Ashes of Victory [Part 2 of the Imperium War saga] [Archive]

Clairmont

30-11-2005, 16:30

"From panic, pride, and terror,
Revenge that knows no rein,
Light haste and lawless error,
Protect us yet again.
Cloak Thou our undeserving,
Make firm the shuddering breath,
In silence and unswerving
To taste Thy lesser death!"

The apartment building was one of the oldest in what was called the historical centrum of Clairmont's capital city. The center of Irmansul was filled with massive buildings which dated back as far as three hundred years in some cases. Ofcourse, the internal spaces and frame supports had been refurbished several times, but the historical outer shell remained mostly as it had been two hundred years ago.

The man gave the design of the building or its historical background no thought. Leaving his car at the bottom floor, he strode to the elevator with confident steps. The parking carage was extremely quiet when taken into consideration that this building stood in the center of a city populated by over seventy million people. He ignored that curiosity as well, he had seen it several times already in several other buildings all over the city.

The elevator doors closed. He checked the apartment number and floor he was looking for from a small screen wrapped in his wrist, and then punched the button of floor number 512. The elevator bolted upwards, accelerating rapidly. There was very little actual feeling that the carriage was moving at the speed of over five hundred kilometers per hour, the magnetic levitation rails the elevator used did not produce any friction. The trip was over nearly as quickly as it had started. The elevator slowed down to halt at the floor the man sought. He stepped out of the carriage and inspected his surroundings. The main hall of the 512th floor was well kept and cleaned which was to be expected from a upper middle-class apartment building such as this one.

He chose the leftmost corridor and began to look for the door to the apartment his flexipad instructed him to find. He passed by many old people, sitting in the lounges scattered across the 512th floor. Most of them were old women and the looks he caught from them, he wasnt sure what they felt. Fear? Hope? He couldnt tell. The children playing around in different areas of the floor looked him enthusiastically but in some cases also frightfully.

The door he sought was finally in front of him. He checked his uniform carefully, making sure it was by all standards perfect. Then he knocked on the door, three times. Precisely timed and delivered. Then he waited.

The lock on the door opened, and the door swung open. The woman who opened, the man figured she was propably in her sixties. Prolong made it hard to tell as it extended life to over one hundred and eighty, people looked much much younger than they truly were. But all the stress and worrying had carved lines to this womans face, and the age was clearly palpable from those features.

As the woman saw his appereance, she whispered silently.
"Oh no..."

But the woman did fall down to her knees crying, standing there like a statue, she held her tears back.

"Mrs' Montaigne? I regret to inform you that your daughter, Captain Rachel Montaigne has been killed in the line of duty while defending the Diess City defense perimeter against an Imperial assault force. On behalf of the Royal Clairmontian Marine Corps, we extend our condolences." Lieutenant Thomas Mitchell, RCMC delivered, his voice at the same time precise and stony but also warm. He handed the old woman a letter from the Commanding Officer of 672nd Marine Battalion, saluted and turned about to continue on his way to the next woman who had lost her son or daughter, but the rasping voice of the mother to whom he had just delivered the news stopped him.

"Did she... did she fight well Lieutenant?" The old woman whispered hoarsely.

Mitchell stopped, and turned to face Mrs' Montaigne once more.

"Yes ma'am, she did. Your daughter fought along the finest traditions of the corps. People like your daughter are the reason why there is still hope of winning this war." He said simply. Then he threw a parade-ground salute, turned face and left. There were still many relatives to whom he needed to bring the news of the death of their loved ones in the fields of battle. And many more would still hear of the death of those most important to them before all the blood this war would ask for had been spilled.

Gyokun Valley
520km south-west of Irmansul City

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

Lieutenant Stewart Trent gazed upon the view down in the valley with dispassionate eyes. Intel had been certain that two Imperial companies would pass thru this valley in an attempt to strike at the western flank of Alexander's wall. But to this hour he and Bravo Company of the 555th Batt. had lain in wait for two days and so far there was no sign of the Imperials.

The virtual display inside the helmet of his ACS suit was filled with different data streams. Some projecting fields of fire for his platoon, some displaying the calculated ballistic arcs for the grenade
launchers of Bravo Company's 2nd Platoon, the Grim Reaper fire-support suits.

But as it was, it seemed that all the preparation had been for naught. They had mined the valley floor with bouncing barbies, laid the machine guns of the company to position and prepared to project enfillading fields of fire at the Imperials. The idea that he might lose a good chance to kill a big bunch of Imperials pissed off Stewart to no end.

"Lieutenant, the number three drone has picked up something." Sergeant Bale from third squad
subvocalized.

Stewart patched the feed from the stealthed recon drone to his own HUD. The passive sensors on the small hovering disc were picking up slight abnormalities in ambient temperature and some sonic signs that suggested something atleast was approaching the ambush spot from the west. In a few moments, the drone began recognizing patterns and shapes in the darkness and fed them to Stewart's command suit. The suit's own systems analyzed the patterns and shapes and searched for matches to Imperial hardware in the database. As the system finished going thru all the data available, Stewart wished he had brought along a lot more firepower.

"Shit." He exclaimed simply and opened a channel to the Company commander.

"Panther-zero-three to Panther actual, Whisker-zero-three detecting enemy units. So far counting three OGRE's, four SHADE's and three SARAPIN's and from how it looks thus far, it seems that they have atleast a battalion worth of Infantry, most of them in Combat Armor." Stewart reported calmly and professionally.

"We see it zero-three. No choice but to call for arty and exfiltrate, the mission is scrubbed." The company commander said, the anger for having to abandon a mission evident from his voice.

"Zero-three to actual, we can still do it." Stewart stated.

"What?"

"We can still do it, it'll just be a bit trickier thats all. I've gamed this kind of situation in the VR a couple of times, we can do it."

There was silence over the secure comm for a while, then Stewart's suit gave a bleeping tone, indicating that the company commander was initiating a secure whisker laser link.

"All right, how did you plan to do this?"

"Well sir..." And he explained how he had managed to win this scenario in VR.

"You're out of your fucking mind lieutenant." Captain Miyazaki said simply once Stewart finished explaining his plan.

"On that, I can concur Captain. However, this can work."

There was another moment of silence before the captain sighed.

"Allright, we'll go by your plan."

Scylla System
4th Imperium Space

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The scene of destruction was at the same time extremely artistic and extremely horrifying. The battered wrecks of hundreds upon hundreds of spacecraft, human beings and parts of human beings floated lifelessly in a sea of wreckage. It was hard to tell apart Imperial and Allied ships, so badly had they been mangled.

Despite that however, the Expeditionary Force had prevailed in the battle of the Scylla System, defeating the 6th Interstellar Battle Fleet of the Imperial Navy in open combat. As far as the CIC of the flagship had deduced, two extremely understrength battlesquadrons were all that had survived the battle. But the cost at which the victory had come was nearly deadly. The 8th fleet had been shot to hell, the 5th was not much better and all of the remaining fleets had taken severe beatings.

To make matters worse, many of the incredibly valuable 3rd Generation vessels had been destroyed in the battle. Only few of the new classes had been produced so far, and altough they were immensely superior to any of the 2nd Generation warships, some were already speculating that it would be too little and too late. Ofcourse, this wasnt necessarily the case. Another two batches of the new ships were under construction back home and as things were, they would join the Expeditionary Force in another four to five months.

Captain Edmund Black was just glad that they would. He had had command of the Pegasus-class Heavy Cruiser Honshu for two months now. Altough it could have been considered a demotion, since he had commanded a Superdreadnought before his current comission, he could not for the life of it see it that way. For one, his previous ship had been totaled during the battle of the Scylla System, and since none of the new generation SD's had been available at the time, the Admiralty had offered him the Honshu. After seeing the specs and inspecting the ship himself, Black had gladly accepted it. If all of the older class Star Knight's could be replaced with the Pegasus-class ships, the war in space would have been a far more likely victory for the CSN.

Ofcourse, as the saying went "Expect victory, plan for defeat".

"ETA to drop orbit?" He asked, directing to question to his XO.

The young blonde (young as far as he looked, prolong made real age hellishly difficult to guess) glanced at the screens protruding from the armrest of her chair, punching a few commands while doing so.

"Twenty two minutes skipper. Though we can expect ground fire in another ninety-two seconds." She answered.

The promise of ground fire made Black's spine tingle. He had faced that fire many times now and he hadnt gotten used to it, ever. The ground based orbital defenses the Imperium used was part of the reason why the dominance over planets couldnt be resolved simply by obtaining local space superiority. Their planetary defense centers were extremely well protected under layered defense screens and buried within mountains where from their hypermissile launchers and energy batteries, which incidentally were far heavier than any boasted by their ships, could hammer at any incoming enemy ships. Kinetic strikes far from the outer system had been attempted. Ships would accelerate, then launch their missiles and simply allow them to coast ballistically to hit the target planet, it had worked pretty well upto the point the missiles passed the range of Imperial Recon Sats. Imperial active sensor systems had found the missiles rather easily, after which shooting them down was a routine maneuver, not to mention that accuracy when firing that way sucked. Since the missiles didnt obviously have the drive endurance to maintain acceleration and maneuverability until they hit the planet, it was nearly impossible to aim them to hit any specific point at the surface of the target planet. Attempts to use the final drive on a missile (as a Multi-Drive-Missile boasted three drives in total) for terminal maneuvers had also been counter-productive as that simply made them laughably easy targets for the Imperials as the drive signatures stood out like christmas trees on the Imperial sensor screens. The final reason why space superiority simply wasnt enough to quarantee victory was the official determination by the government that the military was to engage primarily the Imperial Armed Forces, civilian casualties were to be avoided as much as possible. When the Protector and Prime Minister had announced that policy, there had been an immense backlash from the military and part of the Clairmontian civilian populace. Why should any quarter be given to the Imperial civilians? The Imperials most certainly hadnt given any to the Clairmontians. Why should Clairmontian soldiers be wasted needlessly? And so forth. But Protector Alexander and the Prime Minister had stood firm.

And such was the reason why the 31st, 78th and 15th Battlesquadrons were plowing thru the field of debris consisting of annihilated friends and foes alike, towards Scylla III along with the troop transports that would deposit their loads down on the planet. Atleast they could hit Imperial Troop concentrations and defense centers from orbit, Black mused. At that range the Imps simply did not have the time to intercept missiles, and his Hellbore's could range on the targets at the surface.

"Inform our Fleet Strike boys that we will start taking ground fire in another minute." He said.

Occupied Medusa City

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The better days, the happier days, the days without the Imperial soldiers, they all felt so far distant. Medusa City had fallen far from her days of glory. The Imperial siege had lasted for two years before they had finally broken thru the defense lines, and everything the Vrakians and Armed Forces could place in a line against them. The city had endured under daily strikes from Imperial artillery and aircraft. The bastards had thrown everything they had, tac-nukes, chem warfare, cluster bombs and the city had writhed in agony under their bombardment. It had only gotten monumentally worse when the defense lines were breached and the two months of urban combat began. The defenders of Medusa City had fought with ferocity that had frightened even those who they sought to defend. But in the end, their best efforts had been in vain and the city had fallen.

Three years had passed from that day now, and the city was a shadow of its former self. Collapsed megascrapers filled parts of the city with immense seas of rubble. Wrecked highway overpasses had collapsed and buried beneath them roads vital to the infrastructure of the city. There were craters everywhere, and only a small part of the large-scale road networking could be used, and even that was used primarily by the Imperial army. Holes and scorch marks filled the sides of many of the surviving megascrapers, everlasting signs of spots where Imperial energy weapons or hyper velocity missiles had struck.

The citizens of Medusa city had been in for a shock when they found out that they were no longer allowed to leave their homes except for essential business such as trips to the food stores, or when they were on their way to the work duty that the Imperials had ordered. Every day, from seven AM to five PM, everyone from sixteen years and upwards to fifty was required to work for their Imperial Overlords. The work consisted mainly of physical labour. Constructing and maintaining defensive works around the city, doing the shit jobs that the Imperials couldnt spare their manpower for any longer. Plus, it was a good way to keep tabs on the populace.

God help those who got it to their heads to sabotage any of the Imperial operations. They had made it clear that the price would be heavy, but Clairmontians were for the most part fiercely patriotic and during the first week of occupation a band of guerillas had raided a landed Imperial Assault Shuttle and blown it to hell. The Imperials reacted, they didnt even bother to find out who exactly had done it, they had the ability to track the querillas thanks to their recon drones and once they found out the district of the city where the querillas had fled, they had simply dropped a couple of low yield tac-nukes and leveled the area. Tens of thousands had died, and the Imperials warned again that the punishment for such actions would be high. From that point on, the armed resistance had slacked off and the thirty-seven million people surviving the siege and battle of Medusa city now lived under the crushing weight of the Imperial Army's boot.

Julia rushed off from the store, carrying the meager food stuffs that were supposed to last for the next week. Food was rationed strictly, the larger the family, the higher your ration of food. Cheating was rather difficult, as the Imperials had ordered that every citizen carry an ID card and an ID card also indicated how many people lived in your household. There had been attempts to forge the cards to indicate a larger household than one actually had, but those attempts had mostly been futile.

Julia had two children and during the years under the Imperial rule she had gotten used to the rationing. Sure the amount of food was pitiful, but it was enough (barely) and all that was enough for her was that her two children would survive, her husband had died years ago when the Imperial 7th Armored Battalion had crashed thru the section of the defense line where he had been stationed.

She loaded the bags to the back of her car. She had graduated a history major from the Saint Christopher Alexander university, and she recalled reading about the gasoline shortages during the Second World War. As the Protectorate hadnt used fossil fuels for centuries now, it had first seemed to Julia that none of that would happen now, but she hadnt quite remembered that even the hydrogen fuel processing plants had to be run in order to keep the fuel cell powered vechiles of the city running. Many of those processing plants had been blown to scrap and hydrogen was also rationed now. Luckily, atleast the base substance for extracting hydrogen was in plentifull supply.

"Move your vechile immidiately." Came a voice behind her. She stammered a bit before turning around, her heartbeat having jumped significantly.

The Imperial soldier stood there in his Crimson Red coloured combat armor. He stood a full head taller than Julia, and the massive rifle he carried was enough to make her shudder. As Julia didnt answer immidiately, the soldier repeated.

"Move your vechile immidiately civilian, an Army convoy is coming thru."

She took a deep breath and replied.

"Yes..yes ofcourse, excuse me sir."

She entered her car and started it briskly, and moved it away from the side of the road where she had parked it. The Imperials had a habit of maintaining a clear zone around their convoys, in order to better protect them from possible querilla attacks Julia figured.

She still feared the Imperials every time she met them. She knew they wouldnt just impulsively kill her, they would only kill her on the spot if she was hostile towards them. Otherwise, if they just suspected her of something or if she had done something less severe, they would take her for questioning and processing and then likely depending on the result, kill her. The Imperials did not practice casual physical abuse of civilians much like the Nazi's and Waffen-SS in the second world war had. One thought Julia had feared immensely had risen from the fact that over 80% of the Imperial Ground Forces were men, and since Medusa City had millions of women, Julia being one of them and rather good looking she tended to think, they would indulge in having their way with the female populace as they pleased. But as it was, there had not been to this day a single such case. It was as if the Imperials did not feel any sexual urges at all, and she had heard rumours that supporter that idea. That they had some kind of psycho indoctrination and drugs that kept their urges from developing. It was one tiny drop of relief in a sea of blood and misery.

She steered her car to the interstate, one of the last intact ones that was, and headed towards one of the districts some kilometers out from the centrum. Due to the fact that a lot of the cars had been totaled during the period of urban combat and the fact that their userbase had dropped drastically, the traffic was much less severe than it should have been. Nevertheless, the roads had plenty of vechiles running on them but all of them made way immidiately if an Imperial Tank approached, the outcome of not succeeding in clearing from the secure zone around Imperial vechiles in time was messy, they tended to blow any car apart that failed to move out of the way, before warning the driver to get out.

Luckily, during her drive home no Imperials on the road she used. She parked the car on her usual spot in the carage of the megascraper and took the elevator. The maintenance of the megascraper elevator systems had been kept frequent despite the occupation. Over four fifths of Medusa City's population lived in the megascrapers, and due to their massive height, it was simply impossible to get to the floor you wished to go via stairwells. So, the elevators remained operational, and for that Julia was profoundly gratefull.

Her floor was one of the less crowded ones. Most of the occupants had fled before the Imperials came and many others had died in the defense. There were a couple of old people, some younger women like Julia and then one odd pair. A man and a woman, the woman Julia guessed was somewhere in her forties (altough with prolong she looked like twenty five) and the man something like thirty. They werent married that was for sure, and she doubted they had any close relation. It was as if the woman had some kind of authority over the man. If Julia knew anything of these things, she could have bet that the woman could have become even a high ranking officer in the Armed Forces, her aura of authority and confidence gave Julia that feeling.

And there the two were coming, chatting over something. Julia had a good ear for eavesdropping and she could hear them just before the woman silenced the man.

"With the current situation that's impossible Gener...." The man was saying.

"Shut up Paul." The woman snapped and Paul's mouth closed.

As the distance between the two and Julia lessened, the woman greeted her warmly.

"Good afternoon Mrs' O'Donnel. How bad was it out there?" She queried.

"Afternoon, well it wasnt any better than yesterday and not any worse." Julia answered with a slight smile.

"Imps, bastards like to keep things stable." The woman answered, her voice dripping bitterness like venom at the mention of the enemy army.

"Yes they do. And they are succeeding in it quite well as it appears, they certainly have the muscle
to enforce everyone to live under their heel." Julia said.

"Well, things may still change" The woman replied.

"A day or night doesnt go by without me wishing that. But if you excuse me, the kids are propably screaming for food already. Have a nice day anyway." She said and trotted off to the direction of her apartment.

"A nice day...there hasnt been one in five years." General Sharon Issard, commander of the former 2nd Combat Corps, muttered silently at the fleeting back of the mother who still had hope for a better future.

Fort St. Paul
Diess City Defense Zone

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

"Well aint this a jolly fucking nice day" Captain Nikkol Fukai exclaimed at the front of his pilots. There were murmured agreements and whispers exchanged among them. They all saw the 3D holomap hovering in midair and what High Command expected them to do.

"Right, so we've done this before. It appears that those bloody Imps are going to try defense sector seven this time. The twelth corps is shot to hell as it is, bunch of fucking skeletons with guns these days and judging by the data Intel sent them, General Lefcourt doesnt believe he can hold without extensive support. So, apparently our good boys and girls at the third Panzer are going to go and give them that support. Our job, will be to bomb the shit out of the Imp forward elements."

The latter was evident from the mission orders on the holo. Which ofcourse didnt make the tasking order any more pleasant. The veterans of the squadron had been through similar missions dozens of times and the squadron had every single time lost pilots, pilots and planes that were becoming harder and harder to acquire these days.

Flight paths, navpoints and target zones began to appear on the holo as Fukai touched a few buttons on the remote.

"Straight to the point. Jackson and Sun are going to take the lead, you are going to fly through here," one of the flight routes became brighter " through Yuruun valley. Nape of the earth as usual, set your flight computers to follow program three. The rest of us will follow you. Now, once we get out of the valley here, we wont increase altitude. It will be cutting pretty close to safe altitude for weapons release but we dont have a choice if we wish to live through this shit."

The assembled pilots were compiling notes to their flexipads while making their own adjustments to the data packets they were going to upload to the flight computers aboard their fighters.

"We will go in loaded to bear. Combat maces are in short supply, so each of us will only have two. Silver bullets are in the plentifull though so we will have lots of those, meaning much fun killing Impy tanks. And finally payload munitions with snowflake cluster warheads for crunchies. I doubt we will be doing much strafing with our guns, so only third of a magazine gun ammo."

More compiling of notes.

"After we finish dropping everything on their necks, we will bugger out. Nape of the earth back home through the Gerain Plains. That is ofcourse if any of us will live long enough to fire everything we have and live thru to fly back to base." He finished somberly.

There was a moment of silence.

"Allright, we dust off in twenty. Good hunting people."

Gyokun Valley
520km south-west of Irmansul City

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The Imperial convoy entered the narrowest pass of the valley. Their weapons began panning the surroundings intently their helmet mounted sensors as well as the more powerfull systems in the vechiles checking the valley walls for any abnormalities while the forward scouts checked the area ahead and the ground for anything suspicious.

The M-34 Anti-Personnel Ground Mine, or Bouncing Barbie for anyone outside the procurement department, was largely a very simplistic device. It lacked any heavy power sources, sans those required to power its own small sensor suite. In addition, it's shell was made out of carbon composites and plastic to make it rather difficult to detect. As it was, the Imperial who entered the attack range from the first mine had absolutely no idea that it was there.

As the Imperial's foot came down thirty centimeters from the mine, it detected the temperature change in the air. The ground vibrations and the air vibrations. Its small computer yet checked wether there was an IFF transmission coming from within its attack range in order to determine wether the target was an enemy or a friendly. It detected no IFF. The small computer then concluded that yes this was an enemy, and activated the mine while simultaneously the remaining one hundred and ninety nine mines went thru the same procedure.

The barbie jumped up from the ground to the height of one meter. Having reached its attack altitude, the mine initiated a tiny plasma yield explosion within its core. That explosion superheated the air around the mine, as well as the two hundred tungsten darts that surrounded the center of the mine in a horizontal ring. Propelled by the explosion, the darts shot out from the mines at something close to three times the speed of sound, there were two hundred of the devices.

Less than a second after the unlucky Imperial had set his boot down near the first mine, four thousand superheated tungsten darts filled the air, ripping into the Imperial troopers like a weedeater from hell. The ground around the Imperial vechiles filled with torn combat armor and gore as the mines shredded any happless Imperial trooper unlucky enough to be in their field of coverage.

Two seconds after the mines had gone off, enfillading streams of silver lightning erupted from both sides of the valley, raining down depleted uranium teardrops at the Imperials. The Grim Reaper platoon of the company opened up as well, their automortars coughing grenades at rapid rates of fire.

The Imperials gave their full concentration for the attack coming from the sides of the valley. The towering OGRE combat mechs took up positions covering the sides of the convoy, their arm mounted multibarrel gravguns turning the boulders and stone where they thought the fire was coming from into so much dust and rubble.

The Sarapin APC's began to search for targets with their turret mounted guns. Missiles detached from their racks as they raked the positions where the attack was coming from. Troopers disembarked from the vechiles and fanned out to provide a steady base of fire against the attack. The Imperials still outnumbered the ACS Company by three to one.

Thermo-optical camouflage was rarely of any use against Imperials. Their sensors were good, they could see thru the thermo-optics rather quickly and as such, the systems was rarely used. It had however found some use among the snipers of the armed forces, and the 2nd Generation ACS suits were all equipped with a thermo-optical camouflage system.

Under the cloak of invisibility the system provided Stewart and his platoon, they had approached within two hundred meters of the rear of the Imperial convoy. The Imps, too busy with the attack from the rest of Bravo Company, did not have the time nor the wits to actively scan or check their rear. It was a mistake they often made, one that showed the fuckers were not the military geniuses they thought they were.

Stewarts platoon crept slowly closer, closing the distance to one hundred meters from the rearmost two Sarapin APC's and single Shade Recon Vechile. They were so close that Stewart thought he could spit and hit the Imps from his position, but he intended to give them something a bit harder than spit.

He gave hand signals to the rest of the platoon. Radio silence at this range was a necessity. As ordered, four of the troopers came forward, carrying the platoons only heavy anti-tank equipment. They took up positions lying down in the midst of dirt and stones in the ground and aimed their weapons. Two seconds was all it took to lock on the targets, confirm the lock and press the trigger.

The M-90 ATHVM launchers each spat a single depleted uranium rod, two feet in length. The magnetic rails in the launchers accelerated the small missiles to a speed of three thousand meters per second. Once out of the weapon and a foot away from the launcher, a rocket motor ignited and further accelerated the missiles to forty two hundred meters per second. The end result of which was nearly ninety megajoules worth of kinetic energy being generated as they hit targets.

Two each had been targeted for both APC's. They sliced thru the defense screens like a hot knife thru butter, and punched thru the armor plating as if it hadnt been there. Both of the APC's went up like the independence day fireworks show as their internal munitions cooked off resulting to the massive jump in internal temperature that brought the crew's blood boiling and eventually in the course of one second blew their frail bodies apart in a mist of superheated blood plasma.

The single enemy recon vechile that had been spared from the first volley began to turn, representing its stronger forward defense screens and armor against the attacker from behind. The rear company of the Imperial convoy began to search for the new assailants and began firing sporadically at anything that might be one of the Clairmontian ACS troopers.

Stewart sprinted from one of his troopers to another, checking their ammunition and status. The downsides of the ACS and their weapons were the facts that firstly, the guns ate through all the onboard ammo in an ACS suit rather quick in a prolonged combat, and secondly the suits needed a lot of power and thus their maximum operating time was rather limited. At the moment though, neither of those problems had come up during the course of this mission.

"Fuckin A', fine killing indeed, but its only about to get better." Stewart yelled within his own suit and dialed in to Fire Central while his suit AI was already sketching up the co-ordinates for a fire mission to the neck of the Imperials.

As the secure line to fire central came available, Stewart began to relay the map grid and co-ordinates.

"Central central. Fire mission. Target enemy convoy. Request hundred rounds of ICM"

As Stewart spoke, his suit AI transferred the specific co-ordinates and enemy disposition to the fire central. Few seconds passed as the computers at the artillery fire co-ordination center chewed thru the request.

"Central confirms. Ranging in twelve... on the way. Splash in four-five seconds."

The forty five seconds felt like hours when Stewart and his platoon began to take heavy fire from the Imperials and the icon of a trooper after another winked dead on Stewart's display. Then the barrage was upon them. The hundred 220mm rounds broke apart at an altitude of one hundred meters. A few of them contained several guided anti-vechile warheads while ninety of them contained ICM, or Improved Cluster Munitions. Each of the ICM rounds had a payload of one hundred submunitions, each of those submunitions was a smaller version of an M-34 Bouncing Barbie, only without the extensive sensors and thick casing.

As the submunitions dropped amidst the Imperial troops, they blew open in similar manner to the Bouncing Barbies, and in two second, nearly one hundred thousand small tungsten darts filled the air.

The hurricane of steel didnt so much kill the Imperial troopers as it simply tore them to tiny chunks of flesh, splattering their blood and gore all over the valley. Altough Imperial personal armor and combat armor were extremely resilient, they had a snowballs chance in hell of withstanding the fury of the rain of submunitions.

Three seconds after the last submunition had blown, the valley was like a scene from a slaughterhouse. Barely discernable body parts of Imperial soldiers lay everywhere, and the ground had received a new colouring of dark red. The mangled and burning ruins of all but one of the Imperial vechiles added to the scene of carnage. Overall, only a half a company worth of Imp troops along with a single recon vechile and OGRE bot had survived to this point, and they had scant few seconds to live as fire missions from the Grim Reaper suits began raining down on them along with actining streams of silver lightning slashing their positions.

Hyper Velocity Missiles streaked thru air once more as Stewart's platoon targeted the last two Imperial mechanicals and blew them to bits. The Shade recon vechile simply blew up, the OGRE combat bot fell over with a massive hole in its torso.

The last of the Imperials gathered around in a circle, taking cover wherever they could and began laying down all the fire they could. Stewart did not intend to give them quarter however, and ordered his platoon to advance. The remaining twenty two combat capable troopers in his platoon opened fire at the Imperials while Stewart himself started to creep closer to them.

As the number of the Imperials came down to three thanks to accurate fire from Bravo Company's troopers, Stewart saw his opening to close in with the remaining three. Fire from the company and his platoon began to slacken as the risk to hit their lieutenant became apparent. Captain Miyazaki silently cursed the lieutenant. The man had a habit of always taking the fight up-close and personal whenever the possibility arose. He didnt know Trent's background, all he did know was that he was a damn good ACS tactician, he fought like a madman and that the Tappee First-X agent Sigmund Xavier followed the young man everywhere. Even now the mysterious Tappee agent was somewhere with Stewart's platoon. Miyazaki didnt know what was the thing between those two, and he figured some day he had to ask.

As Stewart closed with the last remaining Imperials under the cover of his thermo-optical camouflage. He unsheathed his two combat blades. The foot and a half long monomolecular edged blades extruded from the wrists of his ACS suit, he threw the first swing at the closest Imperial.

The beheaded corpse of the hapless Imperial corporal fell down two seconds later as the blade cut the neck of the trooper. The two remaining Imperials began to turn, the second soonfinding one of Stewart's combat blades embedded in his stomach. Stewart drew the blade away from the enemy's stomach and made a scissor cut with his blades to make sure that the Imperial would fall down dead.

The last Imperial had the time to draw his own blade, which soon dropped to the ground along with the arm that had clutched it as Stewart's second blade cut off the arm from the elbow. The man began to scream as the pain and shock struck him. The scream soon turned to a gurgle though as a well placed combat blade opened his throat.

Finding no more enemies to kill, Stewart relaxed his posture and retracted the blades back to their sheathes while his platoon was performing an advance over the Imperial convoy's position, maintaining alert in case there were any more of the enemy lurking in the shadows. As it occurred however, there were none and the platoon, or what was left of it, gathered around their lieutenant.

His armor scarred and cratered from shots that hadnt penetrated and the dark red of drying blood over his arms and chest, he was quite a sight. Stewart was just lucky that his men couldnt see how he was shaking inside the armor. Never during battle did it occur, but always afterwards when he was looking over the scenes of carnage he began trembling. A part of him was glad that he was paying back to the killers of his family, but a part of him dreaded what would he become if this war continued much longer.

Clairmont

30-11-2005, 16:31

Scylla System, Scylla III,
4th Imperium Space

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

Colonel Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike, 501st Batt. ACS stared unseeing at the meatgrinder that the landing zone had become. Not that he wasnt used to seeing it, he had watched the same carnage unravel at half a dozen planets now, and watching it never became easier. Imperial and Clairmontian blood alike flowed on the plains of planet Scylla III as the Imperials furiously attempted to wipe away the trespassers to their world while the Clairmontians were busy creating a killzone around the landing area to make it somewhat secure.

Thus far, the hour worth of fighting had resulted in a single kilometer in diameter zone that had been secured of Imperials. Far too small to be a secure bridgehead, it was the job of the 501st Batt. the 4th Cadre Drop Commando's and the 53rd and 109th regiments of Fleet Strike to make it bigger.

The air was filled with the contrails of missiles and fighters alike as Imperials and the Allies fought for the control of the skies. Amongst the fighting strikecraft was a steady exchanging of fire between ground batteries and the ships in orbit. Actinic lines traced across the skies as kinetic energy projectiles went up and down, and the steady hammering of fusion bolts struck at unseen Imperial planetary defense centers.

The first time he had observed the scene, it had looked amazing, encapturing even. Now, O'Neal couldnt give it more than a passing interest before he transmitted a new series of orders in rapid fire.

"Bravo, tighten that right flank goddamnit, you've got leakers!"

"Charlie, Alpha weapons firing MRSI volleys, neutralize that fucking bunker at point able-niner now!"

Around him, the commanders of the other units were screaming commands as well. While their men lacked the Armored Combat Suits that allowed the 501st to become an incredibly cohesive and well co-ordinated force, their orders as well were rapidly received, understood and executed.

A series of explosions blossomed a hundred meters north of O'Neal's position. His suit AI had already figured out what had caused the detonations and where the cause had come from.

"Arty, the buggers are trying to hit the ceepee." O'Neal murmured to himself. There was no need to inform the other commanders of that fact, they could see it plainly as day as the recon drones fed the data to their helmet HUD's.

And sooner than not, the Command Post was already relocating. Two minutes later sure enough, O'Neal saw a good sized salvo land to the spot where the cp had been then, good thing that they had learned years ago that rapidly shifting command post was necessary for these operations.

He trotted off from the command post to his Alpha Company, Alpha Weapons as it was known, the 501st' Grim Reaper Troopers. The bulky suits were quite a bit different from the regular Armored Combat Suits. They were bigger for one, they had to be in order to carry all the ammunition for the support weapons they could mount, and secondly they carried a lot more weapons. Which was part of the problem, a Grim Reaper suit could go through its internal ammunition in two minutes if they really put an effort to expending it. The stubby automortars carried by all of the Reaper suits on their shoulders, in addition to their arm mounted arsenals, were in the process of spewing out 60mm grenades in rapid fire.

O'Neal could see their ammo status from the data provided to him by his command suit and the ammunition levels of Alpha Weapons were dropping like waterfall. The ammunition carriers were moving as fast as they could between the companies, replenishing the ammo storages. Alpha had been resupplied three times, and they had shot through all of it.

"If we dont get some support soon..." Gunnery Sergeant Ernesto Pappas muttered beside him, audible on their secure channel.

"The bastards have seen us go through this half a dozen times now, and still they wont relent." Sergeant Major Melissa Mao scoffed, standing at O'Neal's right.

The three had been in the same Battalion since the start of the war for five years now, and they had become an unbreakable and incredibly well working team. They got along with each other extremely well. O'Neal knew he could count on the Sergeant Major and Gunnery Sergeant to back him up to hell if necessary (and they had) and both Melissa Mao and Ernesto Pappas knew that the Old Man had what it took to win a hopeless battle after another and bring them home alive.

The ground vibrated once again as another kinetic munition struck down not too far from the landing zone, the fireball and expanding mushroom cloud beginning to appear past the crest of a hill five kilometers south of the LZ. Not that being close to nuke level weapons really shook O'Neal anymore. He had three of the silver starbursts pinned to the chest of his dress blues, indicating that he had been in the blast area, or blast wave area of a nuclear weapon for three times.

Imperial Planetary Defense centers quickly responded to the strike, sending defiance in the form of depleted uranium up to the heavens to pummel the vessel that had fired the shot.

O'Neal's communications system came to life as the sound of the Fleet Strike commander came through in a general broadcast over to all the commanding officers involved in clearing the bridgehead.

"The fourteenth Panzer is coming down along with the hundred and first and fifty first marines, were going to kick these motherless fuckers to the nearest ocean once they arrive."

At the announcement, O'Neal had mixed feelings. He was glad to see the marines coming down. Damn tough fighters with good equipment, but the Vierzehnte Panzer Abteilung was a part of a unit that he found hard to call his comrades in arms. Unbeknownst to many, there was a lot of German heritage in the Clairmontian society. That heritage was reflected on many things, military and civil engineering as well as parts of the society. German was one of the major used languages among the Clairmontian people.

As so, when the war had gotten intense over measure, someone at the Command Echelons had made a grande idea of founding a new Army Group under the general direction of the High Command but not directly tied to neither the Fleet Strike, Marines or the Army. The purpose of this Army Group would be to act as an elite unit, ready to be dispatched anywhere at any time and it would respond only to the top. Apparently, General Mühlenkampf had been a history major in University and specialized in World War II which was where he had gotten the idea from. O'Neal knew his history well enough too, and the background of Mühlenkampf's pet formation he knew quite well and he was sure that the Protector and other High Commanders knew of it as well, and yet they had green lighted the idea.

Such as it was, the majority of the support he would be receiving down on this god forsaken planet would come from Division Michael Hoffmann, 3rd Korps of the State Security SS.

And yet, O'Neal was uncomfortable dealing with them. Which didnt mean that he would not have wanted those damn tough bastards to land with their Tiger III's and blow the Imperials to hell.

The vapour contrails of descending Assault Dropships became apparent in the sky as the 62nd Brigade of division Michael Hoffmann was being brought to the surface of Scylla III. The bulky aerospace craft were the primary means of transportation for heavy armour used by Fleet Strike and Marines. They could bring down no less than four Templar Heavy Main Battle Tanks at one drop, but even so, fitting one of Fourteenth Panzer's Tiger III's in was a very tight fit.

Colonel Hans Brasche surveyed the immidiate vicinity of the landing zone as his lead Tiger came down on the ground. The massive mountain of steel some lunatic still insisted on calling a tank crested in a valley, shielded from the Imperial direct fire weapons. Her drones were feeding visual data up from the skies.

"What a total rat-fuck." Specialist Thomas Vaughan sighed as he looked over the same visual feed in his gunners monitor.

Brasche did not bother to comment, he had seen the similar kind of mess half a dozen times now and they had a doctrine for dealing with it. He glanced over to his command screen where the icons of the 607th Battalion's Tigers were blinking to life. Satisfied by the speed at which the tanks under his command reported readiness he began to deliver orders in rapid fire.

"Gunner, load combat mace. Primary mortars with anti-personnel, fifty round simultaneous impact. Close support weapons ready to suppress enemy positions."

"Driver, take us up to the crest of that hill, constant evasive."

A mere moment passed by as Vaughan configured the autoloader to load up the ordered round while the number two and three gunners configured the fire plan for the mortars and the multi-barreled miniguns that acted as the tanks primary close in weapons.

"Ready to rock and roll boss." Vaughan announced as his screen indicated green on the gun.

"Fire"

The 305mm railgun of the Tiger III/B belched fire as it spat a bulbous round up on a high angle to the skies. The round travelled the distance of 34 kilometers from the barrel of the gun to its destination in less than a second. As the round reached its destination, a mere set of co-ordinates high up in the air. It aligned itself to point down, broke up, releasing two hundred small tungsten bars to a state of freefall for a fraction of a second before the actuator on the round initiated a tiny fusion reaction in the remainder of the round. The Tungsten bars were immidiately turned mostly to plasma, and accelerated to velocities in excess of hundred kilometers per second. The shower of plasma state tungsten bars struck the ground, releasing energies comparable to small nuclear bombs.

Each of 607th Battalion's 62 Tiger's repeated the firing, creating large gaps in the Imperial lines, blowing apart men, armour and fortifications as if they had been made of plywood. And then the battalion moved, all of the Tiger's in unison, taking formation behind their leader and coming over the crest of the hill that had hid them from direct line of sight from the Imperials up till now. Even as they moved, half a dozen automatic mortars on each Tiger spat rapid volleys of grenades to saturate the estimated positions of the Imperial troops. There was no certainty to their disposition and dispersal, battlefield electronic warfare saw to that.

Cheers erupted from many of the troops as they saw the massive battle tanks start charging at the Imperials in a classic armoured charge. Shooting at every enemy their optics saw, every source of weapons fire they detected and every thermal signature that lacked an IFF signal.

As they smashed thru the gathered Imperial Battalions while being supported by a full armoured regiment, for a while they seemed invincible and to those who had not seen those beasts being ripped open like sardine cans they sure as hell would seem invincible. But Major Michael O'Neal knew that the crews of those Tiger's were aware that they were everything but invincible. The sheer size of the tanks made sure that they quickly became prime targets for Imperial heavy weapons. And while anti-missile systems and armor always did their best, the sheer volumes of fire the Imps could throw at the tanks could make them burn. But for now, momentarily they were an invinsible wall of fire and steel that wiped away the Imperials who had encircled the landing zone.

As a concentrated barrage from an overflying squadron of fighters followed by a consolidated attack by both the 501st Battalion and the 82nd Armour annihilated the last major formation of Imperial troops, O'Neal allowed himself a short moment of respite. He cracked his helmet, the undergel separating his bare body from the suit glowed faint silver as the molecular bond that it used to connect the helmet to the suit was broken.

The air smelled of burned flesh, blood, cordite, smoke, burning hydrogen and a mixture of scents O'Neal couldnt recognize. A person unused to the smell of a battlefield would have vomited right there. O'Neal had a lot of experience, it still took him effort to hold his lunch down. He broke a pack of cigarettes from one of the storage compartments in his suit and lit one of the cancer sticks. Sure, with so much smoking lung cancer was a distinct possibility. Not that it actually mattered worth a damn when reconstructor nanos could fix such a nuisance in a week. The Doctors still found the time to bitch about it though.

The ground began shaking and O'Neal turned to look behind him, one of the Tiger's was approaching him and it seemed that the driver had the intent of driving over him. Luckily, that wasnt the case afterall, the driver of the steel behemoth parked it next to O'Neal and the hatch atop the turret, fifteen meters off the ground popped open and a man clad in a black uniform came up. O'Neal recognized Hans Brasche, the commander of the 607th Panzer Battalion of Division Michael Hoffmann.

They eyed each other for a few moments before the SS Colonel broke the silence between them.

"One more nail to the Imperial coffin eh O'Neal?"

O'Neal took another pull from the cigar and surveyed the horizon where the occasional actinic lines of silver slashed up or down, mushroom clouds reaching out to the skies from the spots where the small artificial suns of thermonuclear warheads or hellbores had struck.

"Yeah, or one more to ours." The ACS Major murmured as he watched the torn suits of several of hismACS troops, burning tanks and blasted bodies all over the landing zone. Victories against the Imperium only came at a terrible cost.

Diess City Defense Zone
Map Grid 34/D Altitude: 90ft

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

Usually everything went smoothly to the point when someone started shooting, and to Fukai's relief everything had went smoothly thus far as his squadron shot through the bottom of Yuruun valley at over fifteen hundred kilometers per hour.

It was all on automatic during this phase of the mission. No human brain could react fast enough to avoid collision if the terrain changed fast, no human brain could be without error and as such the avionics of Fukai's fighter handled everything at this point. The inertial navigation system and terrain mapping radar were working together with the flight computer, adjusting the flightpath of the fighter as it flew nape of the Earth.

He took a casual glance at the digital screen displaying the map of the mission area. Sixty seconds before the flight of 12 fighters would come out of the valley and into the teeth of the Imperials. Or rather, the Imperials would be in THEIR teeth. By reflex Fukai checked his armaments, making sure that the bay doors of his one and two weapons bays were working, making sure that the rotary launcher would release the weapons as it should. All checked green, the base maintenance crews knew their jobs and did them well.

The remainining seconds ticked by slowly, so very slowly as the exit of the valley approached. Fukai checked his sensor screens. The JSTAR planes circling high above Diess city were giving him their own data from the battlefield as well as relaying him data from the ground troops in contact with the Imperials, as well as aerial surveillance and other aircraft. The combined data network was giving him a wealth of information about the target area, and it was a target rich environment indeed.

There was no time to turn back as the fighters shot thru the exit gap of the valley and into the open, only ten kilometers away from the main consentration of Imperial forces.

Fukai's Ground Target Designator immidiately began giving him targets, armoured fighting vechiles, troop carriers, consentrations of infantry and artillery pieces. The two JSTAR planes above Diess city yet adding their own wealth of data to his own.He selected two of the designations in his HUD by concentrating his iris' on them. He thumbed the weapon selector on the stick and pressed the trigger.

Two Hyper Velocity Kinetic Energy Missiles ,or "Silver Bullets" to everyone outside the logistics department, dropped out of the number two weapons bay. They remained in a state of freefall long enough to drop to safe distance from the fighter, then initiated the plasma rockets that in the short space of time accelerated them to a velocity of over nine thousand meters per second.

They had practically no guidance to speak of after they finished the acceleration, nor did they need any for by that time they would already have struck or soon would strike their target. At a range of less than ten kilometers, the two Imperial tanks Fukai had targeted vanished in fireballs only three seconds after he had pressed the trigger.

The rest of the squadron was following suite, selecting targets for their silver bullets and blowing apart as many of the tanks as they could. Fireball after another lit up in the distance, the funeral pyres of Imperial tanks and their crews.

Fukai sent away his last two silver bullets, the first failed to hit its target as the jammers onboard the Imperial tank had thrown it slightly off-course at the beginning stages of its flight. The second gracefully blew apart a troop carrier.

The Imperials however were starting to react to the new participants in the battle. Sensors began attempting to acquire hard locks on the twelve fighters, targeting sensors began painting them to the best of their ability and anti-air weapons started tracking the intruders.

The lock on warning in Fukai's console alerted him to the danger, and before he could do anything else Grav Cannon rounds were already zipping past his fighter. The range was far too short for missiles, but for cannons the altitude and range at which Fukai's squadron flew made them ideal targets. It did not take too long for the Imperial efforts to bear fruit as Falcon-8 blew apart in mid-air, showering the forest below with small pieces of airframe and lighting the sky as its fuel tanks blew in a brilliant fireball.

Fukai had no time to mourn the dead comrade, and selected the two combat maces in his fighters belly designating a target area for them. The missiles obediently accepted the target data, the weapons control system aboard Fukai's fighter feeding them telemetry.

The two missiles dropped away, their engines commencing their thrust immidiately as they cleared the safe perimeter from the aircraft. They shot away, following the terrain closely and flying nape of the Earth in order to minimize the risk of interception. As their target area came closer, they rapidly began taking in altitude in order to reach their terminal attack altitude as quickly as possible. Streams of tracer and laser bolts tried to vaporize the two missiles and succeeded in destroying one of them, the second reached its terminal attack point without difficulties.

As the fusion reaction turned the tungsten bars within the warhead to plasma and accelerated them towards the ground at immense velocities, everything within the two hundred meter diameter blast-effect area vanished. Infantry troopers simply were vaporized, tanks got blown to tiny pieces, trees flash burned to ash and the shockwave further annihilated or destroyed everything within another three hundred meters.

The eleven remaining fighters of VF-475 had launched a total of twenty-two combat maces, fifteen of them had reached their terminal attack points and detonated. In that one instant, a single Imperial Battalion lost over 41% of its combat capability. But the attack was not yet over.

The fighters were quite literally nearly on top of the Imperial forward elements, most of them consisting of infantry. The fighters of the squadron detached the bulbous payload munitions from beneath their wings. The large objects resembling simple fuel tanks dropped gracefully to the altitude of fifty meters where they broke apart, showering the underlying terrain with thousands of small bomblets. As the bomblets struck the ground, they detonated, the mixture of white phosphorous and high-explosive within them being enough to kill or maim Imperials with ease.

Having depleted their main ordance, the squadron increased their speed radically to the maximum their flight computers allowed when flying nape of the Earth. In pairs, they began zipping over the forests, plains and destroyed countryside back to base. Imperial Anti-Air missiles followed them and two more of VF-475's fighters plummeted to the ground, a third plane went down to a SAM before they could shake the locks the Imperial missile launchers had established on them. Lieutenant Trevor Banks however succesfully ejected from his doomed plane before it was blown to pieces, Lieutenants Rachel Dornby, Matthew Chains and Eric Lindell had not been so lucky.

For three pilots and four planes lost, the squadron had left behind over five hundred dead Imperials, fifty three armored fighting vechiles and several artillery pieces. Someone might have called the operation a blazing success, the losses of those three pilots being regrettable but acceptable casualties. To Captain Fukai, those acceptable casualties were friends and comrades who he would never see again. Atleast they had been lucky enough to get away from the war.

Qualtren System
Expeditionary Force Flagship Sword of Liberty

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The piles of hardcopy on the briefing room table were messed up. Empty coffee mugs and water pots lying amongst them. The room reeked of humanity as the commanders of the Clairmont Space Navy contignent of the Expeditionary Force continued the meeting for the seventh hour in a row. The discussion amongst the High Commanders of the CSN fleets part of the Expeditionary Force, was stress laden and in many cases snapped replies and questions revealed how on edge exactly everyone present in the room was. Five years of constant war and the responsibility of command would do that to a man.

"As it is we are in no position to make a new move immidiately. Taking Scylla cost us heavully and the next reinforcements from Home are still five months away. Even the optimistic repair schedules here are saying four months at the very least to restore the damaged ships to combat status."

There were murmured opinions shared between the Admirals as Admiral Alex Rowe, Supreme Commander of the Expeditionary Force brought up the repair schedule report that had been filed to his message queue that morning.

"Admiral Rowe, that was to be expected. But the question is, once we regain our combat capability, where should we strike next? As it stands, the Imperium still holds one major Fleet Base where Intel believes they are holding the remnants of their mobile forces outside the Birhat System and core Imperium. That Fleet Base resides approximately sixty-seven lightyears from Scylla, at the Tarsis Ultra system. It is my opinion that we should capitalize upon our success and wipe out that Base in order to neutralize the Imperial Battle Fleet's capability to project force without uncovering their core systems." Admiral Trevor Alvarez, Commander of the 1st Battlesquadron of 8th Fleet stated while highlighting the locations of his choosing in the holomap.

While a strategically sound plan and undoubtly it would hold merit, Rowe was not entirely convinced that it would be the best course of action to undertake. He decided not to voice his doubts however, avoiding any possible implications that Alvarez wouldn't have had depth in his strategic thinking. The man was a sound tactician and not at all a bad Naval Strategist, but sometimes he did not see all the problems of a certain plan.

