.5ly From System Gravitic Center, 60 Degrees Below the Ecliptic

Therian Shiplord Krtss looked out from the bridge of his ship, but could not see the misshappen fleet around him but for shadows against the many stars. This far away from the system, there was too little light for eye-turrets to catch reflections, and it had been long since he'd seen the last wave of Protoss warpings.

"Shiplord," an officer hissed in the alien language, "the Protoss report they have rejuvinated."

"Very well." Krtss dismissed in his own language, then spoke to his human companion in strange English, "You sure, these Valinon know we here?"

"Their leaders know, and assure us they will call when we are needed." an old General Raven answered.

"Soon, may-be," Krtss returned, "May-be best you go back your ship."

The old General nodded agreement, but took the dismissal. Really, he was an administrator, not a warfighter, it wouldn't matter where he was when the battle started, he wouldn't be commanding. But perhaps anywhere was better then in the way.

So Raven followed his escort back to a small bay, and left the venerable Therian warship.


[[OOC: Wazzu rebirth story to develop here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=473481 Thought the above would be relevent in this thread.]]

HSS Solon, Solar Navy Supply Cache #42, Gryps system anchorage, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1047 Solar Forces Standard

“Commander Tryol,” Kagoshima says in calm tones, “I understand your orders as they stand, and I am quite sure that Commander Crowley, our ship’s physician, will appreciate the efforts of your surgeons greatly. But I am sure you will understand if I will have to request that my men’s right to refuse your medical personnel’s treatment continue to be observed. Trying to force treatment on them will only lead to a host of problems that we need not deal with, agreed?”

“In regards to the list of non-naval personnel aboard this vessel, Commander, the Solon and the Centurion have only two Tactical Observers between them and do not warrant Naval Intelligence liaisons. Observer Walden, my ship’s Observer, is currently unconscious in sick bay. I am not familiar with the whereabouts of Lieutenant Commander Sterling’s Observer, but I am sure at the very least he has been detained aboard the Centurion.”

“However, I am afraid I cannot comply with your orders regarding making the Solon ready to depart the anchorage. Your last salvo penetrated the main gravimetric block and completely annihilated our jump engine’s main core. Commander Seden, my engineer, has given me her report and the system is totally beyond repair. The only way the Solon will be leaving this system, Commander, is if the Solar Navy or your own commanders suddenly decide to place a yard in it and return it to full working order.”

“With that being put before you, Commander, I would strongly urge that the Centurion not be destroyed—as it is the only superluminal capable vessel at my disposal. I will transfer as much of my crew as possible to the Centurion, and the rest will have to be given over to Commodore Vincent’s custody aboard your own vessels.”

“Now,” Kagoshima says casually, “will you have Colonel Fredericks’ men stack their weapons here? Or is there some other location your would prefer?”

Command Center of the HSF Watchtower, HSF Watchtower, Wormhole Terminus Defense Zone, Thetis system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 Af
1018 Solar Forces Standard

Brigadier Dexter Antern was relatively pleased with himself as the engagement between his own forces and the Wickian suicide attackers progressed. So far he had lost only two Golan platforms, hardly a great loss, and was continuing to lay waste to the Wickian LACs and fighters. He even allowed himself a slight smile as he glances at Alexander Mavis and reassures her with a light touch on her hand. Meanwhile the missiles and battle-lasers of his defense line eradicates more Wickian parasite craft from the face of existence.

But in a single moment Antern’s confidence is shattered. The sudden, totally unexpected arrival of another force of Wickian capital ships—however antiquated—turns the odds in the favor of the Wickians. Antern finds his own combination of horror, dismay, and all too real sickness at the realization of mortality mirrored in the eyes of his Observer—his lover.