"It is not an issue to be solved at this time. We have four months at a minimum, four months during which all offensive operations will have to be suspended. We will consolidate and lick our wounds and then we will consider where to strike next. Now, unless anyone has anything new to bring up and about, we will end this meeting."

There were no announcements or words, all of the commanders dreadfully tired.

"Very well, go and get some sleep people."

The assembled Navy Officers gathered their belongings and filed out of the Fleet Flag Briefing Room efficiently, the Marine sentries at both sides of the hatch snapping to attention as the men and women came out and headed for the boat bays.

Rowe gathered the piles of hardcopy he had brought to the meeting, meticulously placing the printouts to their folders before he allowed himself to leave the room. He thanked BuShips for their infinite wisdom for having placed the Flag Officer's quarters only thirty meters away from the Briefing Room. He still recalled some of the earliest spaceborne warship designs the CSN had fielded, over three centuries before. The captains had actually had to go five decks and three hundred meters before reaching their quarters from the bridge. Luckily, those things had never seen real combat before save some anti-piracy work.

His thoughts came to a halt as he nodded to the two Marine sentries standing on both sides of his cabin hatch. He stepped in, throwing the folders of hardcopy next to the computer. His limbs felt heavy, eyelids ready to fall down any moment and despite prolong and being a healthy seventy two years old, he felt like he was standing at the doorstep to death the three days without any sleep having wreaked havoc on his body.

He sat down to his workstation, checking the message queue, one was tagged a priority, and Rowe opened it.

[**Source: FleetLink A/1...Sublink Tetra 78...FTLCOMMSTAT Volition Alpha... Sol System]
[**Initiating Fleet Decrypter]
[**Opening File Header]
[**Sec Pass ************]
[**Authorization Acknowledged]

Hello Alex

Its been over three months since our last communique and I decided its about time to get back in touch.
I wish I had some good news, but mostly its all the same. There have been over a dozen major attacks
during the last three months, all of them we have repelled but not without losses as usual. It still seems
as if the damn Imps have an endless supply of troops to throw at us but we know that even they have to
be pretty battered by now. The official determination back here remains the same and as such we have
been unable to take any counter-attacks at the Imps. Im not sure whether its a stupid or smart move to
be frank, I've never been too good with ground wars. But the truth is, we're scraping the bottom of the barrel
Alex. Even the ACS are down to a single full strength division, the Cadre are all left in one single understrength
Regiment. Getting new hardware from the manufacturies at Diess is a real bitch with the Imperials doing
whatever they can to stop the convoys from getting thru. As such, the new stuff we get is a trickle when
we would need a torrent. The Imperials have been heavully concentrating on Diess now and truth be told
we have no idea how long we can hold on to it.

Your last report however lifted the morale here quite a bit. Knowing that you are right on the doorstep of
the Imperium's Core has given everyone fresh hope for tomorrow. Five years of this nightmare, two billion
dead Alex, we need every bit of good news we can get from you. But I got to get going now, good luck
my friend and pile them up like cordwood.

Tom
[**Message ends]

Tappee

15-12-2005, 02:54

“Do you think that we will ever know peace?” asked Admiral Jensen as he stared out the window. He was watching the Tappee fleet moving about the space around the space station. There was such a mix of ships out there, new ships, old ship, damage ships, and new ships being built. The irony of the sight was not lost on him, it was a good reflection of every thing that had transpired over the last five the years. The Imperium war, and the Orion war before that had taken it’s toll on Tappee’s military force. Countless lives had been lost, ship were being destroyed as fast that they were being built, and despite all the ground that they had gained there was no end in sight.

With the dismissal of Admiral Dodalla five years prior for insubordination, the burden of commanding the Tappee forces through these troubled times had fallen on the shoulders of the two men sitting in the room. Lives of countless people rest on the decisions that they were forced to make, decision that no living being should be forced to make.

“It has been said that we are judged not on how we handle the good time, but how we handle the tough times” answered Admiral Martac to Jensen questions. “We knew from the beginning that this was going to be tough fight.” He rose from his chair and joined Jensen at the window “When the time come we will all atone for sins.”

“It my sins that worry me, it’s the lives of soldiers, even I am growing weary of the war.” Jensen’s burden was starting not only in his face, but also in his voice.

“It has been said that if try lose no one, in the end you will lose every one. Causalities are the harsh reality that we are forced to face. Every victory brings one step closer to an end of the blood shed.” Martac paused for a moment as he wondered if his own words were true. “Yes those victories cost us dearly, and even the island of Clairmont has almost fallen. But we have to look at the most important fact; we are still here, despite the Imperium over all advantage we still fight on. We must not lose sight of that fact.”

“We need the Rhine Maiden” shot Jensen quickly before he had time to think about it.

Martac’s response came just as quick as Jensen slip “No!. The Rhine Maiden should be used only in the direst of circumstances. It should not even exist in my opinion.” There was a but handful of people that knew of the Rhine Maiden, even fewer knew the full extent of it power, it had been shrouded in secrecy even from Tappee’s closest allies. Some believed that it was illegal to create such a weapon, while others had moral objections to using it. “Besides, even on our advanced timetable it will be at least another two years before the Rhine Maiden is complete, and another year of testing after that.” Martac added. “The thing that separates us from them is not always clear, but we will become that what we have fought to destroy.”

“Then what will you have do then” yelled Jensen back in anger “How many more lives will have to be sacrificed

Martac simply ignored Jensens outburst, instead chose to keep his attention focus out the window at the ships that passed by the station “We have become lost my friend, we have forgotten our greatest strength, our allies.” His voice was calm and steady. “We have fought are war our against the Imperium, while Clairmont has fought their war. Even though we fight the same enemy, we both are fighting different wars, for different reasons. We have become divided, a fact that our enemies have for some time used to their advantage.” He briefly glanced over at Martac “That time is over. I’ve received word that Clairmont forces have taken the Scylla system, I have ordered Field Commander Jefferys and 1st, 2nd, and 8th RRD’s to the Scylla system to help bolster the Clairmont lines. I’m also pushing the reserves to the forward lines. I wanted you to contact Clairmont command and begin coordinating with them for a possible offensive push.”

This new hit Jensen by surprise, at first he thought that Martac was joking, but he knew the men well enough to know that this was not the case simply by the way that Martac was carrying him self “It we push our reserves to the front then that might possible open us to a counter offensive.”

“We are either going to ride this wave to the end, or be crushed by it” answered Martac “Dodalla once said either we stand united, or united we fall. That’s why she disobeyed orders and sent soldier on the island of Clairmont, that is why we must now work more then any with Clairmont, so that we can bring a swift end to this conflict.”

For the first time in while Jensen actually felt a glimmer of hope, there was such resolve in Martac’s words, it had been so long since he had any hope that he had forgotten what it felt like. “Very well I’ll personally send a message to Clairmont command and request a meeting.” A smile came over Jensens face as he turned to leave the room.

Alone in the room Martac continued to stare out the window, he began to wonder just how many of the ships that he was looking at would still be around when the dust finally settled.

Island Of Clairmont

With the battle finally over Sigmund felt that it was finally safe to his helmet off, as the seal broke he took in his first breath of fresh air in some time. Life on the battlefield was far from plesent, the basic things such as a shower were luxuries that no one here got afford, and the smell at time could build up in the suit. Unlike some many others Sigmund didn’t have to be here, as member of the First X he could have easily been assigned to some safe bunker hidden away from the horrors war, reading endless reports and analysing the latest intelligence. However, he was here, in the thick of things, fulfilling a promise that he made to an old friend that had met his too soon. Sometime fulfilling that promise tended to a bit trying at times thanks the exploits of a certain young man.

“You are not the only one fighting this war” snapped Sigmund at Stewart. “There was little need for you too engage them hand to hand.” There were times when Strewarts blood lust caused him to worry; he could understand the young mans need for revenge. At time the thirst for revenge put Stewart at higher risk then others.

Vrak

23-12-2005, 09:57

Fort Jansei

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The fall of General Riouk sent shockwaves throughout the Vrakian forces in Clairmont. He was, in a word, a warrior. He has gone to the Great Clam and now for three long years, the burden of command fell to the broad shoulders of the battle fielded promoted General Lok Prag – a hardened soldier walrus in his own right.

-This war, will it end?
-General?
-Ah…what a brutal campaign eh?

The walrus looked over the depleting ranks of the Vrakians that managed to scramble out of Medusa and back here to the relative safety of behind the perimeter. The Imperial attack that broke through the lines were the heaviest he had seen and cost an ungodly amount of troops and equipment. He himself was flipper deep in gore, fighting in his own war armour before being frantically grabbed by his trusted guard else he be ground under the Imperial heel.

He reflected again on the single devastating naval loss at the hand of the Imperials north of Clairmont. Oh sure, the current fleet sent now was bigger and better with more subs and more ICBMs and faster missiles. But it didn’t amount to a hill of beans against the Imperials. All they had been able to do was play cat and mouse and perhaps only annoy the enemy. He couldn’t tell if his homeland was sending in more troops. Only Bok knows what happened to the SOATs in Imperial space and he was sure that they were in limited production. No. He couldn’t count on much more immediate Vrakian support now. It took time and, most importantly, they couldn’t break the lines from the outside to relieve troops that were presently under siege.

He looked at the map again. The Imperials were drawing the net closer on the remaining populace and troops. Unless some kind of outside breakthrough could be realized, it was hopeless. It was small comfort to know that the remaining troops were becoming more fanatical and more familiar with Clairmontian and captured Imperial weaponry.

-Prepare the altar. I want to sacrifice at least one Imperial before I die.

Another thing about this war. There were always the captured which made ideal victims for the sacrifices that the Vrakians made. At first, the troops were disgusted the introduction of the blood sacrifices. Too superstitious they said and, more worrisome, too much like their own horrid past that many were taught to never repeat. But, given the nature of this war, it was fast becoming like the Great Blood Wars of old. So, why not bring back the Old Ways of War? We will die soon enough. In fact, thought Prag, if those stuffy priests in the capital don’t make a scroll detailing the exploits of all who fought here, he would carve a path of gore to the Head Priest himself and demand it else forfeit the codger’s life.

The Imperial trooper seemed almost fragile when stripped of his powered armour. Four burly soldiers dragged him from the pen and roughly shoved him up the crude, stone altar just outside the General’s tent. Dark blood stains covered the altar along with strewn bones. The Imperial shrieked as he tried to get away but he was hoisted up in the air and slammed down onto the unyielding rock.

The walrus approached, lifting a razor tipped tusk high over the terrified enemy and…with a quick movement, plunged the tusk into the sternum and cracked the ribs wide open. Blood gushed freely and the Vrakians held the spasmodic Imperial. A wicked gleam fell over their eyes and the rest of the gathered troops began to whoop. The General impaled the enemy repeatedly and then, in an act of pure barbarity, began to feast on the unmoving corpse. After a few minutes, he looked up with bloodsoaked whiskers and mouth and, with a gurgle croak, boomed,

-To war!

OOC: Can edit if necessary. Sorry for lack of details. Holidays and eggnog. I'll t-gram you shortly, Clairmont.

Clairmont

06-01-2006, 23:22

Hephaestus Fleet Anchorage/Shipyard

January 3rd 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

"Im fucking telling you, it cant be done! What the hell is so hard to understand about that!?" The yard dog yelled frustratedly.

Commander Dennis Sunday could feel the last bits of his patience slipping away. Sometimes he could not for the life of him conjure up enough energy to survive with his sanity intact through another day, but here he still was, and here he was still arguing over the same issue. He summoned up the last tidbits of his patience and spoke back calmly to the older man who was busy throwing a tantrum at his face.

"I have no difficulty in understanding what you are saying, the point Im trying to bring across however is that you have to make impossible into possible. The Iconoclasm's have to be ready for the fleet trials in three months." The Commander said, referring to the as yet unfinished second batch of the 4th Generation Iconoclasm-class Superdreadnoughts.

The yard chief threw up his hands in disgust, his facial features distorting as the anger and frustration boiled.

"Listen to me you fucking boneheaded baboon! I've explained this a million goddamn times but I'll indulge you and explain it again! We cant get them ready in three months. All the twelve are missing their main battery hellbores not to mention CIC and a portion of their goddamn Nemesis arrays. Thats five months at minimum. I cant just fucking magically produce men and material to make it happen any quicker!"

That was all of the bullshit Dennis Sunday was ready to take as the last bit of his patience burned away and the anger spawned by the yard chief's whining overwhelmed his temper.

"I DONT GODDAMN CARE! Go directly to the Vice Admiral if you need to! The order came from the top. You understand that you whining little shit? That means it came from the Admiralty, and that means you will get those fucking ships ready in THREE months or I'll kick your sorry ass out of the nearest airlock!"

He didnt bother to wait for the man to respond, but rather left him to figure out whether the Commander would really dump him out of the airlock or not. Personally, Sunday wasn't entirely sure the job could be done in the time allotted by the Admiralty and BuShips. The first batch of the new SD's had taken a full eleven months to clear the yards and now they somehow expected the already heavully burdened Hephaestus to complete another twenty two in a total time of nine months? Considering the haphazard state at which they needed to churn out ships these days, Sunday was certain that the time would come when a ship would just blow up due to an unnoticed reactor fault, its inertial compensator would fail or fall victim to some other equally catastrophic failure. Human error was far too likely to happen now.

A group of junior officers passed by him, saluting crisply as they did so. While prolong made the job of determining age by looks very difficult, Sunday guessed them to be somewhere around twenty two at best. Fresh out of the Fleet Academy and straight to the grinder. The war had consumed a great percentage of the trained navy personnel and the Fleet Academies had never been intended to be used so heavully during wartime. But none could have foreseen the magnitude of the tithe of blood that fighting against the Imperium required and fighting the war on two fronts caused much higher casualties than an offensive or defensive only action would have taken.

Nevertheless, the decision to engage the Imperium on their own territory immediately was still considered by High Command to have been the right option. The massive expeditionary forces of Tappee, Vrak and Clairmont had tied up the Imperial Navy and Army to commit themselves fully to the defense of their territory instead of attempting a follow-on attack against the severely weakened defenses of Clairmonts home. To many civilians the situation however was much less clear. Afterall, when taking into consideration all the planets the Expeditionary Force had already conquered in Imperial territory, it should have been an easy task for them to wipe out the Imperial forces on Clairmont Island, sparing the lives of hundreds of millions of civilians. What they could not however understand was that at the time such an option was unfeasible. Orbital support would have been extremely limited in nature, the Imperials having clustered their bases around major civilian population centers. Without orbital support, conducting planetfall for the millions of troops aboard the ships of the fleet would have been an act of suicide. Dropships, Assault Shuttles and Pinnaces were hardly a match for dedicated fighters and planetary gun batteries the Imperials had set up. The campaign would have stretched on for weeks, and by that time the Imperium would have commenced a follow-on attack with a massive force which would have sliced through Clairmont like a knife through butter. Altough the feasibility of orbital support against the Imperials on Clairmont Island was now better than it had been five years ago, the Imperial anti-orbital weapons would easilly annihilate any force below a squadron of Superdreadnoughts. It would have recquired nothing short of a full battlesquadron to make a difference, and not one of the battlesquadrons could be spared from the fighting on Imperium's own turf.

Sunday finished his mental assesment of the strategic situation as the doors to the Command Central of Hephaestus slid open, revealing the massive cavernous space filled with people, machinery and surrounded by viewports to space. Voices and sounds of both human beings and machinery filled the air, traffic controllers guiding ships to their respective inbound or outbound vectors, machines and computers staccato of electronic sounds.

"Ambuscade, you are vectored for outbound lane able-zero-niner-bravo. Good luck and good hunting out there."

"Intransigent, inbound lane charlie-echo-two-niner, come in at two-zero-zero kps."

"Wolverine, rendezvous with logistics vessel Sorcerer at victor-bravo-zulu-three-five-niner."

Sunday ignored the voices and strode through the traffic control section towards the lone figure gazing out of one of the viewports.

"Skipper." He said simply as he arrived beside the figure.

"Dennis" Captain, SG Julia McHale replied, continuing to gaze out of the viewport.

"Any word on our new ship?" Sunday asked casually.

McHale didnt say a word for a moment.

"Besides the the fact that we will be getting one of the new Pegasus-class boats, not really." She answered. Her voice strong and unwavering.

The time had finally arrived when Captain Julia McHale would be allowed to command a ship of His Majesty's Navy once more. After the Orion Sector War, and the fact that McHale alone had committed Clairmont with her own actions to support the rebellion, the Admiralty had beached her, taken away her ship and stamped her dossier with "Unfit for combat duty". Commander Sunday had followed her. The two of them hadnt seen combat in five years, but now BuPers was scrounging the bottom of the barrel. Every officer with combat experience was needed, and McHale had recieved the word from Admiralty two months ago. She would command a ship again. The Powers-That-Be had come to the conclusion that she could still redeem herself in their eyes.

For over a year now, the two had acted as aides for the Station Commander. Admiral Hughes had accepted their help without even noting their background in the Orion Sector and they had proven themselves to be worthy of the old warhound's trust. They had been nudging and kicking the yard dogs to go faster, had straightened knots in the logistics chains and supply schedules and overall assisted in running the station as well as they could and in doing so they had earned the respect of the Station's military staff.

"Hughes will be pissed off to lose us..." Sunday said.

"Quite likely, he wont have anyone to kick the asses of the yard dogs into shape when we go." McHale replied, chuckling lightly.

"Though I wont doubt for a second that Yardmaster Young will be missing us when we go" Sunday said, laughing out loud when referring to the whining retard he had been recquired to put into shape only thirty minutes earlier.

McHale allowed herself to laugh a bit as well. Young had been a constant pain in the ass for the last eight months. The problem with yard personnel was multifold. Firstly, the actual construction was done by civilian contractors. Civilian contractors and personnel being unused to the strict military pro-forma, there were often delays, misunderstandings and outright fights of words stemmed from disagreements. Ofcourse, the military was involved in both maintenance and construction, they had to be in order for the system to work at all, but the mixing of military and civilian contractors in one bowl created one extremely trouble-ridden group. Civilians werent used to expediting something due to being ordered to do so. They would throw up their hands and scream that it was impossible when the military would simply say "Yessir" swallow their words of disagreement and do what they had been ordered to do. Before the war, only one percent of the yard personnel responsible for building, maintaining and overhauling the ships of the Navy had been actual military, after two years of the war, that number had multiplied ten-fold and still there were problems.

The small earphone in McHale's right ear chirped as an incoming call waded its course through the station's internal comm network.
"Yes?" She replied to the call.

Sunday waited silently for the couple of minutes it took his Captain to finish the call. As she closed the link, her mood seemed to have lifted significantly, the actual traces of a smile on her face as she turned to look upon Sunday.

"That was Lieutenant Takagi from Alpha-three-alpha. He said that there might be something at slip thirty-three we would like to see. Sounded real ominous about it." She said.

Sunday couldnt remember off the top of his head what was under-construction at thirty-three. But he could recall that everything from twenty-five to sixty-seven had been designated for Battlecruisers and Multimission Cruisers. The new doctrine's the navy had been hammering through for the last year were reshaping the navy's force projection platforms to fit several different roles. The old doctrines had strongly concentrated on the "Wall of Battle" principle, whereas the new doctrine aimed more on flexibility, accuracy and heavully increased firepower per shot than large volumes of fire. The new SCGN's, or Multimission Cruiser's had replaced Light Cruisers and Heavy Cruisers entirely and altough they mounted smaller number of weapons than the old Star Knight-class Heavy Cruisers, they could reliably take on two of the old style Warlord-class Battlecruisers and come out victorious.

Sunday cut off his mental review and gazed at his captain.

"You thinking what Im pretty friggin sure you're thinking skipper?"

"Propably" She replied, already turning around and beginning to stride through the Command Central to the lifts.

Manticore's Nest

January 7th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The aparment door swung open, and Thomas Caparelli was immidiately forced to defend himself from the attack of one fiersome five year old girl and her mother. He caught his charging daughter to his embrace and hugged her.

"Hi sweetie." He whispered softly while kissing her cheek.

His wife joined in on the embrace, and once again, for the first time in a while, Caparelli felt himself relaxing. Allowing the war to disappear from his thoughts for one night, a sense of serenity and calm invaded him. He could feel none of it when he worked, too many lives depended on his decisions, too much hanged in the balance. But for twenty four hours, Admiral Thomas Caparelli, First Space Lord of the Clairmont Space Navy, could forget about his work.

The dinner had been delicious as usual, Marie was and had always been an excellent cook. Even at times such as this, Caparelli still could find the appreciation towards her wife's skill in cooking. Now they sat in silence, in the relatively small living room of the apartment. Unlike their home at the mountains, the apartments designed and built at the Manticore's nest for High-Ranking Military Officers, were somewhat lacking in space. Ofcourse, when taken into consideration that the entirety of the complex housed and supported over one hundred thousand people, and was situated fully underground, Caparelli understood that even the Commander of the CSN wouldnt receive living space comparable to their home mansion.

He toyed with the glass of whiskey in his hands while Marie sat opposite to him, holding the wine glass steadily. Rosie had been put to bed hours ago, the little devil's energy finally coming to an end. After that, he hadnt spoken more than a few words with his wife. They both knew what the problem was, he hadnt seen her in a month and since he refused to talk much about the war situation, his family was forced to endure alone.

"You could just this once tell me about it..." She said now quietly.

Caparelli lifted his gaze from the glass of whiskey to the face of the woman he loved. There was worry in those beautifull eyes and features, worry for the future.

"There's nothing new to tell." He answered simply.

"Bullshit, something is wrong, something bothers you a lot and if you cant tell me about it after forty years, Im not sure what's the point." She exclaimed angrily.

He sighed, hit back the whiskey glass draining it immediately and sighed.

"The new analyses came in today." He started simply.

"We are losing, or will lose in another year. We cant hold Diess for longer than seven months, after that when our forces here run out of ammunition and equipment, it will be a trivial task to annihilate them and wipe out what remains of us." He said, the weight of his words and their meaning sinking in to his wife.

There was a moment of silence as he allowed Marie to consider what he had just told her.

"And the expeditionary forces?" She asked, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

"They wont be coming to help, not before they have taken Birhat and finished off the Imperium. It is either complete military victory or total defeat, there is no middle ground." He explained. The new analyses were nothing really new in the sense that everyone had known that the forces holding back the invasion of Clairmont Island could not hold indefinitely, the recent reports had simply set a firm deadline for the expeditionary fleet.

There was no disbelief or undirected anger in her wife, she was a smart woman, always had been and she understood and accepted the facts.

"We have been finalizing Ragnarok plan during the past week. The current plan is to utilize the military routes to get some of the populace off the planet and to space. From there they will be taken to the care of elevent battlesquadron and ultimately resettled to the habitats in Hephaestus's near space. I've already taken measures to get you and Rosie out of here if the Imperials manage to hammer through." Caparelli explained somberly. Technically he was not allowed to reveal any part of the Ragnarok-plan to even his family, realistically he didnt give a damn.

Marie looked him in the eyes, the sorrow of having to live through such a time of darkness evident in her eyes. Caparelli rose to his feet and embraced his wife. Their lips found each other's, and they kissed passionately for a time neither of them considered to measure. They quickly carried themselves to the bedroom, and for the duration of the night, the dark thoughts of the evening vacated both of their minds.

124km North-East of the town of Buelle

January 7th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

His breathing was heavy and his heart was bumping in his chest at rapid fire as he stammered through the misty woods. The ghillie suit made running more difficult, but it was his only protection against visual detection and even though the jammer helped making him difficult to spot in Imp sensors, their eyesight was superhuman in its efficiency. He risked a quick glance back, but he failed to see anything even though the visor was scanning what he saw in a broad part of the Electromagnetic Spectrum.

He continued to run. He knew they were after him but he accepted that he was likely to die. What he could not accept was to die in vain, failing to reach transmission distance. The other seven of his cell had already died in an effort to buy him time, and he was not going to let their deaths be wasted. His muscles ached, his body felt as if it would break at any second and he had not slept in two days, but he kept running.

Two kilometers to go. The objective of three months of work and preparation was two kilometers away, more than two dozen people had died during those three months for the cause. The Imperials had been relentless in their search when their intelligence had been clued in to the operations the resistance was conducting. Three safe-houses had been simply blown up or raided. No prisoners had been taken, the Imperials did not bother. But the last team had finished the preparations and begun their trek beyond the Imperial control perimeter around the town and towards Tryoskan Hill.

That had been three days and hundred and twenty kilometers past. He checked the weapon he carried while running, the clip was the last one he had and the two grenades in the launcher the last heavy hitters he had at his disposal. The resistance had not had much to begin with. It did not matter. He pulled the weapon to his shoulder as his sensor enhanced hearing caught the sound of something breaking through a brush approximately two hundred meters behind him, he turned rapidly and switched the gun from "Safe" to "Fire".

The rapid string of cracks broke the night as the rifle sent fifty three penetrator rounds flying through the night towards the point where he estimated the Imperial forward scout would be. His enhanced hearing caught the sound of the tungsten penetrators hitting armor plate, and he allowed himself a slight smile. The elation was short lived however as answering bursts of both grav- and energy-gun fire swept the trees and foliage around him, blowing the obstacles of nature apart with ease.

He fired the grenades to the estimated source of the return fire. Two brilliant explosions briefly turned the darkness of the night to day as the high-explosive 30mm grenades detonated. He wasnt certain whether he had caught anyone with them, but hopefully the fact that he had, or had had grenades would force the Imperials to be more carefull with their pursuit. Not that it mattered much for he was not going to survive much longer. He could see the trees ending and the small clearing that was the transmission point on top of Tryoskan Hill.

As he cleared the treeline, a hammerblow of pain struck him in the right leg. His balance lost and the leg below the knee turned to mangled bloody ruin, he fell down to the grassy ground. More rounds struck the ground near him, throwing up dirt and grass as they did so. He ignored them and activated the stolen subspace comm-unit. The settings and data packet were ready, all he needed to do was to transmit them. A simple click of a switch turned the unit on and formed the link to a certain Clairmont Military Datalink Sub-Hub. As the system confirmed his access and authorization, the comm transmitted the packet of data that so many good people had died for. A smile lighted up on the resistance fighter's face as the display indicated succesfull delivery, right at the same moment a grav gun round found the back of his head.

Clairmont

24-01-2006, 12:18

Planet Scylla III, Scylla System

January 7th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

O'Neal had never really liked being underground and he still didnt. The base camp bunker complexes that were dropped from orbit always made him feel clausthrophobic and like a rat stuck within a sinking ship. But thus far it had was the best way to establish a quick base of operations. The basic principle was simplicity in itself. Sappers on the surface of a planet would place burrowing charges and create massive craters in the ground at the spots where the base was to be set up. The bunker modules were then dropped from orbit and could be guided to target with pinpoint accuracy. As they were settled in, the sappers would place some more charges and burrow them beneath layers of earth. Then it would only be a matter of digging the proper passageways for air and personnel to the bunker modules. The method made it possible to set up an extremely strong base of operations within a day. Which did not make O'Neal feel much better about the ratholes.

The command bunker was the most heavully fortified of them all, even more so than the ammo dump. The command center within the ceramacrete bunker held very little of the splendor and smooth design of purposefully built command centers but rather concentrated fully on ruggedness and cramming as much hardware to the relatively restricted space as possible. As O'Neal stepped through the hatch to the CC, he quickly scanned the room. There were roughly twenty people on duty, either analyzing holomaps or working at their stations. A broad mixture of different uniforms was present. There were Fleet Strike Officers, Marines, a pair of Cadre Drop Commando's, Rangers and three officers in the midnight black uniforms of the State Security SS's Division Michael Hoffmann. He quickly found the person he was looking for and strode towards the only man in the room who had the uniform of a Brigadier General.

"General." O'Neal said simply as he walked to stand alongside the man.

"Mike." Brigadier General Jack Horner said without taking his eyes off the 2D map on the table.

O'Neal spared a cursory glance at the strategic map of the third continent of Scylla III. The planet had four continents, each of them had a somewhat different climate. The Expeditionary Force had elected to establish their beachhead on the third continent, due to the fact that it had a heavy tropical environment and because of that had the least fortifications and fixed defenses to worry about. The flipside of the coin was that the terrain was also difficult for the troops to maneuver in.

Most of the planet was coloured red, but approximately ten percent of the third continent shone bright blue, dotted with icons representing Divisions and bases. Most of the Imperial defenses were centered around their industrial and population centers, Scylla III with a population of a bit over 600 million had not earned as heavy defensive contignent as other systems previously taken that had held more importance among the worlds of the Imperium. All of this meant that after the initial counter-attacks and defenses against the landfall had been annihilated, the Expeditionary Force had been able to maneuver and proceed with relative ease, atleast until they reached any large centers of industry and population.

That had occurred the day before. The forward elements of the advancing Fleet Strike forces had hit the first tier of defenses protecting one of the third continents major urban centers. The initial confrontation had went badly for the Expeditionary Forces. The Imperials supported with artillery and low-altitude air attacks from hidden bases had inflicted heavy casualties among the forward divisions and they had been forced to withdraw. Now the situation had devolved into a stalemate, both sides using artillery and air support to pummel each other's defenses. While orbital support had managed to destroy some of the most obvious targets, the decree to not use weapons of mass destruction in areas where collateral damage against Imperial civilian populace would become too high, was limiting what the ships in space could do. Such as it was, the ground forces would be on their own.

"Still nothing new?" O'Neal queried his friend while maintaining his gaze on the map.

"Aside from the Imps at Gabriel-Sierra-Three still trying to piss at the necks of the forty-third Armored, not really. The situation is pretty much the same." Horner replied, the annoyance evident in his voice.

"Still using only arty?"

"Yeah. No counter-attack or anything. The two-hundred-and-first, the hundred and fifty-sixth and seventy-ninth are still using the same response, though they will be reinforced by the thirty-third and seventh in another hour. General Shimagava believes he can initiate an attack against the city by nightfall with any luck."

"Hmm..." O'Neal hummed as he began to understand why Jack had wanted to see him.

"Yeah."

"You want the five-oh-first to move in an support their attack?"

"Yeah." Horner said simply.

"You do know that Im still nineteen percent short of full strength dont you?" O'Neal asked. The first day of the landfall had tolled the 501st Battalion heavully and there had not been the time to reinforce.

"Ofcourse I do. But you'll be receiving thirty replacements before you depart. That should bring you back to near full strength." The General replied.

"When are we scheduled to depart?"

"Eighteen-hundred hours. Low-level insertion from an Iscander." Horner said, referring to the newest Iscander-class of Assault Shuttles.

O'Neal snorted in disgust. He would have preferred a ground insertion. Even though the Expeditionary forces had been able to establish something of an airspace superiority above the third continent, there was always the risk of some craft remaining as the air-attacks against the forward elements of the ground forces had proven, and Imperial Fighters were damnably fast and elusive. Ofcourse, that did not yet even take into consideration the very real threat posed by Imperial Anti-Air batteries.

"Great, I sure hope the pilot will be worth his salt or otherwise you'll lose two hundred and eighty perfectly good ACS troops." O'Neal said without much humour in his voice.

"He is, dont worry." Horner replied to the sceptism of his friend.

"Right. Well in that case, Im better off preparing the battalion for the grinder." O'Neal said and threw up hasty salute and receiving it from the General. After which he turned and left the command center.

Qualtren System

January 7th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The Qualtren system had been in the posession of the expeditionary force for over four years. It had been the first target of Operation Striking Justice. As the Allied Expeditionary Fleet had dropped out of hyper, the combined Battlesquadrons had caught the defenders of Qualtren completely by surprise. Over half of the Imperial 5th Expeditionary Invasion Fleet had been annihilated during the battle and the massive shipyard complexes of Qualtren had fallen in the hands of the Allies. The posession of those shipyard complexes was one major reason why the Expeditionary Force had been capable of continuing the campaign against the Imperium with such high effectiveness. Damaged ships didnt have to be sent all the way back home for repairs, which had greatly affected maintining the forces at optimal strength. Qualtren also produced the vast majority of spare parts and munitions used by the Expeditionary Force.

Twice the Imperials had attempted to retake Qualtren, both times they had failed. After the 3rd Battle of Qualtren, the Imperials had given up on attempting to retake the system and instead had opted to engage the Allies on a nodal basis, spreading their mobile forces wide over several systems. No-one could hardly blame the Imperials for making a stupid move by doing that. For the defender it was simply impossible to predict with absolute certainty where the attacker would strike next. However, their choice of dispositioning had allowed the Allies to nearly always achieve local numerical superiority to the defending Imperials. Being forced on the defensive, the Imperials hadn't simply been capable of attacking Qualtren again.

Despite the relative quietness of the last four years, the Expeditionary Force Command opted to consider Qualtren's defense a high priority. Full three Battlesquadrons represented the system's mobile forces. The asteroid belts were seeded with system defense missile pods in their thousands. Fortresses stood guard over the shipyard complexes. The watchfull eyes of thousands of stealthed reconnaissance platforms kept a close eye on the system periphery while four dozen light warships patrolled the space.

HMS Minerva was one of the few new-type warships patrolling Qualtren space. While the priority of the system's defense was high, the new generation warships were desperately needed in the offensive forces. As such, the Qualtren System Defense Force held only eight of the modern combatants.

Captain Heinrich Jäger often considered himself damned to be one of the captains stuck in the defense of Qualtren while others died in battle. He understood the rationalization behind protecting Qualtren and absolutely agreed, which did not mean he had to like the the fact that the Minerva was one of the ships slated for the task. It was a boring as well as frustrating job but the crew of the Minerva went about with it like professionals.

"That's weird." Lieutenant Allison Chou murmured in her station, her eyes fixed on the display, fingers dancing rapidly on the keyboard.

"Talk to me Allison." Jäger said to his sensor officer.

The lieutenant punched a few more keys and the tactical plot in the middle of the bridge lighted up with three new light codes, data streams and information below them. So far the tactical data on the codes was minimal, indicating that the sensors had not received much. Altough the new NEMESIS arrays were fiendishly powerfull, even they had their limitations.

"The number four array picked these up a minute ago. So far we cant verify they are real contacts rather than sensor echoes but the CIC gives it a 60% propability that they are indeed drive fields." Chou explained with an analytical tone.

The tension on the bridge increased by large margin as the lieutenant told of her findings. The implications behind her words were crystal clear.

"Assuming they are for the sake of argument, what can the CIC call them?" Jäger asked. A moment of silence passed as the Tactical Officer requested the analysis from the ships Combat Information Center.

"They tentatively class them as two frigates and one destroyer." The Tactical Officer said.

Jäger contemplated the situation briefly. The three contacts, or tentative contacts if one wanted to be precise, were sitting right outside the system hyperlimit, but their vectors and acceleration curves were bringing them steadily inside the hyperlimit. Assuming that the three contacts were real and the CIC was correct in their analysis, the Minerva could take them. She was one of the new Pegasus-class Cruisers, Jäger would have taken her against two Imperial Battlecruisers if need be, she would make mincemeat out of three light combatants. Ofcourse, assuming the contacts were indeed real. They were still well outside missile range and seemingly oblivious to the fact that the Minerva had discovered their presence.
"Has perimeter tracking picked them up?" Jäger asked.

"No transmissions from System Defense Command. Perimeter Tracking hasnt sent any alerts of inbound so in all likelyhood, no they dont have them." The First Officer of the Minerva answered.

"Allright, send them what we have now."

"Aye Skipper."

Long minutes passed by as the Minerva conveyed its findings to the System Defense Command while continuing its approach towards the three contacts. Altough the bogies had a base velocity of over thirty-three thousand kps and accelerating hard, the Minerva was pursuing on a vector that would intercept the bogies far before they could take a peek at Qualtren's system defenses. It had simply become physically impossible for the Imperials to avoid action and after an hour the range had dropped down to seventy-five million kilometers, and the Imperials knew they had been detected.

"The CIC now calls them two Reconciliation-class frigates and a single Vendetta-class destroyer. The reads we have on them suggests they are the tier two models." The tactical officer reported after checking the data screens protruding from the arm rests of his chair.

Jäger gave that a moment of thought. As the war had gotten up to speed and years had passed, the Imperials had not launched a single new ship class. This had boggled the minds of everyone at Office of Naval Intelligence for a long time until it had become apparent that the Imperium rather chose to heavully upgrade its older ships types than introduce new ones. Four tiers of upgrades had been introduced since the beginning of the war on every ship-class of the Imperium that had been encountered. The fact that these three were tier two upgrade models suggested that the ships were severely
outdated.

"Why would they send outdated ships to scout our primary asset in this sector?" His XO voiced Jäger's own thoughts out-loud.

"Lack of modern light combatants perhaps?" The tactical officer suggested.

"Unlikely." Jäger finished. He was curious as to the answer himself. Logically the Imperials would have sent their best to scout the system if they had been serious about it, and they were always serious about their attacks. Which left him to think what the hell was this all about. He glanced at the chrono superimposed to the display protruding from the armrest of his command chair, in thirty minutes they would be within MDM range.

"Sound General Quarters." He ordered, and almost instantly the shipboard speakers began blaring the general quarters alarm. Crew members slipped into their skinsuits along with the officers. It was a precaution that had come to stay, all shipboard personnel were to be in skinsuits during combat so in the case of decompression, no one would be lost due to oxygen deprivation. As the bridge personnel got skinsuited and returned to their stations, Jäger re-checked the readings on the master plot.

"Allright, whatever the hell they are doing here, we'll take them down.Starting with Able-Two and finishing off with Beta-Six if necessary, altough I doubt it will unless we dont fire a shot until we reach energy range." Jäger said, and chuckled at the prospect of holding off missile fire only to kill the enemies with the Minerva's energy batteries.

The range was trickling down steadily as the [i]Minerva[/i's] overtake brought it closer and closer to the three enemy vessels. As the tactical plot indicated the range being below seventy million kilometers, Jäger began barking orders. Imperial tier three hypermissile powered envelope was seventy million kilometers, and they usually fired the first chance they got. But no missiles came, the Imperials held their fire even as the range came down further to barely sixty million kilometers.

"Odd, why are they holding their fire?" The XO thought out loud.

Jäger would have entertained any theories or explanations to that question as well. He had gotten used to the Imperials sticking to their pro-forma all the way, and in this point their book dictated to open fire at the first possible moment. Accuracy was not tied to range with their missiles as tightly as it was with the Clairmontians. Imperial missiles travelled 90% of the distance between their launching ship and the enemy in hyperspace. This time however, he could accept that the Imperial commander had either screwed up or he still thought he could avoid action.

"If they rather save up their missiles than actually use them, Im completely fine with that. Execute able-two." Jäger said, as the tactical plot drew up a green cone between the Minerva's light-code and the three bogies. They had reached missile range. Upon the Captain's command, the tactical officer initiated the preprogrammed firing sequence. The program loaded itself to the fire control system and it initiated a landfall of commands to the different subsystems, all recquired for Able-Two to take place.

Missile ports opened all along the flanks of the Pegasus-class cruiser. VLS launchers were opened, and in seconds, the missiles of the Minerva hungrily waited for targets and the fire control under the control of Tactical Officer Lieutenant Morito was more than obliging to provide them those. Telemetry was fed to the missiles, stealthed reconnaissance drones providing constant feed of targeting data. As the targets were programmed, the simple flick of the tactical officer's finger brought all of them out of their launchers and hurling towards the enemy.

The newest multi-drive-missiles had entered service only eighteen months earlier. They introduced vastly improved drives that allowed them a maximum acceleration of over 130,000 Gees and had the capability to be controlled or their target selections updated via FTL-communications system. As such, they were both immensely accurate and gave any point-defense a severe headache. The heightened acceleration however was somewhat counter-balanced by the fact that all of the missiles that had not been fired straight from their launchers towards the enemy, had to overcome their own momentum before they could actually start moving towards the target.

Another improvement introduced in the general missile armament of the CSN's warships was the Metal Storm launcher. The second generation ships had used a single-shot launcher where a single missile had been loaded to each tube prior to firing. The Metal Storm launchers each carried three ready to fire missiles in a single launcher tube. This essentially meant that the 68 launchers of the Minerva could produce a salvo of 204 Mk. 54 missiles, three times the salvo density of a regular second generation Superdreadnought. The massive salvo density had only been made possible by the shift from Impeller Wedges to drivefield technology. Sensors could not see through an Impeller Wedge, which had greatly handicapped the fire control and launch capabilities of the 2nd Generation warships.The primary downside of the Metal Storm launchers was their significantly longer cycling and reloading time. While the regular Mod. 7 launcher could reload and fire again in eight seconds, it took the Mod. 12 Metal Storm launchers full twenty seconds to cycle and fire again. Despite the lengthened time between launches, a Pegasus-class Cruiser could go through its magazines extremely quickly if utilizing prolonged rapid-fire.

A horde of new light codes blinked to life on the tactical plot as the first launch of the Minerva roared to space, spearing towards the enemy ships. At a range of sixty-nine million kilometers, the flight time was under nine minutes. As twenty seconds passed, another equally massive salvo erupted to space, following their brethren nearing the outer counter-missile zone of the Imperial warships. As the third launch of the Minerva shot out to space, she ceased her fire. Six hundred and twelve attack missiles were already headed for the Imperials. As the range dropped down further, the Imperials fired their opening salvoes, having waited as long as they could to improve their firing solutions and drawing the Clairmontians as close as possible. Their salvo density was pitifull compared to that of the Minerva, the three light combatants managing to produce only thirty missiles total per launch, and even though their cycle time was only fifteen seconds and the missiles travelled most of the leg between them and the enemy in hyper, they were hardly a threat for a CNS 3rd Generation Capital Ship. As the thirty enemy missiles blinked back to existence from hyper, now only six million kilometers from the Minerva, they were instanly met by a cauldron of counter-missiles which's launch had been precisely timed. Imperial hyper missiles had to reacquire their targets after exiting hyper and they came out of the swirling energy storm of hyperspace at only one percent of lightspeed. That made them extremely vurnelable in the first ten seconds after they had exited hyperspace and the Clairmontian Missile Defense doctrine took full advantage of that weakness. As the CM's found their targets, still slow and searching for their targets, they butchered the Imperial attack missile without incident. Not a single Imperial missile survived long enough to reacquire.

As the Minerva's attack missiles passed into range of the Imperial defenses, counter-missiles began launching from the three doomed ships. Most of them failed to find targets, instead veering off to wander aimlessly to empty space. Some of them found dedicated electronic warfare birds, and a small number succeeded in punching holes to the salvo of Clairmontian missiles. But the missiles roared onwards, towards their prey like a massive hammer of destruction. The middle and inner counter-missile zones fared better than the first one, succeeding in intercepting thirty-three of the attack missiles. Last ditch point-defense lasers and electronic warfare did their best, destroying and confusing another fifty. One hundred and twenty one got through.

The space around the Imperial warships lighted in nuclear fire as bomb-pumped lasers scythed them with their full fury. The defense fields and armour of frigates and destroyers wasnt meant to protect against the full wrath of capital scale missiles. Thirty of the laserheads wented their power at one of the frigates. Its defense fields gave up in the blink of an eye and the armour was as good as useless against multiple terawatts of coherent light. The laser scythes tore the small warship apart, its hull tearing up like canvas under a knife. A brilliant fireball engulfed the ship as one of the lasers cut straight through the containment of its reactor core.

The second frigate got off with lesser damage, if only marginally so. "Only" twenty of the laserheads found her, and none of the dozens upon dozens of laser stilettos managed to find the beating heart of her reactor. Nevertheless, ninety-five percent of her weapons and defenses had been blown to scrap and the second and third salvoes of the Minerva were still coming.

The destroyer received the worst of the beating, fifty-six attack missiles detonating within stand-off attack range of her. Some of the bomb-pumped lasers simply missed, most of them didnt and the frame of the Imperial destroyer shattered and buckled under the titanic energies the nuclear-bomb fueled laser scalpels released upon her. Weapons stations were blown away, armor vaporized, sensors annihilated. As the first launch of the Minerva finished, it became clear that the third one had been a serious case of overkill.

Ten minutes later, the Imperial ships had simply vanished from the master plot on the bridge of their killer. The third salvo had been a definite waste of ammunition and Jäger scolded himself for firing it. Nevertheless, precaution was hardly a sin and the munitions depots could quickly refill his magazines. It had been an interesting change of daily routine he thought, and the crew had received precious combat excersise as well. In the back of his mind though, doubts and suspicion were nagging. The entire skirmish had a funny feeling in it and it did not fit Imperial doctrine too well. Why were those scouts here? So far behind the lines. Why had they chose to move around bunched together, making it easier to detect them? Too much about the entire encounter reeked and Jäger's natural sense of paranoia now gripped tightly onto those irregularities that had occurred during the last ninety minutes. But, it was not an analysis for him to make. The ONI spooks aboard the Flagships could and would dissect this incident thoroughly.

"Captain, the Spartan is transmitting. They're saying 'You should've saved some for us'" Communications Officer Vincent Kagari said with a slight hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

Jäger chuckled. The Spartan was one of the few Ships of the Wall stationed at Qualtren, and even she was an older Manticore-class Superdreadnought instead of one of the newer Iconoclasm-class of wallers. Nevertheless, she was still an extremely impressive ship, but this time its designated patrol route and lower acceleration capabilities had played against it and it had missed the short skirmish. Jäger could understand the frustration of the Spartan's crew, this was likely to be the only combat action any of them would see in months. While no-one in their right mind much liked war, there was no avoiding the fact that patrolling a system as far behind the lines as Qualtren laid in the deep end of boredom.

"Transmit back to them; 'Finders keepers'" Jäger said to Kagari, who chuckled a bit himself before transmitting the message.

"Well, that sure was exciting. Stand down from General Quarters. Mr. Maclein, you have the bridge." He said, standing up from his chair and heading towards the elevator hatch.

"I have the bridge, aye Skipper." The XO replied.

Tappee

30-01-2006, 22:40

There was a slight beep at the door, which indicated that some wanted to let in. As a result Admiral Phobo turned his attention away from his desk and too the man that was now entering the room, one Field Commander Jefferys.

“You wanted to see me?” asked Jeffery’s casually as he entered. The two of them were good friends serving together as far back as the Orion war. Though Phobo had been a Captain in the Orion war and was now promoted to Admiral, Jefferys had passed up numerous chances at promotion, instead choosing to stay on the field with his men.

“Please have seat” said Phobo as he motion at the seat across from him, he waited for a moment as Jefferys took his seat “We should be arriving at Scylla III it in just over two hours.” He paused for a moment trying to think about he was about to say. “Command wants us to wrap operation he as quickly as possible. As soon as we settle in to orbit I want you and your people to head down to the planets surface, group with the Clairmont forces planet side, and start clearing the rest of the planet as quickly as possible. Flush them out, then eliminate. I’ll see how fire power we can give you from orbit. Heavy losses are acceptable in this operation, since we have a second wave of troop arriving in just over a weeks time, but I want this planet clean by the time that they arrive.”

“My men are currently on stand by, soon it should not take us long to drop in. Well drop in and reinforce the allied forces main position, then when start our big push well try to hit them from both the ground and the sky.” Jeffery knew such an offensive would be costly, but if meant that it would bring them one step closer to the end then it was a small price that he was willing to pay. Suddenly that very though sickened him, had they truly fallen that far where the value of human life did not matter any more. This was the harsh reality that they faced. He could only hope that it would some day come to an end.

Clairmont

31-01-2006, 13:43

Planet Scylla III, Scylla System

January 87h 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

There were times when Jack Horner resented his decision for becoming a career military officer. It was wholly different to answer the call of the nation in its time of need and be fed to the grinder on a distant front than be the person deciding who goes to that bloodbath of war.

The Orion Sector war had been bad enough. He had been the senior Colonel of the three Fleet Strike Regiments dispatched to aid the rebellion in overthrowing Emperor Nemerov's government. When the time had come to decide which units would be the first to land on the surface of Steel Butterfly's Capital Planet, Horner had nearly balked at the prospect of sending so many men and women to their deaths.

But it was a duty one had to do, and his achievments there had earned him the promotion to Brigadier General. And now, he had ended up in a far worse shit storm than the Orion Sector war had been. He already had sent countless troops to their deaths, and only by a stroke of luck and the extreme skill of its men and women, the 501st commanded by his friend had not been among the units that had met their fates.

But that could change any day in this war. The commencement of the assault which he had ordered the 501st to support had started well. The three regiments of marines supported by the ACS and artillery had succesfully penetrated the main Imperial defense of the third largest population center of the third continent. Now the fighting had turned into a general melee in the tight quarters of the city. Urban combat with modern weapons had its effect and the bloodbath was nearly beyond imagination.

"General?" Called his staff lieutenant.

He lifted his gaze from the strategic map and glanced to the door at the youthly woman who had served in his staff for the last two years.

"Yes Stacy?" He answered politely.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but we just received a communique which I assumed you would like to receive immidiately." She said, her tone of voice clearly elated which suggested to Horner that it could not be bad news.

"Well, spill it out."

"Yes sir. Moments ago a Tappee Task Force entered the system and they are approaching us at high speed. They are carrying a sizeable ground contignent to assist us with the campaign."

Horner's dark thoughts resided at the prospect of receiving heavy reinforcements. So far the Tappee Expeditionary Force in Imperial Space had been largely content in pursuing its own campaign against the Imperium. While often the Clairmontian Force and the Tappee Elements found each other going after the same objective and providing mutual assistance, both had largely pursued their own avenues of attack. Whether this represented a change in general policy in the Tappee High Command, Horner truly wished it had come to stay.

"Send my formal and utmost welcome and thanks to them via secure com. And tell them its good to have them with us." Horner said, meaning every word.

"Yes sir." His staff lieutenant complied and strode away.

Horner immidiately began to draft new ideas and plans on the strategic map. The addition of the Tappee Ground Element would significantly increase the offensive depth of the Allied forces on the ground, and hopefully would end the campaign on Scylla III much faster than anticipated.

Vrak

09-02-2006, 07:46

300 nautical miles North-East mainland Clairmont

January 7th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

-How many under General Lok Prag?
-10 000 Admiral.
-Very well. You are dismissed.

The officer saluted and then left, leaving the walrus Admiral alone in his thoughts. With a hrumph, he heaved his great bulk and waddled his way to the battle bridge of the newly designed aircraft carrier.

Built upon the successful Frunze battleship class, the new Iron Flipper class was bigger, faster, and carried the latest technology. Since the war started, Vrak had embarked upon an ambitious program in playing technological catch up. This battleship, among other items, was the latest development. With far longer ranged main gun shells as well as improved cruise missiles it was built to counter not only the other major naval powers in the NS universe but specifically designed to play this role successfully. Not to mention the fact that it was plasma powered which extended the endurance, with only foodstuffs being a limiting factor. It symbolized the bridge from the old wet navy to the new, as well as hinting at Vrak’s very real goal of constructing an actual space fleet.

The Admiral entered the darkened battle bridge. A soft red glow from the strategically placed light panels permeated the room as the various officers were quietly hunched over their panels, communicating in only low tones.

“Admiral on the bridge,” announced the line captain and saluted. The walrus saluted back and then ambled over to the main map that had the latest positions and strength of all the forces in Clairmont.

The Vrakian forces in Clairmont were as good as dead. May they find their way to the Strange and feast upon the flesh of their enemies thought the Admiral. Soon. Very soon, this new fleet would strike. All it waited for was the signal.

Endicot

12-02-2006, 01:24

Birhat System

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
58th Month of the War

The chambers of Fleet Overlord Integra felt chilly despite the optimal room temperature as the figures from the computer screen transferred themselves to the brain and comprehension of the Commander & Chief of the Imperial Battle Fleet.

He understood how precarious his position was. His two predecessors had been executed for having failed in annihilating the last remnants of the loyalists. Ever since Overlord Vinnetis had been placed to the sword due to a defeat in a battle which's result he could have not changed in any way, Integra had held the position for soon two years.

The Imperium had quickly discovered that its policy of never giving a third chance would cost them all their experienced manpower in this war. During the first two years, every field commander and higher echelon commander who had "failed" in the eyes of the Imperial Council for one time too many, had been executed. That policy however had resulted in a situation where officers far too junior for their positions were forced to carry the responsibility of their status. Integra himself should have become the Overlord ,if the proper order of succession had been followed, in another five decades but as it was he had been forced to accept the position far too early.

The screw ups of the first two years had had catastrophic consequences. As officers who had been promoted straight from Star Commodore to Star Admiral assumed command and took their forces to battles against the battle hardened and extremely experienced Clairmontians and their allies. Despite the technological and numerical advantage on the Imperials' side, the enemy had achieved victory after victory by exploiting their far superior tactics and experience. Before the council and the military could change their policy and become more forgiving of failure, over 62% of the forces with experience and commanders with enough seniority for the positions, had been annihilated. The navy never recovered.

Despite having over five to one numerical advantage as well as technological superiority at the start of the war, the Imperium had now been reduced to only half of the systems it had once held, the numerical advantage was barely two to one and the technological gap was practically non-existant between the newest classes the Clairmontians had produced and the cream of the crop of what the Imperium had.

He closed the computer screen in disgust as he finished reading the latest BATREP from Scylla system. As so many systems before it, Scylla would inevitably fall, and the allied enemies would be one step closer to the Imperium's heart.

He felt helpless. The Clairmontians reacted to every move the Imperial Battle Fleet made so quickly that the amount of strategic depth he had was reduced to practically nothing. Yes, he had two to one numerical advantage. Ships of which fully 45% were permanently stationed in Birhat and the others were covering vital systems. In order to actually gather a force sufficiently powerfull, in light of the Clairmontian's advancements, to attack any of their frontline systems, he would have to scrap several System Defense Forces to the bone. Which, would make them vulnerable for counter-attack.

The blinking light on his terminal intervened between his train of thought and he turned the screen back on. A priority alpha message flashed at the top of his mail queue and he opened it, entering the correct encryption keys and code sequences to open the contents of the message.

As the machine finally divulged the secrets of the message, a spark of fresh hope ignited in Integra's brain. It was a simple reconnaissance report, but the significance of the information it held and the battle plan he had been thinking about for the last month could and would with near certainty be enough to persuade the Council to release certain locked "assets" for this mission.

There was a predatory hungriness in him now, the scum who had dared to intrude on Imperial space would discover that the beast of old was not without fight left in its veins.

Clairmont Island, Imperial Control Sector Z/T3

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
58th Month of the War

The fools who had once believed that the loyalist remnants could be annihilated in the course of weeks had now vanished from the ranks of the Invasion Force and its commanders. The rash and all too intolerant leaders who had ignored casualties, ignored defeats and ignored common sense in order to try and achieve the quick victory the original plan had called for, were now extinct, rotting corpses in the battlefields.

The Imperial ground forces had taken long to realize they would be in for a far harder fight than they had imagined. The casualties had been enormous, far higher than anyone had thought and the process had slowed significantly once the Clairmontians and their allies got their forces organized. But by that time, it was nearly too late. Most of the loyalist territory had been wrought asunder, under the iron heel of the Imperium.

Grand Warlord Visceros remembered the first glorious days of the invasion when the victory of the Imperium had seemed to be within their immidiate grasp. But he also remembered the first true defeats and the chains of defeats that had followed those. Now, the whole war was nothing more than a stalemate, a constant and mutual butchering where no quarter was given nor asked.

He sighed deeply as he viewed the history of the invasion for the thousandth time. Reviewing the mistakes they had made and the unexpected turns of events that had changed the outcomes of many battles. He had been part of this operation for seventeen years, right from the start of the infiltration operation. He had been through it all and to see such carefull planning and preparation go to waste sparked unspeakable rage in him.

But it would all be over soon he thought as he reviewed the operational positioning of the units under his command. It would still take two months of preparations but after that, the pieces would be in place for him to initiate a move that would finally shatter the final stronghold of the loyalists.

Ofcourse, there was a chance that the resistance had gotten a word to the loyalists, revealing the carefully consealed preparations the Imperial ground forces had been conducting for the last month. However, judging by the report of the field commander who had hunted the resisters down, they had not laid their hands on any information that might reveal the operation. Though it irked him that the Intelligence Division had not been able to identify the data the resistance had been able to transmit.

He sweeped his mind clear of such worries and continued staging the act of the story that would bring about the destruction of his hated enemies.

Endicot

19-02-2006, 01:44

117km South-West of Diess City

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
58th Month of the War

The view through the forward drones was far from encouraging. The burning wreckage of destroyed equipment and bodies was all that had resulted from the attack against Bastion 03/A as designated by the loyalists, the main strongpoint of the Diess City defense perimeter that covered over 30 kilometers of its south-western flank.

It had started up as a good plan, fire missions with battlefield nuclear weapons, cluster bombs and jamming drones to confuse the enemy counter-battery fire missions. After the preparatory artillery fire, the 81st and 47th Divisions had moved in.

At first it had appeared as if they were making good progress, and mere moments later had Clairmontian fire missions started falling with pinpoint accuracy amongst the advancing formations of tanks and men. Nap of the Earth air strikes had battered the first units while the enemy armored units attacked the two divisions from their side flanks. Finally, after ten minutes Star General Aphraziel had called for a retreat.

Despite the failure however, the battle had not been a complete waste of time and resources. The 47th Division had succeeded in causing heavy damage to the enemy armored regiment that had flanked them while the 81st had succesfully mangled much of the outer tiers of defense of the Bastion. The enemy was being slowly but deliberately whittled away.

Aphraziel closed the data feed from the forward drones. He already had a quite firm understanding of how the loyalists had been succesfull once more. The only way they could call for such accurate fire missions had to be close-in reconnaissance. But try as they might, the Imperials most of the time failed to find the recon teams that called for those fire missions.

But next time, he would try something new. Perhaps he would....

"General." His staff lieutenant called from the entrance to the command bunker, bowing slightly.

"What is it?" Aphraziel snapped, he did not like being interrupted when he considered the strategy.

"Message from CONCOM General." The staff lieutenant replied crisply and handed the message. Again bowing, he quickly left the bunker.

Aphraziel read the message. It was a standard subspace data packet which the Imperials preferred to use these days. It was more secure and required less transmission power than live video conversation of which there was no need anyway.

As he finished reading the message, the disappointment of his recent failure faded from Aphraziel's mind. The new strategy would be implemented in another three weeks, until then his orders were simply to maintain the illusion of active operations. It seemed that the Lord and Master of the Invasion had made up his mind.

Aphraziel still was not certain that the new strategy was the best course of action to undertake. It placed all the eggs in the same basket and in itself represented a huge gamble. If it failed, there would be no second round. There was no backup plan. The whole idea fought against the ways of fighting war that had been implemented in his brain so many years ago in the Imperial War Academy.

But Grand Warlord Visceros was the commander of the invasion and his word was law. The new strategy would be implemented and that would be the end of it. Aphraziel was in no position to question the judgement of his superior.

He deleted the message from the datapad, purging every byte of it from its memory. The new strategy however presented him with several new worries. He would have to strip the Nothern Coast garrisons to the absolute bone to gain the troops he recquired and while the danger of open resistance wasnt too high due to the fear of extreme Imperial reprisals, it was still a possibility. Especially when no-one in the Northern Coastal Plains STILL seemed to have the slightest idea where the loyalist General Sharon Issard had gone to.

Birhat System

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
58th Month of the War

Grand Fleet Admiral Yzak Theradoc had been in the employ of the Imperial military for over a hundred years. For thirty of those he had been a Grand Fleet Admiral, the highest combat duty rank attainable within the Imperial Navy. During the last five years of war, he was the one and only commander who had not seen combat. As such, he took the prospect of going out to face the enemy soon very seriously.

The order had come directly from the Emperor, as had the words of his confidence in Theradoc's ability. Whether it had anything to do with the fact that he was the Emperor's cousin, he could not know nor cared. All he knew was that he had his Lord's trust and he would not betray it.

Immidiately upon receiving the orders and data packets related to the Operation he had gone to work, first reviewing the reconnaisance data carefully and confirming the available assets he would have in his disposal. When counting together those two, the Operation had a high possibility of success. Nevertheless, the initial attack plan against the loyalists had held a 94% possibility of success as analyzed by the Intelligence Department and every commander in the Imperium knew how well that had went.

He programmed several new variables to the simulations and observed them carefully as the computers determined the outcome by going through millions of permutations of several factors in the course of few seconds. The results looked good, but reality had a habit of being different from simulations and Theradoc ran the program again.

As the virtual battle ran its course for the three hundreth time, Theradoc compiled all the relevant data and forwarded it to his flag staff for further analysis. Just as he finished transmitting the message, a new secure transmission from Battle Fleet HQ blinked to existence in his computer. Upon opening it, he realized that he would have to rerun the simulations but he felt no disappointment, only certainty as his eyes scanned thru the new and reinforced list of his Order of Battle.

Vrak

28-02-2006, 23:13

OOC: I won't have Internet from my house until March 9th. Till then, it will be sporatic from university. Sorry folks. I'll keep up the best I can.

Clairmont

26-05-2006, 12:48

Occupied Medusa City

January 11th 657th Year Post Succession War
58th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

She still had not gotten used to seeing the once beautiful city in this state. For nearly every morning, she gazed out of the window over the toppled colossi of megascrapers and collapsed overhanging highways. So many had made the ultimate sacrifice to protect Medusa City, all of it in vain. Sharon Issard would avenge them, whatever it took her.

She closed the curtains and retraced her steps to the kitchen dining table. The apartment was far from the warm and comfortable home she had had in the countryside prior to the arrival of the Imperium. It was extremely spartan in style, only the absolute necessities dotting the three rooms of the cramped quarters. But it sufficed, and it had been her home for the last four years.

"Look here General. According to our sources in depot twelve, the number of Imp troops and hardware seems to be going down in their area of observation. In the last two days, they've sent two heavy columns, approximately two battalions headed west." Her assistant, Lieutenant Paul Krueger pointed out while fingering the appropriate locations on the map.

Issard took in the information overlaid on the hardcopy 2D map in a glance.
"That makes the ninth column so far, both their fifth and seventeenth brigades have left. Considering those are mainly heavy armour and assault equipped, it would stand to reason they are headed to the Diess front."

"Which they arent." Krueger replied to Issard before she could say it herself.

"Which they arent. " She confirmed while continuing to gaze on the map.

"A pocket of resistance somewhere in the west?" The lieutenant thought out loud.

Issard shook her head.
"Unlikely. They wouldnt need two heavy brigades for such an operation and we would have propably heard about it anyway."

"New offensive by our boys?"

"Again, unlikely. From what I've seen of the numbers, we dont have the assets nor the objective to commence a heavy offensive in the general direction where these guys are headed." She replied. The more the explanations for the troop movements dwindled, the less she liked the explanations that remained.

"Shit." Krueger murmured as he drew the same conclusions as she had drawn.

"Yep. It looks like they are trying to make another push to take the Inner Plains."

In the past five years, the Imperials had made half a dozen large-scale assaults against the defenses that surrounded the Inner Plains of Clairmont Island. All of those attacks had been batted back, but not without terrible losses on both sides. Odds were that if the Imperial warmachine were to gather together sufficient strength once more, they could break through one of the weaker spots in the defense perimeter and continue on to ravage the final strongholds of Clairmont. It was something that Issard had personally feared for the last year. Thus far the Imperials had restrained themselves to fight mainly on the Diess front due to their commanders lacking proper intelligence about the troop strengths and defense layouts of the Inner Plains. Now it appeared that they had that intel.

"We've got to deliver this info somehow." Krueger said after the moment of silent consternation passed.

"We only have one line of communication Paul and you know how very carefull we have to be with it. Odds are that command already knows about this." Issard replied. She was not ready to risk uncovering her one and only underground communications route due to this, important as it was.

"And what if they dont know General? What if the fucking Imps are gathering troops without command having the slightest clue about it?" The lieutenant retorted angrily.

"That's a possibility, however...."

The door from the adjacent room opened and Master Sergeant Mathias Eurys stormed to the kitchen.

"We have to leave right now." He said, his voice and facial expression dead serious.

Krueger and Issard bolted up from their seats immidiately.

"Imps?" Krueger asked simply.

"Not sure. Carage sentry reported two weird vans entering the carage, havent heard from him in two minutes." The Master Sergeant replied.

"Allright, its your show Sergeant." Issard said. She trusted the Master Sergeant unconditionally. They had worked together for the better part of fifteen years, and the man had become his bona-fide aide and bodyguard during the last years.

The five people that populated the small apartment gathered their things, planting small explosive devices on everything they could not take with them and could not leave intact. In less than two minutes, there was absolutely nothing left that would have revealed the identity of the two women and three men who had lived here for the last years.

As the group exited the apartment to the hallway, Corporal Reilly and Master Sergeant Eurys secured the corridor, making sure that there was no-one laying in ambush. The barrels of their carbines swept the space quickly and Eurys gave the all clear signal. Issard and Krueger came out and proceeded briskly towards the emergency exit that waited at the end of the corridor while Staff Sergeant Hozhenso and Corporal Reilly held the rear. Just as the small group of soldiers reached the door to the emergency exit lift and staircase, the sound of hypersonic rounds passing through the air and connecting with flesh made Issard turn her head, just in time to see two fist sized holes burst in the middle of Corporal Reilly's chest.

Hozhenso and Eurys returned fire instinctively, pulse rifles sending tungsten penetrators towards the direction of where the rounds that had killed Reilly had come from. At first it seemed that the fire was hitting nothing, but suddenly a burst from Eurys' rifle stopped in mid-air, and the stealth field that had protected one Combat Armored Imperial Marine disappeared, leaving the soldier falling down to the floor, lacking a head.

"Go go!" Eurys screamed while triggering another long burst from his rifle.

Krueger and Issard did not argue and rushed to the emergency stairwell with Hozhenso and Eurys following close behind.

"This should hold them for a moment." Hozhenso murmured as he rigged a directional anti-personnel mine on the door.

Then the group rushed down the stairs as fast as they could, before they could get further than one floor down from the one they had exited from, the loud bang of the little present they had left for the Imperials, echoed in the stairwell. They had no way of knowing how many the mine had killed, and they werent about to stay and find out.

It took a good while to descend all the way down to the underground garage, but it seemed that they had beaten the Imperials there as the lack of a welcoming committee indicated abundantly well. However, it was unlikely that the Imperials wouldnt be watching the exits from the garage carefully just in case some of their prey would attempt to escape by using a vehicle. Fortunately, the escape & evasion plan they had drawn up did not involve a vehicle. For which Issard was now thoroughly pleased.

The group dropped down one of the maintenance tunnel exits that lead to the megascraper. The maintenance tunnels ran beneath the entire city, granting passage for city maintenance workers and bots to the massive structures. More importantly, virtually all sewage, water piping, broadband networking and electricity ran in the maintenance tunnels. This allowed someone with a map of the tunnel networks to move anywhere in the city. Unfortunately, during the attack to the city, many of the megascrapers and large parts of the maintenance networks had collapsed. But Issard and Krueger had mapped a safe route all the way to the outer reach sectors of the city.

"Looks like we lost the bastards." Krueger said with a voice filled with relief.

"Yea, looks like." Issard replied.

"Where we go now?" Staff Sergeant Hozhenso asked while keeping an eye on the rear.

"We're going to hook up with Anton Halburton's group." Issard said flatly.

"...you sure about that General?" Hozhenso said, a slight edge of disbelief in his tone.

"Yes. They may be people who take advantage of the wrong side of the law, but atleast they hate the Imperials as much as we do." She said.

Personally, Issard wasnt so comfortable dealing with the remnants of the Syndicate but there were very little other options. While the Syndicate had represented the greatest criminal organization in the entire history of Clairmont, they also had every reason to hate the Imperials and today it was the remaining Syndicate groups in many occupied areas of Clairmont that fought against the Imperial invaders to the best effect. Ofcourse, it was anybody's guess whether or not Halburton could hold his distaste for the military at bay long enough for him to listen what Issard had to say instead of shooting first and asking questions later.

Clairmont

26-05-2006, 12:48

Planet Scylla III, Scylla System

March 7th, 657th Year Post Succession War
60th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The Close Support Vertol unleashed a fresh barrage of antipersonnel munitions to hammer at the cluster of buildings where the last remains of 566th Regiment Imperial Infantry clutched to the last bits of resistance they had left. Firecrackers of explosions thundered as the submunitions burst from their rocket bodies and showered the buildings in flame and shrapnell.

The buildings and the city around it burned. The heat blooms from nuclear and kinetic strikes alike had burned many parts of the city beyond recognition and still the Imperials held on to their resistance, refusing to surrender. House by house, the 4th Mobile Assault Regiment, 12th Blazer Regiment and the 555th ACS cleared the remaining enemy from the city. It was a hard and tedious work, made every more bloody and difficult by the advanced technology employed by both sides and casualties were high. On the other side of the city, Tappee Infantry and Armored elements were fighting a similar battle. Each and every square meter had to be fought for.

1st Battalion, Alpha Company, 3rd Platoon of the 12th Blazer Regiment had penetrated further through the enemy defense than most of the others. Blazers were the main line formations of Special Warfare. Each and every one of their personnel was a highly trained professional, often having gone through two years or more of training to get to be one of the chosen few whose skills were relied on to penetrate enemy defenses and wreak havoc in their rear. Now they were doing their job perfectly.

Staff Sergeant Chellis nodded a silent agreement to an Operative of his squad who was preparing to breach the door to the building where they had triangulated the command post for the 566th Imperial to be. If they cut off the head, the Imperials still wouldnt surrender but they would be significantly easier to mop up by the 4th MAR and ACS.

The breaching charges blew with a resonating bang, punching the door in to the room behind it and before it had even had time to hit the floor, the Blazers were charging in.

It was a room of roughly a hundred square meters with equipment and personnel, critical to commanding such a large formation troops as a Regiment, everywhere. There were roughly sixty-two hostiles in the room while there were only sixteen Blazers going in. To an outside observer it might have seemed to be suicide for the part of the Operatives. First appereances however were often confusing, and confusion on the eve of battle usually meant death.

The combat carbines carried by the Operatives spat fire. Alternating SABOT penetrators with Ceramic Antipersonnel quaranteed that anyone not wearing heavy Battle Armor would go down and fast and Commant Posts rarely held personnel in Battle Armor seeing as to how they were supposed to be protected by layers of defenses before anyone could reach it. That philosophy however met a brick wall when Special Warfare was involved.

Ten of the hostiles went down before any of them could even start thinking of returning fire. Six more dropped before any of the enemies had reached weapons. By the time the Imperials were starting to shoot back, half of their number was dead. Blown apart by accurate bursts of fire from the Elite Special Forces troopers now swarming into their lair. Cries of alarm and pain erupted as the assault went home.

The operatives did not restrict themselves to ranged combat where the chance of the enemy inflicting casualties with their higher number of available weapons was more likely. As fast as they could, they rushed the enemy in close quarters combat where the exoskeletal musculature addons and superior training of the Operatives would give them the advantage. Wakizashi's and in the case of some Operatives, Katanas slashed in their hands while carbines spat fire in the other. Momentarily stunned and unprepared for the brutality of the close quarters fighting, the last Imperials went down in moments.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

Came from the four fireteams of the two squads as they secured the room and began rummaging for any useful Intel. Ignoring everything that could not be grabbed quickly, they gathered everything they needed in less than three minutes. After scavenging the room from floor to roof, the squad demolitions expert rigged a light demolition charge to the room and the Blazers began clearing out, heading to the roof of the skyscraper where the CP was located.

As they reached the roof, the form of a VA-7 Ninja already waited for them, turbines howling and ready to take off while the under-nose gun turret constantly scanned the roof for hostiles. The twenty-seven remaining Blazers of 3rd Platoon all boarded the Vertol which took off from the roof in a hurry and accelerated away from the skyscraper they had vacated at maximum attainable airspeed. Ten minutes after the Blazers had left the skyscraper, the demolition charge struck zero.

The M-109 was light due to the fact that it was a measly 1.5 kiloton tactical nuclear charge. Nevertheless, most of the skyscraper disappeared within a ball of flame while the overpressure shockwave and heat bloom vaporized and shattered buildings and defense works all around it. As the blast vented most of its rage, a dark mushroom cloud began forming where the heart of 566th Imperial Infantry Regiment had once been.

The battle for the city was over in less than two days. The leaderless Imperials simply incapable of holding it against an enemy with orbital support and numerical superiority. The Battle for Scylla III was over, two months and four days after it had begun. As the last of the enemy units were annihilated, the Clairmontian and Tappee troops alike began licking their wounds and preparing for transport back to orbit to the waiting troopships and the unavoidable new battles.

Clairmont

26-05-2006, 12:49

Qualtren System

March 7th, 657th Year Post Succession War
60th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The immaculately clean and new bulk of the Pegasus-class Cruiser Peremptory gleamed in the direct sunlight as it approached the waiting docking arms with the aid of its maneuvering thrusters and the guiding hand of the helmsman. The dock was filled with ships. Some simply taking on supplies, munitions, reactor mass and everything else a ship needed for war. Others were in different stages of repair, yard workers and their mechanical helpers scurrying over the wounded hulls of ships of all sizes.

Qualtren System had been the first target of the Expeditionary Fleet due to it being one of the main fleet bases the Imperials had and as such having significant shipyards capable of repairing, resupplying, refitting and building ships. When the Expeditionary Fleet had taken the system, the ferocious fighting on the part of Special Warfare and the Marines had prevented the Imperials from scuttling the yards. Such as it was, they had ended in the hands of the allies in relatively good shape. Luckily, it had been a simple job to use the yard for repairing and resupplying the Expeditionary Fleet as it fought the war and thus the Qualtren System had become an increasingly important base of operations. With no need to send every ship that required refitting or repair all the way back to the Sol System, the Expeditionary Force had been able to fight the war with far more flexibility than in a traditional engagement.

The docking arms secured their magnetic locks on the hull of the Peremptory as it came close enough. The docking umbilicals extended from the yard complex and attached to their assigned points with precision. It was a perfectly executed, by the book docking and Captain (Senior Grade) Julia McHale was pleased with how Senior Chief Wallace had handled it.

"Well performed Chief." She complimented the man simply.

"Like riding a bike Ma'am." The older man replied.

It felt good to be on the bridge once more. Julia thought. From the day when Lieutenant Takagi had showed her and Dennis Sunday the, at the time, unfinished bulk of the Peremptory, she had been itching to get to sit in the Captains chair once more. The four following weeks had been a torture, but when she had finally given the order to leave Hephaestus and initiate the acceptance trials, she had felt as if she was home once more.

Admiral Hughes had been sad to see her and Dennis Sunday go. He had immensely appreciated their efforts and capabilities in making the yard run as it should and the old man had clearly been atleast a bit grumpy about the Admiralty's decision to rob him of two of his best problem solvers. While Julia had enjoyed the job there on occasion, this was where she truly belonged.

"Rear Admiral Chien-Lu from System Defense Command extends her greetings to us." Dennis Sunday said from behind Julia's chair as he read the message transcript that Comms had forwarded to him.

"Any word about our deployment yet?" Julia queried, she doubted it, they had been in system for only fifteen hours.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Our orders are to link up with 3rd Fleet in the Charybdis-system and report to Admiral Harrington on the spot. Our transit schedule has us outbound in another four hours." Sunday replied, sounding surprised himself.

"Four hours of excitement..." Julia murmured sarcastically.

Endicot

26-05-2006, 22:36

Hyperspace

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
60th Month of the War

First Admiral Jahanak gazed deeply into the depths of the holotank, observing the hordes of light codes and bits of information hovering inside it. Thus far, it seemed that the Intel he had recieved was correct. For once atleast, he mused. The price for the initial data upon which the entire plan was based had come at a cost, three ships with their crews had been lost to get that information altough the ships had been obsolete by the current standards of the war.

It didnt matter, the three stealthed destroyers had already ascertained that the target system was precisely as vulnerable as the initial recon had indicated. And that information would now be used to achieve a great victory. Jahanak's grin was hungry like a predator's as he rechecked the attack vectors and primary targets, he glanced at the chrono superimposed to the holo, 5 minutes left.

There was no need to send messages of encouragement, everyone knew their jobs and had prepared for them. The operation would commence in precisely four and a half minutes. Jahanak checked the formations of his battlesquadrons. They were clean and orderly, each division and squadron element arrayed perfectly in optimal formation for the kind of combat they would be facing. It looked impressive as it damn well should, the fleet arrayed here represented a full third of the strength the Imperium had left in space.

As the last seconds ticked down, the automated operation initiation command was sent to the entire fleet and the 620 ships of the attack force breached the barrier between hyperspace and n-space nearly simultaneously.

Clairmont

26-05-2006, 22:38

Qualtren System

March 7th, 657th Year Post Succession War
60th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

"..what...HOLY SHIT!" Shouted Sensor Rating Thomas O'Brien as fresh hyper footprints exploded two his screen.

"Talk to me Mr. O'Brien." Lieutenant Okawara said, annoyed by the burst of emotion from the youthly rating.

"Sir, I have four unidentified hyperfootprints in the system periphery, coming in at a reciprocical course to the ecliptic with a base velocity of one-one-three-zero-zero kps, accelerating hard at nine-point-two kps squared." O'Brien explained, his voice stuttering as he explained what he saw.

"Perimeter tracking is resolving contacts now." An other rating said.

"You're relieved of the watch Lieutenant." Captain Nagami said as he entered the Command Center through the hatch.

"I stand relieved." Okawara acknowledged and stood from up from the commanders chair.

"Perimeter tracking reports six-zero-zero plus contacts." Okawara said after a minute when the report came in to his datapad.

Nagami's face went white. It was full three Imperial Battlesquadrons, far behind the forward lines. Where the heck had they gotten all the ships?! They had to have uncovered several systems to pull it off. He thought, and none of the rationalization meant a thing. The fact was that they were here, bearing down in-system at 11720 kps and increasing rapidly.

Rear Admiral Chien-Lu watched her command array into formation with dispassionate eyes. She was so badly outnumbered that she could almost laugh. Accounting for the periphery pickets, of which some had already been destroyed, she commanded a grand total of 72 ships. Of which a whopping 16 were Ships of the Wall. She might have granted herself an illusion of a possibility of victory if all of her ships had been the modern 4th Generation combatants, but in reality she had a total of 12 modern ships, the rest being upgraded 3rd Generation vessels.

She briefly considered her options. One choice was to go out and meet the enemy, and die. The other was to stay deep in system and die. As the end result would be death anyway, all that mattered was to make the Imperials pay as much as possible for Qualtren system. How to make that happen however was another question entirely.

Going out and meeting the Imps was in every way a bad idea, as the enemy was approaching her position in an enveloping maneuver and had high enough numerical superiority, taking them head on would result in very little damage to them in the end game. However, if she kept her entire command near the shipyards, within the confines of the Fortresses, System Defense Missile Pods and Orbital Weapons Platforms, she could potentially inflict much heavier damage on the Imperials before finally being taken out.

She reached her decision quickly, as the second option made no practical sense and would simply kill her command for nothing. However, that lef the more difficult choice to make. One of her precious ships had to be sent to deliver the message to Fleet Admiral Rowe about what had happened here. Which one to pick was the real problem. On one hand the ship had to be tough enough to take a beating since it would have to pass from within missile engagement range from one of the Imperial formations to reach the hyperlimit and escape the system, on the other hand it also had to be fast enough to survive through that missile envelope.

She scrolled through the Order of Battle and only one ship caught her eye that could be detached. It hadnt yet recieved its full load of expendable munitions and thus would be of limited use in the coming battle, ignoring ofcourse the missile defense capabilities it had. Nevertheless, she was a 4th Generation Heavy Cruiser with both the speed and protection to make it to the hyperlimit. Chien-Lu sighed deeply as she instructed her Communications to open a secure channel to the HMS Peremptory.

Captain Julia McHale was not exactly sure she read the message transcript correctly. Yet there could be very little confusion of the context. Admiral Chien-Lu was ordering her to take her ship away and rendezvous with the main body of the Expeditionary Force. The order fought against every sense of duty she had. To run while leaving her comrades to die was a sickening thought and nevertheless, she understood the logic, that damnable logic that made everything that felt so wrong so right.

"Captain..." Commander Dennis Sunday said softly from his own chair beside hers.

"I know..."

A long minute passed before McHale gave the order.

"Detach from the yard. Put us on a least time vector to the hyperlimit." She said to the Peremptory's astrogator who began plotting the course.

"Ma'am, outbound vector one-niner-zero-three at eleven kps squared." The astrogator said and the course appeared on the holotank as a bright red line that passed through the outer edge of a blue sphere projected around one of the Imperial formations.

"They will have us at extreme missile range for twenty minutes..." Commander Sunday said as he observed the holotank.

"No avoiding it." McHale replied.

"Execute it Chief." She said to the helm and as the Peremptory completed her turn to the appropriate vector, she lurched to full acceleration of over 1000 G's, leaving behind the shipyard and the forces of Qualtren System Defense Command who prepared to die the best death they could.

Chellis

27-05-2006, 02:42

Clairmont

03-07-2006, 18:38

Fort. Hyde
105km north of Southern Defense Perimeter

The bar was quiet, not because of lack of people trying to get their heads full of all form of legal intoxicants ranging from alcohol to cannabis but mainly due to the fact that many of their friends werent sharing drinks this night. Every weekend someone did not join the usual patrons for a drink, every weekend one squad of marines, rangers, fleet strike, army or air force would not be here. Sometimes this was because they were on a mission, more often than not it was because those men and women no longer had any need for earthly beverages.

Lieutenant Stewart Trent took a healthy swing from his drink. It was a drink made out of some expertly distilled vodka, tequila, some cola-drink and a wee bit of marijuana. Usually two were more than enough to soothe his mood, he was taking his fourth and he still felt like shit. He finished the drink on that swing and hit the glass back on the bar table while simultaneously asking the barkeep to hand him another one. He caught a slight edge of worry in the expression of the old man who kept the bar, but the man handed him his drink regardless.

"Excuse me? I'd like a Starbreeze with double whiskey." Said a feminine, young voice from next to Stewart.

"Is this seat taken?" The voice asked from him. Stewart shook his head in reply.

He took a quick glance at the woman who had joined him. Anyone from a pre-prolong society would have hardly called her a woman. She looked barely older than 17, though Stewart guessed she must've been around 23. She wore the uniform of a Special Warfare Lieutenant with the added qualification marks for Mobile Assault, Ranger, and Marine training courses, with added honours. Not only did she seem to know her job very well, but for the first time since he could remember, Stewart found the woman extremely beautiful. Her dark hair was gathered together to a ponytail that hung to her neck. Her body was slender and firm but obviously loaded with great deal of strength, it had to be, only 20% of Special Warfare operatives were female.

The barkeep brought her the drink she had asked for, and she downed it with one swing asking for another one and a beer.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." She said, her voice laced with mockery when she noticed Stewart was eyeing her.

"Sorry." Stewart said simply, turning back to his drink.

"My, arent you the easilly defeated one. Relax soldier, if I had taken offense, you would feel it." She said chuckling.

"Sound pretty confident of yourself." Stewart replied a bit more coolly than he had intended. And a little less confidently of himself than he truly felt. Hand to hand combat was taught at ACS training school as well as the Ranger regiments, but not to the same insane extent it was lectured in Special Warfare.

"Should I not be confident?" She said playfully.

"Dunno, just let me fetch my suit and we can have a couple of rounds." Stewart said. There was a moment of silence before the woman broke into laughter.

"Lieutenant Karen DeVries." She introduced herself while offering her hand.

Stewart hesitated for a moment before taking it.

"Lieutenant Stewart Trent." He said.

"Trent..Trent...ah, the angel of Valleyworth City." She said.

"The what?" Stewart asked, his curiosity aroused by the odd nickname.

"Yeah, Im not too surprised you havent heard yourself called with that name, not many know it. You got it from the 3rd Special Warfare Battalion when you pulled those two Imperial Battalions away from our Alpha Company's neck six months ago at Valleyworth City. We had taken forty-two percent casualties at the time." She explained, her voice drawing the picture of the situation perfectly.

"I remember that Op. But I dont remember anything about Spec War being at the area at the time."

"Need-to-know basis. We were attempting to penetrate the Imperial line in order to get to their rear with a good sized force of Operatives to wreak some havoc. Unfortunately, we had a leak in Intel and the fuckers ambushed us." She said, her voice becoming frozen helium when she told about the leak.

"We...dealt with the leak a month later, but we lost sixty-two operatives in that Op, and we would have lost them all, including me if you hadnt shown up." She said, her voice becoming warmer.

"Well..thanks. Its good to know I actually managed to save someone." He said bitterly, the memories of those he could not save coming to his mind clearly as crystal.

"You did, and because of that you will always have friends at Special Warfare. This fucking war has taken nearly everything dear to us, but we cant really start dwelling on our failures or we're really fucked." She said warmly.

"You have no idea." He replied, his feelings were still not something he could share with anyone.

"I just might have. Ofcourse I wanted to know everything there was to know about the man who saved us. The files pertaining to the death of your family and your military history are certainly well classified, but we at Spec War can ask for that info at any time. What the hell do you think you could have done to save your father or your mother and brothers? You were eighteen, had absolutely no training whatsoever, had no idea what the situation was and were outnumbered, outgunned and outsmarted." She retorted, her voice becoming firmer all the way to the end.

Anger began to build up within Stewart. Anger towards someone arrogant enough to come and lecture him about his life, someone who had no idea who he was.

"I was the fucking one who brought those murderers to our home, unintentionally or not it doesnt matter! I was the one who couldnt goddamn well keep my nose out of business that got my entire family killed!" He said, the anger building up as he added more words to the litany of self-condemnation that he had gone over in his mind so many times.

"Oh, you're the only one who cant make mistakes? LIEUTENANT Stewart Trent of the ACS corps? You can never fail is that it? Let me tell you something mister, you are fucking pathetic. Why dont you goddamn get over it and stop that stupid and pointless course of self-destruction you are currently undertaking." She retorted icily.

"What the fuck do you know about me huh?!" He asked loudly enough for the barkeep to watch their exhange for a moment.

"And tell me...what the hell do you know about me? Let me tell you. I have done decisions that have gotten dozens of people killed, including my sister. She was in my platoons First Squad, and my decision got her and most of first squad killed. Sure they achieved their objective and there was this all about "acceptable" losses, but how do you think it feels when you make a decision that actually gets your own sister killed? You have been trying to drown yourself in your own pool of self-condemnation for years now over an incident you had no control of. I made a decision that lead to my only sisters death, I was a trainwreck for a year afterwards and I still like to try and get myself killed with booze. But I do my job, I continue my life because thats what my sister would have wanted me to do. And I know that wherever she is right now, she doesnt hate me for what I did." She said, in the end her face was calm, but filled with deep sadness.

"I... I'm sorry." Stewart uttered.

"All these years, my only goal has been trying to find that asshole who directly ordered the death of my family. From the scraps of Intel we have gotten, he is the Commander of this entire invasion. Every battle I fight doesnt seem to bring me any closer to him but rather they seem to bring me closer to my own demise. As another month passes by, I feel like I have failed once more to avenge the deaths of all those I loved." He explained, and shards of ice began to break away from the armour of ice he had built around his inner self.

"You cant change the past Lieutenant, nor can you avenge every wrongdoing in the universe or prevent anyone from dying. Sucks I know but thats how it works." She replied, finishing her drink and again ordering another one.

"Please, just call me Stewart, Im a bit too drunk to listen to 'Lieutenant' right now." He said and watched Karen bursting to laughter once more.

"Same here, just Karen." She said warmly.

"You wanna go out for a walk? Im not a great fan of big crowds during off-time." She asked after the awkward moment of silence passed.

Stewart hesitated for a moment, if the situation had come up six years ago, he would have taken the offer immidiately. However, after years of watching his comrades dying and losing people close to him, he hesitated whether he wanted to get attached to someone he might very well lose. But he remembered what the beautiful woman now asking him for a walk had told him, and it made sense.

"Sure. I dont like crowds either." He said and they left the bar together.

Charybdis System

March 12th, 657th Year Post Succession War
60th Month of the 1st Interstellar War

The briefing room was as quiet as an ancient grave when Captain Julia McHale finished her report. The Peremptory had arrived to Charybdis System only five hours ago. It had been a perilous trip. The minutes it took to pass through the Imperial missile envelope back in Qualtren while at the same time watching the Imperials butcher the Qualtren System Defense Force were minutes that were forever engraved in the memory of everyone who had been on the bridge of the Cruiser at the time.

The superior anti-missile defenses of the Peremptory had protected it superbly under the hurricane of fire that the Imperial elements dispatched against the cruiser had thrown at it. No missile defense however could have protected the ship completely from harm however and several multi-hundred megaton antimatter warheads had detonated practically within point-blank range. 32% of the sensor clusters were gone, 21% of the external weapon fittings including number one main hellbore battery. Two-hundred and twenty casualties and seven mangled drive nodes. It was a miracle they had survived through hyperspace at all.

Admiral Rowe was the first to break the silence.
"The sensor logs of the Peremptory and what you have told us Captain McHale, make it very clear that we have lost Qualtren. The last records from the sensor logs clearly indicate the Code Omega broadcasted by Admiral Chien-Lu's flagship as well as our personnel still within the shipyard complexes triggering the scuttling charges and the subsecuent destruction of the entire shipyard."

It was a simple overview of what they all already knew.

"How did they do this? And how dont we already know which systems they have uncovered to make this happen!?" Admiral Alvarez said, while smashing his fists to the table.

"Admiral Alvarez has a point, our recon squadrons should have picked up any significant naval movement away from the major systems still in the outer zone. And as per observed Imperial doctrine, they would not uncover Birhat, Nephilim or Syracuse." Rear Admiral Spoor said, naming the Capital of the Imperium and the two other core systems they posessed.

"Unless they changed their doctrine..." Admiral Harrington murmured and all eyes turned on her, asking for her to continue on with her line of thought.

"Well, they just might have figured out that their current way of going about with this is not working. When we put two and two together, the fact that this attack comes four years since their last attack on Qualtren and comprising of over a third of the force we have projected they still possess, it would implicate that they are changing their overall strategy and attempting to regain the initiative." She explained herself.

"Looks like they finally got themselves a competent CNO." Admiral Lafalle sighed from the other side of the table.

"This attack could have come at a worse time. We have just recently replenished all our stocks aboard the main body as well as finished 90% of all repairs, a month ahead of schedule. But the situation is dire. We have no idea where the Imperial attack fleet will go next. It could go to Sol, it could come to us, it could attack against any system we have taken here. We cant go playing cat and mouse with them so I would like to hear some options." Admiral Rowe said and the gathered admirals burst into debate.

"We should head back to Sol! Without a doubt they will go there to try and finish what they started."

"Home Fleet is there for that purpose, and they have enough strength to atleast badly hurt this fleet if they go to Sol."

"We should go after them, we cant operate if we have a loose fleet running at our backs."

"We should clear out all the outer zone systems before we do anything else."

And it went on for fifteen more minutes before Harrington spoke.

"If I may? While all these suggestions carry merit in one way or the other, we must account for the facts. We must try and achieve a decisive victory within the next four months for we have lost our primary source of replenishable munitions and our one and only combat theatre repair facility. We still have our factory ships and mobile forges that can replenish our stocks to certain extent and do some repairs, but the fact is that we have fourteen-hundred twenty-six combat vessels in our entire order of battle, including the Tappee forces, the thirty-two factory ships and twenty mobile repair facilities cant hope to maintain our full force for long. As it is we must engage in a decisive battle before we lose our capability to fight." She explained, and wondered why the situation was not obvious to everyone present altough she was sure Alex knew what she was thinking.

The silence stretched on for a moment before looks of disbelief started to appear on the faces of the gathered admirals.

"You cant mean...." Alvarez started.

"Exactly. We must strike Birhat with our full force. We must force the Imperium to surrender even if it means nuking Planet Endicot itself. And we must do it within four months." She said, her voice confident.

"Admiral Harrington has hit the crux of the matter. However the question is how quickly could we do it?" Rowe voiced the question.

"We'd need a month at minimum, to pull all significant pickets back to the main fleet, plan the offensive and account for the transit time." Rear Admiral O'Malley said while consulting his datapad.

"Very well, the Operation shall be called ... Eye of Shiva. Preparations will commence immidiately. We will gather again at seventeen hundred hours and begin drawing up the preliminary planning." Rowe said and finished the meeting.

As the cadre of Admirals and their aides left the briefing room, only Harrington and Rowe remained behind.

"You think we can do it?" Rowe asked finally.

"I wouldnt have proposed it if we couldnt." Harrington replied confidently and smiled to her lover.

Clairmont

04-07-2006, 10:58

Garrison Town
15km North of Ft. Hyde

He woke up with a headache, strong feeling in his crotch and vivid memories of last night. He would not be overstating to say that it had been the best night of his yet relatively short life. He had had girlfriends before the war, and he had used the skills of a few experienced courtesans during the war, but the last time had been two years ago and this time outweighed that so perfectly that words failed to describe it.

Stewart stood up from the bed and glanced at the figure still laying there well asleep and with a pleased look in its face. Karen DeVries apparently had enjoyed last night as much as he had.

He took a few stumbling steps toward the kitchen of the hotel room and quickly prepared a pair of cups filled with the coffee the hotel still somehow had. He came back to bed and proceeded to wake up his companion in his own special way.

A few moans later Karen popped open her eyes to glaze at the sitting figure of Stewart next to him.

"You bastard.." She murmured, feigning an angred look on her face.

Stewart laughed.

"Lured me in here to your trap, an Operative should know better." She continued.

"I would recall it being something of a mutual agreement deal." Stewart chuckled while admiring her face.

"Bullcrap, you had me drunk and took advantage of me." She murmured again.

"Eh, again I would recall that I was far more drunk than you were. And heck, you certainly took advantage of ME all night friggin long." Stewart said and burst to laughter while simultaneously having to evade a flying projectile distinctly resembling a pillow.

"Maybe, I can remember something along those lines..." She said and giggled while taking the proffered cup of coffee.

"Yeah, Im sure you can." He replied and drank his coffee.

She kissed him deeply and stood up from the bed and started looking for her uniform, or the pieces of it.

"You know, you arent the kind of moping asshole you first seemed to be." She said while smiling.

"No point moping in good company." He retorted, returning the smile.

She chuckled and found her wrist chrono, glancing at the time she feigned shock.

"Oh shit! We're five hours overdue!" She said.

"You gotta be shitting me...." Stewart replied while reaching for his own chrono, as he checked the time his face twisted in humour and slight irritation.

"You evil bitch! More like twelve more hours before reporting in!" He said and stoop up from the bed, starting on a chase after Karen which ended in the kitchen with them in each others embrace.

"Soo, what do you want to do? I dont have any plans though Im hungry as hell." She murmured.

"I could eat something too, there's an interesting restaurant a couple of blocks from here. They have all sorts of munching from food cultures all over the world. Even some Steel Butterfly cuisines I hear." He said, contemplating the options.

"Sounds good! Take me there trooper!" She uttered in a mockery of command voice and grabbed Stewarts hand in her own as they left the hotel room.

Clairmont

06-07-2006, 23:53

Charybdis system
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 47 Days

"This is the HMS Conqueror, reporting in to Eleventh Battlesquadron."

"Impervious, you are cleared to enter perimeter."

"This is the Magellanic requesting docking clearance to fabricator ship three."

The communications section of the HMS Fearless's command bridge was an amphitheathre for voices from tens of thousands to tens of millions of kilometers away from the people filtering them.

The operators werent really interfering with the communications, merely observing that everything went smoothly and possible misdirections could be quickly fixed. But as more ships dropped back to n-space and began their approach to the fleet, more and more communications came through and the casual voice every minute or so changed to an unending cacophony of requests and instructions.

Dozens of ships were arriving from all over the systems the Allied Fleet now controlled. Many pickets were being stripped completely, in a few select cases a squadron or two were left at systems where hydrogen extraction operations for providing reactor bunkerage were taking place and thusly were deemed too important not to be protected.

Not only warships were en-route. Troop transports carrying millions of the ground detachment of the Allied Fleet were joining the the armada daily. In cases where the ground wars were still in opening stages, troops were pulled away, leaving the Imperial Ground forces on those planets in largely unharmed states. In the cases where ground victory was close or achieved. Sufficient forces to ensure the pasification of the planets were left in place but without orbital support.

Piece by piece, the Order of Battle of the Expeditionary Fleet was coming together and forming into a massive sledgehammer. It only remained to be seen whether the sledgehammer was large enough to buckle the Imperium at Birhat.