“Redesignate firing pattern and assign priority to those capital ships now!” Antern bellows even as the first blows start to fall. The engagement has suddenly turned into a point-blank range brawl between immobile Golan and missile platforms against the warships of the Wickian task force. Three Golans simply shatter in incandescent fireballs that rapidly extinguish in the vacuum of space, and two missile platforms are reduced to so much scrap.

But the remnants of the Solar Forces outpost in the former Wickian home system rally and send their own response hurling back at the Wickians. While their lighter batteries address the continued parasite craft attack, a desperate salvo of 25,000 missiles and the brilliant golden light of energy batteries lash out to meet the battleships and dreadnoughts.

Meanwhile, the Watchtower groans and shrieks as it hull continues to take hits. The klaxons sounding shield and hull failures become ever-present wails, and Antern looks to a nervous Observer Mavis.

“Alex, I think we should prepare a shuttle and make for the terminus at on-“ then the deadly blades of X-ray radiation and a small nuclear explosion erase the command center of the Watchtower from existence.

Crystal Lake Installation, Dylar III, Dylar system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1030 Solar Forces Standard

“I understand completely, sir,” Lance says calmly and nods to nar Hhallas. “We will begin disarming at once.”

She motions for General Hacker and Brigadier Gena to step forward, then turns to nar Qarg.

“General Hacker, Brigadier Gena, I believe that you and the Kal Shintar,” she struggles with the pronounciation, “are better prepared to attend to these details. I will leave them to you while I go see to it that are wounded are being properly tended to.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Hacker murmurs quietly while Gena offers a stiff nod.

**********

The last of the grav-trucks carrying additional munitions and foodstuffs was gliding through the massive closing blast doors of the Mount Installation when Major General Phillips stepped out of the APC that had transported him from the center of SecInt’s operations along the northern continent’s coastline. Major Himmer approaches him quickly.

“Sir, we have the report from Captain Saget. He has ordered all base commanders to carry out the Galt Protocol and prepare to fall back to the Mount at once. We already have reports from the Cerede and Gothialan installations that they have disposed of the remaining Dylarite populations under their control and are proceeding to Mount via convoy.”

“Have we been able to reestablish a link with the orbital sensor net or the Marines ground based installations?”

“No, sir.”

Phillips grimaces. The communication lockdown can only mean the Vaku are already establishing control over the other outposts on the planet, confirming the mounting evidence that the Solar Navy and Solar Marine forces had surrendered.

“Captain Martell also reports that he has fourteen Observers who arrived at Camp-7 and are demanding access to our facilities and resources. They cite their prerogative as direct representatives of the Hegemon as their right to do so.”

“I wasn’t aware Kendra Ansel had made Hegemon yet,” Phillips says with a cold smile. “Have Martell execute the Observers and do what he wants with the bodies. Let him feed them to his Vaku prisoners if he wishes, I am sure we can appreciate the irony when he arrives.”

“Yes, General.”

Monitor NE-06, New Edo system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
1008 Solar Forces Standard

Lieutenant Commander Dalton watches as one of the monitors riding with his “flag” explodes as the engagement between his own forces and the retreating Verniian battlecruisers continue. So far he has already lost 31 of the monitors under his command, and no doubt more will fall.

“Give the order to extract ourselves from the Verniian formation. We will regroup and take the Verniians from the rear. All ships are to continue to aim for the bows and sterns of the battlecruisers.”

“Transmitted, Commander!”

The monitors twist and turn, firing parting shots as they hurl themselves up and away from the battlecruisers, keeping the very impeller bands the Verniians use to protect their ships between them and their targets. Then there is another boost of acceleration as the monitors race toward the rear of the battlecruisers’ formation. The formation pivots again and flies at their enemy with new vigor.

“All squadrons are to select a target and focus on it until it is rendered inoperate,” Dalton says, selecting one of the battlecruiser along the lower edge of the formation as his own prey. “Engage!”

The monitors race back into the fray, energy weapons seeking to rend Verniian battle-steel and spread death against the enemies of the Hegemony.