The command staff of all the battlesquadrons and fleets had been conducting daily wargames, excersises and planning sessions to draw up the plan of attack in Birhat. The job became difficult at the point when the lack of Intel data on Birhat System became truly evident. No direct observations of the size of Birhat System's defense forces were available or attainable. Every scout that had been sent, never came back. However, by extrapolating, basing on known data and wild assed guesses, the staff of the Expeditionary Fleet had some idea what kind of defenses the Imperium's capital system had. And no-one in the staff could not avoid thinking; "Were fucked."

While no Intel data on Birhat's defenses was available. Sketchy tidbits compiled together from quick scans from reconnaissance squadrons and captured Imperial data gave some view into the defenses of Nephilim and Syracuse. The two most important systems the Imperium had after Birhat.

Both of those systems were protected by atleast three rings of orbital fortresses, maintaining orbits between the planets of the systems. The rings consisted of 24, 48 and 96 fortresses, the most being in the outer ring. Each of the fortresses was capable of movement, based on estimations of their size and tonnage and taking into account the Imperium's drive capabilities, each of the forts would be capable of two-to-three hundred gees of acceleration. However, that number required the assumption that the fortresses had same percentage of their total tonnage based on propulsion as warships did, which was unlikely. The estimations for their offensive capabilities also did not support such an assumption.

Very little information had been acquired of the offensive capabilities of the fortresses. Long-range optical shots from reconnaissance drones had produced a very rough estimation. Each fortress would posess between one hundred and one hundred and fifty energy weapon emplacements in addition to roughly eighty to one hundred missile launchers and added point-defense. This gave even one of the fortresses an enormous amount of firepower. The only saving grace was that not in any point could all of the fortresses of one ring engage an attacking fleet, simple spatial geometry prohibited that. In the Inner ring, the most fortresses could be brought to bear against an invaded, but not even then all of them.

In addition to the fortresses, in both Syracuse and Nephilim approximately two hundred ships were constantly stationed. And lastly there would be the defenses built into asteroids, moons, planets and so forth.

As the data was compiled, crunched, argued over, splashed coffee on and considered usable, it told the planners of Operation Final Solution that they really were fucked.

Birhat was bound to have atleast 150% of the defensive capabilities of either Nephilim or Syracuse, not accounting for mobile forces. When it was yet considered that the Imperium indeed still had a sizeable fleet in its disposal, the true horror of what they would face began to show its shape.

"And another total defeat for the Expeditionary Force." Admiral Thomas Theisman sighed next to Admiral Harrington as the computer simulation finished the battle.

"Hmm, Im beginning to think that we are being a bit pessimistic about the acceleration rates of their Fortresses." Harrington murmured as she viewed the data compiled by the simulation.

"CIC still insists that this is already a twenty-five percent reduction of their estimated capability if we were assuming same ratio of drives to mass as we are for their warships." Theisman replied, checking the figures from his datapad.

"And Im saying thats still not low enough. Fortresses arent warships and merely an addition to any system defense force. Mobile forces hold the true punch. The current assumption still maintains that their fortresses would have a maximum military acceleration of two-hundred-twenty-five gees. Lets try this, lower that to one-seven-five and lets run it again." Harrington retorted, sounding confident of her own words as she spoke.

Theisman almost began to argue, but she remembered that the Old Lady had a knack for being on the spot when she started figuring out a problem. He input the new figures and restarted the simulation.

The computer began to extrapolate how the battle would take its course. As the virtual Expeditionary Fleet accelerated in system in an arrowhead formation, it penetrated the outer and middle fortress rings before more than a fifth of either ring could engage the armada. However, just after the second fortress ring, the first problems occurred. The computer estimated that it would make the most sense for the enemy mobile force to mount their main line of resistance there, pressing the Expeditionary fleet between two fires, from the second fortress ring and the Imperial fleet. However, the Allied Forces pressed on in their arrowhead formation and punched through the Battle Fleet firing at them. Deccelerating to avoid getting into the engagement envelope of the last fortress ring, the armada formed up into a battle line and began pouring fire into the rear of the Imperials.

However, despite this the Expeditionary Force would lose for the numbers were simply too badly skewed against them. As it began to seem that the Allies would achieve nothing, the second part of the Expeditionary Force appeared on the simulation. Their entry to n-space was precisely timed in order for the positions of the third fortress ring to be such that the systems hyperlimit would allow the second force to come in as close to the third ring as possible and thus remain in their engagement envelope as short time as they could. The second force would then proceed through the hole the first force had punched through the second fortress ring and engage the Imperial fleet.

The battle ran its course, impossible amounts of data going through the computers of the CIC as the simulation processed every single missile and point-defense laser that would be fired, battle damage and losses included.

The result came up on the screen: Defeat of the Expeditionary Force with 32% of Birhat Systems Order of Battle remaining.

Theisman drew back his head in irritation.

"Its goddamn impossible, we already made an insane amount of positive assumptions for this one, including that they would fall for the tactic we used at Sol once more." He muttered as he disgustinly looked over the post-simulation battle report.

"It seems we are making the wrong assumptions Tom." Harrington said, though she seemed worried as well about the result.

"Lets try something new..." She said and showed Theisman what she had thought over.

"You cant be serious?" The younger admiral said silently.

"Oh but I am. Humour me." She said smiling and Theisman sighed as he input the figures and started the simulation again.

Minutes passed by before the result came on-screen.

"Well I'll be.." Theisman said as he gazed at the results. Birhat System Order of Battle, 14% remaining. Allied Fleet penetrated all defenses and succesfully pacified Planet Endicot. 21% of Expeditionary Fleet elements remaining.

"A bit pessimistic yet though, I think we can refine that." Harrington said and began modifying the parameters again.

"I'll forward it to the flagship." Theisman sighed while hiding a slight smile.

Tappee

07-07-2006, 05:30

Things had slowed down since the battle for Scylla III had ended, but like most battles the wounded severed as a reminder to the ferocity of the fight. As Admiral Jensen stepped out of the infirmary the door closed behind him, he had spent most of the days visiting the injured.

Standing to the right of the Admiral was Field Commander Jefferys, Tappee most seasoned Field Commander, despite the local the two need to discuss matters at hand. Even though they had won the fight here the war was far from over, and their next move would be critical.

“How are things going” inquired Jensen as the two made their way up to briefing room.

Now that fighting was over, they would need to leave a small garrison on the planet and prepare their force for the next push, such had been the way for the last few years, leap fogging from one planet to another. There was little doubt in anyone mind that it was slow and tedious process.

“Currently 90% of our forces have been brought back up to the fleet.” Answered Commander Jefferys coldly, for a moment there was silence as the two walked down the corridor.

“So what are you going to do when this is all over” finally asked Jensen ending the silence

“This is my last campaign, one why or another. I’ve grown tired of the fighting.” Quickly answered Jeffery. “Besides, do you every think that this will ever end?”

“Sir, you some urgent messages” yelled a man at the other end hallway, as he ran over. “Admiral we have just received some urgent news that you should really see” he handed the Admiral a data pad.

Taking the data pad, Jensen glanced over the information that the pad contained. For a moment Jensen was lost in though before he looked up Jefferys “It would seem that there just might be an end in sight.” Before Jefferys had a chance to ask what he was taking about Jensen added “It seems that Clairmont command wants to attack Birhat some time within the next four months.”

“Ok but with what army” shot Jeffery, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to strike at the enemies heart, it just was the he was a realist.

“I think that this will help with that,” said the aid as he handed Jensen another data pad.

Once again Jensen took it and read it over. “Well this is certainly the day for surprises” he proclaimed as he finished

“What is it now” From what he could the second message seemed to be of more interest then the first, and he could not help but wonder what would be more shocking then an attack against Birhat.

“Tappee was withdrawn from ESUS effectively immediately. All personal has been recalled.” Both men knew what the implication of this meant, but perhaps no one more then Jensen, he after all at one time was the in Command of the ESUS division. Part of the stipulations of the being part of the ESUS alliance was to commit part of ones military to the joint ESUS defense force. However, now that Tappee was no longer part of the alliance it meant that a sizable military force would now be free to be redeployed to fight the war here.

Lost in thought Jensen turned to the aid “get me a shuttle right away, and send a message to Clairmont command and tell them that I would like a meeting to discuss our next move.”

Clairmont

09-07-2006, 14:24

Edge of Western Rainforest
321 Km from the Coast

The Special Warfare reconnaissance patrol had maintained good speed ever since they left from their home at Base Camp #47. The Western Rainforest however had forced them to leave their ATAV (All.Terrain.Armored.Vechile) behind as always and from there they had proceeded onward on foot.

Major Motoko Kusanagi was pleased at how fast they had made it here this time. Despite the two new members to her team, the Operatives had mixed together as well as ever and the teamwork thus far had been excellent. However, the journey here had been the easy part, despite the constant evading of Imperial patrols, convoys and military units on the way.

Kusanagi used a small optical sensor head to peek over the ridgeline at the site of one of the largest Imperial base camps outside their transports turned fortresses. Using active sensors was a big no-no, and it had become obvious that the best ways to go unnoticed was to use optics and low emission passive sensors as much as possible.

The feed from the optical head came directly to her helmet HUD and filtered through the squad tac-net to the other members of the team. The base camp dubbed "Remorse" by Military Intelligence usually housed atleast two divisions undergoing maintenance or resupply. From the amount of material and personnel she observed in the base situated six kilometers from her position, the Imps couldnt make up one understrength Battalion.

She allowed her helmet computer to filter the data passed by the optical sensor with shape recognition software and thermal signature identification. Few seconds passed as the small computer in the helmet went through the data and gave her the results.

Filtering complete. Identified:
2x Trojan Super Heavy Assault Armor
1X Shiphon Mobile Repair/Supply Depot
11x Chimaera Main Battle Tank
315x Combat Armor Soldier
230x Battle Suit Soldier
2x Assault Shuttle

Propability of correct identificiation: 87.67%

It seemed as if the base had been stripped to skeleton crewing. The last time Kusanagi had been here, which was four months ago, the base had had over ten times that figure of troops and battle reports from the sectors where this base usually sent troops could not account for such an amount of Imperial being destroyed. Which meant that all those forces were now somewhere else, obviously.

"Major." Came the short call through the squad-net.

"Go." Kusanagi replied, her helmet identifying the caller as Corporal Henderson.

"Im picking up a supply shuttle taking off from the pad north of here, it seems to be headed east. My comp estimates that its fully loaded." The Corporal reported.

It was amazing how much information the helmet computers could gather from relatively little input. Corporal Hendersons helmet had calculated the airspeed of the supply shuttle by calculating its relative motion to ground level and used the maps in the database the Operatives carried with them as reference to verify the numbers. By comparing the speed to the maximum speed of an Imperial supply shuttle without cargo in athmosphere, it could be quickly assessed that the craft would indeed be full in this case.

"Roger that Corporal. Keep observing." She ordered and crunched the numbers. An Imp Type-8 Athmospheric Supply Shuttle had maximum carry capacity of 612 tons. There shouldnt be any Imperial units large enough East of Remorse Base Camp to recquire such large amount of supplies, unless...

"We're bugging out." She called through the net and quickly her team began to rise from their observation positions, heading back down the ridge after leaving behind several passive observation instruments that could feed them data via ground-relay laser transmitters.

It was imperative that they would get the Intel they had gathered to Military Intelligence as fast as possible.

Clairmont

11-07-2006, 16:35

Clairmont Island, Military Intelligence HQ
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 24 Days

The pieces of the puzzle made little in the way of sense. All the data gathered within the last two weeks suggested two possibilities; 1) The Imperium was running out of forces 2) It was gathering its forces, stripping garrisons to bone.

Since the first option was straight out of the window, that left only the second and thus far no-one had been able to deduce where the Imperium was gathering its strength. No massive concentrations of men and materiel had been detected within or near the main combat zones which suggested they were preparing for an offensive on a new front.

Colonel Tatiana Visla had been in the service of MilInt for the better part of fifteen years. Those years had taught her to see the hidden piece of information amongst the droves of useless data, to detect the hidden consistencies in the data gathered where others failed to see the pattern.

The lack of satellites and aerial reconnaissance had made her job during the Invasion a living hell. Intelligence had had to go back to the old ways, Mark 1 eyeball, Long-Range Reconnaissance Teams and gathering whatever scraps of information could they could get their hands on. But now, none of her skills were helping her, an estimated four million enemy soldiers were simply missing.

"Colonel?"

Tatiana sighed and laid down the report she had been reading and lifted her gaze to the door where Lieutenant Trevor Reichs stood at attention.

"Relax Trevor. What is it?" She said, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on her table.

"Well, the Comms boys were going through their logs today, regular monthly checks, when they came up with something weird. Apparently, a while ago someone succesfully punched a short burst transmission through the Gamma relay network all the way to our comms computers." He explained, giving away the simple details.

"You dont have to report every Imperial data-hacking attempt to me Trevor." Tatiana sighed.

"I know ma'am, but this wasnt such an attempt. The transmission apparently was a combination of voice and video with attached data elements. It was heavully scrambled and encrypted, but Comms promised they would have it sorted out by now and that they would forward it to your message queue." The lieutenant said.

"Ok, I'll look it over. Thanks." Tatiana replied, turning on her workstation and waving the Lieutenant off.

It took a few minutes to dig up the message, decrypt it and open it.

She opened the video file and was met by a face of a man he estimated to be atleast a hundred years old, past middle-age for a prolong society. The face was gaunt, tired and worn, gripped with deep sadness and determination.

"I dont know whether this message will reach the right people, but if it does reach our military I urge you to hear me out." The man started and Tatiana took a comfortable position.

"I represent the combined resistance movement of the region of Buelle. For the last six months we have been gathering intelligence regarding the stationing and whereabouts of key Imperial Command Personnel as well as their Invasion forces. Four months ago our efforts carried major fruit and we discovered...." The man on the screen continued calmly, maps appearing in the video to illustrate his points. As the message went on, Tatiana's eyes grew wider every passing minute. When the file reached its end and closed itself, she stared at the screen for a moment she could not measure and shot up from her chair, running towards her office door.

Clairmont

28-07-2006, 15:39

Ft. Hyde
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 22 Days

Stewart saluted the sentry standing at attention next to the Base Commander's office door who returned the salute briskly and opened the door for him. The Force Recon Commando's face was blank, depriving Stewart of any hints as to why he had been ordered to meet with Colonel Briggs.

He wasnt nervous exactly, but there was a certain bit of uneasiness nagging at the back of his mind, telling him that Command had finally had enough of his vigilante style of leading. He shrugged, and entered the office.

It was mostly Spartan in its decoration. Only a single painting, protraying an artists impression of the 14th Mobile Assault of Duchess Janski's and Alexanders Grand Army taking the Headquarters of Warlord Schinj at Irmansul City.

The man behind the table stood up as Stewart entered and he saluted his superior.

"Lieutenant Trent reporting as ordered Sir." He said briskly.

"At ease Lieutenant, you're not here to be my chewing toy. Not today atleast." The Colonel said and grinned.

Colonel Briggs was an old warhorse. He had served the Armed Forces for the better part of twenty years, seeing his fair share of anti-piracy work during his days and the odd skirmish here and there. He was somewhat an ogre of a man. Shorter than Stewart standing at 175 centimeters, but built like a battering ram which, along with his fiery temperament, had earned him the nickname "Raging Bull" among his troops.

Stewart relaxed his posture a bit, suspicion still nagging at the back of his mind. The Colonel had said that he would not chew up the poor Lieutenant today, but the War had taught Stewart to be ready.

"Im not known for making long speeches so I'll make this short. I got an interesting letter back from Command today, it seems that they passed through the paperwork I had started and I just got the response today." The Colonel started.

"Despite your attitude Trent, and the fact that you seem to be crazy as hell, Command, me and Captain Miyazaki all agree on this decision." He continued, opening a drawer of his table and taking a small jewelry box from within, handing it to Stewart.

He opened it hesitantly and his eyes widened as the three golden pieces of jewelry inside the box revealed their meaning to him.

"Congratulations Captain Trent." Colonel Briggs said and extended his hand.

Stewart shook his eyes away from the rank insignia of Captain and took the proffered hand.

"Thank you Colonel, I dont know what to say." He muttered as he shook Briggs's hand.

"You dont have to say anything, just do your new job as well as your last one. Oh, Command also sent me this." He said, taking another box from the same drawer along with a letter.

Stewart took the second jewelry box and opened it, his eyes once again betrayed his thoughts.

"Sir, with all due respect, I cant accept this." He said after a moment. He had always felt uneasy about taking awards, and frankly taking an award for doing his job did not feel right.

"Yes you can. Command went over the Gyokun Valley ambush incident with a fine comb. With both mine and Captain Miyazaki's recommendations, they arrived to this conclusion." The Colonel said.

Stewart stared at the medal inside the jewelry box. It was the Shield of Valor, a medal that was only given to those soldiers of the service who had succeeded despite the odds in overcoming an impossible seeming situation and turn it into victory. It was the third highest award for bravery and valor in the line of duty that the Clairmont Armed Forces had.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, inhaled sharply and spoke.

"Thank you Colonel." He said.

"Thank Command Captain. Now, all the paperwork for your next assingment has been done and you will be officially taking command of Bravo Company effective tomorrow at twelve-hundred hours. Captain Miyazaki was offered a spot in the Cadre, and apparently you were the man he wanted to take command of Bravo. Now, you have a mountain of your own paperwork to do Im sure and Miyazaki wanted to catch a word with you before he leaves so, you're dismissed Captain." Briggs said and saluted.

Steward returned the salute sharply, made an about face and left the office.

Clairmont

30-07-2006, 01:26

Manticore's Nest
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 21 Days

"This information is accurate?" Field Marshal DeSilva asked with an inquisitive tone as the data was shown on the main strategy table screen.

"Well, there is no confirmation for it, only the word of the resistance fighters. But yes, my analysts and my gut tells me its accurate." Patricia Givens answered confidently.

It had taken painfully long to go over the data in the message before she was certain that it was worth presenting to the people present here today. It was the job of BuPlan under which operated all the Intelligence services of the nation to separate the facts from fiction among the piles of data that poured in every day. This time, they might just have a break for it.

"Even if it is, what are we supposed to do with it? We can barely hold on to the scraps we have. Assaulting these targets would recquire massive commitments of forces. At the moment, we cant do it without exposing something." Field Marshal Broderick said thoughtfully.

"I've already been in contact with Spec War and handed over the data. They think that with a commitment of half of their second battalion along with a company of the Cadre and ACS, they could cause significant enough damage to atleast severely hamper Imperial operations. They also calculate that there would be atleast a twenty-seven percent chance of inflicting heavy enough damage to open up the Imperials for a major counter-attack." Givens explained without bothering to check her facts from the datapad. She knew them well enough.

DeSilva grunted.

"As if we had those troops to throw around."

"He's right. Since this information also reveals that the Imps have been massing their troops for a major attack and we dont know where, we have to cover all the bases just to be sure." Broderick continued.

"True. However with the report from Major Kusanagi's team, it is highly likely that they will try the western passages." Givens said.

"That is only speculation. It could as well be a feint to draw our forces from the Northern and Eastern passages. Heavy as our fixed defenses there still are, without the strength we have emplaced there now, the Imperials could break through with impunity." DeSilva retorted.

"At the moment, we all know that if the war continues at its current pace, the Imperials WILL overrun the Diess perimeter within a couple of months anyway. General Schoder's latest report confirms that." Admiral Caparelli, First Space Lord and Chief of Naval Operations said.

"It already is a do or die situation and we have been handed detailed intelligence regarding the postings of over one hundred of the Imperial's top officers, the locations of their major bases as well as data regarding their defenses." He continued, voice grim as the totality of the situation once again nearly overcame him.

"Yes, but that does not justify sending troops on reckless missions with the hope of doing something worthwile. Atleast now we have a chance of holding on until the fleet comes back." Broderick retorted hotly. He wasnt too happy about a Navy puke telling him how to do his job.

"Admiral Rowe cannot quarantee a victory within the time we have, nor can he quarantee a victory at all." Caparelli replied silently.

"Atleast, lets consider the plan Spec War handed me." Givens said and punched a few commands that brought up the Operation plan on the strategic map embedded in the table.

Obediently, the computer drew up the icons of first the forces that would be involved in striking behind the enemy lines and crippling their C3 systems as well as high command elements.

"According to the plan, the forces would be air dropped from low flying assault shuttles around here." She started, pointing a location on the map. A blue line appeared on the map, starting from Fort Alexander and taking a jiggling path through the mountain valleys to the eastern shores of Clairmont and from there proceeded to closely follow the shoreline, ending near what had been the Lexington Naval Base.

"The intel tells us that this area is a dead spot in the Imperial surveillance screen which the Imps apparently havent bothered to fix. To what end, we dont know, perhaps they trust their CAP a bit too much." She said, waiting a few seconds for everyone present to note the route.

"From there, the assault force would proceed North-West, evading action as long as possible."

"At this point, the Imperial surveillance becomes too thick to pass through easilly. However, there is a valley near the target area which is only watched over by a single Light Infantry Company. It is paramount that the company be eliminated without them warning the main target." She explained, each step of the Operation appearing on the map.

"What about the shield?" Broderick asked.

"Good question. Until now, we have assumed that the shield umbrellas those transports keep up extend all the way to the ground. Well apparently we were wrong assuming that. It seems that the transports still are used as their primary munitions and equipment manufactoring points. Thus, they recquire a constant stream of supplies in and provide a constant stream of equipment out. Since starting up the shield takes up more power than keeping it up, the umbrella only starts from ten meters up from ground level." She answered.

"Can they be quickly reconfigured?" Caparelli questioned while keeping his eyes on the map.

"The resistance does not know for certain. But, from what we know of Imperial hardware we have studied, shield configurations take significant amounts of time. Several hours to be exact, so if the assault force acted quickly, they could get in before the Imps reconfigure the shield." Givens replied, pointing to the relevant data appearing on the map.

"How hard are their defenses around the transports?" DeSilva queried. It had been two years since anyone had returned with observations of the amounts of troops and defenses protecting each transport.

"Apparently, each transport is covered by a full assault regiment as well as fixed defenses including SAM's, Energy batteries, Bunkers, smart-mine fields and limited artillery. The Imperials are trusting their forward mobile forces to stop anything reaching the transports."

"A full regiment?! The assault force would be outnumbered four to one!" Broderick replied with frustration.

"Yes. However, since the plan relies on the force getting inside the Imperial perimeter, they wouldnt have to fight all of the enemy at the same time. And once they got in to the transports, they would have the advantage."

"Let's face it gentlemen. This is our best chance, our ONLY chance to deliver a punch hard enough to the Imps that might give us a chance to live long enough for the fleet to arrive." Givens said confidently.

"I agree with Admiral Givens." Caparelli said after a moment of silence.

Broderick and DeSilva still seemed hesitant.

"Assuming we sign on this, how quickly could the operation be started?" DeSilva asked from Broderick who handled most of the logistical and organizational matters of the Ground Forces.

"Umm.. I'd say a week. We would need to shuffle the necessary troops for the assault force to Fort Alexander quietly. Brief them, give them time to go over the Op plan and organize their force into a proper unit." Broderick said while consulting his datapad.

"And prepare to punch south with our main forces there if the assault force succeeds." DeSilva added.

Their hesitation was fading now, and they were starting to do the job they had earned through skill and dedication.

"Okay. Are we all in agreement?" Caparelli asked, interrupting the two Field Marshals.

"Admiral, I think this plan is fucking insane, reckless and arrogant. However... we have been on the defensive far too long. Yes, we are in agreement. However, what about the Protector?" DeSilva said. He knew that the ruling Monarch of Clairmont had handed his High Commanders full authority to do anything they had to do in order to defend their homeland. But such a large scale operation...

"He will agree. He shares your feelings about the current state of the war." Caparelli replied. Benjamin Alexander was his friend, and he knew that the Protector would go along with this plan.

"Very well. In that case, we will start prepping it right away. " Broderick said, satisfied that the CNO was confident of his ability to make their Lord and Master to agree.

"Okay, lets go do our jobs." Patricia Givens said, picking up her notes and datapad and walking out of the strategy room.

Clairmont

02-08-2006, 03:59

Charybdis System
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 12 Days

The full might of the Expeditionary Fleet was now gathered. A total of 1,380 warships and troopships, 34 Battlesquadrons, were clustered together, forming a cohesive entity.

As the general battle plan for taking the Birhat system was finalized, the crews of each ship and the squadrons as entities had trained endlessly to achieve perfection. Everyone knew their jobs, but they had to do better than that. They had to have blind luck and utmost perfection of their skills at hand when the time came in order for the Fleet to survive the coming encounter.

The staffs of each squadron had had very little time to rest as they went on, perfecting the critical strike to the Imperium's heart. Times came when Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe didnt believe he had enough time in a day to do everything he saw as necessary.

"The latest from fifth Battlesquadron. Admiral Matthews believes that the Marduk can be brought to full combat capacity in ten days. The yard dogs from Fab seven say they can shave off a day from that estimate and I'm inclined to believe them." Commander Banton, Rowe's Tactical and Strategic assistant told him as he read the message dispatch from his datapad.

"Excellent, we sure as hell need every SD to make this lunacy work." Rowe sighed as he acknowledged the Commander's report.

"Also, unexpected but most certainly a welcome surprise, Rear Admiral Vincetti arrived an hour ago with four additional Superdreadnought's from Sol."

"Apparently, Hephaestus finished them faster than their first estimate allowed us to believe, and they came straight through Qualtren. The Commander said, his tone becoming detectably cooler as he mentioned the fallen main base of operations of the Expeditionary Force that had fallen to the Imperials.

Rowe's eyes widened. The Superdreadnought's under Vincetti's command were of the newest Iconoclasm-class, the most powerfull warships, sans the upgraded Supermonitors of which only three remained, in the Clairmont Star Navy. Boasting twice the energy battery firepower and three times the missile capability of even an upgraded Inquisitor-class SD(P), they represented a most welcome addition indeed to the Fleet.

Currently, of the 326 Ships of the Wall in the Expeditionary Fleet, 117 were of the new Iconoclasm-class, with the addition of Rear Admiral Vincetti's squadron, that figure would increase to 330 Ships of the Wall total and 121 Iconoclasm's.

"Please send my best regards to Admiral Vincetti and instruct him to join the seventh battlesquadron. They wont have time to train much before the plan goes off, but Im sure Admiral Sarnow will get them up to par quickly enough."
Rowe replied while the Commander scribbled to his datapad.

"Yes sir."

"And sir, I hope you wont send me in front of the firing squad for saying this, but you look like hell. We cant have our CO fainting due to fatigue when we finally hit Birhat." The Commander said with mock amusement covering the slight edge of worry in his tone.

"Perhaps I wont get you stuffed out of the airlock for this Trevor, but let it be the last time my Strategy Advisor is right about me needing sleep!" Rowe chuckled.

"Yes sir, wont happen again." Commander Banton said, smiling and stood up ready to leave the briefing room.

"Good night sir."

"Thanks, I hope it will be. "

Rowe let out a long lungfull of air as Banton left the compartment and stole a quick glance at the wall-covering strategic display. Nodding to himself he decided to follow Commander Banton's advise and seek some solitude in a couple of hours of sleep.

Clairmont

06-08-2006, 18:33

Former Lexington Naval Base

The annihilated remains of what had once been the second largest wet navy base in the entire Clairmont, crumbled under Captain Stewart Trent's boots as he walked through the rubble with Bravo Company fanning out, searching for signs of hostiles.

They found none, nor had they expected to. Elements of the 2nd Special Warfare Battalion were scouting ahead of the ACS Company with the Cadre holding the rear of the assault force as they proceeded.

The Naval Base was a sorry sight. The docks themselves were mostly empty, the few naval ships that had still been berthed here during the attack having left to the ocean. However, one Ariel-class Attack Submarine remained, half-sunk in its berth, massive holes gaping in its hull.

"Python-three to Panther-six, area clear." Came a report through Stewart's com channel. His suit systems recognized the caller as Lieutenant Frankes, of 1st Platoon, Alpha Company, 2nd Spec War Battalion.

Despite his promotion, the powers that be had decided that Captain Stewart Trent was still too junior to command such an important mission, not to mention that the whole force was equal to a heavy Battalion. Thus the higher ups had handed over the overall command of the mission to Colonel Vincent Naumann of Special Warfare.

"Panther-six, Winchester-six. We're clear. Rendezvous at the next WP." The cold voice of the CO sounded in Trent's ear.

Personally, Stewart was more than happy to serve under Naumann's command. The man had a reputation of a ruthless and cold-blooded bastard, but the Operations he had planned and executed had saved countless Civilians and Soldiers of Clairmont alike. That alone had earned the man Stewart's respect.

The ground shook as something big approached Stewart from behind and he turned to look at the four massive tanks approaching in formation. Altough the bastards were big and ungainly, they also carried a massive amount of firepower that the assault force needed in carrying out their mission.

Each tank was one of the newest Templar Block 10 main battle tanks. Their main gun was a massive 170mm rail-acceleration assisted Electrothermal Cannon. However, as one of the greatest dangers to modern tanks were both man portable missiles and close support aircraft, the Templar also carried an impressive array of secondary weapons.

Each tank was equipped with two 20mm tri-barrels on the front of the turret, designed for taking out soft targets such as light vechiles and infantry. In addition, the turret also was equipped with a Type.16 Light VLS cell with six cells. All of them carried SRAAM-3 Short-Range Anti-Air Missiles. In addition, anti-tank missiles could be fired with the main gun.

Combined with extensive Electronic Warfare and Passive Defense systems, the Templar Block 10 was the most advanced Main Battle Tank the Armed Forces had. Which didnt make them any easier to hide...

Behind the tanks rolled the APC's and Armoured Supply Carriers. While the ACS suits of Stewart's company and the Advanced Battle Armour of the Cadre allowed them to move much faster than infantry without powered assist, they still needed power and using the suits, despite popular misbelief, was a physically straining task.

As the hob-gobble battalion cleared the base and set its course on the predetermined route that would take them to their target, everyone except two squads of the Cadre loaded up on the vehicles and prepared for the journey ahead.

Clairmont

12-08-2006, 03:38

Diess City Defense Zone
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 6 Days

The aircraft rocked lightly as yet another pair of AAM's released from the pylons beneath its wings and went streaking after their prey. Guidance systems found the elusive signature of the enemy aircraft, adjusting their headings to intercept. One of them was blinded by the electronic screaming of its targets defense systems, the other held on to its course to its terminal attack range of five meters.

A fireball erupted as the missile's warhead went off, shrapnelling casing of the weapon showering the enemy fighter with debris while the fireball scorched its skin and the overpressure wave tore it apart.

Lieutenant Kenneth Fukkai nodded in approval and banked hard to look for another target. Beside his fighter, 2nd Lieutenant Eric Mandell released his missiles, scraching off another Imperial fighter from the skies.

Around them, the rest of the squadron was in a fierce dogfight with the Imperial patrol they had intercepted. Burning trails of shot down combat planes and erupting fireballs of missile warheads created a vast and coreographed pyrotechnic show where life and death were decided in split seconds.

Three long minutes passed by before the last Imperial fighter broke up into pieces from Lieutenant Ivory's well aimed gunfire and the squadron began to form up once more, heading back to base to lick its wounds.

Overall, the kill-ratio had been excellent. Three-to-one in Fukkai's squadrons favor. It had taken a long time and a great number of dead pilots to perfect techniques against the Imperial fighter jocks. At first, their maneuvers had seemed perfect without a flaw or opening to be left for the enemy to use. But as time and engagements came and went, the mechanical and inflexible truth of those maneuvers came apparent.

At that point, the tide of battle in the skies had changed. The remaining Clairmontian squadrons had quickly gained the edge in aerial combat by displaying their greater flexibility and inventiveness in combat.

All the reasoning however would not bring 2nd Lieutenant's Matthson and Juno back from the depths of the ocean. The two were the only casualties from the three Clairmontian planes the Imperials had shot down, but those
two were also nearly irreplaceable at the present time.

"Venom-Six this is Snake-Eyes. New bogies designate Zulu-Four-Three and Zulu-Four-Four heading on one-niner-seven. Possible intercept solution in one-one-point-two minutes. Use your own advisement." A voice said from Fukkai's helmet speakers.

Altough the AWACS bird had full datalinking capability and was aware of the fuel and ammunition levels of the squadron and could have simply sent the new information directly to their screens, regulations still recquired vocal announcement of the information and confirmation of receipt.

"Snake-Eyes, Venom-six. Negative on intercept. We are bingo fuel and ammunition." Fukkai answered after a brief second of contemplation.

"Venom-Six, Snake-Eyes. Head back to the barn."

Like Fukkai needed some upstart sensor tech telling him when to return to base he grumbled in thought. He had always had some issue with AWACS operators. Despite attempting to figure out exactly what it was about, he still couldnt figure out why they pissed him off.

"Venom-lead to squadron. Return-to-base. I repeat, RTB." He called through the secure squadron net and receipts of acknowledgement chorused a barely discernable moment afterwards.

Tappee

12-08-2006, 19:27

Location: Classified

There was an uneasy silence in Admiral Martacs office, as the time drew closer to the offensive his personal time was less and less. So when he had the chance to step aside and collect his thoughts he took it. At this particular moment his thoughts drift to the mammoth fleet that was gathered in the space around him.

Martac could not help but be impressed, with the addition of the former ESUS force, this without question had been the largest fleet gathering in Tappee’s military history, even larger then the force that had stormed the planet of Steel Butterfly during the Orion War. However, despite the show of force victory was far from being assured, their adversary had proven time and time again that they would not simply roll over and die. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that the coming days would be difficult, and that victory would come at a costly price. At least he knew that one way or another that after this there would an end in sight.

A knock on his door briefly started him, looking up he saw his assistant standing there patiently “Sir, it is time for your meeting with admiral Jensen to cover the battle.”

“Thank you” answered Martac as he rose to his feet, suddenly he was feeling much more confident then before.

Endicot

13-08-2006, 01:24

Birhat System

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
61sr Month of the War

The space outside the viewport was busy. Hundreds of small-craft went on with their menial yet crucial tasks while larger utility vessels swarmed over the navy base with everlasting energy.

A battle would unfold in Birhat system soon, and its defenders planned to be ready for it.

Admiral Yzak Theradoc gazed disspassionately at the weight of metal under his command, hanging silently in the depths of space just beyond the viewport. Arrayed into neat formations, they were the most powerfull single formation of ships the Imperium posessed. When the Clairmontians, Theradoc snorted in contempt, arrived, they would face quite a surprise when the defenses of Birhat proved to be.. more formidable than they had had any right to expect.

It had all been planned. The destruction of the facilities at Qualtren system had denied the loyalist scum a forward base of operations and bridgehead in the Imperium space. Thus they were left with only one logical alternative, direct attack to Birhat in order to end the war before they would falter and lose the momentum.

Unfortunately for the Clairmontians, Fleet Overlord Integra had guessed what they would do and as such what the loyalists would undoubtly perceive as a surprise attack would turn out to be a huge trap where their presence in the Imperium's Space would finally be obliterated.

Luring the enemy to Birhat had several advantages, but perhaps the greatest of them in Admiral Theradoc's mind was that he would see finally command his squadron in battle.

The Ships of the Wall in his squadron were the largest, most powerfull and expensive ships the Imperium had ever produced. Seventy-five percent more massive than even one of the stupendous Utu-class Supermonitors, the
Emperor's Might-class warships would become as a great surprise to the Clairmontians.

The problem had been that an ancient degree ruled that the squadron under Theradoc's command would never leave Birhat, for they were its personal and eternal protectors. They were the Emperor's Guard. Answering only to the Emperor directly, the Guard comprised of the most talented commanders and elite crews found in the entirety of the Imperium. And they were fully under Theradoc's disposal.

Ghost of a hungry smile swept through his face as he thought of engaging the enemy with his squadron.

He assured himself that his hunger would be sated soon enough. The loyalists would have to launch their attack soon in order to make the best use of it. And Theradoc waited, patiently for his prey to arrive.

Clairmont

13-08-2006, 16:44

Outskirts of Medusa City
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 4 Days

General Sharon Issard awoke from her slumber as the door of the bunker slammed shut. Her eyes flew wide, right hand reaching for the automatic under her pillow. It was all a reflex reaction, but before her brain registered the newcomer as Lieutenant Paul Krueger, she had already grabbed the gun.

"Christ Ma'am, I still fear that one of these days you'll really put one between my eyes." The Lieutenant shuddered as he saw where his Generals hand was.

"Sorry Paul. All those times running from a safe house you know..." She muttered and stood up from the bed.

"Anyway, what's up?"

"Well, if I exclude the fact that apparently ninety-five percent of all troops in the area have left 'somewhere', then not much." Krueger smiled.

"What?!" Issard's eyes went wide as she heard her Lieutenant's proclamation.

"Yep. All but one company of the armor is gone, two battalions of infantry left. "

"My god, what the hell are they doing?" Issard whispered as the numbers registered. Through the last four years, Medusa had always been occupied by atleast the Imperial equivalent of a Heavy Division. Now, it had been reduced to barely light regiment. But the fact that they had pulled so much troops also meant that they saw some new offensive so critical that they would expose even occupied Megapolis' to such extent to gather troops.

"They are going for the finishing blow. A last bit all or nothing assault." She thought out loud and her staff lieutenant nodded.

"Halburton came to that conclusion as well and he intends to move." Krueger added.

Issard gasped. During the time they had spent with Halburton and his Syndicate group, they had come to know the man as a carefull tactician and brilliant thinker. He had no lust for pointless attacks against the occupation forces. Instead, he chose to plan his strikes carefull and select the forces he needed to execute it with surgical precision. He could have put any squad tactics and urban combat advisor at Mirella Ground Combat Tactical School to shame.

The fact that Halburton decided to move so quickly, with so little planning was obscure, but it also meant that he was absolutely certain that it was the right time to act.

Krueger waited patiently as the General put the pieces together in her head.

"Ok. If Halburton is convinced enough to move, we will assist them. Have Chris and Tomas wipe the dust on the tin cans and heavies in storage. We'll be taking them with us. Get everyone geared up and ready and send Samuel, Yvonne and Richter to me as soon as they can." She snapped orders as the old fuel of combat command to come filled her.

It was entirely thanks to Halburton and the Syndicate that Issard had any troops to command at all. Apparently, during the first week of the invasion, several bits and pieces of the Northern battalions that had been thought isolated and destroyed by the Imperium had in fact escaped and sought refuge in Medusa city and its outskirts. Seeing a possible source of experienced manpower, the Syndicate opted to look out for the survivors and give them a safe haven. A safe haven that just happened to be a hundred and fifty year old munitions storage bunker and emergency base.

How the Syndicate had known about the place when Issard had had no clue it was here, was beyond her understanding, but it had been a most welcome surprise.

As the Syndicate had gathered together the "Battalion" of survivors that they had managed to save, all they had needed was a capable and battle experienced Commanding Officer for the force. When Sharon Issard and her group came to the Syndicate, they knew they had their Commander.

Ofcourse, they had set conditions. The Battalion had Syndicate "observators" attached to it, to make sure that the Army did not plan anything behind the Criminal Organization's back. They were also there to genuinely act as liaisons between the two groups.

Issard's line of thought crashed as Krueger acknowledged her orders.

"Ok General. I'll go take care of it right away."

"Good, and one more thing... have Harper go through the checklist for the nukes." She whispered and her Staff Lieutenant gasped.

Every proper secret munitions depot and emergency base held nukes, it was straight from The Book. In the case of this particular base, the nuclear weapons were old, nearly fifty years from the past and for all that time they had not been maintained.

Clairmontian nuclear armaments were built to last and endure. They recquired only a tenth of the maintenance apiece that a normal Cold-War era ICBM had demanded. Yet, five decades was a long time and doubts of the nukes operational status had sprung to Issard's mind.

She had had the experts of the Battalion go through some of the maintenance procedures and checks to see if the weapons still worked and according to their reports, all of them checked out green. Nevertheless, one should not start throwing nukes around before certain that they dont blow on your face.

The weapons themselves were quite rudimentary and basic designs in the terms of modern systems. They were of the old NW-68 design with a dialable yield upto twenty kilotons apiece. There were only eight of them and the base contained standard (of the time) delivery systems from artillery rocket-assisted shells to MLRS rocket frames and ground launched cruise missiles.

Issard had already decided to use them in the cruise missiles if she ever had to use them. The CLCM-7's were extremely accurate. They also carried quite a bit of Electronic Warfare. Their speed and fuel capacity gave them a long-range to top off their abilities. Ofcourse, the missiles were actually six decades old with newer models thwarting them in every aspect. Still, they were capable delivery systems and would work for Issard's purposes.

There was a knock on the door and the Marine sentry opened it as the three Company Commanders of Issard's Battalion marched to the room. She nodded to each of them personally and cleared her throat.

"Well, it looks like the Imps finally gave us the chance we wanted. Now its time to use it." She started and the three Company CO's listened intently.

Clairmont

13-08-2006, 23:29

300km North-East of Lexington Naval Base
Operation Eye Of Shiva: T-Minus 3 Days

Stewart saw the shape of the Imperial Marine ahead of him in the mist, the hapless Marine however was still unaware of a threat's presence only ten meters behind.

Stewart however would not be the ony doing the kill, Corporal Jamie Hicks of the Cadre would be receiving that honor. The Captain mused as he observed the video feed from the Corporal's helmet camera with intent.

At a precise moment, all of the ambushers had silently counted down to, combat blades flashed and the lifeless bodies of twenty Imperial sentries fell down without a sound. The Cadre Drop Commando's who had killed them blended back into the night, and beneath their adaptive-camouflage.

Stewart nodded in silent approval of the Cadre skills. Ofcourse, the Cadre selected only the very few who had the exceptional mental and physical capabilities they required of their members. It helped them more to have in their disposal the most advanced Infantry equipment in Clairmont.

New dots appeared on Stewart's ACS suit HUD, marking next targets of the forward squads. So far so good. The Imperials hadnt detected the presence of the Assault Force, and thus far the elimination ,of the only Company of troops that barred Stewart's direct route to their target, was proceeding perfectly.

The second tier of targets disappeared, bringing the total kill count up to thirty-two. They had now penetrated the sentries of the Imperial camp. All that remained was to rush the enemy position quickly enough to destroy their communications before they could alert the other Imperials in the area of the Clairmontian's presence.

New heading vectors appeared on his HUD as the platoons under his command proceeded forward to their pre-planned positions while the Special Warfare Operatives sneaked towards the Communications building of the Imperial Compound.

The Small town that blocked the Assault Force's direct acces to their target zone had been the spot the Imperials chose for their guard compound. It was in actuality, and old parking carage with an attached mall. The Imperials used the carage and its multiple floors as firing positions while the mall had been converted to a Communications & Control building.

Ofcourse, the inhabitants of the town, all one-hundred and fifty thousand of them, would have posed far too much trouble than they were worth and the Imperial Commander of the time had simply decided to...dispose of them.

The memory came back vividly to Stewart's mind. On their way here, they had discovered a series of mass graves where the rotting corpses of the town's inhabitants had laid in eternal sleep. The whole setup and disposal of the bodies had been coldly logical and the Imperial Commander must have been pleased to run a clean detail.

Stewart nearly threw up again as the memory came back. The real live sight of the atrocity had been too much earlier.

Cold hatred burned inside him. The anger, bloodlust and rage that had accumulated within him after he learned of his family's murder, was still there. He could keep it in check, but at times it was too much. The sheer joy of ripping the Imperial murderers apart overcame him and for a moment he became a bloodcrazed butcher.

He resisted the urge even tough a silent voice nagged at the back of his head that he was simply bitter that the Special Warfare yahoos would be the ones making the direct kills.

"Panther-six, Romeo-Seven. Designate target Alpha." Stewart cut back from his internal battle at the sound of the Special Warfare operative.

He quickly selected the section of the carage that was marked with a target-designator by one of the forward SpecWar teams.

"Romeo-Seven, Panther-Six. Alpha designated."

The same litany chorused four more times, each time making sure that Stewart had logged and forwarded each Platoon their targets.

"Winchester-Six to CO's. Initiate 'Suckerpunch' in one-zero seconds...mark." Colonel Naumann half-whispered over the Battalion Command channel

The ten seconds were counting down in the upper-right corner of everyone's visors and as the last second ticked to zero, hell came to the Imperials.

The ACS had picked positions that allowed them direct enfillading fire on the carage and the Imperial firing positions. Now, the camouflaged ACS troopers poured fire with everything they had. The actinic lines of silver lightning pulverized stone and blew up bodies where-ever it hit. Five hundred tiny droplets of depleted uranium fired every second by every single one of the ACS troopers ripped apart the ceramacrete walls of the carage in a like a demolition tool. Grenade launchers coughed as the Grim-Reaper fire support suits fired steady streams of grenades to land on the Imperials.

The Cadre did no less their part. Carefully picking off the platoon of troops outside the Comms building that constituted its outer defense. 5mm Tungsten discarding sabot rounds ripped apart bodies in concentrated bursts as the Cadremen and women walked their fire over the defense in a perfectly orchestrated fire pattern.

Three seconds passed before a single Imperial opened fire, and at that point there were only forty of them left alive. Huddling in the Comms building, they had watched as the ACS tore apart the carage in a dreadfull display of firepower.

Signaling all clear for the SpecWar Operatives, the Cadre now began to pick off any Imp foolish enough to pop their heads into the open. Few of them went down in such a way, while attempting to offer return fire to the assault force.

The reinforced doors to the former mall blew up like a sardine can as the demolitions charges vented their fury on them. Streams of explosive rounds and energy gun beams erupted as the Operatives penetrated the outer shell of the building. Two went down immediately, fate or bad luck bringing them the bullet or beam with their name on it.

There was no disorder or shock in the Operatives despite the losses however and they coolly returned fire, bursts of fire from their carbines and heavy weapons snapping at any piece of Imperial flesh left without cover.

Their exceptional fire discipline and squad tactics soon overwhelmed the Imperials who had laid in the compound far too long without seeing actual combat. As the last of the immediate threats went down, carried back by the momentum of the rounds that tore him apart, the demolitions specialists of the Operatives moved forward to lay the fruits of their labor.

Two minutes later, sixty operatives were sprinting away from the former mall, powered by the exoskeletal musculature of their combat suits and the Combat Neuro Stimulant coursing in their veins. Three minutes later, the heart of sun ripped the Imperial communications building apart. The fireball itself consumed the communications building while the overpressure wave blew everything within a kilometer flat, collapsing abandoned buildings as it went.

The assault force had dared not use tactical nukes to achieve the destruction of the Comms building. But, buried as the actual comms bunker was, a demolition charge had been necessary to ensure the destruction of all communications equipment and anyone to operate them.

The C-9 Atomic Catalyst compound was not nuclear in nature altough the name suggested otherwise. And it had offered the firepower necessary to reduce the Imperial compound to bits. The ACS had graciously offered some of the C-9 they carried for the task.

Now Stewart watched the small mushroom cloud forming above the remains of the surveillance outpost. It was lucky for the assault force that the base had resided in a canyon as deep as this one. The lack of radiation from the explosion and the position reduced the chance of anyone noticing it by a significant margin.

"Winchester-Six to CO's. Python-Four has outer detail, everyone else back to the APC's." Naumann snapped over the Battalion Command net, only a slight note of satisfaction echoing in his voice.

Stewart acknowledged the command and directed his company to the APC's. It wouldnt be long before they would come too close to their target to escape detection and the hard part of the Op would start.

Clairmont

18-08-2006, 13:12

Sub-Urban sector 7, Medusa City

Anton Halburton, formerly Captain Wesley Matthews of Special Warfare, crept silently along the base of the wall, the darkness concealing him and his thirty-nine compatriots beneath its shroud.

Very few actually knew Halburton's true past. Most of the Syndicate and Law Enforcement for that matter had deducted that he was former military, however only two people aside from him knew that who he really was. And he liked to keep it that way. If Special Warfare every found out that their former golden boy from fifteen years past was one of the most feared and respected figures of the organized crime in Clairmont, they would have eliminated him ages ago.

Despite the circumstances upon which he had ended in his current occupation, he could only silently thank SpecWar for everything they had given him. He had used the skills and knowledge he had obtained to train several Mafia termination squads which had been extremely succesfull in making sure that House Armaea held a seat of power in the underground of Clairmont.