Perdition, the Isle of Peralityn, New Ortaga, Roum system, Hegemony of New Ortaga
06.03.1300 AF
2128 Roum Local Standard

“You want to restore the monarchy!” Phillips splutters as Lord Marsh concludes his announcement that there is something that was thought impossible. A relic from the past that had no chance of being revived, perhaps the most thoroughly destroyed enemy of the Hegemony and its self-proclaimed “Revolution”. It is an unexpected issue that has been brought before this rather sudden session of the highest rank members of the Verge Group that seeks to destroyed the Hegemony from within. The grainy holograms of poor quality, heavily encrypted Nu-space com arrays surround General Yuri Kellarny at the table in his study. The other avatars present are those of General Actinger (commanding the Solar Army forces around Silesia), General Mengsk (the oldest active Solar Army officer), Lord Marsh (head of the Loyalist movement and the Verge Group’s finance and supply wizard), and finally Christopher Phillips (head of the Liberationists, the largest resistance group in the Hegemony).

“There is a surviving heir to the line of the Corrins,” Lord Marsh says coolly. “Given that the fact that Ansel illegally seized authority from the legitmate government sanctioned by the Archduke, there is little ground to deny the return of the true—and duly elected—heads of state of New Ortaga.”

“And hand in one dictator for the other? I would sooner shoot your in your head and take my chances with Ansel and his cronies alone, Marsh.”

“You are not listening,” Marsh says with the slightest tone of anger starting to seep into his voice. “I am not proposing the creation of an absolutist state, even the first of the Corrins didn’t have that. But the simple fact of the matter is that any new government that follows the Hegemony will need a strong rally point, one that can fill the iconic void that is going to be opened when Ansel is removed from power and tried for his crimes. The people have long since began to remember the days of the Corrins with positive overtones, and a restored monarchy would provide them with a visible rallying point that supports the new government.”

“And one that can move to supplant the legitimate government of the people!”

“The Hegemony claims to be the legitimate government of the people, Phillips,” Lord Marsh growls. “Would you suggest that the government you proposed claim to that same style of mandate?”

“That’s nonsense, Marsh. The government I, that the Liberationists, have proposed would call for free elections.”

“The Hegemony has been ‘organizing’ elections for over 150 years now. What’s the difference?”

Phillips makes to reply when Yuri Kellarny interrupts, “Enough. This bickering gets us no where. Mr. Phillips, Lord Marsh patiently listened to your explanation of your proposed federated constitution for a new government and now I expect you to offer him the same courtesy. Do I make myself clear?”

The Liberationist takes his glare away from the leading Loyalist, “You do, General.”

“Thank you, and I assure you, Mr. Phillips. You will have your time to speak in a moment. Now, Lord Marsh, what details can you give us of Tiberius Corrin’s…exile?”

“A good deal, General, but I will keep it brief. Tiberius Corrin is the second cousin of Raphael III. His father was the Lord Prince Brutus, brother to Raphael III’s own father, Julius VI. Lord Brutus died a few years before Raphael’s own ascent to the throne. After witnessing first hand the manipulations of the Zabis, Prince Brutus’ widow—the Lady Princess Agatha—staged and elaborate grav-car accident and fled to Valinon, leaving most of our own authorities to believe she was deceased along with the only other remaining heirs to the Corrin line besides Poul Corrin.”

“But wasn’t Princess Agatha and Originist?” General Mengsk queried. The Originists were a radical religious group within Ortaga who forbid its members from using gene-bath treatments and using only a more primitive form of the life pro-long treatments.

“She was,” Lord Marsh looks confused.

“Then this Tiberius of yours must be at death’s door, Lord Marsh. The events you speak of were well over 200 years ago, when I was no more than a lieutenant.”

“His mother was an Originist, General Mengsk, as was his sister, the Lady Princess Maria, but His Grace declined to become a member of the Order.”