Ofcourse, criminal as he was called nowadays, Halburton had maintained some of his morals. He had carefully shaped Armaea into a criminal organization he could work with and what had followed had been the utter destruction of the other rabble. And now he was working again, removing the Imperial taint from his land.

He checked the status of their target through the night-vision goggles. As expected, the Imperial Surveillance Post was lightly guarded thanks to the massive troop withdrawals. Usually the SP had two platoons in its disposal. One of them was a rapid response platoon which's purpose was to quell any problems within the SP's area of responsibility. As expected, the response platoon had been withdrawn and an understrength platoon of Imperial regulars had been left in place.

Halburton checked the positions of his snipers and nodded in satisfaction. All four of his snipers had taken their designated vantage points and their high-powered rifles had already acquired targets. Now they merely waited for the signal.

Altough the snipers were over two-hundred meters away from their targets, Halburton was practically under their nose. The improved issue of thermo-optic camouflage and the wreck of a car hid him from sight. He made sure that the rest of the team had taken their positions, the small icons above their heads revealed their positions on the former Captain's HUD.

"Go" The single whispered word through the throat microphone came cleary as crystal to the ears of Halburton's platoon.

Four silent cracks of rifles filled the night, split second later four Imperial troopers slumped to the ground, dead before they hit the pavement. At the same time, the rest of the platoon charged the Surveillance Post.

One of the Imperial sentries caught movement and in one short second, his helmet computer idenfitied the shimmering in the air as a hostile soldier only five meters away. He was about to scream an alarm when three sub-caliber 5mm penetrators punched through his chest armor and burst out from the back.

Similar events were unfolding all around the Outpost. Imperials fell before they could open fire, and in split seconds the assault force was already breaching in to the building.

Their element of surprise was gone however, and the eight remaining Imperials inside the Outpost returned fire without hesitation, spraying the entrances to the building with fire.

One of Halburton's troopers fell, hit directly by two 10mm explosive rounds from an Imperial Grav Gun. The lifesign indicator told him that there was nothing that could be done for the young man and he shrugged.

He thumbed the grenade selector in his rifle, choosing two airbursting HE grenades from the magazine. The rifle coughed twice as the under-barrel grenade launcher spewed the rounds inside the Outpost. They exploded right above the heads of three Imperials who had a fraction of a second to realize they were dead.

The grenades created a gap in the Imperial fire, a gap through which the Syndicate Storm Troopers could pour in and finish off their enemy.

Two minutes later, the only living souls within twenty meters of the building were clutched near Halburton while some went through the logs of the Outpost, searching for anything meaningfull.

"Gulf-Six, Oscar-Lead. We've cleared a path for you. Follow the beacon I've set to the rendezvous point." Halburton called through the comm. The channel was heavully encrypted and the actual message was bounced using a whisker laser via a high altitude stealth recon drone to finally reach Sharon Issard.

Now that there were no eyes on the ground to see Issard's force coming, they wouldnt necessarily see her until her Battalion had already penetrated to the middle city areas. Ofcourse, Imperial recon drones could spot the forces with impunity, but there werent enough of them to cover the entire city and the Imperials seemed to be more interested in watching over their precious base camp outside the city.

"Copy that, Oscar-Lead. Just wait for the cavalry." A female voice replied after a moment and Halburton allowed himself a slight grin.

Now, he just hoped that after so many years without field combat command, Issard would still have her shit together.

Endicot

19-08-2006, 03:58

Planet Josia, Birhat System

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
61st Month of the War

"It is time father" The acolyte said respectfully while bowing his head.

Reverend Gabriel Vaan turned around to face his second in command with a slight edge of smile on his face. This youth had promise. His firm grab of the faith and excellent leadership capabilities had already permanently earmarked him for the list of successors to the Reverend's position.

"Thank you my son." He replied softly and walked past the man towards the double doors leading to the main hall of the sanctuary.

As the doors opened and the Reverend's flock bowed, he strode to take his place in the pulpit and let his eyes hover over the gathered soldiers of the faith. The sight brought warmth to his heart, for all the men present in the meeting were firm followers of the Way and ready to die for it.

"MY CHILDREN!" He started, his voice booming over the sanctuary to reach the ears of all those present.

"Finally! Our time grows near. For long have we waited for the opportunity to escape the grip of the faithless and now our deliverance is in our doorstep!" He stormed, his voice rich with the righteousness of the cause and zeal.

A simultaneous booming cheer responded to him and he smiled once more.

"As HE who is the Lord of All has brought to be, the Faithless are being destroyed. Their mindless and eternally damned minions being slaughtered on the fields of battle, their ships of war being burned by cores of stars in space. Surely The Allmight has brought this about! For He has brought us our demanding test yet for the slaughterers of the Faithless are infidels themselves. Unholy men who by consequence are assisting in our cause. We must not let ourselves be TAINTED! We must use this opportunity, but we must be wary of the Devils tricks. My brothers, are you ready for our Test!?" The Reverend preached with the practiced experience of someone who had spread the faith for over five decades.

Another, louder booming reply overtook him as the entirety of his flock replied positively.

The Reverend's voice came softer now, but everyone still heard every word the old man uttered.

"The Archbishop has sent us our Holy orders. The great battle is approaching and it is coming here. The Infidels are coming to fight the Faithless and the outcome of that battle is in His hands. But when the time comes and the Infidels give us our chance, we shall rise from our hiding places and engage the Faithless in righteous combat!"

Another cheer erupted, the thirty-four hundred God's soldiers responding with all the zeal and faith in their hearts. They had waited long, too long to bring about God's will, their waiting would soon end.

"Go now my Children, prepare yourselves for what is coming, arm yourselves with our holy armaments and steel your minds and souls against the trickery of the Great Evil." He spoke and his flock bowed deeply and marched out of the sanctuary.

Yes, the hour was coming round at last. Gabriel had never believed to be alive and see the Faith erupting from its hiding place, but God had been generous to him. He had thrown the Faithless against the Infidels and generated the conflict that was now going to give the chance for the Army of the Chosen to rise up against the Hydra that was their government.

Reverend Gabriel Vaan smiled, but his smile was ugly, for the future that waited the Faithless was far worse than death.

Clairmont

26-08-2006, 02:07

Hyperspace
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus 0 Days

The massive formation of warships crept through hyperspace at an n-space relative velocity of over 5,000c. , riding the upper edge of the zeta bands allowed by their military grade shielding and drive systems. Every minute brought them closer to Birhat system, and the Imperium's beating heart.

Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe scrolled through the last report on his message queue and marked it as read. As he had expected, the fleet was performing flawlessly in their preparations for what was to come. Altough the vast majority of work, to be done before an operation of such massive scale could be undertaken, had been conducted before they leapt to hyper, every squadron had been running simulations and excersises nearly without pause for the last two weeks.

He rubbed his weary eyes as his body demanded the rest it had been denied as Rowe had placed the need for sleep as the last piece of work to be done on his vast list, but now that list was coming to its end for now.

It was still three days before the fleet would arrive to its final waypoint before making the last leap to their target and he figured that he could fit a couple of hours of uneasy rest somewhere there. Afterall, if he made a stupid decision only because he hadnt bothered to sleep, the millions of men and women under his command would die, as would his homeland.

Despite everything though, that possibility still existed. The final ops plan had been hammered to stone after Harrington had come up with her adjustments that allowed the Clairmontians and their Tappee allies to overcome the odds against them. It was still touch and go, but every simulation they had run had produced a rough chance of victory of around forty-seven to fifty-nine percent, depending on how the Imperials reacted.

The plan still was the product of a genius though and Rowe admitted crudgingly that he propably would have never come up with anything as brilliant. He was a strategist, and the battle that was to become recquired ingenious tactics. Nevertheless, there was also a bit of insanity mixed in with the whole thing and perhaps that was exactly what would allow the fleet to beat the Imperials in their most defended system. The problem with the missile pods still troubled him however and he still held his doubts of whether or not the fleet had enough of them for both the initial punch and the following exchange with the Imp fleet. As with the whole plan, that part as well was still touch and go.

But there was no going around it. For the plan to succeed or even have a chance of succeeding, the initial hammerblow was absolutely necessary.

Rowe cut off his thoughts as his mind wandered off once more from the need for sleep.

He cut the power to the workstation and took the few weary steps to the sleeping chamber.

****

Not everyone aboard the fleet could indulge themselves in the luxury of a night well slept and Captain Eric McKeen hid his yawn as the engineer went through his report.

"... so thats the crux of it Captain. Your squadron will be a plane short if Mashtur cant find the slot in their work queues to come up with a replacement for alpha-seven and betas three and niner." The Senior Chief Petty Officer finished and the disappointment in his voice was evident. He was extremely displeased to admit there was something he and his crew could not do in order to fix one of the seventy-two fighters that fell under their responsibility.

McKeen sighed. It hadnt been entirely unexpected. The three drive nodes of Lieutenant Milton's bird had blown up without warning during one of the n-space excersises they had run before the fleet jumped to hyper. The techs had figured out that the cause had been simple drive node fatigue, which wasnt surprising considering that the particular nodes had been atleast several thousand hours over their manual recquired maintenance cycle. There hadnt been time to fix them and now he was paying the price.

He glanced at the black alloy frame of one of the SV/A-18 Shrike strike craft of his squadron. It was a minnow compared to a Light-Attack-Craft, but a giant compared to the space fighter craft that the CSN had fielded during the opening year of the war.

Massing over 220 tons, the Shrike screamed insolence to anyone who dared to call her a fighter. BuShip had apparently observed the same effect and instead of being given the standard "Strike Fighter" designation, the Shrike was a "Strike-Vessel/Assault".

All of her mass was distributed with carefull consideration. Electronic Warfare systems, applique armor, weapons, life support, drives and all the assorted junk that made the craft so utterly deadly in space.

It was still an insect against something like a Heavy Cruiser, and nothing but a smear in the windshield for a Superdreadnought, but for her size, she packed a wallop.

Compared to the Liberator Heavy Strike Fighter, which until two years ago had been the most powerfull craft of the "Strike Craft" class of vessels, the Shrike was like a sledgehammer compared to a needle.

Whereas the Liberator had carried a single 30mm railgun, two 40mm lasers and sixteen external ordnance hardpoints, the Shrike carried two 100mm GRASERS, four point-defense lasers and a total of twenty external ordnance hardpoints with two weapons bays capable of holding eight weapons each. The Shrike was also capable of carrying far heavier missiles than the Liberator, thanks to its higher power output.

And now, one of them would in high likelyhood be left ouf from his squadron of sixteen craft, putting a respectable sized dent to the amount of firepower he could dish out.

He sighed, fighting to keep his tired mind on the business at hand.

"Ok, if there is no helping it then that is that. However, I want you to be putting all the pressure on the Mashtur that you can. If there is any chance of it happening, I want Lieutenant Milton's plane fixed."

"We'll do all we can Captain. I'll promise you that much." The tech said a bit uneasily and turned away, returning back to his work.

McKeen let his eyes stroll over the hangar bay. All over the place people were working on different projects, but Flight Ops wasnt the bustle of activity it had been a few hours ago, for most of the on duty personnel had obediently went to sleep as their watch ended. But some, the more fanatical, or those suffering from insomnia McKeen chuckled, were still working. And he could only be gratefull for their efforts.

He hid another yawn and dived on to another report, Lieutenant Metzinger had proposed a change to the loadout McKeen and his staff had figured would work out the best for their part of the battle to come. Willing his weary eyes to stay open, he dived in to the report with the fraction of his usualy energy that still kept him awake.

Endicot

26-08-2006, 19:49

Planet Solstyce
Nephilim System

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
61st Month of the War

Vincent Travis Pierre, Chairman of the Citizens Council, the direct power figures of the Citizens Rights Union, was most unhappy with his situation. He allowed his eyes to stroll over the four other participants of the meeting and he found mixed feelings on each of their faces.

In a way, the war with Clairmont was a heaven sent chance for the CRU to make their move while the Government was far too busy fighting for their lives to bother with keeping tabs with a "few crazy dissidents". Unfortunately, that would become one of their greatest mistakes yet and a slight smile crept to the corner of his mouth at the prospect of payback.

While the CRU was over a hundred years old, it had very few actual direct action approaches to a problem in its history, or so most of the people thought. Mostly, the visible people behind the Union had simply settled for loud complaining instead of doing something. That had sickened Pierre, for the revolution could only come if the mob rose up to challenge their masters. Ofcourse, he hadnt settled for laying low.

The war had given the majority of the CRU the backbone it needed. Most of it now believed genuinely that they could overthrow the government, or atleast release themselves from its dictatorial grasp. And it was good that they did, for plans and preparations to do just that had been on the table for the last three years.

Now the deadline was approaching. The time when everything had to be ready was upon them and the latest update to their status had turned Pierre's smile into a growl.

"...so Rear Admiral Dascombe cannot guarantee a succesful takeover of Taskforce eleven-point-two, but he is certain that his chances are atleast sixty percent. Vice Admiral Ishter however is confident that she will be able to take over BatCruRon thirty-one without problems." One of the three men present told him once more.

Pierre glanced in his direction. Oscar Phillips was his right hand man. His kind and caring face could have fooled anyone, but his dossier had a different tale to tell for Phillips was the Committee's hatchetman, and more, of the Governments bureaucrats and their families had gone to their graves from the orders of Phillips, than Pierre liked to remember.

Now he told the problem with the plan in a cold, monotonous voice that betrayed no emotion at all.

And a problem it was. Even if Admiral Ishter succeeded, the plan absolutely recquired Admiral Dascombe to gain total control over his squadron, and the eighty-thousand rough troops that the Enforcer Task Squadron carried. For without those troops, the planetary enforcement troops could squash the rebellion on its first steps.

Both parts of the plan were essential. If Dascombe succeeded and Ishter didnt, the Rear Admiral's troops would be vastly outnumbered and outgunned against the two-hundred thousand plus troops on planet Solstyce. Ishter's Battlecruisers would provide the crucial orbital support fire in the form of kinetics to turn the odds in the CRU's favor. And if Ishter succeeded but Dascombe failed, the Union would not have the sufficient trained troops they recquired to liberate the cities without destroying them. Pierre could no more kill the millions of people who had lined up behind the CRU in secret than he could kills his own family.

Altough the CRU had a vast array of supporters, they lacked in trained manpower and equipment. Despite the Imperium's many misgivings, Pierre had to crudgingly admit that they kept a tight control over their firepower. Civilians had a hard time getting their hands on armaments, and equipping hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of citizens with modern weapons had been quickly deducted to be simply impossible. As it was, Pierre had been forced to cast his eyes on the military.

To his surprise, he had found many who were unhappy about the current state of things among the armed forces, and nearly as many who shared his vision of the possible future they ought to try and reach for.

Despite what the ignorant believed, the grunts of the armed forces werent the emotionless, machine-like automatons that they seemed to be on the outside. During their training, significant amounts of psychological tinkering did took place, but the ones chosen for military service would stay in service for life, and decades serving a rotten master could make a man change.

The real reason why the Imperial troops maintained such tight discipline during the war was simple, those troops consisted only of the regular active duty forces. Local enforcement and defense forces as well as System pickets werent seen as important as the offensive arm and thus "slack" would have been a proper word to describe the discipline and dedication of those troops.

Despite that however, most of the local forces were loyal and would remain so, which was why they had to be disposed of quickly and decisively.

He cleared his thoughts and throat before speaking.

"Pressure the Rear Admiral to the point when you can be absolutely certain he can pull it off. We cant afford mistakes Oscar, even one will kill us all at this point. What about Admiral Ninhursag?" Pierre referred to the CO of the 81st Battlesquadron.

Phillips adjusted his posture in his seat slightly before answering.

"He reported that all preparations are ready. Despite all of his efforts, only the Temeraire, Procyon and Skylark can be taken without battle. The rest of his squadron will have to be boarded and commandeered."

Pierre hid a frown. The last report from the admiral had told him that Ninhursag could secure atleast four of his eight Supermonitors. If he could take only three, they would be at a distinct disadvantage against the rest of the squadron when the time came to make the move. The Admiral however seemed to be convinced that he could take the rest of the squadron over by force without destroying the ships outright.

"Allright, we will go by the Admiral's own initiative here. However, underline the absolute necessity of securing those ships." Pierre replied now, his mind thoughtfull at the same time.

The 81st Battlesquadron would be the only thing that could take on the defenses of Planet Charon, the Capital planet of the Nephilim System. Without the Battlesquadron, the Imperials bureaucrats at Charon would be free to scream for help via hypercom from Birhat, which would lead to a promp visit from three or four battlesquadrons that would put a quick end to the rebellion.

"I think thats all on todays agenda. We still have a lot of work to do, and little time to do it. My sources tell me that the Battle Fleet is expecting the Clairmontians to hit Birhat within two to three weeks, in order to make this happen, we have to be ready until then." Pierre finished the meeting and everyone except Oscar Phillips vacated the small conference room.

"Something I didnt want to ask you Sir when the others were present, but how do you expect to handle the Clairmontians if they win. There is a good chance that they wont give a good goddamn even if we tell them we rebelled against the Government." Phillips murmured, his face still devoid of emotion. But there was that tiny something in his eyes that betrayed the slight worry in his mind.

Pierre swiveled his chair to face the younger man with intent eyes.

"Im going to do whatever I have to in order to bring about our future Oscar. I know we cant take on the Clairmontians if they win, and if they want to steamroll us they can. Something I havent told anyone before now is my fear that we wont be allowed to stay here at the very least." Pierre spoke silently now, as if fearing that someone might somehow overhear him.

Phillips' eyes widened slightly at the statement, demanding an explanation.

"Look, its obvious that the Clairmontians will annex the Imperium if they win. That much is pretty much certain. That means that if we would keep Nephilim separate from them, they would have an ex-Imperial world not under their control smack dab in the middle of their conquest. They wont accept that. So, even if we convince them NOT to kill us, they will force us to relocate to some other star system outside their border in order to preserve their territorial security."

There was a clear note of disbelief on Phillip's face now, and Pierre understood him completely. "Relocating" would mean a mass exodus of millions of people to a world where they would have to start basically from scratch.

"My god sir, that would mean moving more than fifty million people..."

"I know Oscar. But, for us to have our Republic, we will have to give up the old to gain the new. And what a better way to do that than to start fresh from a clean slate?" Pierre said softly. He made it sound easy, it wouldnt be but he believed they could do it. It would take decades of back breaking labour to create the infrastructure and society of their new home, but he accepted that. For nothing good never came the easy way.

"I guess you're right sir. And as always, you will have my total support." Phillips said now and flashed a genuine smile.

"I know I will, and once again I express my thanks to you old friend. But now I want you to go and sweat those navy pukes, we need their ships" Pierre finished with a grin.

Clairmont

30-08-2006, 01:49

Andrian Pass, Western Mountain Range
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus -2 Days

Corporal Slattery yawned once more as he tried to concentrate on gazing through the nightvision scope at the pass the firebase was built to protect.

It was one of many such firebases, each equipped and designed to provide both in-direct and direct fire down at the pass and at everything that would try to enter the inner plains of Clairmont.

Clairmont Island was a peculiar creation of nature. The "island" was massive and the exact way how it had born was still something of a educated guess. The Island was beneath the equatorial belt and its climate was interesting thanks to its location.

The mountains of Clairmont were what made it so distinct however. Several thousand square kilometers of plains on the inner island were surrounded by a chain of mountains, that in some parts of the land reached all the way to the sea. This quirk of nature made the inner Clairmont an extremely easy to defend, as the passes that would allow units such as heavy armour and mechanized infantry were few in number.

Andrian was one of such passes, thousands of years ago created by a river that had once passed through the mountains. Now the river was dry, and the highway that had been built through the pass created an opening for a possible invader to use.

The Imperium had tried to use the pass several times, all of them conventional assaults with ground units supported by artillery and close air support craft. All of their attacks had failed, though not without costing the Royal Clairmontian Army some good manpower. Now, after two years from the last attack, the defenders of Andrian pass had grown to believe atleast a bit that they Imperium wouldnt try to attack through here for the sixth time.

"Dont sleep there Slattery, or you'll get a wakeup call from my rifle butt." Sergeant Stennis growled as he noticed the Corporals weary eyes.

"Never planned on sleeping Sarge." Slattery replied. It was true, but tiredness asked no questions.

"Yea sure." The Sergeant said while reaching to gaze through the nightvision scope.

"Stay sharp. We got a report from command that the Imps might be trying something fancy around here. SpecWar apparently figured out they were massing troops about two hundred klicks from Fort Peril, or what used to be Fort Peril anyway."The Sergeant murmured.

Slattery hid another yawn. The Imperials wouldnt attack here, the Andrian Pass was guarded by a full division with attached SheVa artillery and regular arty. There was also a military airbase nearby that had a full squadron on constant standby for operations.

"Yeah, no cloaked Imps here yet, but I'll be back at ya when they come." He chuckled.

Stennis' sound turned dark.

"Listen, I've had enough of your shit Slattery. I dont fucking care if the Imperials havent attacked in years, its not the point. Doing your goddamn job is the point and if you cant pull your act together, I'll have Lieutenant Ramos bust you to private and transferred the fuck out of here!" The Sergeant said. He had been riddled with the lazy bum for long enough. But with the shortage in manpower, there had been no chance of removing Slattery and demoting him. But, if the snot wanted to keep on screwing up...

"Fuck you sarge. You know what, you do transfer me. I'll gladly get off this piece of shit assignment. Heck, I'll even cook as a private just to get away from you!" The Corporal yelled and stood up.

Stennis was starting a hot reply when the missile hit.

The ground launched cruise missile had followed a steady course at an altitude of barely seven meters. Its stealth systems made it extremely hard to detect and against an opponent not expecting it, the surprise was total.

The missile slammed through the ceramacrete in the bunker wall like a hammer, and once inside its warhead detonated.

The explosion, equivalent to roughly 0.5 kilotons of TNT, ripped the bunker apart like a child's toy and the mountainside into which it had been buried blew up in a cloud of rock and dust.

Elsewhere in the valley, similar events were unfolding. Stealthed cruise missiles took out all but four of the primary firebases, those four having had either extremely competent personnel or insane amounts of luck.

But the attack wasnt over. As the last cruise missile struck, the first salvoes of artillery fire landed precisely on their marks. Destroying weapon, sensor and communications emplacements in a hurricane of destruction. In less than five seconds, over two third of the Andrian pass defenders had been killed.

"Talk to me Sarah!" Lieutenant Houghton yelled at the woman in charge of the surveillance equipment watching the valley.

"Dont know Lieutenant! My sensors never got as much as a damn sniff of those things! Must be their damn stealthed cruise missiles. Bunker seven managed to destroy the one heading at them, the one going for bunker ten just missed." The woman replied while demanding information from her computers.

"Okay okay, get me Command on the line immediately. We have to..."

The lieutenant never finished his sentence as the two bunker buster missiles from an Imperial Fighter struck his bunker squarely.

Birhat System
Operation Eye of Shiva: T-Minus -3 Days

Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe let his eyes inspect everyone on his flag bridge.

He saw their fear, their uncertainty. But he also saw their determination and dedication at the task at thand. He was proud, proud to lead such fine men and women. It was a distinct possibility that none of them would survive the next 24 hours, but perhaps that was what made all of them so extraordinary.

"Everything ready Captain?" He turned towards the flag captain of his ship.

The stocky man turned to face his CO and nodded sharply.

"Yes sir. All the Battlesquadrons report that they are ready." The Captain replied.

"Very well." Rowe murmured.

Last time he had held a motivational speech had been before this whole expeditionary operation had begun. The crews of the ships in the fleet had recquired convincing in order for them to truly believe that leaving their loved ones behind was necessary.

Now, such a speech was unnecessary. Every single man and woman in the fleet was committed, and ready for what was about to come. They needed no speeches, they simply demanded leadership that would bring them the victory they sought to grasp.

"To all squadrons, execute!" He ordered finally, voice thundering over the bridge as he gave the words that committed the millions aboard the fleet into the battle that would decide the fate of their nation.

At the orders of that voice, over fourteen hundred shipstranslated from hyperspace to Birhat System.

Endicot

05-09-2006, 16:44

Birhat System
System Defense Command

Year 1057 Imperial Standard Calendar
61st Month of the War

"Detected hyperspace exit emissions." The calm, mellow mechanical voice echoed over the spacious Command Center of the fortress.

The large holotank quickly viewed the new data provided to it by the Battle Data Center, and made it into an understandable representation. Now, a large crimson, flashing icon had appeared near the Birhat system's hyperlimit.

"Warning, detected second hyperspace exit emission point" The mechanical voice said and another similar icon to the first one appeared, this one approximately sixty-three lightminutes from the first one.

"This is it." Grand Fleet Overlord Integra whispered as the information the holotank provided to him registered properly.

The enemy had come in using a crash-translation technique which allowed them to retain a higher percentage of their relative velocity when passing through the alpha wall and returning to n-space. Vectors and headings were coming up fast and acceleration figures next to the two icons now representing enemy fleets were updating constantly.

The enemy was attempting some sort of pincer attack that would penetrate the outer fortress ring in a curving maneuver that would bring the two fleets through the orbit of the outer fortress ring. However, their translation seemed to have been a failure to a degree since the two fleets were so far apart. It was no surprise that they had made such an error for the hyperspace conditions around Birhat system had always been difficult.

However, their choice of tactics gave Integra the advantage.

"Immediate orders to Fleet Admiral Richter, he is to engage with the Home Fleet against Hostile-Alpha, after which Fleet Admiral Theradoc will assist him in destroying Hostile-Beta." Integra snapped.

The enemy had made a mistake. The first part of their fleet, that would come within range of the outer fortress ring first, was also for some reason the smaller one. The limited amount of data accumulated by the BDC to this point suggested that the first force only had a hundred or so of the Clairmontian ships of the wall. If Fleet Admiral Richter could intercept the first fleet without having to engage the second one, the enemy would be slaughtered. And judging by the way the Enemy was coming in, they couldnt see the stealthed drive fields of Admiral Richter's fleet before it would already be too late to avoid action.

****

Fleet Admiral Theradoc frowned as the orders came in. Integra was a sound strategist, but a tactician he was not. He however was the Supreme Fleet Commander and his orders were law in the Battle Fleet. Which didnt mean Theradoc would have doubted the mans tactical ineptitude any less.

There was no point in going out to meet the enemy, not this early anyway. Better for them to be drawn even deeper into the systems hyperlimit where they could be properly intercepted and exposed to fire from multiple directions. But Integra had not thought of it that way. He had only seen the quick and dirty solution to winning the battle, and taken it before he could consider any other options.

Not that Theradoc doubted the most likely outcome of the battle anyway. If Richter could intercept, his eighteen hundred vessels could easilly annihilate the first fleet which would be outnumbered over three-to-one. But, that would leave the second fleet time to try and run for the hyperlimit or try and reach Planet Endicot while Richter was occupied with the first fleet. Potentially, this could give the enemy commander the chance to nuke Endicot and decapitate the Imperium, but only if Admiral Theradoc's fleet hadnt been here.

In any event, the battle would be harder and the casualties would be higher with Integra's plan. Theradoc grunted and sat down on his command chair and contemplated the situation.

****

Fleet Admiral Richter smiled like a hungry wolf as he gazed to the depths of his bridge holotank and watched the impending destruction of the first enemy fleet starting to unfold.

The Clairmontians and their Tappee allies had managed to penetrate the outer fortress ring, but not without casualties to their first fleet that had lost some of its heavier hitters, making them an even more helpless foe against Richter.

It was obvious that the enemy saw Richter's fleet now. At the range of fifteen light-minutes, it was impossible to hide even a stealthed drive field. But the Clairmontians made no effort to try and evade action, insted they were piling up delta-vee towards Richter at a high rate while the second fleet was starting to generate the shortest time vector towards Endicot. It was obvious that they hoped that the first fleet would slow Richter down enough for the second fleet to hit Endicot without being intercepted, they would be proven wrong.

"Fifteen minutes to missile-range Admiral." Richter's flag captain informed him and the Admiral nodded.

"Captain, Im getting some anomalous readings here..." One of the sensor ratings informed the flag captain.

"What is it?" The Captain asked pointedly.

"Nothing confirmed Captain. However, one bit of data that came through to Battle Comp showed as if one of Hostile-Beta's ships would have disappeared and reappeared in less than second." The sensor rating replied.

"How did BDC flag it?" The Captain looked over the ratings screen.

"As sensor glitch, ninety-eight percent propability." The rating said confidently.

"Very well, ignore it and check the software." The captain grumbled, slightly annoyed of the interruption.

"Ten minutes to missile range." He said while taking his place next to his admiral.

****

"Admiral Theradoc? There is something weird going on here." Tactical Officer Nalyun murmured from her station.

Theradoc stood up from his chair, flexing his muscles and walked over to the sensor station.

"Here. This is still quite unreliable and hazy, but BDC has been able to refine it enough to atleast make something out of it. " Nalyun said and replayed the data on her screen.

It was displaying the drive field strenghts of fleet two's field's. An untrained eye would have detected nothing in it, and even Theradoc's trained one had trouble recognizing anything meaningfull in the mess but finally he spotted it. Tiny fluctuations and spikes in the drive strenghts of over 90% of fleet two's ships.

His eyes went wide as he understood, it wasnt the Enemy that had run into a trap, and he could do nothing to inform Admiral Richter of it. Theradoc's fleet was under full stealth mode, no communications or active sensors were allowed, and that had been an order from the Emperor. So, he could only sit and watch the Clairmontian plan unravelling.

Clairmont

05-09-2006, 17:06

Birhat System

The tension could have been cut with a knife as Rowe watched the holotank updating on his flag bridge. The plan had been so bold, so arrogant. It assumed so much and extrapolated much more, and yet, thus far it had worked.

From the get-go it had been accepted that for the Expeditionary Fleet to take Birhat, the last remnants of their final Grand Fleet had to be eliminated as quickly as possible. That meant taking them all on. Rowe had been confident and still was that the Allies would beat the living crap out of the last units of the Battle Fleet. The problem was, with the support of their fortresses, they could have gutted the Expeditionary Fleet badly enough in a prolonged engagement.

Then Harrington had devised her plan. She had brought in the Expeditionary Fleet in a wide arcing vector while providing the greatest bait of all for the Imperials to come out and intercept the fleet right where Allies had wanted them to.

The reason why the plan was so insane was because over eight-hundred of the Expeditionary Fleet's ships would execute most of the initial maneuver without drive fields and under full EMCON. Changing their heading only with their reaction thrusters. The fact that the plan necessitated a wide arcing entry to the system had eased that part of the task a bit, but not by much.

However, the superb shiphandling of those eight-hundred captains had bearen fruit and now the Imperial Fleet had no idea that instead of engaging just over five-hundred ships with only a hundred Ships of the Wall among them, they would be engaging over THIRTEEN-hundred ships total, and with the addition of the newest Fourth Generation warships, the Clairmontian fleet actually outgunned the Imperials.

For the last two hours, all of the eight-hundred missile-pod carrying ships of the fleet had been rolling heavy patterns of them. Each had deployed a quarter of their pods, stretching the fire control and telemetry linking capabilities of the fleet right to its stretching point. And for two hours, they had been acquiring targets.

"Allright Kenneth, instruct the fleet to present broadsides and prepare to fire on my command."

All of the ships in the fleet turned, presenting their broadsides where the vast majority of their onboard launchers were housed.

Rowe allowed himself a thin smile. The maneuver had been performed flawlessly, and the most recent upgrades had worked wonderfull as well. The Imperial Admiral most likely had truly believed that the Clairmontians did not know of their Tier 7 upgrades. and thus believed that Rowe couldnt see the enemy fleet before they were too close to avoid action. The Imperial Admiral, truly had believed that it was him who was closing in on his kill, not the other way around.

Now it would be time to show them that they would not have the advantage in missile-range that they most likely believed they had.

"For Clairmont" Rowe whispered and held the bridge in silence for a few seconds, before barking the order. "Open fire!"

Endicot

05-09-2006, 17:26

Richter's face when white as the holotank went crazy, producing an impossible wall of missile contacts from a fleet that could have never produced so many. Only two seconds after that, the drive fields ,of the eight hundred ships that had been coming towards him along with the five hundred ships of fleet one, snapped to full power and painted themselves to Richter's sensors.

BDC still couldnt produce an accurate number of the incoming enemy missiles. There were too many electronic warfare birds among the main salvo and the sheer amount of missile drive fields played merry hell with any scans. But they were narrowing it down and it seemed that there were close to six-hundred THOUSAND missiles in the massive salvo headed at him. And yet to add insult to injury, all of the enemy ships carrying capital missiles went to immediate rapid fire on all their usable tubes after they had fired their initial punch. The Clairmontians put nearly seven-hundred thousand missiles to space before they even reached Richter's maximum effective missile range, one that he had believed to be better than that of his enemies.

It was obvious now that Hostile-Beta wasnt a fleet at all, but rather a squadron of warships at most shepherding a massive fleet of electronic warfare drones that were pretending to be warships. And Richter had swallowed it.

None of it mattered now. He was dead. His fleet was dead, but The Imperium could still live.

He smiled and urged the enemy to come. He would die, but not before he would take some of the loyalist bastards with him to hell. There was a chance that his entire fleet would be wiped out by that one massive storm of missiles, but he was committed, and he would kill some of his enemies before they could kill him.

****

Fleet Overlord Integra observed the impending destruction of his last Grand Fleet with shock. He had fallen to the bait the Clairmontians had set, and he had swallowed it whole. Now, he would pay the price and whatever the outcome of the battle in Birhat System today, he would die. Either by the hands of his enemy, or those of his Emperor.

****

The bridge was silent as the icons representing the Clairmontian opening salvo approached the friendly fleet icon of Admiral Richter's fleet. No one said anything because there was no point, they had their orders and all they could do now would be to make sure that their comrades did not die for nothing.

Despite the initial shock, Theradoc had already speculated several important tidbits of information about his enemy. Firstly, their magazines would be severely emptier after they finished Richter's fleet and they would very likely take damage. Now, the Birhat System Defense still had in its disposal the two inner fortress rings as well as the hidden missile launchers in the asteroid belt and Theradoc's fleet. Depending on their damage and remaining depletable ordnance after they passed Richter's fleet, the Imperium could yet prevail here today.

Clairmont

30-09-2006, 17:13

Occupied Medusa City
Operation Eye of Shiva: +12 hours from Operation start

"Go go! Set up a base of fire in that building!" Sergeant Matthew Ortiz screamed over the squad comm net.

His fifteen man squad was comprised of a true mishmash of troops from the armed forces. Five marines consisted the first fire team, while two Rangers and three Mobile Assault troopers made up team two. The support weapon team was comprised of five Regular Infantrymen.

Despite their differing service histories, they worked well together. And now Corporal Henderson took up position next to the door to the assigned building while Specialist Nelms kicked the door in. Two grenades disappeared to the opening and exploded in a thunderous discharge that blew the single Imperial Infantryman ,who had help position in the apartment, block to mush.

A chorus of 'all clear's came through the squad comm as the team secured the room.

"Set up the tribarrel there! Reiner, get your ass over to that window with the GMG!" Ortiz shouted orders.

In seconds, the support team took position in the assigned windows, setting up the tri-pod mounted heavy tribarrel and the ammunition feed for it while the two Specialists carrying the GMG set it up on its own base on an adjacent window.

The apartment had a good field of fire from the eleventh floor of a former hotel into the road General Issard had opted to use in her attack against the Imperial HQ in Medusa city. But the Imperials had reacted quickly when they learned of the attack and full two companies of troops had thrown up defenses to stop Issards Battalion.

"Establish fields of fire and engage!" Ortiz said as he observed the support weapons readied and.

After a moment, the tribarrel began spitting fire in an earsplitting scream as over two hundred tungsten penetrators with alternating high-explosive left the barrel in just over a second.

A mere instant later, the Grenade Machine-Gun began coughing streams of 40mm airburst and contact explosive to its own target area.

Several Imperial troopers were torn apart by the unrelenting streams of grenades and tribarrel fire before they were able to spot the new threat and retreat back to a more secure position.

****

Issard smiled an unseen thanks to the Sergeant who had set up that base of fire, now the Battalion could proceed a bit further and bring their full firepower to bear on the defending Imperials more effectively.

One of the Battalion's aged but still effective Saber Main Battle Tanks rolled out from behind the curve that had denied it a line-of-sight to the enemy. Now it came and its turret swiveled as the gun was trained on a distant target.

A moment later a thunderous boom echoed between the buildings as the tank sent a thermobaric anti-personnel round flying towards the Imperials. It detonated, first releasing a cloud of explosive mist and then igniting it.

The ball of fire engulfed one of the Imperial fireteams completely and the resulting overpressure front tore two more Imperials to pieces before they could let out a single sound.

"Move it move it! Alpha Company up front!" Issard shouted over her command comm as she saw the gap that had now opened in the Imperial defense line.

The battle-hardened and most importantly, Battle Armoured troops of Alpha Company surged forward in a darting run while firing their suit mounted heavy weapons from the hip.

Issard smiled in approval as Alpha Company did their job perfectly and the Imperial company ,that had held the first real obstacle for the Battalion, was starting to pull back. Their second company however was not far back, and quick and decisive moves would once again be recquired to get through them as well.

She eyed the three ready icons flashing in one of the screens in the command tank. Thus far, only three of the nukes she had were ready and mounted in cruise missiles. It was fortunate that the Imperials hadnt been able to mount a serious enough defense yet, one she couldnt make through without heavy casualties unless she used one of her few nuclear weapons. She didnt expect that to last forever though, soon enough the Imperials would throw enough firepower between the battalion and its objective to force Issard use her nukes.

Tappee

01-10-2006, 02:37

Some how the plan had work flawlessly as the allied fleet lunched its missile salvo at the unsuspecting imperial fleet. Admiral Jensen could not help but allow himself a brief smile as he watched the events unfold on the holo display. However, he knew that this was only to the beginning of a long fight; they had drawn first blood in what was going to be a bloody battle.

It would not be long until the second wave of forces would arrive to help aid in the struggle to take the planet. Most of the second wave included Tappee’s planetary assault force, Jensen did not want to put the more lightly armored transport carriers at risk in the initial fleet engagements. Despite the initial victory it would still be a hard fight to the planet surface, and he wanted to make sure that as want of his troop set foot on the planet as possible.

There would be difficulties in making the final advance, mostly being the fact that they had used up most of their missile ordnance, which meant that all the future engagements would be done at close of range. This was a fact that favored that Tappee fleet, which was more based around speed and maneuverability, then utter firepower; it was designed to complement the Clairmont forces. In all hope the faster ships could evade the enemy defenses.

It would not be long until the second wave of ground forces would arrive, and Jensen desperately needed of the area secure or the more lightly armored transport carriers would get ripped apart.

Clairmont

01-10-2006, 21:45

Andrian Pass, Eastern End

"For the love of the goddamn allmighty, where is that fucking artillery?!" Colonel Everson screamed over the Fire Central channel in desperation.

The Imperials were pushing the Andrian Pass hard. Thus far from the preliminary looks some of the recon drones had caught, a full armored battalion was spearheading their advance with several divisions ready to press the pass.

A shell screamed over his head as his Company fire support platoon was opening fire with their mortars and Metal Storm area denial systems. Streams upon endless streams of airbursting explosive filled the air in the pass, turning it into a hell of firestorm and shrapnell, and yet the Imperials pressed forward.

A beam of energy slammed into one of the defensive positions where a heavy anti-tank missile launcher and tri-barrel had been covering their portion of the Andrian Pass entrance. Now with the suppressing fire on that zone disappearing, hordes of Imperials began pushing through the opened gap.

"Shit!" The Colonel exclaimed as his HUD updated him on the situation.

"Central Central! Calling for final protective fire on my position! Confirm and range!" He shouted again the the artillery control net. The Artillery Brigade that had been designated to support the troops guarding this end of the Pass was hopelessly lacking in its performance. Too long in the rear without action brought that effect.

"Central confirms. Final protective fire on the way. One-hundred and twenty rounds. Impact in three-seven seconds." The calm and mellow automated voice of Fire Central replied.

The Colonel was still smiling when the first 200mm shell slammed directly into his foxhole.

****

Manticore's Nest

"The Imperials are hacking our goddamn Datalinks! We have over eleven reports of blue-on-blue fire incidents in their attack sector already!" The Colonel from Army Intelligence said while slamming down the datapad to the Strategy Room table.

"Calm down Colonel! What is our situation now?" Field Marshal DeSilva asked the man calmly.

At his Commanding Officers orders, the Colonel calmed down and composed his thoughts.
"We have already instructed all units to switch to tertiary secured backup channels and reroute their communications. That will create significant disturbances in our datalinking for the next couple of hours, but atleast we can close out the Imperial hacking."

DeSilva nodded in approval. Still, the Imperials had used their advantage well. The battalion holding the Western end of the Andrian Pass was in full retreat, and the 13th Mobile Assault Regiment would recquire some time still to establish proper defenses seventy kilometers further west from Colonel Eversons Battalion, in ythe town of Fairfall.

"Allright, Marley? I want those Imperials bottled there before they can make any further headway. As of now, SheVa's fifteen, seventeen, twenty-one, thirty, forty-seven and fifty-two are redesignated for the support of the thirteenth Mobile Assault regiment. Also get hold of General Simonds at Patrick AFB, call for any and all available ground-support planes that he can dispatch." DeSilva spoke quickly and with clear words to ensure that he would not have to spend valuable time repeating his orders.

****

Birhat System

The last Imperial warship blew apart in a blinding flash as its internal munitions and reactor detonated simultaneously. She had time to fire all her energy batteries once however, and the HMS Prince Robert and HMS Reliant of the Clairmontian Space Navy followed it to the grave.

Rowe sighed in exasperation ast the final results of the first, short but brutal engagement with Birhats defense forces, rolled on his personal screen.

The initial missile salvo had utterly annihilated 82% of the entire Imperial force. The rest had closed in to the teeth of the Expeditionary Force and fired their energy weapons madly at any target that came within their range. They had been destroyed ofcourse, the massed energy fire from the Expeditionary Fleet had torn them apart. But the enemy had not died without getting a bite out of their intended prey. Both missile fire and the final energy engagement had mauled over two hundred ships into ruin, thirty of them were ships of the wall.

Now however the Expeditionary Force held the upper hand. With Birhats mobile defenders annihilated, the Allies could take the cautious approach and annihilate the defenses surrounding Planet Endicot with minimal casualties.

"Signal the fleet. Form up and plot a course for zero-zero intercept with Endicot." Admiral Rowe said.

He glanced at the holotank briefly and continued.

"Also have the carriers start launching their birds to sweep that asteroid field and pound the fortresses in our way."

The fleet began regrouping and changing its vector as Rowes orders filtered through to all units. They now were headed deeper into Birhat system, straight towards Planet Endicot.

Clairmont

27-11-2006, 15:32

Birhat System

The 51st Strike Wing accelerated away from their carriers, joining the other Clairmontian strike craft forming up for an attack against the massive fortresses poised to stop the advance of the Allied fleet.

"Watch your intervals people, the Imps will be throwing everything at us." Captain Eric McKeen, called over the general channel of his squadron. A chorus of acknowledgements followed soon after.

His people were all hardened veterans of the Imperium War, they knew their jobs. But McKeen's words would act as encouragement for the men and women of his squadron, who would know that their CO wouldnt be throwing their lives away.

The threat board began to light up as Imperial targeting systems started tracking the incoming strike craft. Missile icons appeared on McKeen's HUD as ordnance was being deployed from the fortresses. Wave after wave of missiles lashed out, seeking for the elusive contacts of the small strike craft.

Fortunately, the strike craft were still within the defensive umbrella of the main fleet. Counter-missiles burned scores of enemy missiles from space, but hundreds more survived to reach attack range of the Clairmontian small craft.

Decoys, countermeasures and point-defense lasers took out as many as they could, but chance played no favorites and over a hundred strike craft disappeared in blinding flashes of nuclear fire as the enemy missiles found their mark.

But despite the best efforts of the Imperials, the main formation of Shrike Strike Craft and Valkyrie Block 71 LAC's reached their engagement range and released their deadly cargo in a single, massive staggered launch.

McKeen switched the weapons control computer to strike mode, selecting the four FRAM Mk.12 attack missiles in his primary weapons bay. With the flick of his thumb, the rotary launcher released all four missiles to space in succession. Once they cleared the drive field of McKeen's Shrike, the missiles' own drives lighted up, and they darted towards their targets at an acceleration of over 400,000 G's.

The stupendous speed of the FRAM's left the enemy very little time to acquire and shoot the incoming missiles down. However, the very speed of the weapons was also their greatest downfall, for their drives burned out quickly due to the massive acceleration and they were only capable of executing minor course changes. Thus, against a target capable of extensive evasive maneuvers, they were useless. But against fortresses with only minimal maneuvering capabilities, they were utterly deadly.

Scores of missiles struck each of the fortresses blocking the Expeditionary Fleet's path. First punching through the defensive screens of the installations, and finally striking the meters thick armor that covered their surface. Resilient as the fortresses were, seven of them disappeared in blinding flashes as the nuclear FRAM's tore them apart. five more were crippled beyond any hope of repair, their armor and defense screens all but destroyer, weapons annihilated and most of the crews dead.

Behind the fighter squadrons came the massed formation of the Expeditionary Fleet. Energy weapons spitting destruction at the fortresses as the fighters broke off from their attack, clearing the line of fire.

In minutes, the last fortresses that had stood in the way of the fleet and planet Endicot, remained only as radioactive debris.

****

Aboard the massive troop transports, millions of men and women of the Marines, Fleet Strike and the Royal Cadre were preparing for the inevitable, combat planetfall against the most powerfull planetary defenses in the entire Imperium. Even with Orbital support, it would be a slaughter and everyone knew it. Regardless, they went about with their preparations, grimly determined to bring an end to the war that had claimed so many of their fellow Countrymen's lives.

"Check your ammo boys and girls, we'll be needing a lot of it as it is our most excellent privilege to be in the first wave with the Cadre." Sergeant Major Melissa Mao shouted. A chorus of cheers came back from the assembled ACS troopers of Alpha Company, 501st Battalion.

She knew they were all scared, she knew it because she herself was terrified. Only a lunatic wouldnt be scared of the concept of dropping through the kind of hellfire of defensive fire that they would face in what for all intents and purposes was essentially an armed metal coffin.

But scared as they were, the eight hundred men and women of the 501st Battalion were veterans. They would go above and beyond their call of duty to complete the mission, and none of them would have wanted to stay behind.

****

The quarters reserved for the Operatives of Special Warfare felt chilly as Master Sergeant Ellsworthy finished pulling on his powered combat suit. He checked the carbine hanging against his chest quickly, making sure that when it came time to use it, it wouldnt fail him.

Normally, SpecWar would not have engaged in a direct frontline assault such as this one, preferring rather to proceed with their own stealthy methods to the enemy's rear. But this time, the rules of the game were different. The surface of Endicot was so thick with defensive batteries, that in order for the main force to reach the ground, the Operatives would have to go in on the first wave and eliminate the defensive positions that guarded the airspace over the Ground Contignent's designated landing zone.

It would also get awfully many of them killed. Ellsworthy accepted that, as did every Operative. To join Special Warfare in the first place recquired a certain degree of insanity, for no-one fully sane would volunteer to endure the most gruesome training imaginable only to work in the shadows with the knowledge that they would be recquired to undertake the most hazardous and dangerous of missions.

Ofcourse, they were paid a king's ransom to do their jobs, but it wasnt the money that made these people choose this profession above others.

He glanced over at the other Operatives, checking their gear with cool professional detachment and preparing for what was to come. In less than an hour, they would all be engaged in the most brutal ground war any of them had ever seen.

****

The bridge of the flagship was a hive of activity as the fleet prepared to proceed against its ultimate target, and engage the massive planetary defenses of Planet Endicot.

Fleet Admiral Rowe glanced intently to the depths of the bridge holotank. It all felt too easy. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something made him feel extremely uneasy about proceeding. The entire fleet, and the ground troops, would be deep inside the hyperlimit of Birhat System, with sufficient mobile forces it would be a simple task of boxing the entire Expeditionary Force and annihilating it before it could reach the hyperlimit and escape.