Phillips starts to protest at the use of the title honorific, but Kellarny holds up a hand, “Peace, Mr. Phillips, Lord Marsh still has more to tell.”

“Not entirely that much more, General,” Marsh answers, “unless you want rather unnecessary details. The Lady Princes Agatha did inform a small number of her trusted friends with the House of Lords of her plan, and had been in contact with the Sterlings and de Lucs of Valinon. She led a private life on Pholus and thankfully died before seeing the trials of Ansel’s Revolution, but after that and the War of the Lion, His Garce chose to move to the Valinor system of Pelledrine. There he has become a respected member of his community, and a considerably successful merchant. He was elected to the office of Burseg of Pelledrine for four terms, and has continually served on the Council of Bators, which are both elected positions. Currently His Grace continues to serve as a Bator of Pelledrine, and enjoys considerable success as an entrepreneur affiliated with the Twin Star Line group.”

“Is he aware of his…origins?” General Actinger asks quietly.

“Yes, General. His Grace is very much aware of his origins and his heritage, as are members of the Loyalists movement and our supporters within the Valinor peerage.”

“Then he is asserting a claim to the throne of New Ortaga?” Kellarny adds.

“No, he is not. His Grace has said that he will not seek the throne unless it is clearly offered to him by the will of the people, as it was originally offered to Giovanni Corrin all those centuries ago.”

“Hardly seems to be a burgeoning dictator bent on enslaving us all, doesn’t it, Mr. Phillips?” Mengsk says, chiding the younger Liberationist.

“Or so it would seem, General,” Phillips adds coolly. “Lord Marsh, if there was such an invitation offered to this heir-apparent, what role does Prince Tiberius seek in a new government.”

“His Grace recognizes that the need for a monarch to serve as the only authority in New Ortaga have long since passed, Mr. Phillips. All the Archduke wishes is to return and assist his people in casting off the tyranny of the Hegemon. He already regularly contributes to the funds we use to fund the Verge Group and uses his contacts within the Valinor peerage to procure additional support for us. But when the Hegemony is overthrown,” eyes raise at the optimistic proclamation from the notoriously cynical Lord Marsh, “His Grace will return to New Ortaga, if a private citizen of our new government if nothing else.”

“That does not answer my question, Lord Marsh.”

“His Grace believes that this new federated state you propose could easily incorporate a constitutional monarchy that operates as a symbol of the state. He believes that this role could replace the proposed office of the Solar President as the head of state of in the Articles of the Federated Suns. After all, that office is little more than a ceremonial figurehead designed to serve as a point of unity above the politics of the other branches of your proposed government, Mr. Phillips. What harm could come by simply changing the title of it and making it a hereditary position?”

Phillips clicks his tongue against his teeth and eyes Lord Marsh warily, “None if that is truly what Tiberius Corrin intends to do with it, Lord Marsh. But if he is so willing to let the will of the people decide, is he willing to allow the people to vote on the issue of whether they should have a president or a lord at their disposal?”

“That is a factor His Grace would recognize as due and proper, Mr. Phillips. As I said before, he will return as a royal only if asked by the people to assume that role.”

Phillips turns to Kellarny, “If it is to be decided by an election, then I see no problem with it. But I will not stand for attempts to install a monarchy from any venue, General Kellarny. Not even if you back it, there are lines which we must not crossed because they have been crossed one time too many in our history. Agreed?”

Kellarny nods, “Agreed, Mr. Phillips. As I have said, the end product that fills the role of the Hegemony is of no consequence to me. Next to the Hegemony, anything will seem like a paradise. And I think we would all do well to remember that. Now, it is time we broke contact less we earn the gaze of prying eyes and ears that we do not want. We will meet again in two days to discuss the preparations for Operation Fall Down. Stay safe, gentlemen.”

Kellarny watches as the other hologram avatars vanish from existence one by one, leaving him once again surrounded by the wintry world that is his place of exile.