But the tale-tells of the CIC were clear, no mobile forces worth mentioning could be detected in the entire system and too much had already been sacrificed for the Operation to be scrubbed now on the basis of a hunch.

"The fleet will proceed to geo-synchronous orbit above Endicot. All ships are to prepare for orbital support fire." He ordered crisply as he made the doubts go away.

But the thought still nagged at the back of his mind, it was too easy.

Southern Defense Perimeter
Clairmont Mainland

The hailstorm of gunfire was evident over the screams of the dying and explosions that nearly drowned out the voice of the Recon Corporal whose voice was filled with terror.

"I repeat! Heavy Imperial attack underway! Expect contact with Main-Line of Resistance in two-zero minutes!" The man shouted while firing his weapon.

"Recon two-two, can you confirm enemy disposition and strength?" Colonel Cortez asked.

"Fuck... , looks like half the goddamn Imperial Army!" The Corporal retorted, forgetting comms protocol under the terror of facing a massive enemy force.

"Roger Recon Two-Two. Can you pull back to the MLR?" Cortez said.

The younger man at the other end of the comm cursed again while firing before responding, his voice filled with grim determination.

"We're cut off Command. No line of retreat, just avenge us and...." The distant Recon troopers voice cut off in mid-sentence, replaced by static.

The Colonel cut the channel. The Imperials were coming at them with everything they had. The attack from the west and now from the South. There was no doubt that they would be hitting Diess simultaneously as well. It was their final gambit, an all or nothing move. And this time, they might just succeed.

"Get General Liebgott on the line. Transmit the following; Massive Imperial attack imminent on Southern MLR. Request any and all available support." Cortez said to the communications officer and stormed out of the Comms Bunker, heading towards the armory.

Endicot

10-12-2006, 20:03

Birhat System

Lord Integra stared to the depths of his failure, presented in the holosphere in the midst of the war room, with mute horror. He was a dead man, the Emperor would take his head for this, there could be no other punishment for a screw up on such a massive scale.

Despite everything he had thrown at them, the loyalists had kept coming. First the fleet, then the fortresses and even the weapons platforms in the asteroid field. All of them had been annihilated. Integra could not find any comfort in the fact that the loyalist fleet had been damaged and bled in the course of their penetration. It did not matter, massive as Endicot's planetary batteries were, they were in a distinct disadvantage from the start and the enemy had the weight of metal to simply bleed the capital planet of the Imperium dry.

But there still remained the tiniest flicker of hope. The icon of the Emperor's own Guard Fleet still shone in the holosphere, hidden from line-of-sight from the loyalists by the moon Hethis and from their sensors by stealth fields. If Integra guessed correctly, Theradoc planned to wait until the loyalists were completely engaged with Endicot's planetary defenses and then strike at the enemy from behind.

Theradoc was massively outnumbered, but individually, only the four Clairmontian Supermonitors could match the Imperial juggernauts shot-for-shot.

Regardless, Integra only gave Theradoc a thirty percent chance of actually prevailing in the soon impending battle. The Clairmontians and their allies had shown their capabilities and tactical cunning, and thus far those factors had thrown defeat in the Imperiums face time and time again.

Integra buried his face in his hands, the thin flicker of hope still sparkled in his mind. He was a soldier of the Imperium, and he could not simply lie down and die.

His terminal beeped suddenly as an urgent report worked its way through the channels and found its destination in his work station. He clicked the message open and read it carefully, his eyes widening as he read more. It was impossible, it simply could not happen. It had not happened in over eight hundred years, but there was no reason to doubt it. A large portion of Planet Josia's populace had just risen in an open revolt.

****

"Fight my brothers! Fight and die if you must, for know that you will be remembered throughout time as the liberators of our long oppressed people!" The priest screamed while firing the submachine gravgun from the hip, failing to hit the pair of Imperial troopers perched behind a low wall surrounding the city Pacifier Headquarters.

A dull roar came back at the priest as the men and women fanatically charged over obstacles, taking cover when they could and firing their improvised weapons in a frenzy. Most of it was undisciplined and badly aimed, failing to do much more than poke holes in the already scarred walls of the Pacifier HQ.

The mass of humanity surged forward in one great stride, only gaining momentum from the deaths among them as Imperial troopers picked off rebels wherever and whenever they could. It was as if the religious zealots worked on pure rage alone, abandoning common sense exchange for the chance to kill some of their oppressors.

Despite everything the Pacifier Troops did, the mass of rebels reached the doors to the Headquarters building. Smashing the doors and windows with every improvised method they could think of, they swarmed into the building and began venting their rage in the surviving Imperial bureaucrats and troops that populated the building.

The screams of the dying and tortured rang in the night as the HQ fell.

****

Sol System
Earth, Clairmont Island

Star General First Class LeKruez was pleased with their progress. His Third Army had succesfully penetrated the Andrian pass, the surprise attacks eliminating the first line of defenses with practical impunity after which the main force could proceed deeper into the valley.

However, forming the bridgehead on the other side had proven to be just as difficult as he had expected. The Clairmontians had thrown massive firepower at their end of the valley. Nuclear artillery had been liberally deployed, and massive air support from the nearby airbase had hammered the vanguard of the Imperial forces to scrap. After three hours of sustained high intensity combat however, the momentum of the mass of Imperial troops had pushed far enough to establish a bridgehead on the other side.

As they began setting up an air defense umbrella, over the bridgehead, the Imperials quickly had established themselves a relatively secure area within inner Clairmont where they could re-organize and begin properly maneuvering against their foes.

LeKruez smiled as he gazed at the distant horizon through the visor of his Combat Armor. It was only a matter of time now.

Tappee

10-12-2006, 23:01

Admiral Martac stared deeply into the holo display, most watching the battle unfold would see nothing chaos, not Martac. To him he was watching a symphony of death and destruction, and a loss of focus could mean disaster for all that they have accomplished. They had swept through the system and brush a side the enemy fortress, now all that remained was to take planet below, and there was little doubt in his mind that they would be facing an up hill battle from here.

He took a moment to analysis the battle report, they had taken a bit of beating to get here and he needed to asses their battle strength and capabilities in the event of a counter attack. They still posses a great deal of fire power, but had several holes in their defensive formation in which the enemy could still use the their advantage, a fact that caused him to worry a great deal. However, he had no choice but push forward with the attack.

He glanced over to his Tac Officer “Order the fleet to form up in a defensive formation around the drop ship, and contact Commander Jefferys and have him give the order to begin the primary phase of the invasion.”

Having given his orders all he cold do now was watch as ground war started.

Vrak

15-12-2006, 10:40

“…..Southern MLR. Request any and all available support. Repeat….” Then static.

The large walrus silently contemplated the message. His forces did sporadically engage the Imperials and, even with their latest technology, the toll was horrendous. He lost two Iron Flipper class battleships in the latest encounter along with several escort ships. He also couldn’t find a beachhead to land his SOATs and “little mechs” as he liked to call the acquisitions from Sketch.

Still, he consoled himself in that his hit and run tactics managed to buy some time for the friendly ground forces. The latest message though was the worst scenario that could have happened. Somehow, the Imperials still managed to fight. This annoyed him because not only did they cost him men and equipment, but they managed to cut off reliable communications with his allies. So, he silently hoped that what he was about to do would not result in too much friendly fire.

“I want a map of the Port Arthur area right now. It’s time we launch a full scale assault. Turn the fleet to Port Arthur, flank speed. When in range, launch all of our bombers and fighters. All of them. Nuclear ordinance. Then, have our submarines launch their cruise missiles at any Imperial transports or gun emplacements. Ready the transports. We either hit them now, or we might as well turn home.”

====

Inexorably, the fleet began to wheel about and head to the Port Arthur vicinity. The three Blue Dragon carriers launched their high altitude Cyclops UAVs to try to pick out the enemy positions. It will be a slaughter either way, but right now, the Vrakians had to finally do something.

Along with the fleet were the experimental “titan ship”, so named after the failed MERG project. Each one had a single titan gun mounted deep within the middle of the ship and thusly, it had little lateral movement. But, it could shoot a good sized shell nearly 400 kilometers. It effect, these experiments were meant for long-range costal bombardment. Now, it remained to see if they, and the rest of the Vrakian fleet would get lucky.

Clairmont

15-01-2007, 00:09

I constantly wonder how humans can endure year after year of constant war without breaking. It is one part in my organic masters that I admire and respect. Some might think that a machine such as I can not feel such feelings as admiration and respect, but my human masters gave me those feelings for a reason, a reason which I havent deduced after all these years.

I pause my philosophical ponderings after having spent a considerable 0.825 seconds in them and direct my attention to the rapidly approaching surface of planet Endicot. It has now been 3.834 minutes since the planetfall operation was commenced and the invasion force is already encountering heavy fire from numerous ground batteries. I have no fear of death, but the thought of my service ending prematurely during this critical operation is disappointing.

I remain in constant contact with my battle brothers, unit GBR, WSL, CHS and JLE. We have been running continuous war games and scenarios, reviewing the invasion plan and analyzing the enemy defense for the last 1.142 hours and our conclusion remains the same, this will be a difficult battle.

5.22 minutes remain until I and my battle brothers reach the ground. Counter-battery fire from the orbiting Expeditionary Fleet is successful in keeping most of the enemy ground batteries suppressed while the invasion force continues its descent. However, the enemy fire is thick and accurate and I detect another pair of friendly cruisers vanishing from my sensors under the onslaught of fire from the surface.

4.15 minutes remain.

*****

The assault shuttle buckled and heaved as the pilot threw it around in evasive maneuvers that brought its endurance to the limit. Its electronic warfare suit howled and decoy after decoy detached from it as it evaded the best attempts of the Imperial ground fire coming its way. It seemed as if the entire surface of the target area was filled with defense batteries. Missiles, beam weapons and tracers lighted up the sky in a crescendo of death that the hundreds of assault shuttles, drop barges, dropships and pinnaces met with grim determination.

Colonel Michael O'Neal huddled inside his ACS suit. He knew that there was nothing he could do at this point but let the pilot do his job without being disturbed. Still, being under such heavy fire with the knowledge that death could come any second was disturbing. He was used to being the master of his own fate.

He checked the readouts in his suit HUD. Less than two minutes remained until they would hit the designated landing zone. The 501st Armored Combat Suit Battalion would be among the first units to hit the ground, along with the 2nd and 3rd Korps of the SS and the 11th and 14th Panzer. Only seconds behind them would be the 7th Marine Expeditionary Unit, 21st Armored and ofcourse the already legendary 1st Planetary Siege Brigade with their Bolo's.

It was a massive display of force, over 200,000 men in the first wave and still there were doubts whether it would be enough. Casualties would be heavy, but O'Neal knew that these men and women would give no quarter, back no inch or accept defeat for such an option did not exist. Either they all would die here or they would succeed. If he had been a gambling man, he wouldnt have dared to bet on either outcome.

Suddenly the shuttle shook far more violently than it had during the entire descent. A terrible screeching sound filled the passenger compartment of the shuttle as the frame of the craft buckled to endure. Before O'Neal could open up a channel, the pilot of the shuttle was already on the intercom.

"We've been hit people! We cant make the LZ, prepare for a rough landing!"
The flight officer shouted and O'Neal decided not to press the man further.

It had to have been one of the lighter batteries that struck them or they wouldnt be here anymore. He called up a 3D map of the surface with the flight-path of the shuttle overlaid on top. Already they were deviating from the pre-planned course and heading towards the suburbs of the Capitol City of Planet Endicot that was their target. Which meant that Alpha Company of the 501st would be landing smack dab in the middle of the enemy.

*****

The flight of assault drop pods preceded all other craft of the first invasion wave. Small and sheathed in reflective and radar absorbing materials as they were, they proved to be the most difficult targets for the Imperial ground fire, which didnt make the pods feel any less like a metal coffin for Captain Nina Venizelos.

But as a Drop Commando of the Cadre, insertions into hostile planets while encountering heavy ground fire, encased in such a metal coffin, was nothing new. Despite her experience, training and conditioning, this mission was one she knew she would see in her nightmares many times in the future. Assuming ofcourse that the universe would allow her to live through the operation.

She checked the readouts of her suit for the fiftieth time and allowed herself a thin smile as everything checked green. She called up the Company roster, and detected another four lifesign signals that had gone dark in the past minute, victims of the Imperial defensive fire. But those were the last of her men that the enemy ground batteries would claim as the drop pods thundered lower and lower and beyond the horizon from the majority of the hostile weapon emplacements.

The protective shell around her detached, and she was yanked violently back as the small but powerful contra-grav generators in her drop harness kicked in, slowing down her descent hard. Without her power suit, her arms would have been ripped off, so sudden and hard was the deceleration. But it was also the style and profile of the drops that gave the Cadre much higher propability of surviving a planetfall than the more traditional method used by their comrades coming in behind them.

Only seconds after the drop harness had slowed her descent to a survivable velocity, her armored boots touched the ground. The ground battle for planet Endicot had begun.

Clairmont

17-01-2007, 11:54

100km North-East of Barwhon city Centrum
Near Imperial Baseship Emperor's Hand

The tiny periscope peeked over the crumbled ceramacrete wall and rotated slowly as it panned the vast ruins of the destroyed outer sectors of Barwhon City. In the midst of the rubble of the destroyed cityscape, the Imperial base sprawled with activity. Men and machinery moved between the base structures, going about their tasks with meticulous precision. In the middle of the basecamp stood the enormous Imperial lander that they now used as a factory and a bastion. The shield umbrella generated by the enormous craft stretched out for fifteen kilometers from the vessel, a shimmering half-sphere of energy that would laugh at the best attempts of any ground weaponry with the exception of heavy strategic scale armaments.

Further north of the base, beyond the protective layers of the shield laid several dome-like structures and what appeared to be factories of some sort, adjacent to which was an enormous, walled encampment filled with makeshift housing, tents and small cottages constructed out of pieces of ceramacrete and iron. The mass of humanity going in and out of the domes and factories and strolling around in the encampment was a stark mirror image of the clean and orderly Imperial personnel within the shield. They looked ragged, malnourished and both physically and mentally beaten. All of them were former inhabitants of Barwhon city.

"Winchester-six, Recon two-four. Confirmed presence of two Imperial Battalions as well as a labor camp and adjacent facilities outside the Umbrella." The Spec War scout reported back to the main force five kilometers behind his position.

"Two-four, Winchester-six. Copy. Remain in position and report any changes."
Colonel Naumann replied quickly.

The attack would be difficult. Altough the ruined cityscape that separated the assault force and the grounded vessel would provide them with excellent cover, it would also slow down the movement of the armored elements tagging along. Fortunately, the Templar's with their 270 Ton mass would be able to simply go through most of the obstacles, their lines of fire would suck thanks to the obstructions offered by the ruins. Which was why Naumann opted to keep the tanks hull-down behind the hill overlooking the target area, providing fire support while the ACS and Cadre proceeded through the ruins. Only after the forward elements had secured a bridgehead within the Imperial shield perimeter, the tanks would be called in.

It took less than twenty minutes for the forces to be arrayed into position. Naumann smiled with grim determination as the flat-panel screen in his command APC displayed the icons of the units under his command in the exact positions they had been ordered to take. These people knew their jobs very well, and if this could be done, they would do it.

"Winchester-six to all units, move out."

Medusa City, Centrum District

As the advance of Sharon Issard's Battalion had punched through the makeshift defenses the Imperials had managed to gobble up against her, she had started to believe that this insane operation actually could succeed. Her casualties had been acceptable thus far. Out of the original 958 men and women under her command in the Battalion, 102 had been killed and another 130 wounded. This left her with 726 effectives, against an Imperial armored company and the remaining Infantry of one and a half battalions.

In the process of her advance, she had expended two of her irreplaceable nuclear weapons while taking out two Imperial strongholds that would have cost her massive casualties to take conventionally. Luckily, the towers the Imperials had used as their strongholds had been empty of Clairmontian civilians, as their innate paranoia had forced them to relocate the populace from Medusa city's governing central district to the outer areas after the city had fallen. Now the battalion had a clear line of advance to Skyveil tower, the former home of Duke Nelson and her staff the de-facto power figures of the city, along with the government bureaucrats necessary to keep the city as a part of the nation. It would offer her with a defensive position Infantry commanders most of the time could only dream of, for surrounding the tower was the Liberation Park, three kilometers of obstruction-free terrain in every direction from the building. The building was also sturdy enough to withstand Imperial ground weaponry to a degree.

Excellent fields of fire and cover, what more could she ask? Ofcourse, the Imperials werent exactly ready to surrender and hand over Skyveil without firing a shot and General Sharon Issard's face was grim as her forces closed in on the outer edge of Liberation Park, and the killing ground around the tower, now filled with the remnants of the Imperial Infantry battalion that she had fought upto this point, as well as elements from the second battalion. The few recon drones that she had, had revealed that both the remaining Infantry and the Armored Company were both rapidly converging on Skyveil, and would get there soon unless Issard managed to take the tower. If that happened... the Liberation of Medusa City would end right here in a massacre.

Tappee

17-01-2007, 23:27

There was a brief shutter as lieutenant Roberts drop suit hit the planets atmosphere; it was soon followed by a series of alarms. Quickly he put the fear out his mind and adjusted his re-entry angle to compensate, a single miscalculation could mean certain death, his suit could easy burn up during re-entry.

Lieutenant Roberts was a member of 4th drop suit division, which meant that he was part of the first wave attack. It was simple plan of attack, the first wave consisted drop suits, which were basically small single man landing craft. The plan was simple due their size and number they were harder to hit and clutter the enemy sensors, in all there was a total of 15,000 of these drop suits deployed in the initial wave. They filled the sky like a wave of locust descending down towards a crop. Once on the ground the they would target enemy gun placement and eliminate them so that the other waves would have a higher survival rate.

Within seconds Robert watched a several enemy defenses began tracking them, and it was not long until they claimed their first victims. Their size was their advantage, and their biggest cures; they couldn’t do much in terms of maneuvering so their decent path was predictable. A decent that took only minutes felt like hours, and Robert couldn’t help but wonder if he would die on this day, his fate was out his hands.

Once alarms sounded interrupting his thoughts, this time it was to tell him that he was about land. Roberts suddenly felt ten times heavier and the Drop suit landing thrusters fired to slow his rapid decent. So how despite all the odds he had managed to successfully make his way through the vicious hellstorm above and make land fall. However, as he checked his readings, only 30% of his company had made it through.

There was little time to waste, it would not take long for the enemy to realize where they had landed, and they were not from their primary objective. He opened up a channel “This is ugly duckling, and we have reached the nest and are now heading to bed.”

http://www.trooperpx.com/RSTC/WebJPG/Drop.jpg

Clairmont

18-01-2007, 15:22

My drivetrain begins to transfer power to my roadwheels as I start accelerating out of the siege sledge that brought me down to this planet. I sever the connections with the sledge and roll out, my treads crushing trees and rocks beneath me while the ground pressure generated by my weight makes my tracks sink nearly half a meter to the soft soil of our landing zone. It has now been 5.938 seconds since the Regiment made planetfall. My battle brothers are also deploying, following the pre-planned deployment pattern.

Suddenly my sensors scream in alarm as they detect a wave of Imperial hypersonic ground-skimmers and artillery fire headed upon the landing area. I plot the trajectories of the incoming rounds using my NEMESIS arrays, and devote as many processor cycles as possible on pinpointing and locking on the ground-skimmers. My battle brothers of the Regiment engage upon the same activities and 0.796 seconds after I have detected the incoming enemy barrage, my infinite repeaters fill the sky with fire, tracking and destroying the incoming projectiles. In the concentrated point-defense of the Regiment, none of the inbound rounds or missiles survive to hit the ground. However I deduce that the enemy will be bringing the landing zone under constant bombardment from indirect fire and smart weapons if we allow them to do so.

I prepare two heavy missiles in my number three and number six VLS cells and assign targets to the total of twelve warheads that they carry. I am able to estimate the positions of the enemy artillery and missile launchers with 67.34% propability and my battle brothers agree with my conclusions. They as well prepare to eliminate the threat of indirect fire to the landing zone. I launch my two missiles. Both of them carry 6 MIRV warheads with dialable-yield upto 10 kilotons, however to avoid collateral damage to civilian population, I have opted to only use 10% of their total potential, sufficient for the task at hand.

As my missiles leave their cells, I begin tracking the first signs of an Imperial counter-attack against the landing zone. A sound strategic move, which I expected the Imperials to make. I accelerate to 95kph and out of the shadow of the ridge overlooking the landing zone. I slew my number 2 Hellbore around 73 degrees to the horizon, the general direction of the forward Imperial units. I fire!

At the range of 18.2 kilometers, the Imperial jamming systems hamper my ability to target most smaller units. However, as the bolt of plasma travels over the Imperial formations, the energy it bleeds to its surroundings is enough to knock out lightly armored vechiles such as APC's. Satisfied at the results of the first round, I take cover in a ravine running parallel to the valley designated as our Landing Zone. I prepare to engage once more.

****

Captain Venizelos shouted orders to the company command net as her troops hit the ground one by one and began to gather up. She glanced upon the Tappee drop suits that were slamming to the ground along with her company and was glad that they were here to assist in initially securing the landing zone for the heavy hitters.

She took several bounding leaps that carried her forward at over 70kph, and soon came at the crest of the ridge that acted as cover from direct fire weapons for the landing zone. The surrounding terrain was mostly woodland, with only a few settlements here and there. The Imperial capitol city laid one hundred and fifty kilometers to the East. From the orbital recon and Imperial files salvaged from enemy vessels, the Imperial civilian population was heavully centered in the cities and larger communities outside the cities. Their usage of land area was strictly governed by the government, and large swathes of the planets they inhabited remained completely unpopulated while elsewhere the available ground was used to its limits. Which was just fine for Captain Venizelos, the axis of advance that had been chosen for the invasion was mostly clear of any urbanization until they hit the Imperial capitol, offering room for the Clairmontian and Tappee forces to maneuver at will.

She crouched behind the visual cover offered by the growths at the top of the ridge and examined the horizon. Her suit computer was already ID'ing enemy units that were advancing upon their position, and from the looks of it they really wanted the landing zone back. Too bad for them, Venizelos mused.

"Ghost-actual to ghost units, deploy at my position for defensive action." She commed to her platoon leaders.

As her troopers began arriving and blowing up foxholes with excavation charges, the first heavy units began to arrive at the landing zone. Three Atlas-class heavy assault shuttles hit the dirt, their boarding ramps opening and disgorging three companies of the 501st ACS Battalion, two more shuttles of the 501st were about to land as well, but one was missing. Venizelos had no time to grieve her fallen comrades however as the Imperial forward units acting as reconnaissance closed upon her position and her helmet began drawing tracks of inbound mortar rounds.

"Incoming!"

****

Colonel Michael O'Neal shook his head inside his ACS suit, forcing his eyes open. It felt like a mistake nearly at once, his head was pounding as if it had been hit with a sledge hammer. The suit reacted automatically, injecting painkillers to his bloodstream. The pain vanished soon after, and he could think once more as his head didnt feel like exploding any time soon.

He took a glance at his surroundings, half of his company was still unconscious, with the other half staggering up from their seats and beginning to help their comrades. He detached the safety harness that had kept him attached to his crash couch and stood up, gathering his surroundings. He ventured past the other occupants of the passenger compartment to the cockpit of the shuttle. The hatch to the cockpit was jammed, but using the strength provided to the Colonel by his suit, he wedged it open.

The cockpit was like a scene of a particularily violent murder. The plasteel window screens had exploded inwards, and several support beams had penetrated the forward hull and now were lodged inside the cockpit. The pilot was dead, skewered from the midriff by one of those beams. The co-pilot's helmet visor was cracked, and several plasteel shards from the window screens had torn his flight suit and skin open from his right arm. The man was alive however, and not in critical condition. The weapons and sensor officer had sustained the least wounds of the flight crew and the woman groaned as she woke up from the state of unconciousness she had been thrown to when she banged her head to her console.

"Warrant Officer Dannis? You ok?" O'Neal asked the young woman.

As the woman checked that all her legs, arms and fingers where still there, she nodded.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Would you mind telling me where exactly our pilot brought us?" O'Neal asked. It looked like they were inside some sort of building, but it was hard to be sure.

"Well Colonel, the hit we took pretty much fucked up most of our maneuverability and changed our original trajectory towards the Imperial capitol. Carl here decided then to try and land us somewhere with cover and as far away as possible from the Imp army. The last sight before the lights went out on my part was some damn factory building or whatever filling the view here." She said and flexed her neck so see if there were any injuries she wasnt aware of.

O'Neal processed the information provided to him by the Warrant Officer. If they were lucky, there was a possibility that they could still join up with the main force assembling to the west in the landing zone. However, accomplishing that would recquire them to move out quickly. There were bound to be Imperial units converging on the position of the crashed shuttle at the very moment.

"We need to move out quickly. Can you move?"

"Yeah yeah, you go and get your company in order. I'll see to Vincent's condition." She said, referring to the wounded co-pilot.

O'Neal nodded and strode away from the cockpit while speaking frantically to the company comm.

"Saddle up! We need to get moving as fast as possible. Salvage whatever ammo and weapons you can from the shuttle, we will destroy everything we cant bring with us. Lets get about it people!"

Endicot

29-01-2007, 15:18

Birhat System

The holographic display told the telltales of the situation. The loyalist enemy fleet was holding position in geosynchronous orbit above the Imperium's Capital planet, exchanging fire with the ground batteries. Ship after ship from the enemy formation disappeared as the ground batteries took their toll, but the loyalist fleet returned every shot they took, and the ground batteries were slowly but certainly being suppressed.

But now, the time had come to pin the enemy between two fires. Admiral Yzak Theradoc began issuing commands to his command crew who began relaying those orders to the Imperial Guard, the Emperor's own flotilla of vessels never before encountered by the loyalists or their allies.

As one, the combined formation of three hundred vessels lurched into movement. Accelerating away from behind the shadow of the planetary body they had used as cover, they would be detected with absolute certainty by the time the Clairmontians could take a look at them. But Theradoc knew that the Clairmontians had become aware of his force being there the second they lighted up their drives and began accelerating. It did not matter, the spatial position of the enemy was such that they could not avoid action and would have to face him.

Grand Admiral Yzak Theradoc was not a fool, he knew that this battle would either completely or nearly annihilate his force regardless of the outcome. The question that remained was whether he could decisively engage and destroy the enemy before the enemy in turn destroyed him. No simulation could give him a definite answer, and he whispered a silent prayer to the Lords and prepared for imminent battle.

Surface of Birhat

The heavy fire coming from the ridge overlooking the loyalist landing zone was hampering the advance of the Imperial forces attempting to overwhelm the bridgehead the Clairmontians and their Tappee allies had established before they could bring in the full weight of their ground force. Unfortunately, the enemy units who had taken the responsibility of defending the landing zone were the best the enemy had. The damned Cadre and the Planetary Siege Regiment with the massive war machines the enemy called Bolo's.

Star Captain Orlen Fuchien snarled in disgust as accurate bursts of penetrators hammered at his Company of Imperial Marines while indirect fire from behind the ridgeline landed in pre-planned patterns in the depths of the forest among the advancing columns of the Imperial 17th and 21st Marines. He had noted that their own indirect fire had ceased fifteen minutes past, no doubt a result of the tactical nuclear strikes used by the enemy Siege Machines.

He could see the condensation trails left behind by enemy landers as they passed through the athmosphere to deposit their deadly cargoes to the enemy bridgehead. If the defenders of Endicot did not put a stop to that soon, the enemy would gain decisive local superiority in force balance and would be able to overwhelm the defense. Thick fire from the advancing Imperial marines hammered the ridgeline as OGRE combat mech's, tanks and lighter vechiles along with power armoured marines poured destruction at the source of the incoming fire.

Orlen cursed as a hyper-velocity anti-armor missile slashed from behind a rock outcropping to blow away a turret from one of his APC's. The closer they came to the ridgeline, the more casualties they took as the loyalist fire became more accurate. But closing in also prevented the enemy from deploying battlefield nukes due to the certainty of damage to their own forces if they had done so. Without their extensive capabilities of deploying tactical nuclear weapons on the battlefield, the loyalists could be overwhelmed and the Imperial Marines pressed on.

"Star-lead, star-recon. Detecting new signatures at aleph-target, seven point sources." One of the recon commandos in the point of the advance reported.

Orlen turned his attention to the sensors, these new signals werent the Bolo's, they were being kept busy by the armored columns of the Imperial 72nd, 93rd and 61st Armored Brigades. The battle computer dutifully analyzed the data and reached its conclusion a second before a warning light began blazing in Star Captain Fuchien's console. The laser targeting warning.

One of the Templar Heavy Main Battle Tanks that had reached the ridgeline sighted up with its laser rangefinder at the Imperial vechile in the approximate center of the approaching company. Star Captain Fuchien had two seconds to realize what was happening before a 170mm hyper-velocity round from the railgun of the Templar blew his command vechile to pieces.

Clairmont Island

The northern echelon of the attack force had reached the outer defense perimeter of the Avalon Space Port, the last operational Military Space Port in the entirety of Clairmont Island. It was the first primary objective of the operation, taking it would mean cutting off the primary escape route of the loyalists and ground them permanently while the Imperial Invasion Army finished them off.

Star General LeKruez instructed the forward armor to start the offensive immediately. There was no time for careful probing of the enemy defense. The Clairmontians had relied on their primary defense zone far too much, after the Imperials had breached it, the inner plains of their hated enemy were far more vulnerable. Nevertheless, atleast a division worth of armor and two divisions of heavy infantry were protecting the last remaining space port the enemy had and it seemed as if the loyalist defenders had no intention of giving up without a fight.

Combat mace area-effect rounds as well as artillery smart munitions began to rain in volleys as the loyalist SheVa heavy mobile guns and artillery platforms opened up. Imperial armor however was far less vulnerable against indirect fire than infantry. Pinpricks of laser light from the point-defense batteries on the heavy tanks and dedicated airspace defense vehicles opened fire, picking off scores of rounds from the volleys. Some managed to land anyway and the first casualty figures flowed to LeKruez's screen as two combat-mace munitions and several smart rounds landed. Proper dispersion of the armored force however limited the losses and the mass of battlesteel maintained their speed.

Meanwhile, the second echelon of the force under LeKruez's command was already moving to the west. Their objective in its simplicity was to penetrate the enemy defenses, cross the Golan river that ran through the entire inner plains and finally assault the loyalist capital city of Irmansul. Despite having traversed only seventy kilometers from the staging point to the west, they were already encountering extremely heavy resistance from air, fire-support and ground units.

Throughout the entire Earthly domain of the loyalists, the Imperial forces were launching a cohesive massive assault. Towards the inner plains from the north, south and the west, forces were fighting an all or nothing battle that would ultimately decide the fate of the entire invasion.

Clairmont

08-02-2007, 02:08

Birhat System

The new enemy formation had been steadily approaching them for the past ten minutes now. In another thirty-four, they would reach optimum firing-range with their hypermissiles, another thirty minutes from that point they would be within energy weapon range. Alex Rowe had known from the get-go that the whole operation had proceeded too well. The Imperials had indeed had a final ace in a hole and now they were using it. Using it in a way that would bring the Expeditionary Fleet between two fires, and in the end game inflict grievous damage to it no matter the final outcome.

"Commence preparations for fire-plan Omega. We will throw everything we've got left in the magazines at them." Rowe said grimly.

The Ships of the Wall capable of laying missile pods began laying down heavy patterns of them. Jettisoning every last missile pod and preparing them for a fire-plan that would eventually attempt to do the same to this new enemy force as had been done to the main Imperial fleet in the Birhat System. However, this time there were far less missile pods in total being laid as most of them had already been expended against the main Imperial fleet.

But he knew that against the force now approaching the Expeditionary Fleet, the ordnance Rowe could throw at them from long range would have limited effect. Judging by the mass estimations of the main hitters in the incoming formation, they were something the Expeditionary Fleet had never encountered before. The CIC was already providing good estimations of how effective the point-defense of this particular enemy would be, and those estimations looked bad.

"Start vectoring our strike wings against the enemy."

*****

The missiles had gone in twenty-eight minutes ago and the strike wings had done everything they could before they had to come back to their carriers to rearm and replace their power packs. Less than a half of those who had gone and attacked the Imperial Guard Flotilla had come back, a grim realization of the power the previously unknown enemy vessels represented. But the strike craft and missiles had damaged the Imperials. Thirty-seven of their main ships had either been ripped apart or floated now as hulks incapable of any combat. Fifty-eight of the supporting Battlecruisers had died as well. But the remaining ships plowed onwards, uncaring of the losses they had sustained.

Captain Julia McHale could see the two possible ways the coming brutal short-range battle would end. Neither outcome promised her good chances of survival. Nevertheless, she regretted nothing. Her participation in the Steel Butterfly Civil War, the aftermath of that costly decision and now this war. Whatever the universe had in store for her from this point onwards, she would face it on her feet, proudly. As if to underline her determination, the enemy finally reached the range of her Hellbores.

"All batteries, all forward guns, fire at will. I repeat, FIRE!"

*****

The armor plating of an Imperial tank is crushed beneath my tracks as I proceed forward at 105kph. As expected, the Imperial counter-attack against the landing zone was defeated, altough not without a price. Unit CHS has fallen and Unit JLE has lost his main battery armament. The rest of the regiment has sustained moderate damage, however I estimate that the 1st Starstrike remains 72.176% combat effective. As I proceed, I begin plotting targets for my remaining tactical nuclear warheads. Orbital reconnaissance as well as recon drones have positively confirmed 85.34% of the defensive installations and works in the path of the ground force's advance towards the Imperial Capitol City. These defenses include bunkers, hypervelocity missile launchers, graviton beam weapon emplacements and projectile cannons. These defenses must be fully eliminated before we can proceed to the city.

Behind the lead of 1st Starstike comes the Tiger III's of the Panzer divisions. While far less massive than my own MK.XXVII warhull, they are capable war machines and their crews are experienced fighters. I am glad to have them watching my back as my human masters would say. With the 11th and 14th Panzer Divisions and the 1st Starstrike holding the lead, the main ground force proceeds in our wake.

My target acquisition programming alerts me after I have spent considerable 0.756 seconds in my stipulations. My missiles have targets, and I send the signal to the launchers. Hatches open in my flanks and between my turrets and twenty missiles rise to the sky, propelled by their chemical rockets. As they clear their safety range from my battlescreens, they accelerate to maximum speed towards their assigned targets. My battle brothers launch simultaneously with me, co-ordinating a time-on-target salvo that has a propability of 71.154% of overwhelming the detected enemy anti-missile defense systems. Unfortunately, I have no line-of-sight to engage with my main battery armament. I calculate that the regiment will be able to reach a suitable firing position for my main battery in another 7.89 minutes. When that time comes, I will be able to directly engage the enemy defenses with my main weapon. I wait and see how the missile barrage will impact the enemy defense.

*****

"This is odd.." Colonel O'Neal mumbled to himself as the visual feed from the camouflaged forward scouts was displayed on one of the screens in his HUD.

In the hour and a half that had passed since they had left the wreck of the assault shuttle, they had seen perhaps thirty people on the streets of the Imperiums Capitol City. Which did not match the data the Expeditionary Force had. The estimations suggested the city had a population of over thirty million, and yet thus far O'Neal hadnt seen the masses of people he had expected to see. The few people they had seen had been too busy packing their belongings to personal vehicles and running, fast. Which suggested that the civilian populace had either fled the city under the threat of the coming onslaught, or was being sheltered in disaster bunkers. Either way, it suited him just fine.

He called up the map of the city that the fleet had been able to patch up from orbital imagery and captured Imperial data archives. The Company had moved rapidly from the crash site. Since the two pilots of the assault shuttle could never had kept up with the ACS on foot, they were being carried by troopers Hilton and Chavez and the Company had been able to keep up their regular pace.

O'Neal had abandoned his original plan of trying to join up with the main force. The chances of slipping through the Imperials outside the city were slim at best. Thus O'Neal had opted to try and do everything he could to hurt the Imps from the inside. Unfortunately, unless the Imperials chasing him were particularily dimwitted, they would realize what he planned to do very quickly.
Which was why he had selected the most unlikely target. With any luck, the Imperials wouldnt figure any Commander to be sufficiently insane to penetrate to the Imperial Palace, the Throne of their Emperor with a single Company. Unfortunately for them, they didnt know Michael O'Neal.

"Alpha Company, lets move out." He called through the comm, and the ACS clad troopers of Alpha Company, 501st ACS Battalion leapt to motion.

Clairmont Island
Manticore's Nest

"The Imperials are pushing back the hundred and first. The seventy-seventh armored and four-oh-sixth marines are as ready as they'll ever be at the secondary line. But as it is going now, Avalon will fall in another four to five days. The North and South defense perimeters arent in much better shape. General Liebgott from the Southern MLR reports that the outer defense works have already fallen, and the Imps are proceeding fast. North is a bit better off, but even there the Imperials are proceeding alarmingly fast." Field Marshal Broderick finished.

The others present in the room accepted the report grimly. They all had known that this day would come. The day when the Imperials would realize that they had the capacity to take the Inner Plains and act upon that realization.

"How long do we realistically have people?" Protector Benjamin Alexander asked.

Broderick glanced at the displays in the war room and replied.
"A week, maybe two. Then they will be either sieging Irmansul and this place, or they will have taken them already."

There were whispers between the people attending the conference. Whispers filled with terror and fear. Fear most of all for the lives of the people they had been charged to protect and serve. For their families, and for their nation.

"And there are no news from the expeditionary fleet?" Prime Minister Descroix voiced the question that hovered in everyone's mind. The Expeditionary Fleet had for the last five years been the only source of hope for the people of Clairmont. Their only hope for survival and victory. Only their return would save Clairmont now.

"None. Which suggests that the Imps have taken out Qualtren, and the fleets primary hypercom link back here. Since courier boats arent reliable thanks to the Imperial raiding squadrons between here and their territory, we have no way of knowing what is happening out there." Admiral Caparelli said.

The desperation became more obvious on everyone's face now.

"Then thats it. I recommend we will move forward with the final phase of Ragnarok now." Field Marshal DeSilva said dispassionately.

Only silence accompanied his proclamation. No one liked the reality of what it meant. But in order for Clairmont to survive in any form, it was necessary. Even if it meant abandoning millions of people to their fates.

"I agree. As per the plan, we should start moving the Government to Hephaestus using the secure routes immediately." Field Marshal Broderick said.

After a long moment of silence, Protector Benjamin spoke with the voice of a man defeated. Beaten not physically, but from the inside. For things to have reached this stage meant that he had failed. Failed his oath to the people of Clairmont. He knew that the millions of voices would haunt him forever for what was to come, and he could only listen to their accusations, for there was no defense.

"Admiral Caparelli, I trust that you will oversee the preparation and execution for the final phase of Ragnarok?"

He could insist to stay, but the Cadre, his personal guards would never allow him to do so. He could hardly blame them, for they were men and women who had devoted their lives to protect the Protector and his family. They would drag him to the shuttle and die to the last to protect him until he reached safety.

Caparelli nodded in reply. Benjamin Alexander knew that none of the military men present here would board the shuttles that would carry the governing body of Clairmont to space. They could, and would carry out their duty to the people of Clairmont to death. For they knew their duty, and they knew they could be replaced. But for the sake of Clairmont, the Protector had to survive.

The room began clearing fifteen minutes later, as the last issues to be discussed were addressed. As Field Marshal's DeSilva and Broderick left, only Caparelli and Benjamin Alexander stayed.

"How could it come to this..." The ruler of Clairmont whispered.

"You know it is not your fault Benjamin. You carried out your oath to the best of your ability. You fought desperately to fulfill your promise. And you stil will, this is not the end. No matter how, no matter where, the people we have been able to save will continue to live on under your guidance." Caparelli replied to his friend.

"What hope is there for the future my friend? This endless slaughter has all but destroyed us. In two weeks, it will have destroyed us. We'll be exiles from our own home, beaten and lost. Without a home." Benjamin replied angrily.

"There is always hope Ben. You remember when I said to you when all this started that I trusted Alex Rowe? I trust him still, even though it seems that our end has finally come, hope still remains and I will cling on to that hope, that tiniest shred of light at the end of the tunnel until I die. We WILL come through this. But we cannot lose you or your family."

The burden on Benjamin Alexander's shoulders had only grown during the years of the war. And now it was almost too much to bear. There was that shred of cowardness in him. A shred that whispered how easy it would be to simply die and abandon this nightmare forever. A shred that was quickly overcome by his sense of duty.

"If thats what it takes, then I will board that damn shuttle. Like I have a choice. And I really hope you are right Tom, I hope that in the final hour I will see the Expeditionary Fleet in the skies of our home, blowing away the scum that has been driving us to extinction. But in the face of reality, that bit of hope feels insignificant." He said.

Caparelli nodded in silence and they both sat there for a moment that none of them could measure before Benjamin Alexander, the Ruling Monarch of Clairmont stood up and came to shake the hand of his most trusted friend over the years.

"I know I cant ask, or order you to come with us. I can only wish you god-speed my friend. Make those fuckers pay as high a price as you can."

And with that, he walked out of the war room, knowing that he would never return to this place.

Endicot

09-02-2007, 03:01

Birhat System

"Keep firing Emperor damn you!" Star Captain Maldoran screamed to his bridge crew as the Imperial Fist shook under the unrelenting barrage of Hellbore fire.

She lashed out in every direction, energy batteries sending destruction to a dozen ships at the same time. But yet more fire came, fusion bolt after fusion bolt hammered at the tortured hull of the mighty vessel. Gaping holes blew in her hull. Atmosphere leaked out from the dozens of wounds it had sustained and scores of black impact marks from lesser weapons dotted her hull. The vessel was dying.

"Imperial Thunder reports code Black!" The communications officer said and to underscore her report, the viewscreen was briefly turned white as the antimatter plant of one of the massive vessels gave up and took the ship to the grave.

"Enemy strike craft incoming!" Another report came. Maldoran turned frantically to gaze at the holosphere, a flight of forty-two strike vessels were approaching his Command, already launching short range attack missiles. The Imperial Fist's strained and damaged point-defense did her best, but half a dozen missiles got through.

They detonated five kilometers from the vessels massively armored bulk, artificial suns of fusion warheads that vaporized armor plating, sensor heads, weapons and blew even more holes to the hull. The vessel shook violently once more, hull buckling and every possible alarm screaming, Captain Maldoran knew that the end had come.

"Ramming speed! Take us right down that command ship's throat!" He yelled and felt the stressed engines starting to give the last bits of strength they had left. The massive enemy Supermonitor he had chosen as his final target began growing in the display, and he felt satisfaction. He would take some of their leaders with him to the grave.

"Captain! Incoming enemy vessel mark-seven-seven-four...."

Four depleted uranium bars slammed straight through the mid-section of Imperial Fist, followed by a quartet of fusion plasma bolts that finished the work. A massive explosion tore the vessel in half, only seconds before its aft section disappeared in a detonation fueled by the ships antimatter fuel storage. Captain Maldoran never saw his killer as HMS Peremptory sped past the wreck of the dead Imperial ship, her batteries already seeking a new target.

*****

Four more loyalist vessels were torn apart by the fire from Divine Emperor's main batteries. Her gunners were the best in the entire Battle Fleet and they had scored nearly three-dozen kills in the battle already. Methodically each battery concentrated enough fire on each target to overwhelm them. With the massive energy armament of the vessel, she could take on half a dozen of the enemy's medium combatants at the same time and overwhelm them with superior firepower.

But the loyalists returned every shot. Kinetic penetrators, fusion bolts, strike craft missiles and coherent beams of energy had already ripped most of her defense screens away and had begun destroying the ships armor. A blinding flash erupted in her aft as five massive GRASER beams from a loyalist Superdreadnought penetrated the armor on one of Divine Emperor's drive pods, detonating it instantly. Three more beams struck, burning meter deep chasms into the immensely thick armor of the Imperial Guard vessel.

Admiral Theradoc simply followed the battle as it unfolded in its complete brutality. In his worst nightmares, he had never witnessed something like this. Only the records of the long gone rebellion against the 3rd Imperium spoke of battles that could match this one in its brutality. The space was lit with bright explosions of dying ships and spaceborne nuclear weapons. Bright beams of unimaginable energies sliced through space in silence. Hundreds, thousands were dying each minute. And yet the battle continued.

The Imperial Guard had relentlessly approached the enemy fleet to within less than four thousand kilometers. Range so ludicrously short for weapons employed by both parties that the chance of anyone missing a capital ship target were slim to none. This had allowed Theradoc to inflict the maximum number of casualties on the enemy, while trusting in the resilience of the Imperial Guard's ships to keep them alive long enough for them to complete the destruction of their enemy. But the enemy had no intention of allowing themselves to be destroyed and they hammered at the Imperial Guard with every weapon in their disposal.

The Divine Emperor lurched once more as another barrage of fire found its mark. She returned fire instantly, decapitating one of the hostile Superdreadnoughts and destroying three cruisers in one single volley of energy fire. But in the place of those ships destroyed, more appeared. Refusing to give an inch while firing every weapon they had to avenge their dead comrades.

The rates of attrition for both sides were immense. The Battle Data Center of the Divine Emperor estimated the combat capacity of the Imperial Guard to be only 42.76% of what it had been at its peak. The enemy was being annihilated as well with 38.91% of the loyalist fleet having been rendered combat ineffective or destroyed outright. But it was not enough. After this battle, the Imperial Guard would be wiped out from existence, with an estimated 28.35% of the loyalist fleet remaining. None of those ships would be undamaged, but it did not matter. For in another half an hour, the once mighty Battle Fleet of the 4th Imperium would, for all intents and purposes, be destroyed.

No tactic, no brilliant maneuver could change that outcome now. Fate had brought Theradoc to this point, and there was no changing that fate. Not any more.

Theradoc sat in silence in his command chair. The alarms, the screams, the buckling and screeching of the tortured hull of his ship going unheard by him. He closed his eyes, hoping for one foolish moment that this was merely another insane nightmare. But even as he opened his eyes, he saw another of his ships dying in the viewscreen. They would all die, it mattered no more.

For a brief moment, he reviewed the events that had brought them all to this final battle. The nearly two decades that had passed since the Admiralty, and the Imperial leadership had become aware of the descendants of the final survivors of the 3rd Imperium. The predecessors of Theradoc, and the creators of the 4th Imperium had been confident that the loyalists had been exterminated. Cleared from the path leading to a greater future. They had been wrong. And the job of finishing that extermination had fallen to the 4th Imperium of today.

So confident they had been. They had planned for so long. For over a decade they had gathered intelligence from the inside of the enemy. Planted the seeds of their destruction. Over a decade of underground work that would finally lead to the quick destruction of the final loyalist stronghold. But in their confidence, pride and arrogance. No one had thought of the impossible, what if they lost? As the initial plan had failed catastrophically, the 4th Imperium had started on its path to destruction. Against all odds, against a numerically and technologically superior enemy, the Clairmontians had marched to victory after victory. Theradoc wondered the strange fate that had lead him and his Imperium to this day. Fate that decreed that the last loyalist descendants of the 3rd Imperium avenge the demise of their ancestors. Fate...it seemed, was a cruel master indeed.

He opened his eyes once more, his last thoughts having disappeared to a dark place in his mind. He gazed around the command deck. Half of the bridge crew were dead, torn apart by shrapnell from the bulkheads, result from a near miss of the command bridge by a energy beam from one of the enemy ships. Only the emergency blast shields and energy fields prevented the air from leaking out to space. None of it mattered.

He looked at his crew for a long time. Part of the Emperor's very own Guard, he had relied on them, and they had relied on him. Theradoc nodded to each of those who still lived in turn and returned his gaze to the viewscreen. In one swift motion, he stood to parade ground attention, his right arm rising to salute. Salute to the enemy that had bested all the odds.

In another swift motion, he pulled his sidearm, placed it against his temple and calmly pressed the trigger.

*****

"My lord! We must get you out of here!" The orderly said, pleading for his master to listen to common sense.

The Emperor of the 4th Imperium, Lord of Birhat and the ultimate ruler of his Imperium, refused. For the last two hours, the palace had been going through standard evacuation protocols. Most of the bureaucrats had run as fast as they could, and he had let them, for they would have only been in the way. Even three members of the Emperor's very own council had left, cowardly scum who had no doubt been plotting against the Emperor for some time now. But the rest remained, and so would he. He would not yield to these bastard sons and daughters of the long dead, degenerate 3rd Imperium. He would slaughter any who dared to enter his throne. And he would do it personally.

But, some never understood the concept of last stand. Ofcourse the cowardly lowlifes that clung on to the heel of his boot would insist him to leave, for they were dependent of the Emperor for providing them the obnoxiously wealthy lives in comparison to the general populace. They could not imagine a future where they could no longer live the wealthy lives they had lived until now, for if their Emperor died, so would their income. So would their way of life. He had sometimes wondered why he paid his personal servants so much, but had always realized that it was good to keep them on a tight financial leash. Paying them enough had guaranteed that they would be loyal, but no amount of money could remove the taint of cowardice. At this final hour, the Emperor of the 4th Imperium had little use for cowards.

"I have no intention of running like a dog from my throne. But, since you are obviously so anxious to leave..." He pulled the sidearm from his hip, and fired a single round through the chest of the servant. He smiled as the complaining stopped and continued to suit up.

As the final piece of his personal Battle Armor was attached, he grabbed the helmet and strolled his eyes around the throne room. Six of the members of his council had also suited up to the personal suits of Armor that had been passed through generations from council member to another. Among them stood the Emperor's ever present guardians. Thirty of the most highly trained, motivated and deadly fighters the Imperium had in its ranks, clad in gleaming black suits of armor.

Thirty seven men, the deadliest men in the Imperium, waited in silence for the enemy that would dare to intrude to the Emperor's Throne Room. They were ready to wait as long as it took. Reports had come in moments ago that the Clairmontians and their allies had penetrated the main defense works obstructing their path to the city. Now they were fighting in the outer industrial and low-class living sectors of the city. Thousands upon thousands of fanatical defenders of the Imperium obstructed their path, making them pay with blood for every building, every street, every centimeter of the city they took. But slowly, the enemy advanced. The wait, would not necessarily be long.

The Emperor welcomed the thought of dying in glorious combat. He would ascend from this mortal plane through his heroic death, and be recieved by the Emperor's of the Past and the Great Ancestors in holy afterlife. He smiled at the prospect, and sat down on his throne.

Sol System
Earth
Clairmont Island

Grand Warlord Visceros screamed in indescripable anger. How in the Emperors name had the damn Clairmontians reached his command center? Travelled through Imperial controlled territory with a battalion of such strength. They had struck the outer perimeter of the Command Ship and its surrounding base only ten minutes ago and already they had penetrated that perimeter, and hammered through the surrounding base. The attack had come completely without warning. Elite troops of the loyalists suddenly emerging in battalion strength from the surrounding ruins of the city once known as Barwhon. Tanks had followed in their wake, hammering the few defenders left in the base long before they could organize an effective defense.

With most of the combat effective troops involved in the operation to take the Inner plains of this cursed Island, Visceros had only limited options left. He had already sealed all of the main hatches to the command ship, which would slow down the advance of the enemy force to some degree. It would not stop it completely.

He had already ordered the startup sequence for the reactor to be commenced. If he could do that, they could bring the ships external point-defense weapons online and use them to annihilate the loyalist forces now hell bent on entering the ship. Most of them would not depress low enough, but those that could fire would perhaps give Visceros a chance. But it seemed that the point defenses would be a non-issue. The reactor startup sequence from the complete shutdown where it had been for the last four years would take nearly an hour, and the enemy would be able to blow its way through to the ship in another thirty minutes at best.

He could slow them down, and he would. For all the good it would do. It was a most unfortunate turn of events, for him to fall here like this. But his work was done. Someone would take his place and complete the pacification of this ever cursed Island. And wipe out the stain of the degenerates that populated it. Death did not much matter to him, not when he knew that he had already won.

"Order our marines to these entry points. Use the choke points and deploy the OGRE's to watch out for the enemy in the vechile and hangar bays. They will not leave this ship alive!" He said and snarled at the visual feed from the outside as the enemy began burning its way in.

But it appeared fate had more in store for him. More alarms began suddenly blaring, alarms he had not heard in years. Alarms indicating a missile attack. Visceros called up the holographic map of the area, a fleet of icons was approaching towards the former loyalist naval base Port Arthur. Signal analysis suggested they belonged to the Vrakian allies of the Clairmontians. Bombers were rising up from the Vrakian naval vessels all the while the radiological alarm screamed, indicating that the bombers were filled to the brim with nuclear weapons.

Sensor emplacements on the coast were already plotting inbound vectors for the swarm of bombers and cruise missiles skimming ocean surface. There were also indications of large projectiles having been fired from the fleet, but as they seemed to be completely ballistic, the computers had some difficulty in determining their exact positions and as such, precise impact points were next to impossible to determine.

Visceros cursed the fate that had brought this attack at the worst possible time. Most of the ground troops in this entire section of the island were at the front. Fighters, tanks and troopers. Only two squadrons of fighters remained for defense, and those would not be enough to stop the wave of incoming enemy bombers. At best, they could try and work together with the Anti-Air batteries on the ground and do as much damage to the incoming bombers as possible.

"Scramble the fighters."

Suddenly, the command bridge shook violently. Visceros hurriedly glanced at the holographic map, and to his alarm found one..then two of the defensive firebases protecting the coastal area around Port Arthur, disappearing from the datanet. A definite sign of massive damage, for the command bunkers for those firebases were buried deep underground. The first massive projectiles from the Vrakian fleet had found targets, with more on the way. The icons representing their fleet kept approaching the shore, troop transports without a doubt were present in their force. They would attempt and succeed to land those troops in a matter of hours.

Deep rumble verberated through the hull to the command bridge as the understrength fighter complement of the transport barge began launching. Three of the twenty-four fighters plunged down from the sky in balls of flame as surface-to-air missiles from the Clairmontian tanks sitting outside launched and took the fighters down in their most vulnerable phase of take-off. Three irreplaceable fighters that would not be shooting down the incoming Vrakian bombers carrying nuclear ordnance.

"Report from third platoon, second company. The enemy has breached the first air-lock." One of the communications techs announced.

Visceros watched the feed from the hidden external optical feeds. The enemy would be inside his domain soon.

Tappee

11-02-2007, 09:01

Admiral Jensen was forced to catch himself as the ground beneath him stock violently throwing him into a nearby bulkhead, they couldn’t take much more of this. Quickly the battle had digressed into nothing more then giant slugfest, with both sides taking extreme casualties. He glanced up at the holo display just in time to see another one his ship disappear from existence, and there was little that he could do but swear under his breath.

For a brief moment Jensen thought about running, if only for a moment. Even a man in Jensen position feels fear, but he could work past the fear and even it use it to his advantage. Anyone who said that they were not afraid was a liar or fool; one an individual’s character can be judge on how they faced their fears. Jensen was not about to simple roll over die.

There was little doubt that the allied fleet was bleeding, and bleeding badly. However, the battle was far from lost, the remaining Imperium fleet was starting buckle and it would not be long until it would be crushed all together, and that remained was to see how much of the allied fleet they would take with them to the depths of hell. Before this was over Jensen would make them pay for every life that they had taken.

“Have the fleet move in even closer, lets try to take some these bastard with us if we can.”

Tappee

13-02-2007, 04:02

There was a loud thud, as the Prometheus command tank took a direct hit from an enemy rock, lucky the armor held against the impact. Within seconds of the impact the tanks automated weapon system began tracking the hostile target and unleashed a punishing volley ripping the threat apart.

“Damn it” shouted Commander Jeffery amidst all the chaos, his forces was advancing carelessly. They were leaving pockets of enemy resistance as they advanced forward. In doing so they were putting the more vulnerable heavy weapons equipment that operated near the rear at risk as they pushed forward.

“Where is my air support?” he yelled out, even though he already knew the answer. With the fleet tied up with the sudden appearance of a new enemy fleet, all available resources had been put towards that endeavor and Jeffery’s only had a handful Viper squadrons at his disposal. They were having difficulty moving their artillery outside of the landing zone, could have really use fire support of the fleet. “Have Sigmund and Echo tighten their formation to make sure that no more enemy units can sneak through” order Jefferys quickly.

Suddenly a voice interrupted his train of thought. “They’ve just sunk the Dauntless, and it is coming down in a decaying orbit. Without hesitation Jefferys threw open the rear door to the tank and gazed up into the sky, that when he saw it.

Already the ship dead hull was colliding the planet atmosphere erupting into nothing more then a giant fire fireball. The Dauntless was the last remain Ithra Class Super Battleship in the Fleet, it had once been the Fleets flag ship until was replaced by the Furious Angel during the end days of the Orion War, and had been the first ship that Jefferys had ever served on. During this war it had served as a reminder of Glroy days long gone.

“All hands present arms” barked Jeffery’s giving the ship a final send off to it resting place. After brief moment of silence everyone went back to work, but there was still a matter still sitting heavily of Jeffery’s mind. “Where is the Dauntless going to land.” He asked after a moments.

One his aids punched a series of calculation calculations “It should land in sector 47.”

“Alright advisor the other have them keep that sector clear.”

Clairmont

01-03-2007, 00:57

Sol System
Earth
Clairmont Island
Inside Imperial Command Ship Emperor's Hand

Target vectors flashed in Stewart's HUD as more enemies appeared into the cavernous cargo hold from the depths of the ship. Incoming fire flailed his surroundings, blowing apart cargo crates and melting holes in the bulkheads behind him. He triggered a burst from his M-300 railgun. Thousand depleted uranium teardrops exited the barrel of the gun in two seconds. The rounds travelled the length of the 50 meter cargo hold at a velocity of over 15,000 meters per second, turning a hapless Imperial soldier to red mist and bits of bone.

The rest of first platoon were scattered in fire teams all over the opposite side to the Imperials of the cargo hold. Streams of silver lightning erupted from their weapons as they switched positions rapidly while cutting down the enemy soldiers attempting to stop their advance.

"Two-falcon-six, we've secured forward fire control. Moving towards secondary engineering." Reported the Special Warfare platoon who had been charged along with a platoon of the Cadre to secure the front sections of the Command ship.

Stewart quickly assimilated their reports and continued to fire while rounds from the enemy gravguns exploded against the front of his suit, some defleting away. He did not bother himself with avoiding the projectiles, they lacked the power to penetrate the heavy armor of an ACS suit. As if to strike a hole in his arrogance, the upper half of a supply crate to his left blew apart, struck by one of the Imperial graviton beam weapons carried by their heavy infantry.

Stewart returned fire while checking the Company ammunition and power levels. While the remaining 106 effectives of the ACS company were still in the green regarding power and munitions, if the Imperials continued to resist as strongly as they had until now, the ACS troopers would have a problem with running out of juice and rounds before the strike force could secure the ship. They had to press harder.

Stewart drew up vectors across the cargo hold and deeper into the ship. As he finished, he uploaded the updated plan to the Company command net and into the HUD's of each of his troopers.

"Company! Advance under fire, continuous suppressing fire on the enemy!" He exclaimed, and leapt away from behind his cover.

As one, the rest of his troopers who had made it to the cargo hold began to advance, running towards the other end of the cavernous bay while their rail rifles spat silver lightning at every target their suit systems could pick up. This was the kind of combat the ACS had been designed for, movement and engaging under fire.

One hostile after another was turned into red mush as the armored juggernauts crossed the cargo area. None of the enemy retrated or remained alive as Stewart and 1st platoon gathered at the double set of pressure doors leading deeper into the ship. He risked a quick glance at the overall tactical schematic of the ship. The Cadre and SpecWar were making slow progress securing the front end of the ship. Everywhere inside the mountain of metal the Imperials were throwing up fierce resistance, more often than not dying to the last man rather than surrendering.

Briefly Captain Stewart Trent wondered how things were going back at the main defense lines. The strike force had not heard anything from Inner Clairmont ever since they entered the jamming envelope surrounding the Imperial Command Ship.

Southern Main-Line of Resistance

The fire mission screamed down on the advancing Imperials only three hundred meters away from Major Edward Hanson and his depleted battalion. Firecrackers of cluster munitions landed amongst the advancing Imperial troops, blowing apart soldiers and light vehicles. But the enemy kept coming, sucking up their losses and pushing towards the shattered and broken remains of what had once been Section 6-Bravo of the hundred meter wide, thirty meter high battlesteel enforced ceramacrete wall that formed the final defensive line of the Southern MLR.

The Imperials had hammered at the wall with nukes, kinetic-kill cruise missiles, conventional artillery and massed fire. Despite being designed to hold against practically any bombardment, too much was too much and under the hammer of the enemy bombardment the wall had cracked, and sections of it had been blown away, along with the thousands of men and women who had held positions in the bunkers built inside the wall.

"Sir! We've lost contact with the seven-oh-sixth! Colonel Riley's last report was him calling final protective fire on his own positions!" The Battalion XO shouted over the constant rumble of artillery, explosions and continuous cracks of rapid fire weapons.

Major Hanson barely heard it all over the sounds of battle. He cursed silently and glanced at the visual feed from the few optical sensor heads remaining in camouflaged positions in his sector of the Wall. Colonel Riley and the 706th Armored Cavalry Regiment had been the last surviving unit along the Imperial main axis of advance in the second defense line, two hundred and fifty meters away from the Wall.

"Anything from the HQ?!" He asked, although he feared the answer. Last he had heard from Command was that the entire Inner plains were under an all out attack from the north, south and east. He held very little hope for recieving any reinforcements.

"No sir!"

Damn, well that meant Hanson would die here today. But he had seen it coming for some time now, the last thing he could do was to sell his life and the lives of the men and women under his command at as high price as he could.

Somewhere close-by, east of the command post, a hammerblow descended on the wall. Dust and bits of ceramacrete rained from the roof of the bunker.

HVM. Major Hanson figured, having finished the 706th, the only obstacle in the Imperial's way to the Inner plains from the south was the Wall and the few defenders that remained holding it. And it would not hold them for long.

Suddenly, one of the flat-screen displays showed three streams of silver lightning wiping away at distant Imperial foot-soldiers. Another display showed matte-black armored forms taking up defensive positions along with Major Hanson's 311th Ranger Mobile Assault troopers. He recognized those forms immediately, Cadre Drop Commando's. The source of the screaming streams of silver lightning was not hard to deduce either, some god in the high heavens had seen it fit to send the ACS here.

"Major, I've got Colonel Luchenko on the line." The battalion XO said, disbelievingly.

Hanson grabbed the comm-set from the table.
"This is Colonel Susanna Luchenko of the five-fifty-fifth Mobile Infantry Regiment with the forty-first Cadre Drop Commando Battalion along with us. We are here to reinforce you, under direct orders from Field Marshal DeSilva."
A baritone strong as steel said to him through the line.

"Colonel, Im happy as hell to see you. Im not sure how long we could have held." Hanson replied.

"You're welcome Major, but you will have to pull your own weight. Make no mistake, our only hope here is to try and hold these bastards as long as possible. And hope for a goddamn miracle, but you have your work to do and I have mine. Luchenko out."

******

"Company fire mission! Pattern seven-bravo, wide dispersal. Fire!" Captain Miyazaki ordered Alpha Weapons through the command net.

The Grim Reaper fire support suits had been fitted with a full load-out of rapid firing automortars for the mission at hand and now their firepower was brought to bear. Hundreds of sixty-millimeter grenades flew overhead as the thirty-two effectives of Alpha weapons opened fire. The flight time was barely twenty seconds. The grenades packed a sufficient amount of C10 compound explosive to create an explosion equivalent to a traditional 180mm artillery round. They landed in a precisely timed, simultaneously impacting salvo.

They tore through the light Imperial infantry like a weedeater, overpressure and the explosions ripping them apart. The heavy infantry clad in powered combat armor fared little better, their armor proving of little use against the force of the incoming indirect fire. Light vehicles blew apart or were disabled as they came in contact with the mortar rounds.

The fire mission blew a sixty-meter wide and two-hundred meter long path of destruction among the Imperial forces. Their dispersal along the rocky slope of earth leading up to the wall reduced their casualties, but after the seven seconds it took for the grenades to complete their work, nearly a hundred mangled bodies of former Imperial Heavy Infantry soldiers laid in the scene of destruction along with several light Sarapin recon vehicles.

It did little to reduce the pressure from the assault. The incoming enemy troops stepped over their fallen comrades uncaringly and returned fire with all the weapons they had.

One of Miyazaki's troopers right next was cut in half by a heavy beam from an Imperial APC to him, only to be blown up five seconds afterwards by a Hyper Velocity Missile from one of the troopers in the lower sections of the wall. It was a mutual exchange of death and carnage where no quarter was given nor asked.

It was a losing battle. Like attempting to stop an avalanche by pissing. All the strained defenders of the MLR could hope for was a miracle, and there was no sign of such coming anytime soon. Miyazaki swept his rifle along the targeting vectors on his HUD, the autotargeting systems of the suit automatically adjusting his fire to hit the targets highlighted by the armor clad around him.

He was forced to hit the deck as a kinetic missile blew apart two hundred ton chunk of the ceramacrete wall, showering him with pieces that would have pummeled a normal soldier to death. He shrugged them off, and designated the vehicle that had launched the missile as a priority target for the Company's anti-tank weapons.

It would take nothing short of the hand of god to stop this assault, Miyazaki thought and released a long, silvery burst from his rifle.

Clairmont

07-03-2007, 19:52

Imperium Territory
Birhat System
Near-space of Planet Endicot

"Give me that goddamn damage report!" Captain McHale yelled, frustrated, over the bridge.

"Number two and three main batteries are off-line! DCC reports that there is a hull breach whole way back from frame eleven-by-ten to thirty-three-by-two. Forward secondary targeting off-line, port primary targeting off-line, starboard primary detection systems destroyed. Launchers seven through twenty-four destroyed. GRASER's three through twelve destroyed. Forward and port battlescreens down." Commander Dennis Sunday reported while reading the damage list forwarded by Damage Control to his screens.

McHale muttered a silent curse. Three-quarters of their energy armament was history. Their target acquisition capabilities were shot and half of the HMS Peremptory's launchers had been destroyed. Not that it mattered, they didnt have enough missiles for a single full launch left anyway.

Her defensive capabilities were almost as badly maimed, her battlescreens and armor were near-effectively gone. Annihilated by incoming fire to the point that a single well placed barrage from even the Imperial light vessels would have destroyed her outright. Not that there remained many Imp light ships to do that at this point.

The signs of damage evident on the Peremptory were repeated in every ship of the expeditionary force, those that still existed atleast. Dozens upon dozens of the surviving ships were leaking athmosphere, signifying a hit that had penetrated their screens, armor and even the de-pressurized outer sections of their innards. Some had been to all extents and purposes disabled, drives and weapons turned to so much ruin. Some still fought with every weapon they had. And it seemed that it would be enough.

The Imperial Navy force that had appeared from its hiding place had been beaten to near submission. Only a handfull of its ships still fought, most of them the heaviest ships the formation had had in its midst. But most of their number now formed a dense wreckage field of dead and dying ships. The ones that remained struck back with all the fury and hatred in their grasp, destroying ships and killing men and women of the Expeditionary Fleet. It would not save them, but they would take as many of their enemies to the grave with them as they could.

Which ofcourse meant that they should have to be taken to their graves as quickly as possible.

"Message from the flagship... Admiral Rowe has been critically injured! Admiral Harrington is assuming command." The Communications Officer reported from her station and there were audible mutterings heard all over the bridge.

McHale hoped Rowe would live through this, the man had turned a Campaign that many had seemed impossible, to a brilliant series of victories against a numerically and technologically superior enemy. His strategies had brought all of them here on this day, and given them the chance to save their home from this unyielding enemy.

"How's the ground fight going?" McHale said after having enough time to digest the change in command personnel.

"They've had to slow down, they're inside the Capitol City at the moment but the Imperials have thrown every guy with a gun in their face and from the reports I've heard the Imps have mined practically every road, blown every bridge and have ambushes everywhere." Commander Sunday said.

"Well, they have their job to do and we have ours. Weapons? Give me a target."

*****

The fire from nearly eighty rapid fire weapons hammered at the walls of the Office building like a hammer, breaking away chunks of the construction material and blowing away holes both to the building and the Imperial soldiers holed within.

The depleted company of Marines fired relentlessly with their rifles as well as vehicle and squad support weapons, suppressing their targets with merciless flailing fire. They were part of the two axis' of advance of the ground forces that had penetrated the Imperial Capitol City and they had taken a heavy toll while taking on the defenses the Imperials had had time to prepare in the urban environment of their city.

Unlike the ACS, Cadre and Heavy Infantry in general, the 811th Marines did not utilize Powered Battle Armor. They were light infantry in the terms of the Clairmontian Armed Forces, and they would normally had had no place taking on these kind of defenses without support from Heavy Support units. But attrition among the Ground Forces had been heavy from the day the War began and now the Ground Force was spread thin.

The men and women of Charlie Company, 811th Battalion, 7th Marines were hardened veterans. Fire teams dashed from cover to cover, quickly shifting positions before Imperial support weapons could hammer their positions away with heavy fire. Support Weapon squads laid down unrelenting barrages of destruction, forcing the Imperials to cover. Four APC's and three IFV's used their autocannons with brutal efficiency.

"Whiskey-Delta Three-three, Taurus Six-four. Estimate Imperial strength at sector at three-two-zero-zero effectives." Captain Matt "Maniac" Rollins heard the lieutenant in charge of the 501st ACS' Alpha Company scout platoon reporting.

Although the 501st, sans their lost Alpha Company, was thoroughly engaged just two kilometers west of Rollins' position, their scouts were quick and had good eyes, organic and electrical, watching their surroundings. Which was a sorry comfort when the Imps were still present in regimental strength in this quite small sector of a huge city.

Their ultimate objectives were firstly the massive military garrison situated in the central district of the city, dubbed Sector One-Bravo for the Operation. Secondly, the massive Imperial palace that they could all see looming in the horizon, dwarfing the other buildings around it. While not only the seat of the Emperor, the Imperial palace was also home to the Imperial Council and large part of the Imperium's governing body. Bringing the Emperor and the rest of the Imperium's Overlords down was the one move that had the highest potential to end the War once and for all.

But for now, the Palace was still distant. Over thirty kilometers away in urban terrain. It might as well be on the other side of the galaxy where Rollins was concerned and he was none too certain if he or any of his Company would survive to actually enter the massive fortress Palace.

He glanced to the sky and could still see the battle raging in space around the planet. Reports were still somewhat sketchy on how it was going, but it was starting to be clear that the Expeditionary Force had taken a gutting blow, while taking out the last mobile force in Birhat system. Rollins could see ships vanishing in flashes of nuclear light, and others starting to fall towards the planet's gravity well as their drives were destroyed and the vessels lost the ability to maintain orbit.

One such victim, a massive vessel indeed, was already plunging deeply into the athmosphere. Trailing wreckage and thick smoke, the ship, recognized now by Rollins as one of the largest Tappee capital ships, was coming down burning brightly like a meteor. From its trajectory, it seemed that it wouldnt hit the city directly. Rollins whispered the sinking warship a silent prayer, and to the men and women who had gone down with it.

Then he turned back to the fighting, hunching behind the piece of a thick wall and firing short bursts at the points where, the Company data-net told, were enemies.

*****

O'Neal blasted away the single Imperial Infantryman left in the apartment building with quick twitch of his trigger finger. The burst from his rail rifle killed the man before he even had time to scream. But he had been only one in what had been an entire platoon. His company had ventured into the enormous apartment building, looking for a place to take a short break after a three hour jaunt through the abandoned parts of the city on their voyage towards the palace.

What had happened to the rest of the single Imperial survivor's platoon was still a mystery. But O'Neal's suit AI had noted that the holes and impact marks carved on the dead Infantrymen had been done by Cadre standard Battle Rifles and Spec War 8mm Carbines. It appeared as if another force besides O'Neals had also somehow gotten behind the Imperial main forces.

"Nice to see friendlies for a change." Came an exclamation from thin air and O'Neal instantly targeted the source of the sound.

A black body armor clad trooper materialized out of thin air, two meters behind O'Neal. There were no insignias on the newcomers armor, but the sub-dermal chip implanted on every Clairmontian Serviceman and woman instantly identified the man as Lieutenant Kenneth Chinran of First Platoon, Alpha Company,2nd Battalion, SpecWar 1st Operations Regiment.

"It would also be nice if you learned how to approach your superiors properly Lieutenant." O'Neal said, half-irritated, half glad to see the man.

"Never did sir." Chinran said and chuckled.

"So I see. How did you get here Lieutenant, and how many of you are there?"

"Well, first platoon was on a mission to take out a defense battery seven-klicks south from here. After we did that, we simply lost contact with the rest of the forces and I decided to try and do what damage I could in the Imp rear. On the way we ran into a Cadre Squad run by Staff Sergeant Cateau and we got bunched up. At that point I got the loony idea of trying to get to the Palace." The lieutenant summarized quickly. Obviously, the man had had many chances to quickly report his endeavors.

"Then we're both insane Lieutenant. My company got shot down and we landed in the industrial district east of here. We first tried to get back to the main force, but that proving to be practically impossible, I decided we head towards the palace." O'Neal explained and smiled grimly.

"I figured as much, you certainly live up to your fame Colonel." Chinran chuckled.

"And as much as I would like to avoid that fame, anyway. Since you seem to lack conflicting orders, Im going to attach your force under my Command. And we will head towards the palace."

"Done Colonel, however I cant speak for Staff Sergeant Cateau, with the Cadre being off our command chain short of Admiral Rowe." Chinran said and shouldered his weapon.

"I dont think we will have a problem in that department lieutenant. Call your men here, invite Sergeant Cateau as well. We're going to hold a short break and then we will head towards the palace and wont stop until we get there."

Clairmont

10-04-2007, 21:56

Imperial Capitol City
Planet Endicot, Birhat System

The wind had turned into a gale, and it seemed as if a massive storm system was building up further north. When it arrived, the battle would get even more chaotic. If that was even possible.

The remnants of an Imperial Corps that had retreated to the city once it became clear to them that the outer defenses would fall, was fighting in its death throes. Nearly fifteen thousand Imperial soldiers, out of some eighty thousand in the original Corps, had dug in to several skyscrapers and hardened factory buildings directly in the axis of advance of the Expeditionary Ground Force. Digging them out would be necessary, and time consuming. Not to mention bloody.

If the Imperials had been reluctant to surrender before, now they fought with fanaticism no one in the Clairmontian Armed Forces joining the battle had witnessed before. They died to the last man. When they ran out of tanks, they used their rifles. When they ran out of rounds and powerpacks for their guns, they used knives. When their knives broke, they used their fists. Suicide attacks by Imperial troops had become commonplace. Imperial soldiers pretending to surrender would be strapped with high-yield explosives, and would blow up the second they came in contact with their hated enemy. Thus the standing order had changed, no prisoners would be taken.

Sergeant Major Elisabeth Ryder had no problem with that. In her profession, she could rarely take prisoners anyway.

She shifted a piece of rubble blocking her aim gently, the rest of her body staying completely still. Even though she was concealed not only by her surroundings, but in addition the optical camouflage in her battlesuit, she wouldnt take liberties with the Imps. The sensors they utilized on the ground were still quite superior to anything the Clairmont Armed Forces had wielded. They could easily detect someone masked by CHAMELEON optical camouflage system if the person was moving. Quite a few Special Forces Operators had found out about that the hard way. But, Intel had along the way found out that the Imp sensors had difficulties picking up individual bullet trajectories and camouflaged solo operators in the thick of battle.

Sergeant Major Ryder glanced through the scope at the battle unfolding on the street, four hundred meters below her. It looked like one of the forward Companies of the 19th Marines had hit strong resistance. Four of their APC's had been blown to scrap and two of the Marine platoons had been pinned down by heavy fire from Imperial support weapons in a skyscraper built adjacent to the road. Those heavy weapons had been positioned with care, there was very little defilade available to Marines to take advantage of.

The TacNet poured data to her battlesuit computers, as reconnaissance drones high up in the skies and lower between the skyscrapers transmitted their findings alongside the direct feed from the Marines down in the shitcan. She concentrated on the support weapon that was putting down a murdering base of fire on one of the Marine Support Weapon Platoons. A gentle muscle contraction increased the magnification on the scope, bringing the Imperial Trooper manning the weapon into sharp focus. The targeting system accounted for the wind, barrel temperature, barometric pressure and distance, shifting the optimal aiming point slightly.

She squeezed the trigger, just like they had taught her back at Basic, a lifetime ago.

The heavy rifle thundered once, the .50 caliber caseless round leaving the barrel at a muzzle velocity of some two thousand meters per second. The recoil dampening helped, but still the big rifle kicked like a mule. The round crossed the measly kilometer in roughly half a second, blowing the upper torso of the Imperial Infantryman apart in a shower of gore.

The .50 caliber caseless round had become basically the standard for the Snipers of the Clairmont Armed Forces at the onset of the conflict against the Imperium. Early in the war, it had been discovered that the lower 8mm standard could not achieve sufficient penetration probability especially against Imperial Power Armored troops. The redesigned .50 cal M90X however worked wonders. Firing AP explosive core tungsten penetrators, they were effective against all Imperial Infantry, light or heavy.

She quickly acquired her next target, the support trooper for the heavy weapon gunner and blew him apart in quick fashion. Two seconds, next target. Imperial Sergeant popping up to see where the fire was coming from. Third round, third kill. Time to didee-mao.

She picked up the rifle. Even though the thing relied heavily on composite construction, it was still a heavy fucker and she hefted it behind her while grabbing the SMG she had as her secondary weapon and worked her way out of the room to find a new spot. True enough, about fifteen seconds later a HVM blew her previous sniping spot to dust.

Clairmont

18-04-2007, 22:23

Birhat System
Geosynchronous Orbit above Planet Endicot

The last brief flashes of nuclear fire blinked into existence and vanished as quickly as they had appeared as the remnants of the Imperial Guard Battlesquadron were chased, engaged and wiped away from the face of the universe. Stray fighters still zipped amidst the wrecks of Clairmontian, Tappee and Imperial ships alike but most of them had already been turned to so many atoms, while the remaining few were hunted by the Strike Craft of the Expeditionary Force. As it had become apparent that the last gambit of the Imperium in space would fail, the beaten remnants of the Imperial Guard flotilla had tried to make a run for it. Not all of the Captains aboard those ships had shared the fanatical enthusiasm of their Flag Officers, and in the face of certain annihilation the prime human instinct for survival had conquered them. It hadnt mattered, for the last two days the scattered few ships that had remained of the original Imperial Guard had been hunted down and destroyed.

The main battle had formed a dense area of debris in orbit of Planet Endicot. Massive hulks of ships so badly mutilated for them to be no longer identifiable, parts of vessels that had been torn apart in the horrible cataclysms of their own dying reactor cores and tens of thousands of corpses. All of it now littered the near space of planet Endicot, and would form a navigational hazard for a century to come. Not to mention the ecological effects the debris would have upon Endicot itself as the orbits of the pieces would begin decaying and they would start raining down on the planet like multi-megaton kinetic energy weapons.

Amidst the wreckage, only the ships of the Expeditionary Fleet moved. Most of their number had been either destroyed or rendered utterly incapable of any combat or movement. Out of over thirteen hundred vessels of the Clairmontian Space Navy, three-hundred and eighty remained capable of combat. The Battle of Birhat would go down in the history books as the most bloody in the entire First Interstellar War.

Admiral Harrington allowed her eyes to circle the bridge as CIC reported that they could detect no further mobile elements of the Imperial fleet. There was little reason to assume they had anything to throw anymore, for truly they would have committed everything in their disposal at the last push. The Imperial Battle Fleet, for what it was, was finished.

Her eyes stopped at the chasm that had been torn to the bulkhead only ten meters from her command chair. Last bits of fury from an Imperial energy battery that had penetrated all the massive armor and battlescreens of her vessel to nearly kill her and her entire bridge crew. She had survived it, Petty Officer Lewis, Lieutenant Tamar and Chief Warrant Officer Wilkins had not been so lucky. Their battlesteel splinter torn bodies had already been removed from the bridge, but she would remember the sight of them being torn apart for the rest of her life.

So much death had been wrought upon the Expeditionary Fleet that there wouldnt be precise casualty figures for a while to come. She felt shame for not even knowing all of those who had died, while a part of her wept for her love aboard the Flagship of the Expeditionary Fleet. She could not show it to the crew, for her to display affection for one person so distant from her right now more than for her crew who had been here with her during the entire time, would be a crime. She could not, but silently she waited for any news regarding Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe's condition.

"Admiral, CIC reports all primary enemy ground batteries within our engagement envelope have been suppressed. Recon drones detect no further mobile enemy space assets." Captain Robert West said, awakening her from her thoughts.

She composed herself internally before replying.
"Status of the ground force?" She asked, almost not recognizing he husky voice as her own.

"Yes Ma'am, Field Marshal Kolhammer has managed to establish a secure datalink to our CIC. We got real-time feed from the ground. He also reported that while the ground force continues to encounter extremely heavy resistance, he expects to reach the Imperial Palace in three to four days."

Harrington nodded. Kolhammer's estimate was most likely optimistic, but she wasnt a ground combat specialist and would take the Field Marshal for his word. But she could not shake the feeling that they might not have that much time. Ever since Qualtren had been taken out by the daring Imperial raid, the Expeditionary Force had received no word from home. What she had heard from Rowe about what Caparelli spoke of the situation at mainland Clairmont, the defenses had to be close to breaking.

In the end, the decision was easy.

"New orders for the eighth, eleventh, fifteenth, and twenty-first battlesquadrons. They are to form up with the Fearless for an immediate return to Sol System. Admiral Theisman is to remain here with the remaining elements of the fleet and provide support for the ground forces." She announced, the steel having returned to her voice.

She could feel the elation amongst the bridge crew. This was what they had been fighting to achieve for all this time, the chance to finally return home without fear of the Imperium getting the time to amass a new fleet. The chance to finish the war once and for all.

"Aye Ma'am."

Nearly three hundred ships, barely enough for the Order of Battle for two battlesquadrons, but what now consisted the combat capable remnants of four, formed up on HMS Fearless. As the formation came together, they began accelerating away from Endicot, towards the hyperlimit of Birhat system, towards home.

*****

"Juliet two-four, Uniform one-seven. Fire mission, over."

"Uniform one-seven, Juliet two-four. Call for fire, over."

"Juliet two-four, crunchies beneath cover in company strength."

"Roger one-seven, fire mission on the way. Seven-zero rounds. Splash in one-nine seconds."

The link closed automatically as Captain Arnold finished the call for fire. It was a quick process, the verbal exchange mostly a relic of the past which the Armed Forces had held for confirmation purposes. The actual map point for the fire mission had gone through the datalink to avoid mistakes and make the process quicker.

True enough, nineteen seconds later a salvo of seventy rounds from the 432nd Artillery Brigade attached to the 4th Corps landed on the buildings where recon had pinned a single company of Imperial Infantry. The heavy artillery rounds burst through the roofs of the buildings they had been targeted upon before detonating in order to achieve maximum effect. Detonating inside the buildings, only the sturdiest of constructs could remain standing with their upper floors turned into a flaming inferno.

"Uniform One-seven, Wolverine-Six. You are instructed to hold your position. Eleventh Cav is moving to your flank to continue the advance. Take five Captain."

Arnold acknowledged the new orders and sat down on a piece of rubble from a crumbled building along the street while his platoon leaders set up the perimeter, with two platoons holding it while two platoons were allowed half an hour of uncomfortable sleep. It was the only luxury they would get. With no promise of hot chow, or being rotated to the rear, the troops had been on continuous operations with little sleep for the last couple of days. Forced to munch down MRE's amidst the killing, Arnold was amazed how well motivated they still were. Everyone talked about the Cadre, the ACS, the Marines and the fucking Spec War and how hot shit they were. But Arnold would have never traded his command of 144 excellent Infantrymen of his Company for any of the Elite.

He called up a 3D representation of his immediate area of operations on his HUD. The tide of blue unit markers signifying friendly units was advancing steadily, while every now and then another red unit marker signifying an enemy formation would light up or flare out based on the information constantly flowing within the datanet.

He was forced to move the map aside as his Company Sergeant Major dashed towards him from his fighting position.

"What is it Top?"

"Cap'n, I just heard from O'Reilly at Bravo Company. Harrington and most of the fleet is pulling out and starting on a return trip to Sol. They left some elements behind to provide us support, but apparently they are really now moving back to kick the fucking Imps out of our home." The Sergeant Major said, the elation evident in his voice.

"Lets just pray that there is still something left when they get back there."

*****

The mishmash team of ACS, SpecWar and Cadre kept up a swift, but stealthy advance as they continued to move towards the looming Imperial Palace. On the way they had observed and avoided two brigades of Imperial troops, and one heavy company of armor. In one occasion they had almost literally ran into a supply platoon and had been forced to eliminate them before they could get off a word about the enemy that now moved nearly unchecked in their rear area.

"We've got a clear area here. Good spot for a short break." One of the Cadre Drop Commando's running point subvocalized back to O'Neal who had assumed command of the joint-force with the consent of Staff Sergeant Cateau.

The ACS, SpecWar Operatives nor the Cadre really needed the break. They could keep up the pace of the march they had set up on for a good while. But they had with them the two flight officers from Alpha Company's downed Assault Shuttle, who unfortunately were not donning Battle Armor or exoskeletal muscle packs.

"Allright, ten minutes. Then we move on."

The force pulled to a stop in an abandoned warehouse, the Cadre taking up the responsibility of holding a perimeter while O'Neal used the short time they had for a break to confirm their position and further plan the route to the Imperial Palace. They were close now, which was self-evident from the increased patrol activity. Another ten kilometers and they would reach one of the entrances which lead to the Palace's underground levels. Orbital recon didnt have a clear picture of what expected them when they got there, but O'Neal had with the help of Lieutenant Chinran and Staff Sergeant Cateau figured that they would have to hammer through atleast a Company sized force to even gain entrance to the Palace. The odds werent exactly stacked in O'Neal's favor.

He popped the helmet of his suit, smelling the air and lighting up a Cigarette. It might be the last one he got to smoke.

Medusa City
Clairmont Island
Sol System

Sharon Issard was reasonably satisfied with the defensive positions, or what remained of them. The first Imp attack the day before had hit them hard, despite the fact that the Battalion had managed to take Starveil tower and establish defenses before the Imperial Armor and Infantry arrived. The second attack had hit them even harder and Issard had been forced to use two of her nukes. Now, she had about four hundred effectives, one captured Imperial Heavy Tank dug in in a hull-down position and some captured Imp Heavy Weapons, and it looked like the bastards were regrouping for another assault, this time they probably would have air support too.

It hadnt been a bad plan. As a matter of fact, she had thought of it as a reasonably good plan. Liberate the City by pulling most of the garrisoning Imperial Troops into committing to action and then defeat those troops in detail. Game, set, match. Unfortunately, as no battleplan survives first contact with the enemy, hers hadnt either.

"General, forward recon says that the Imps seem to be coming now. They spotted a couple of CAS craft as well." Lieutenant Paul Krueger said as he approached her.

"Hmh, yeah I've got them on the sensors now. Well, looks like its time to dance again. Just so there are no regrets, it has been a pleasure to have you as my aide Paul. I couldnt have asked for anyone better." She whispered and offered her hand.

"Likewise General, it has been an honor to serve with you." He replied, and shook the proffered hand.

Diess Sector Airspace
370 km South-West of the city

"Angel-one, FOX Three, CHEAPSHOT."

"Angel-seven, splash one!"

The combat chatter had during the years become like an ambient music to Captain Nikkol Fukai. He took it all in, but did not allow it to mess up his concentration. All around him, his squadron was tied into a dense and violent furball of dogfighting as the Imperial fighter squadron that had ambushed them did their best to drag the Clairmontians to their graves. Fukai did not intend to give them to pleasure of succeeding.

She thumbed the selector, picking an AIM-18 Kinetic-Kill Medium-Range Air-Combat missile from his plane's inventory. His target was heavily off-bore from him, thirty-degrees to be exact, but the targeting computer acquired the enemy nonetheless. A flick of his thumb and his fighter vibrated slightly as the missile dropped from its internal launcher within the fighter's fuselage. Lighting up its main engine and executing a tight turn, it immediately locked on to its prey and began accelerating. At such short range, the missile had plenty of fuel for terminal attack maneuvers and true enough, a short moment later the Imperial fighter that had been his target dropped from the sky in a flaming fireball.

A moment later, a datalink to Angel-Eight went dead. An Imperial missile atomizing Lieutenant Daumier and her fighter from the skies. Fukai swore silently, Daumier had been one of the veterans of the squadron. He twisted the stick hard, bringing the fighter around in a tight bank. Two missiles dropped from their launchers, splashing a single enemy fighter and damaging another.

It looked like he would bring the squadron through this one as well. But the situation generally was disheartening. The AWACS plane circling in position at ten-thousand meters, hundred klicks west of him was relaying the news from the ground front. The Imps were already maneuvering with their eastern attack forces, with the northern and southern attack forces expected to break through the main lines of resistance shortly and enter the Inner Plains.

"Angel-One this is Big Eye. Orders from Manticore Actual, the entirety of eleventh and eighteenth Air Wings are to maneuver for aerial refueling at following co-ordinates, then move to Manticore AFB and provide support in combat operations at surrounding areas."

Fukai had known that the situation was dire, but recalling so many planes meant that Diess would be left with barebones air support. Not nearly enough to repel a major assault in case the Imps decided to attack. For Command to recall so much air power meant that the situation was about as fubar as it could be.

"Big Eye, Angel-One. Copy and acknowledge."

He wondered if Command had thought about the problem of the Imp fighter force undoubtedly being against the plan of the Inner Plains receiving further air support. Which basically meant that the motherless fuckers would be fighting tooth and nail in the air to shoot down every plane trying to even so much as approach the Inner Plain defense areas. Well, Command never bothered to worry about such minor problems.

Southern Main-Line Of Resistance

The Imperials had pulled back to lick their wounds for the third time. A remarkable achievement for such a comparatively small force, against what seemed to be the Imperial equivalent of a heavy Corps. A Heavy Corps which unfortunately was as heavy in Infantry as it was in artillery and armored vehicles. Assets that the Imperials had thrown at the Wall and its stupidly stubborn defenders.

Captain Miyazaki was proud of his troops. More proud than he had ever been. Holding fast when out-numbered and out-gunned to such extreme degree took courage more than it took brains. Luckily, both the ACS and the Cadre had been insulted to be tilted more in the favor of courage than brains. How else would they agree to conduct head on assaults in the kind of situations they were expected to do them, while trusting in few layers of armor alloys to keep them alive? Or so the critics reasoned. It was all light-hearted banter ofcourse, as long as no booze was involved.

He stopped his thoughts as he noted that his mind began drifting. Near constant action for the better part of thirty-six hours did that to a person. He ordered his suit AI to administer another battle stimulant, Wake the Dead as the troops had jokingly become to call them. He felt the drug coursing to his veins like liquid mercury, sharpening his senses and driving the tiredness away, for a while.

He pulled up a roster of the Company. Twenty-eight blackened rectangles marked dead datalinks, dead troopers. Eighteen more were colored in varying shades of yellow to crimson, signifying suit damage and injuries. Blue and green colored bars told him the ammunition and power levels of the Company. Not much good news there. All in all, they were fighting with thirty percent casualties, low on ammunition and power with no relief anywhere in sight.

Think of the bright sides, his father would have said. As fubar as the situation was, atleast the defenders of the wall didnt have to worry about Impy artillery anymore. Fifteen pilots of the 5th Air Wing had given their lives eight hours ago to take out the Imperial artillery support. They had taken out a huge portion of the Imperial indirect fire support, coming low and using all the terrain cover they could, the fighters had struck the Imperial rear like lightning. But they had paid the price for their success, dying to the last before they could finish their job. SheVa's 12, 19, 27 and 52 had finally mopped up the last of the Imperial heavy long-range artillery with area denial rounds four hours ago.

It helped, immensely, but in the end it would not save the men and women who defended the Wall. There was a quality in quantity, and eventually the Imperials would break through. At most, taking out their artillery in this sector would give the defenders of the Southern MLR a few days more to live. Shit happens, not like Miyazaki wanted to live forever anyway.

"Sutherland Six, Bravo One-One. Enemy forward elements approaching. Expect contact in two-five minutes."

"Time to dance again boys, the Imps want another serving of whoopass!" He said over the Company comm net.

Tappee

24-04-2007, 05:13

Above the planet Endcot

Admiral Martac took a moment to assess the tattered remains of his once proud battle fleet; there was little doubt that this had become nothing short of a war of attrition. However, at the end of day it was allied fleet that had come out victorious. A victory that had been paid with nothing short of blood, nearly two thirds of the fleet had either been destroyed.

Of the ships that were still operational, Martac was sending his most operational ship back to Earth with Clairmont fleet to help assist with the final push to clear the last Imperial remnant from the planet. While Martac and the remaining fleet would provide support from the ground force below, that were fight inch for bloody inch..

Martac would provide the Clairmont fleet with the more lighter and more mobile elements of his fleet, while keeping the more heavy weaponry here to provide artillery support. It was a risky maneuver by any means, if the Imperial forces where to launch another counter attack he would be completely exposed. By it was a chance he was willing to take if it meant that the end to the ground war came sooner.

By this time the ground forces had already eliminated most of the ground artillery, therefore Martac was free to place his ship almost anywhere, they now had the high ground. Martac would make them pay for all the lives that they had taken. One by one the mighty war ship took their rightful place in the sky and started spitting fire at those who dared to defy them on surface below. Revenge was now theirs for the taken.

On the Planet Below

Lieutent Roberts took cover as an Imperial sniper fired down on his position, he was lucky enough to have made it to safety in time, watched helplessly as another member of his squad had not been as lucky. His squad had need pinned down for nearly an five hours by Imperial force that where held up in a nearby building. They had the high ground and the weapons to rain down death, 11 members his squad had all fell victims to the sights of the weapon. But they to far ahead of the main battle line to get any real support. They were getting nowhere and nowhere fast.

Then a voice that was filled with static came over the radio and gave him hope that they might actually be able to push forward.

Zeus has risen to the peaks of mount Olympus. I repeat, Zeus has risen to the peak of mount Olympus

Robert could not believe what he was hearing, he had to act fast, there was little doubt in his mind that other commanders were thinking the same thing.

Quickly he poked a small camera around the safety of his cover, and switched over to thermal imaging. It didn’t take him long to determine that the building was filled exclusively of hostile. With little hesitation he open his main Comm. “Pandoras box is about to be opened, may the god strike those that dare spread the darkness to just beyond horizon to the east.” For a moment he paused waiting that his request would be granted.

Once again a voice crackled over the radio. Copy, lightening shall rain down to the earth.

Centuries ago, there was style of warfare that had withstood the test on time, and was still applicable even today, ‘shock and awe’.

“Take cover” quickly ordered Roberts, as every scramble to get there heads down.

Out of the chaos of war, there was a brief moment of silence, blissful silence. As quickly it had come it was gone, as the there was earthshaking roar. There was little that the building could do to shield itself from the sudden impact that was brought down upon it. Brute force of the impact came from the top down, and for a moment the build stood there frozen in time just before flash of light caused the building to explode.

It took Robert and squad a moment or two to rise, they had been caught in the falling debris, but according to system they had made it, though covered in dust and an assortment of other debris. Robert was sure that those in the building had not been so lucky.

Something caught his attention, and he gazed up into the sky if only for a moment. He could see artillery fire from the fleet above starting to rain down on enemy position all cross the battlefield, it was almost beautiful. This was the beginning of the end, and it now not be long until they made their way to the imperial palace.

Island of Clairmont

As he moved through the darkness Sigmund took a moment to check his sensor reading, he become separated from the rest of the squad. One never could be to careful, especially since they had infiltrated one of the imperial landing crafts.

Within everything that was going things around here were a bit crazy, the Imperials were to busy running around worried about the event going on outside to even consider that danger might be lurking in the shadow.

Which suited Sigmund just fine, less work to do. He believed that war should be left to the young, especially when it came to covert. In his youth many years before, Sigmund had been part Tappee elite Spec Ops, but as he grew older transferred to Tappee’s Intel service. However, a promise to an old friend had pushed him back in the front lines in the thick of the action.

Through his helmets HUD he was able to pick up a allied signal, and from the ID he knew right away who it was, and from the looks of things they were about to get themselves into a bit of trouble, it was Stewert. And from what he could see an Imperial had spotted him, and was sneaking up behind the young

Throwing caution into the wind, Sigmund broke into a quick stride, always staying well hidden in the shadows. Jumping down from his viewpoint, he moved around a bulk head, unsheathing his knife. It appeared that the Imperial was so caught up in his impending kill that he hail to sense Sigmund approach. Well before the Imperial could get within striking distance Sigmund slide his knife into the back of the back of the man neck, it was quiet and clean kill. In a motion that had become almost second nature Sigmund slide the body out sight, Perhaps he still was not to old to play.

“You should be more aware your surroundings” he said the young over the COMM to the young man that he had sworn response. All he could do now was wait from a witty response.

Clairmont

22-05-2007, 22:49

Imperial Palace, Planet Endicot, Birhat System

The sound of gunfire and muffled explosions would have been deafening without any protection to hearing. The corridor was filled with smoke, dust and projectiles as the harried defenders of the Imperial Palace attempted to stave off the rapid advance of the Clairmontian ground force that had breached the perimeter of the Palace and fought their way through the building all the way to the top.

Colonel O'Neal's railrifle bucked as it sent out a stream of depleted uranium teardrops at the end of the corridor, blowing away a huge chunk of a wall after turning two Imperials to red mist. Beside him, two Cadre Drop Commando's were leaping from cover to cover, firing their carbines at the hostiles ducked behind a makeshift barricade.

As the ACS and the Cadre held the forward advance, Lieutenant Chinran's SpecWar platoon held up the rear. Locking and sealing blast doors to prevent Imperials from hitting their rear as they advanced. Last word the Lieutenant had got from his rear scouts was of the forward elements of a company of Imp Heavy Infantry advancing on their rear. He finished setting up charges that would blow the better part of the roof to block the corridor and shouted over the Comm to the rest of the force about what he was about to do.

The Armored Combat Suits and Cadre surged forward, keeping the Imperials ahead of them under fire while advancing. Grenade launchers, flechette cannons, battle rifles and railguns spat deadly accurate bursts of fire, forcing the Imps to stay down or face quick death. In moments, the forward elements overwhelmed the Imperial position and kept right on going.

O'Neal studied the map brought up by his suit AI. They were close to the Inner Chamber of the Palace now. If they had any luck, the Emperor and those of the Government closest to the Emperor would be there. He took a quick turn, taking pot shots from an Imperial fireteam leapfrogging between corners and furniture for cover. Two bursts from his rifle cleared the threat, cutting through the obstacles with little difficulty.

The next fifteen minutes went in a blur of advance and skirmishes with staff and the occasional troop still left in the Palace top sections. O'Neal barely noticed the time that had passed as they finally hit a double set of heavy doors which would lead to the Imperial Chamber.

A quick analysis revealed the door to be full-grade battlesteel. Quite a bit of it. Just firing at it would do little good. He signaled Lieutenant Chinran who came jogging from the rear with two other Operatives. Carrying armful's of explosives. They began a quick but delicate job of setting them in the door, in spots that would have the least structural integrity to withstand the explosions. Having finished the job, Chinran motioned everyone to back away significantly behind the previous corner before sending the detonation command.

The explosion shook the floor's, the wall's and the Clairmontians. A pressure wave slammed at them hard. Despite their covered position, several of the SpecWar operatives were blown back by the overpressure while the flight crew of O'Neal's downed Assault Shuttle suffered the same.

He glanced behind the corner at where the doors had been. The two battlesteel plates had been thrown inwards to the Inner Chamber by the force of the blast and the road was now clear. There was absolutely no cover in the corridor that lead to the door, which meant that the only way to do this would be the hard way. He instructed the Grim Reaper fire support suits to take point with the Cadre and had his own platoon and the rest of the ACS hold the middle.

"One last dance boys." He said over the Company CommNet to all of his surviving ninety-eight troopers, and gave the order to charge.

As the lead elements turned the corner, fierce fire hit them from the Inner Chamber. Gravguns and Energy Guns, light and heavy were thrown at them and two of his Grim Reaper's and one of the Drop Commando's went down instantly. They returned fire. The Grim Reapers spewing automortar fire at the Inner Chamber while the Cadre Troopers opened fire with their battle rifles. Sensor returns from their targets were hazy, and the forward elements were forced to firing pretty much blindly, obliging to fill the source of the Imperial fire with everything they had.

Ten more troops went down before Alpha Platoon of the 501st Fleet Strike broke into the last and greatest Sanctum of the Imperium.

The Chamber was huge. Easily fifty meters across, with the apex of the dome shaper roof at a height of some twenty meters. Fire seemed to lash at the Clairmontians from behind every piece of cover in the room. O'Neal's suit sensors could only catch a quick whiff of a return from one direction before it was already gone. He dropped down his railgun to the hip and strafed left, firing the weapon at every potential target his sensors sniffed out while the Drop Commando's were storming the chamber and taking the right side.

Finishing a dive for cover, his suit AI suddenly screamed an alarm. He ducked instinctively, barely avoiding a hit from a nasty looking four feet long blade. The sword flashed only centimeters away from his face and reflexes honed by nearly a decade of constant battle snapped the combat blade in his right wrist to full extension, blocking the next blow from his assailant.

His opponent was easily as large as him. Donning what seemed to be an exquisitely crafted piece of Powered Battle Armor, with a cape as black as midnight flowing behind him. The man attacked him viciously, swining the long blade he held like someone who had been learning a long time how to use it. O'Neal dodged and parried, but quickly realized that if he locked down into a melee with this man, he would ultimately lose. He improvised.

As he parried the next blow, he smashed his opponent's blade away with all his strength, leaving the Imperial's guard open. Not having time to bring his own blade back to take advantage of the momentary weakness, he kicked at the man with all the strength his Combat Suit would give him. The kick sent the Imperial flying backwards for three meters. Rolling as he landed, the man was quickly back in a combat stance and coming towards O'Neal. By this time however the Colonel had his railgun up and he pressed the trigger. Over five hundred depleted uranium teardrops slammed into the Imperial 's upper torso, killing him instantly.

Granted a short reprieve from the close quarters combat, O'Neal took in the telltales of his sensors. In a span of less than two minutes, he had lost twenty-eight men. Of the Cadre only Staff Sergeant Cateau and two of her comrades were still fighting, as was Lieutenant Chinran and two squads of his SpecWar Operatives. For nearly fifty Clairmontian corpses, only eighteen dead Imperials were accounted for. Make that twenty, O'Neal mused as Staff Sergeant Cateau finished two more of the Black Armor clad Elite Imperial soldiers.

His mind sharpened suddenly as his sensors detected a new signal. They gave him a quick representation of what they had seen. A shape, over two meters in length, clad in brilliant golden colored armor had just decapitated one of Alpha Company's Grim Reapers and vanished back to the shadows. O'Neal leapfrogged from cover to cover, avoiding the Imperial fire and trying to close in on the last known position of the last sensor detection, behind one of the huge Ornamental pillar's circling the chamber. As he closed, he could neither see nor detect anything. The dense dust and smoke made visual detection without aids impossible and hard even with them.

A surprise blow caught him. A kick sent his rifle flying across the air and away from his hands. He winced as the initial slash cut across his chest armor, leaving a deep furrow in the incredibly thick suit protective plate. He dodged the next blow, deflecting most of its power away with a backhanded swipe of his left gauntlet. The hostile blade returned nearly at once, aiming for the ACS Colonel's head but missing by mere millimeters.

He snapped both of his wrist mounted combat blades to full extension, parrying with the left and attacking with the right at the figure only barely visible as it moved and attacked from the shadows. He parried again and again, deflected once more. Tried to attack but missed. Another slash by his enemy struck him, this time penetrating the armor on his right arm and breaching enough to cut his flesh. Painkillers and enhancer drugs flowed to the Colonel's blood vessels while the suit systems worked to stop the bleeding of the wound.

Yet another attack came, this time O'Neal deflected the strike hard with his right arm combat blade while striking with the left at the spot where he estimated his opponent's navel to be. His blade met resistance, cutting through layers of armor and bits of flesh. His opponent missed his next strike badly and Mike O'Neal charged him. His right elbow struck the enemy's face with the power of exoskeletal muscles, throwing back the head of the Imperial and taking him off balance. Sharp pain lanced through O'Neal's left arm as the enemy blade stabbed it, nearly severing the entire arm. Ignoring the pain, he brought up his knee and connected with the sword arm of his opponent, granting him just enough time for a finishing stroke. A backhanded strike with his left arm combat blade, slashed through the air and connected with the neck of the hostile's Golden Battle Armor. The blade went right through the neck section, severing the head from the body. As the helmeted head dropped to the floor, the body went limb and dropped down like a ragdoll.

Only seconds after, Colonel Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike, collapsed to the floor and passed out.

Clairmont Island, Sol System, Imperial Command Base Barge

Stewart glanced behind him as the lifeless Imperial corpse dropped down. The trooper had been sneaking up on him. Stewart had been far too concerned with what was ahead and managing his Company than concentrating on his own immediate surroundings. A mistake that had nearly killed him. He smiled an unseen thanks to Sigmund and opened a channel.

"These Imps are like damn flies Sigmund, they're everywhere. I cant see all of 'em." He replied and chuckled, but then got on to more serious tone.

"Thanks. Im way too concerned with blasting through this barge quickly. I'll keep an eye on my ass from now on." He said quietly, and got on leading his platoon.

They had proceeded through the ship at a reasonable pace. However, the immense size of the vessel meant that there was also an immense amount of obstacles the beleaguered Imp crew could throw at the invaders of their domain. They were frantically sealing all blast doors in the path of the boarders, forcing the Strike Force to cut through them to proceed. Corridors were booby trapped. Internal command systems scrambled. Internal defense systems activated. It was like urban combat in a sense. Progress was slow, and all advance had to be done carefully.

Stewart silently cursed the sorry situation the strike force was in. He had initially counted on taking the landed vessel in no less than twelve hours. Now, they had been at it for nearly eighteen and would require the better part of three more days to beat all the opposition at the current rate of advance and take total control of the critical Command sections of the vessel and the Main engineering. The good news was, so far the Imperials hadnt seemed to have succeeded in calling for significant help. The SpecWar Operatives had managed to sabotage the main and secondary comms relays from the CIC and the Bridge to the external communications transceivers.

If they had far more luck than Stewart really believed they had, they would ultimately own the ship in three more days and be able to severely sabotage the Imperial C3I capabilities. Of course, ever since he had lost his entire family, Captain Stewart Trent had stopped believing in luck and shifted his faith to the Demon Murphy and his damnable law.

Hyperspace, T-Minus 18 Hours from Sol System Hyper Limit

The trip back from Birhat System had felt like a decade. The fleet had been riding the upper edges of the Theta band of hyperspace. No ship had succesfully passed over Theta band to the Iota band, instead bouncing back violently and getting vaporized by the immense energies released by the process. Two ships had been lost due to that during the trip back from Birhat, and Admiral Harrington knew that the weight of those eight hundred souls would be on her conscience forever. She had ordered to fleet to go all out, and those two ships had died thanks to her orders.

But the price of arriving back home too late was too high. This was the end of a long campaign, the goal the Expeditionary Force had been aiming for. The Imperial Mobile assets in space had been neutralized. Their capability to take advantage of the Expeditionary Force's being away from Imperium space had been destroyed. They could no longer project power against Clairmont. Which meant that it was time to wipe out the Imperium's presence back home.

"You should get some sleep Skipper."

"Hmm...?" Admiral Harrington murmured, never taking her eyes away from the datapad she was studying. She had been going over the Orbital Attack plan the flag staff had been preparing for the last two days. No matter how much they optimized it, the casualties would be heavy from the Imperial ground batteries. No matter the cost however, they had to do it and the projections concurred that they could do it. The lack of sleep had been creeping up on her, and like a good Flag Captain should, Robert strongly suggested she get some sleep.

"Enough time to sleep when Im dead Bob."

"With all due respect Skipper, we'll be dead a whole lot too fast if our Commander is too woozy to make the right calls." The flag captain said back, not relenting from pursuing his case.

"Trying to imply I would get us all killed Captain?" Harrington finally took her eyes off the datapad, gazing deeply into her Flag Captain's eyes, her voice half-serious, half playful.

"Not at all Ma'am. Just saying Ma'am." He said, smiling lightly.

"Ok, ok Bob. I'll get a couple of hours of shuteye. Only if you do the same before the drop back to Sol however." She said, putting down the datapad.

"I was planning to do that anyway Ma'am."

"Right. Im off in that case. I trust you'll keep the fleet in one piece."

She stood up and left the bridge. Her quarters were a mere three minutes trip away from the bridge. As she stripped off her tunic, her Steward appared like magic, bringing with him a cup of hot chocolate. She smiled at the old man graciously, sipping from the cup and relaxing.

"Thanks Bernard." She said.

"You're welcome ma'am." The steward replied, and left her quarters as silently as he had arrived.

As she sipped from the cup, her mind went back to the man he loved. The last word she had received from the doc's aboard the Bellerophon had been that Admiral Rowe's condition was critical. But she had had to shunt her worry away for she had a responsibility for her nation and her crew. They had leaped to hyper, and she hadnt heard anything from him since for communication to ships in hyper from outside hyper was impossible.

She went to sleep with her worries, and waited for the nightmares to come.

Clairmont

17-07-2007, 20:55

Irmansul City Western Outskirts

The western approaches to Irmansul city, massive highway's thirty lanes in width that passed through the dozens of towns and farmsteads in the plains were pockmarked by the scars of war. Every meter of land had been fought for and the result was a hundred kilometer long and two hundred kilometer wide stretch of ashes and rubble.

But the Imperial war machine had been relentless. They had thrown everything they had into a do or die operation, and it was working. They had paid a terrible cost in order to push this far. Mangled bodies of Imperial soldiers and equipment filled the roads, towns and valleys of their warpath. But where the Imperials had died, so ultimately had the Clairmontians and their allies. For they as well had paid in blood for every minute more they had bought for their nation to live. But they had seen the inevitability of what was to come, this time there was no stopping the Imperials.

The defense of Jameson Hill had been haphazardly thrown together as had all of the defenses in the last few days. A mish mash of a regiment. Bits and pieces of what had been an armored battalion, two depleted companies of Mobile Infantry, some parts of an Air Assault Brigade an ACS Company and couple of platoons of Cadre Drop Commando's. They had dug in quickly, setting kill zones and the best passive defenses they could in the short time they had before they would come under fire. Main Battle Tanks laid waiting in revetments created by civilian engineers, fire support teams had placed down their heavy weapons in improvised bunkers. Air-dropped mines had been dispersed on the path of the Imperial advance, both anti-personnel and anti-armor while the Regiment's indirect fire support had been busy coming up with prepared fire plans that could be called in quickly.

Much could have still been done, but their enemy had no intention of giving the Clairmontians the time they would have needed to prepare sufficiently. Only three scant hours after the full strength of the gobbled up regiment had arrived on Jameson Hill did the recon drones high in the skies catch sight of the approaching enemy. Artillery began to rumble as the drones fed them data on direct datalink. At first, the three SheVa guns assigned to Regimental fire support belched fire. Firing area-denial cluster munitions, their massive rounds could belch a literal cloud of sub-munitions over a large area. Next came the regular Self-Propelled Artillery Pieces. Filling the air with the shrill scream of shells as their guns fired in a staccato ripple.

Even as the artillery engaged, the skies above became contested. Fighters from both sides clashed, attempting to deny their opponents support from the skies. Missile trails connected to planes and bright blossoms of fireballs filled the skies as planes on both sides died. Neither side' ground forces dared to fire into that mess, fearing of gutting their own air support with what practically amounted to blind fire into that mess of electronic jamming and dogfighting.

Southern Main-Line of Resistance

Captain Miyazaki was actually laughing. as he dashed from cover to cover avoiding the Imperial fire. For days his ACS Company and the Cadre had kept their sector of the wall against repeated hammering from the Imperials. For days they had soaked up losses and steeled themselves against another assault, refusing to back down an inch. It was insane, madness and in a way at this point completely useless. Another prong of the Imperial operation was already at the outskirts of Irmansul itself, and Avalon Military Space Port had fallen two days ago. In a very real sense, it was pretty much over.

In the brief moments of silence between assaults Miyazaki had been recollecting what one of the military history lessons back in the Academy that had stuck to his memories more vividly than the rest. The tale of ancient Spartans at Thermopylae. It had given him the strength to fight on, nevermind how useless it was. He fired again, ordered another fire mission from his depleted Grim Reaper platoon, Watched the upper torso of one of his troops vaporizing under the fire of an Imperial Heavy Energy Cannon. It was a dance with the damn devil and the devil was winning.

The ACS and the Cadre were down to forty percent of their initial strength when they had come here for their last stand. And they were all that was left, Major Hanson had died with his Command Squad a day past when a kinetic-kill cruise missile had hit his command post. What remained of his unit was a few squads here and there among the Cadre and the ACS. Again Miyazaki wondered if the dead were really the lucky ones, for they had truly seen the end of this war with the end of their lives. Miyazaki was certain he would soon earn that luxury as well.

Imperial Command Ship Emperor's Hand

Captain Stewart Trent kicked the dead Imperial off his path as his forward platoon advanced towards the double set of armored doors leading to the Strategic Operations Command Center deep in the heart of the massive Imperial Troop Transport. Having had to cut down or blow practically every door in their way, the infiltration force had finally breached in to the fore quarter of the ship where the Command Facilities sufficient for commanding a planetary invasion were positioned. The ship's CIC had already been captured as had the bridge. The main armory was under their control and the only thing that remained was to cut the head off the beast.

"Talk to me Winslow." He barked to the platoon demo expert who was furiously scanning the door in order to place a sufficient amount of charges to blow it.

"Its atleast a meter thick Capn' full battlesteel from what I can tell. No way we have enough demo with us to blow through this shit." The woman said disgustedly as she reached her conclusions.

Stewart silently cursed. The SpecWar Operatives still left would undoubtedly have enough demolitions equipment to blow through the door, but they were scattered hither and yon all around the ship, waiting for a squad with sufficient amount of explosives would take time.

"Fuck it, DeNiccolo, Williams, Robertson, get your asses in here." He snapped over the Company comm. Three acknowledgements chorused back, and in a few seconds three ACS troopers carrying large bulky weapons and power packs came to him.

"Put your plasma guns on full charge and blast that damn door down." He said harshly, knowing full well what he was ordering them to do. Even with full charge the weapons would heat up immensely quickly, and in the end become useful only as paperweights as their delicate circuitry would melt. The three plasma gunners hesitated for mere instants, before acknowledging again and taking aim.

Blinding light erupted from the weapons as they spat full powered shots, at the door and the heat in the corridor went up like a rocket. A bare nuisance to a soldier in an ACS suit, enough to boil an unprotected human in moments. And yet the troopers fired, pouring plasma relentlessly at the door that was melting slowly but certainly. A shrill whine began to echo in the corridor as the alarms on the weapons began warning their users of imminent failure. One of the guns shorted out, then another and the last plasma gun gave up only seconds after it had blown a hole into the double doors.

Stewart and his forward platoon reacted instantly, pouring fire through the opening while the Grim Reaper suits among them filled the opening with clouds of razor sharp flechettes. Returning fire came at them, grenades landed at the feet of the charging ACS troops while grav guns and energy weapons spat defiance at the invaders. Stewart grunted in pain as a beam from an Imperial energy gun cut through his shoulder plate and scorched his flesh, but then he and the five troops with him at the head of the charge were through the door. The Command Center was arranged like an amphitheater, as Stewart entered, fire poured at him from the several tiers filled with workstations that surrounded a heightened stage with a huge holoprojection in a semi-circle. More of his troops came through the doors now, and they began servicing their targets with cold precision. Dispatching any target with a weapon.

Stewart caught a glance at an older man in the ornate uniform of an Imperial Star General and for a brief instant the fire in his heart raged hot enough to break through the ice he had built around his feelings. He shouldered his rail rifle and in a smooth move brought up his sidearm. Targeting vectors appeared on his HUD, and he squeezed the trigger gently. The single 3mm depleted uranium teardrop flew straight and true, blowing the right arm of the Star General to ruin. As the man began to scream, the last bits of resistance were being killed. And Stewart walked up to the man who had overseen the calculated murder of his family with calmness he had not felt in years.

He gazed down at the bloody ruin of the Star General's arm and with the power of his suit muscles lifted the man up from the collar, dragging him to the front of the Command Center. Unceremoniously he threw the Imperial against a wall and detached his helmet. He allowed his bare eyes to rest on the bastard for a short moment before speaking, for the man did not seem to recognize him.

"Remember me asshole?" He said very calmly.

The Star General spat a goblet of blood on the deck and gazed up at Stewart with hating eyes. At first, he seemed oblivious to the identity of his captor but then the light of understanding filled his eyes.

"Oh, ofcourse I remember the little orphan bastard who took a bite out of more than he could chew. Heard from your mommy and daddy lately kid?" The Star General spat and laughed.

The battlesteel gauntlet of Stewart's right arm lashed and hit hard, cracking the cheek bone of the Imperial and sending him against the floor like a hammerblow. As the General sputtered out two teeth, Stewart lifted him up again and threw him against the bulkhead. He controlled his rage, just barely. They needed this bastard alive.

"Dont have the guts to kill me eh? Heh, what more can you expect from a little brat in over his head." The Star General spat and attempted to laugh, only to end up coughing another goblet of blood.

"Oh, I'd love to kill you Star General. However, there is the little issue of us needing you. While we're chatting, the SpecWar boys rampaging through your ship are coming here. And they have a little surprise for you. See, their Special Projects division figured out this really really neat little piece of hardware. In truth, we dont need you, we need your implants. And since your Implants dont work unless you are alive, we'll only kill you once SpecWar gets into your Central Command Net by using your implants as a proxy to gain us access." Stewart said, delighting in describing every detail of how they would deliver a deadly blow to the Imperial C4I capabilities using their own Commander.

Stewart Trent's smile was cold as liquid helium as the sneer vanished from the Star General's face. Inside he was impatient, impatient for the SpecWar to be done with this man so he could finally avenge his family.

Inside Mars Orbit

The remnants of the four battlesquadrons had been deccelerating steadily for the last few hours in order to come to relative rest to Planet Earth and to geosynchronous orbit above Clairmont Island. They had been keeping their approach quiet, drive fields at minimum possible power levels and stealth systems working full time to conceal their presence. Hephaestus Station's Commanding Officer and few selected others were the only ones who knew. The Expeditionary Force had come home to finish the fight.

Tappee

22-07-2007, 08:35

Off in the distance Commander Jefferys could see a plume of smoke rise gracefully into the air. With little hesitation brought his viewfinder to his eyes, it took a moment to bring things it focus, and for the moment it was as if he was almost there.

Seeing explosion of this nature had become rather common in this battle, with the fleet taking control of the sky above the planet, it had allowed them the power to crush their enemy under an almost constant artillery barrage.

Jefferys listened with great interest to the communication feed that was currently on speaker, it was hard to make sense as to what was being said over the confusion. No one had ever doubted that the fight for the capital would have been difficult, but it was even hard for a seasoned veteran such as Jeffery to describe the ferocity of the fighting. Imperial force had made them pay meter for meter in blood and lives. Glancing over his shoulder he could see another medical transport touch down, and the medical crew rush over.

He was glad for a moment that he was not a member of the medical crew, as they were often forced to decide who live or dies, it was Jeffery job to make sure that those gave their lives didn’t having to die for nothing.

Quickly he turned his attention back to his viewfinder, they were tightening their grip on the capital, there objective was now in sight. From where he stood he now see the Imperial Palace, the last remaining symbol of the once proud Imperial regime. Commander Jefferys allow himself a brief smile, he would relish watching it burn to the ground, finally there would be an end to the all this madness. As the last of the imperial forces fell back to there last defensive positions they were not going to make taking the palace easy for the allied forces. However, as Jefferys watched another Imperial position disappear under another artillery strike deep down he knew it was a matter of time. Thing were become hard, as the enemy force became smaller, they were harder to target with artillery. His force was now being force to go building to building a clean out any resistance. They had to be extra careful not to leave any pockets of opposition behind them either. They could no longer rely on orbital support, and as the last of their enemy dug in around the palace he knew that he would be seeing many more medical transports come in before this was over.

Tappee

22-07-2007, 21:30

There was a flurry of activity aboard the space station Solaris, as prepare for the fleets arrival to make the final push to take the island of Clairmont back. As the fleet was coming directly back it had not had a chance to restock it ordnance, and it was the station to resupply the fleet while it the middle of a battle.

Something that every one knew was not going to be an easy feat. Supply carriers would have to run logistical under constant ground fire, and the threat of enemy planes. Failing to get the supply to the allied ship could mean life and death not for the ship but for the those men and women on the ground who need the fleets support. While a majority of the station other one the station were preparing for the ground assault.

Once the air above Clairmont had been secured the Station would be used as a staging ground to drop Tappee Soldier an equipment down to the ground. However, as Tappee’s entire naval force had been used in the final push against the Imperium Tappee had been force to call in Army in service for the attack, and unlike Tappees Navy, the Army had not seen any combat in over 20 years, as such a majority of it force was rather green compared to the battle hard naval forces. In the end there were little options that had been made available, they were short on troops, and could not lose this battle. There was little doubt in everyone mind that this was an act of desperation on everyones part

Clairmont

02-09-2007, 22:11

Imperial Territory
Birhat System
Planet Endicot

Colonel Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike coughed blood as his vision started to come back slowly. For a few moments, he hovered between unconsciousness and waking up before his brain sorted itself out and he started to regain his composure. It hurt, worse by god than anything he had felt before. His body felt as if it had been on fire, the pain from multiple deep wounds radiating like molten metal in his body. Then his suit deposited a hefty dose of painkillers to his bloodstream, driving away the pain but numbing most of him to immobility.

"Colonel Sir!" Someone uttered over his command frequency and he gazed right towards the sound of approaching heavy footsteps. His HUD recognized the other suit as Major Ryland, the Battalion Operations officer.

"How long was I out?" O'Neal muttered, his voice surprising him as the words came out slurred and barely comprehensibly.

"Just about three hours Sir. The medics patched the worst of your wounds up, the ones that your suits' medical systems couldnt fix quickly enough." Ryland replied gravely.

"SITREP?" O'Neal asked, trying to adjust his speech pattern to deal with the slurring.

"We mopped up the remaining Imps in this chamber. From the looks of it, couple fellows from the Emperor's Inner Circle were here, along with some sort of Elite Guard, and finally, the Emperor himself. Only about two minutes after you lost consciousness, we became under heavy assault from forces inside the Palace. We've been able to hold here for the time being, but...O" Ryland said.

O'Neal nodded in understanding. If the Imps were determined in flushing his mishmash force out, they could do it. They certainly had the firepower and personnel in place to see to that. However, it no longer mattered for the Emperor was dead. With him went the purpose of existence of the Imperial Armed Forces, for those Forces were utterly loyal to the Emperor and only to the Emperor. For their leader to have fallen, they had only two ways to react, go out fanatically trying to avenge the death of their hallowed leader, or surrender. But the Imperial Forces did not yet know the Keeper of the Imperium's Throne had perished and they fought on.

"Understood Major. What about our casualties?"

"Sir, the Imperials here fought hard and we have taken more casualties from these counter-attacks. The company is currently fighting with forty-two effectives with fifteen wounded. Lieutenant Chinran's platoon is down to fourteen with five wounded and Staff Sergeant Cateau's squad has been reduced to her command wing and fire support wing, four standing shooters. No wounded for the, they really are into that fight to the death thing." Ryland replied in stiff tones.

The casualties appalled O'Neal, for they were in all intents and purposes crippling, his company having been reduced to bits. But they had accomplished what they had come here to do. They had infiltrated the most heavily defended single structure in the entirety of the Imperium and eliminated the one person whose death could mean the end of this war, if they could get the Imperials to see the fact that any fighting from now on was pointless.

"Understood. We need to get a signal out of here Vince. Shove the fact that their beloved Emperor is dead on their faces. There will be those in their military who wont believe it, and will try to go out in a blaze of glory. But I think that if we can get this out, we can rob the fuckers of the last bits of fighting spirit they have left." O'Neal said, while standing up from the covered position where he had been laying, the numbness caused by the painkillers making him dizzy.

"Yes Sir, we've been working on that. I've had Babcock and Ramirez trying to patch our suit systems to the Palace's networks for the last two hours, since as you know we cant use our long-range comms here due to the goddamn jamming equipment in the Palace. Anyway, Babcock and Ramirez say its going to take a bit of work to get control of their communications for sufficient transmission capability to reach all their in-system forces."

O'Neal nodded in grim understanding. When that signal went out, the Imperial Armed forces in Birhat system would implode, catastrophically. Even if that in itself would not mean the end of the Imperium in itself, the utter and total disarray that would follow the announcement of the death of the Emperor would mean that any coherency in the Imperial Military would be gone. There would be some small units that would stay together, if only barely, but only under totally ruthless commanders. Even then, those units wouldn't be numerous nor strong enough to actively or effectively oppose the CSN and its allies.

The Imperial Hall suddenly seemed to shake violently as an explosion rocked the the entrance. Smoke and dust billowed in from the corridor that lead to the hall, and then came the wailing screams of the dying and the wounded. O'Neal's suit AI immediately brought up the personnel roster for Alpha Company as well as the SpecWar and Cadre attached under his command. Five icons had gone dark and two blinked in angry crimson, signifying critical injuries. The Imps had brought forward heavy weapons, and that explosion could only have been an Anti-Matter grenade. Luckily for the Clairmontians it had gone off too far out in the entrance corridor to break the defense, but it was only a matter of time before the Imperials got lucky.

"Expedite your attempts to patch to the Palace comms Major. After we get the in-system signal out, we'll start working on a hypercom signal on all Imperial channels."

"Yes Sir." The Major replied, saluted and trotted off.

O'Neal brought himself to a sitting position and checked the rail rifle he was still clutching. The immobilizing dizzines caused by the painkillers was starting to fade slowly, but he still felt like some inconsiderate bastard would have been banging him in the head with a sledgehammer, on rapid fire. Shutup and soldier you sissy he thought, clearing the rifle and checking the heavy magazine, replacing it with a new one and wondered when the fuck was the universe going to give him a breather, or a gift certificate to a good bordello.

Clairmont Island
Imperial Command Ship Emperor's Hand

Captain Stewart Trent watched the immobilized Imperial Officer with eyes colder than frozen helium, as he who had ordered the murder of those he cared about the most, attempted to prevent the Clairmontians who had intruded into his domain from dealing a crippling blow to the Imperial Battle Net. His face was contorted and twisted with horror as the futility of his attempts registered to him more and more by every passing minute. He knew by now that he could not stop the enemy he hated so much and the fact that he could not even kill himself to prevent this insanity from taking place was driving him over the brink. He had been giggling, crying, sulking and outright going nuts for the last fifteen minutes. Stewart couldnt care less, and he smiled thinly while he watched the bastard squirm.

The SpecWar Cyber Warfare Specialists had been working furiously to patch through to the Imperial Battle Net for a good while. Although the theory on how the whole operation was supposed to work was solid, there hadnt been a way to actually try the methods required in practice, for obvious reasons. The Operatives now working on it were practically the best there were. having been hackers and Cyberpunks before enlisting in the military, they had been brilliant before. Special Warfare training had honed their skills to levels that some might construe as outright sorcery with computers now they were using their abilities to their fullest to make the impossible possible.

The lieutenant in charge of the Cyberpunk team exclaimed triumphantly. "We're through Sir. Reading full link stability and full access to their Net." The Operative said in hushed tones.

The Imperial Battle Net was not much unlike its Clairmontian counterpart in general sense. Both of them effectively linked an entire army in a complete C3I system, allowing immense flexibility by making it possible for every data handling system right down to the individual soldier to link up with the network, creating a cohesive, constantly communicating entity. The Imperial system was however even more flexible, as their neural implants granted them the capability to access the Net directly with their minds. In addition, the level of integration was more thorough, as individuals linked to the Net had better and broader access to the Net as a whole. However, the greatest strength of their system was also its greatest weakness. While heavily secured, Imperial High Commanders, including High Ranking Strategic Commanders had full and practically unlimited access to their local Net, through which the ultimate Trojan Horse could be inserted.

Stewart nodded. A gesture unseen to those watching his featureless Battle Armor. As he was about to give the order, his suit AI suddenly spoke.

"Captain Trent, I am registering an extremely faint signal on the X-Ray-Zero-Five ULF frequency. It is heavily encrypted and overlaid with layers of static and common battlechatter. However, having the time to pick the signal apart, I found a deeply buried and more heavily encrypted signal. The encryption registers as Syphon-Omega-One Captain." The mellow female voice explained. Although the AI's werent strictly programmed for human emotions, they could and did sometimes express themselves in ways that would make it seem otherwise. Right now Stewart's suit AI sounded extremely surprised and anxious.

Stewart Trent froze. It took him two seconds to mentally go through the implications in what he had heard. At first he could not understand the meaning of the frequency Rachel had mentioned, the AI however understood its merely human companion's limited capabilities and superimposed the identifier tag placed on the frequency and encryption from the databank on Captain Trent's HUD. Stewart's eyes lit up with fire he had not felt in years as the full implications of the message registered to him. The frequency was an ancient, top-secret but still registered channel Fleet used for support operations between space and ground. The encryption, was a classified crypter used by Expeditionary Fleet Flag Units.

"Play it Rachel and forward it to the Infiltration Force local comm channel!" Stewart exclaimed.

First there was just garble and static and nonsenical chatter that could have belonged to any battlefront in the mainland Clairmont, but as Rachel began applying sophisticated filters to the signal, the meaningless layers of the message began peeling away and finally at the bottom of it all Stewart could now hear the authority filled soprano of a female sang out loud and clear from Stewart's internal suit speakers.

"Repeat, this is Fleet Admiral Harrington with BatRon Eight, Eleven, Fifteen and Twenty-One. We are currently approaching Geosynchronous orbit above mainland Clairmont, ETA twenty-two minutes. It is our intent upon reaching orbit to commence Orbital Strikes against all, repeat all Imperial assets on the Ground. We will be ready for on-call Orbital Support and expecting location data for any and all targets needing to be hit in the first moments."

Only silence ensued the shock overwhelming the soldiers who had fought for so long without any realistic hope of ever hearing what they were now hearing. Stewart stood there, without even realizing that his mouth was wide open in amazement. He swallowed air in deep breaths, trying to comprehend how had this come to be. No one spoke in the local net of the infiltration force, waiting for some kind of explanation that would confirm that what they had heard wasnt merely a fiction of their minds. They knew very well that someone lacking hope could go to great lengths to deceive oneself to create that hope, then the explanation came and their hopes were confirmed.

"We did it. We smashed the last of the Imperial Armada in Birhat and our ground forces at the surface of Endicot WILL bring their Government down. It took us a while.... a long while... but we're home. We're finally home." The woman on the other end of the signal told. Her voice was strained, but it was filled with confidence. Confidence towards completing her mission.

The message ended and Stewart snapped out of his stunned near delirium, to Colonel Naumann's authority filled voice talking to the SpecWar Cyberpunks.

"Lieutenant Morrison, start the upload NOW. Punch through the full package, all of the Offensive Software, all of the Sentry and Guardian programs. I want them all to go after the landing barge's defensive systems. Ignore all of the rest." The Colonel's whiplike voice told the SpecWar Operative, who understood instantly what the CO of the infiltration force intended. The Lieutenant acknowledged his orders and went to work. The invasion software package had been carefully designed and built for the express purpose of a quick and surgical strike to the Imperial Battle Net. It had taken two years to perfect and despite all its sophistication and cleverness, its designers at Intel had figured that whatever harm it was assigned to do to the Imperial C3I network, their incredibly capable software defenses would nullify its effects in less than thirty minutes at best and after that, the Imperials would adapt to it, making all the effort it had taken to create the damn thing useless. As such, the software package that knew no concept of boredom had been kept waiting for a time when full use of its capabilities could be harnessed. That time had come.

"Captain Trent, inform Admiral Harrington of our intentions and start finding us a way to get the hell out of here." Naumann toned in on Stewart over the crackle of gunfire. The SpecWar operatives lacked the AI support ACS troops had and thus in the middle of a battle it would have been difficult for them to make sure Harrington would receive a reply in the middle of a battle, the AI's of the ACS could make that happen in a breeze.

Stewart complied and spoke hurriedly to his immaterial companion.
"Rachel, mimic the Expeditionary Force's message setup and send them the following: Fleet Admiral Harrington, this is Captain Stewart Trent of the Third Mobile Infantry Division. My Battalion and attached elements of the Cadre and Special Warfare have succesfully infiltrated the Imperial Command ship responsible for their Strategic Command of the Invasion. We are in the process of inserting a tailored invasion software package to their Battle Net, you can expect the defenses, including shields, of their landed troop transports to go down in exactly twenty minutes. Welcome home Admiral, kick these motherless assholes off our home."

"Ok Rachel. Encrypt and mask it the best you can. But make sure they get it."

"Understood Captain..... message sent."

Stewart picked up his rifle and opened a channel to his command platoon.

"Ok people. You all heard that. We will have incoming fire to our location in less than twenty minutes. We will upload the package, and get the hell out of dodge. I want Second and Third platoons start working on securing a route to the forward boat bay, we will exfiltrate using the Imps' own shuttles."

A chorus of acknowledgements came back to him through the Company net. He lifted his rifle from the ground, checking the ammunition feed as first platoon began beating their way to the forward boat bay. He took one last glance at the Imperial Admiral, who right at this very moment existed only as the gateway for bits of data that would foresee the destruction of his entire carefully crafted plan. Stewart played with his rifle, fighting with his emotions. Few moments passed and then he exhaled the air he wasnt aware he had been witholding. He turned eyes colder than the farthest edges of space on the man and his voice cut like a dagger as he spoke.

"Admiral, I know you can feel what we have made you upload to your net. You will be the element that guarantees your final defeat, I could not have hoped for a better punishment for your worthless ass, and you will literally burn in hellfire when this is over. Have a nice life you bastard, or the twenty minutes you have left of it."

He trotted off after his command squad who had joined first and second platoons fighting to reach their escape vehicles.

Approaching geosynchronous orbital position above Clairmont Island

"Admiral, we're picking up an increasing amount of detection systems hitting us. CIC gives no more than ninety seconds before the Imperials on the ground will have a hard return and will know that we are here." Commander Cerell said after checking the readouts from his station.

The fleet had been on steady, stealthed approach ever since they entered the system. The grounded Imperial transports lacked efficient methods for detecting spaceborne threats, thanks to the ground-based jamming Clairmontian ELINT stations and aircraft emitted, the orbital clutter and athmospheric distortion. This had made it possible for the massive hyper footprint of the Expeditionary Force to go unnoticed by the Imps and had allowed the three hundred-plus strong force to approach the third planet of Sol system unnoticed. However, no amount of stealth and deception would work past a certain range and the Imperial detection systems, while not working at full efficiency since they werent expecting an attack from space anytime in the near future if at all, would see them very soon.

"What about their defenses?" Harrington asked, her voice betraying nothing. If Captain Stewart failed in his promise, the coming engagement would be far bloodier, for both the Fleet and the Clairmontian civilians. If the Imperial defenses were up, they would be capable of returning heavy fire against Harrington's force, while their active defense screens would require immense firepower to break and thus more collateral casualties.

"CIC is still reading shield emissions as well as tracking system emissions from the weapons systems on their transports." Cerell said with a slight edge of disappointment in his voice. He understood the stakes as well as his Admiral.

A counter had appeared on the holo tank at the center of the flag bridge. It was counting down seconds to the moment when the Imperials would detect the fleet despite all the stealth they had used during their approach. Second after second ticked down, and to the command personnel at the flag bridge of HMS Fearless those seconds each felt like hours. The timer hit zero and warning claxons went off instantly as Imperial sensors and targeting systems found the ships that were, in interstellar terms, almost on top of them and began methodically targeting them. As quickly as they had began their targeting however, that targeting also ceased and the Electronic Warfare Threat boards of HMS Fearless flashed green, receiving no emissions that could have been construed as a threat to the vessel. Suddenly, Commander Cerell yelped excuberantly in surprise.

"They did it! CIC reports negative on shield, tracking system and active defense emissions! They are down Ma'am!" He said.

"Execute Bravo-One!" Harrington said, and the three battlesquadrons of Clairmont Expeditionary Fleet belched fire.

{b[Imperial Commandship Emperor's Hand{/b]

The Imperial High Admiral weeped, tears falling down to the deck he sat on and sobs filling the chamber as the totality of his failure registered. The Clairmontians had been thorough in destroying him. They had pumped him full of drugs that had immobilized him while the software they had used had locked his implants open for their sabotage. The only thing the great Commander, or so he thought he had been, was to cry as he could only watch impotently at his approaching death. Alarm claxons began an ululating cry as the ships' sensors detected the fleet of Clairmontian warships now coming to geosynchronous orbit. Defense systems started going to work, only to be paralyzed by a multi-pronged assault from a combination of advanced software terrorists that had been given very precise instructions. They went after the defenses of the transports with glee. Attacking and disabling first the secondary sub-systems, then going after the primary protocols. One by one, the systems that should have kept the massive transports well protected went down, leaving the grounded juggernauts helpless.

The admiral's final scream died in his lungs as he, and millions of tons of spacecraft around him blew apart as two kinetic impactors struck the vessel with pinpoint precision.

Southern Main-Line of Resistance

A piece of ceramacrete to Captain Miyazaki's left exploded under the impact of a light HVM. Fragments of high-density building material showered his suit like high-velocity projectiles. They however lacked the kinetic energy to be much more than a nuisance to a suited trooper. Thirty-three effectives in his company remained, most of those unharmed since Imperial weapons hits capable of hurting suits would upon impact turn effectives to ineffectives in short order. Miyazaki had thus far been fortunate enough to avoid injuries that would have either killed him or worse, made him a helpless a helpless observer in the fight. It wasnt that death really bothered him anymore, it couldnt. He had come here to fight, knowing that the only result would be death. A man who would be seriously affected by the fear of death couldnt have come here today. The Captain strafed left in a lightning fast burst of motion, deftly avoiding a burst of heavy projectiles travelling at over fifty klicks per second. Not even ACS could have protected him from that and he exhaled air he hadnt known he had witheld. His luck would have to run out soon, he had spent enough of it already in order to stand and fight for as long as he had. But the universe worked in extremely mysterious ways, as did fate, and universe had decided this wouldnt be the day when Captain Isao Miyazaki would die.

A streak of silver fire fell down from the heavens, and hit the ground roughly fifteen kilometers at the back of the Imperial line of advance with the force of what Miyazaki's suit AI figured to be around fifty kilotons. A second and a third came down roughly in the same area and further in the horizon MIyazaki could see atleast five more similar arrows of silvery lightning. New sunsets spawned as kinetic impacts released energies comparable to nuclear weapons as they struck the ground. In an instant of death brighter than the heart of sun, most of the Imperial 72nd Army Group's artillery and logistical support were vaporized to clouds of gas. Utter confusion suddenly reigned in the approaching Imperial troops as their commanders suddenly disappeared from the net. The highly trained Imperial warmachine relied and depended upon the chain of command to deliver and guide them in any situation. While this essentially guaranteed that a commander of an Imperial unit would have a highly responsive force under his/her command, it also meant that if the chain of command broke, the troops would lack the initiative of working well independently. Now there was no higher command authority available, Imperial officers in charge of smaller units that had avoided the initial barrage of kinetic death pleaded for orders, but received no reply for the high-ranking commanders they sought were now quickly dispersing to the wind. Their confusion turned to slowly rising fear and the realization that their current course of action would mean certain death began dawning on them, little did they realize that the rain hadnt even fully started yet.

"This is BatCruRon thirteen under the Eleventh Battlesquadron, Expeditionary Fleet. We are providing orbital interdiction strikes and support fire to all friendly units in Sector One-One-Bravo Southern MLR. All Clairmontian and allied units, authorized to enter this net, please provide calls for fire."

Miyazaki could not believe his ears, and after few seconds of stunned silence he began chuckling. The chuckling turned to outright laughter that nearly deprived him of oxygen. To an outsider it might have sounded like a lunatics exultation over some crazy idea, and in a sense that was what it was. Miyazaki had grasped the crazy idea that he might actually continue living. He forced his laughter to die down and opened a channel to the source of the transmission while mentally going through the correct procedure for calling orbital support fire.

"This is Whiskey-Bravo Seven-Five Actual. Calling for kinetics, six strikes, two kilotons each. Prepare for targeting data." He went through the protocols that he could still remember despite the years and years it had been since he had last sang them while the AI inhabiting the suit with him sent the targeting co-ordinates to the skies.

"Acknowledge Whiskey-Bravo Seven-Five Actual. Impact in oh-eight seconds. Have a nice day." A young mellow voice of a female responded to him with a slight edge of murderous glee.

Six kinetic impactors fell from high-orbit precisely on time, striking the Imperial ground forces that had only moments before been on the eve of breaking through the Southern MLR. Entire companies worth of troops were destroyed in fractions of seconds as kiloton range kinetic strikes struck their approximate locations with pinpoint accuracy, and more fire came. Confused by the lack of command authority while simultaneously being annihilated, the Imperials did the only thing that seemed to make any sense to them now, they began retreating. Their assailants werent feeling mercifull. Flights of endo-exo athmospheric strike craft, assault shuttles and pinnaces descended from the orbiting warships and began releasing countless tons of expendable munitions at the heads of the fleeing Imperial troops. Lasers scythed, rapid-fire railguns spat, missiles launched and bombs fell as Navy pilots who had waited for this day for a long time finally had the chance to hurt those who were directly responsible for killing and maiming their loved ones and countrymen.

Miyazaki's grin grew by every new mushroom cloud that erupted over the fleeing Imperial forces. The volume of rising cheers over the local comm net was rising to incomprehensible levels as the forces that had held against impossible odds saw their would-be killers being killed in return. Sporadic fire went after the retreating enemy troops as the surviving ACS and Drop Commandoes took potshots at their leisure, savouring the chance they had been presented. The air support however was now reaping the greatest harvest of the Imperials. Missiles, bombs and cannons clawed at every enemy unit they could hit with any kind of certainty as forty-two assault shuttles and pinnaces worked together to clear a landing zone. Having finished any major threats to themselves and their charges while the rest of the enemies were running away as fast as they could, the pinnaces and assault shuttles began combat dropping troops. Hulking Marines in powered Battle Armor hit the ground in battalion strength, followed by their more conventionally armored fellows and light vehicles. The fleet of Naval craft deployed an entire light Marine division in less than five minutes, Marines who were most eager to go after the fleeing Imperials.

Miyazaki sent quick commands to his surviving troops as well as to the surviving Cadre troops who had held the line with him. Together they bounded down from the Wall and headed towards their Marine comrades, they had a score to settle with the Imps who thought they could get away this day.

Medusa City Centrum

The attack craft of the Expeditionary Fleet descended upon the Imperial troops like harbingers of death. Releasing smart munitions and cannon fire into their midst with precision honed by years of combat experience. The crews of those vessels went about their job with ice cold professionalism, but their hearts cried in joy as they butchered the murderers that had for so long tried to destroy their home. They gave no mercy to the enemy and concerned themselves only with exterminating the Imperial ground forces in Medusa City as if they had been simple pests. Hundreds, then thousands of soldiers began dying as they came under attack from a direction they had not expected attack to come from. Return fire streaked to the skies, attempting to blot off some of the air support the Clairmontians holed up in Medusa City had suddenly received.

But these ground troops were against the Navy's finest pilots honed and perfected by years of experience in orbital drop operations and ensuing air support against Imperial planets where the defenses were much more thorough, and here the hapless Imperials were reacting by sheer reflex. They succeeded in destroying some, but in the end their efforts were simply not enough, and they died in scores. The troops in the open streets fared worst, taken cover from the direction of fire from enemies on they ground, they were wide open to an attack from above. Cluster bombs fell in their hundreds, releasing their deadly payloads to carpet the streets. Sub-munitions blew, reducing Imperial Infantrymen to hamburger and screaming incapacitation. The Imperials however had armored vehicles in the fray, and against those anti-personnel cluster was simply insufficient. Kinetic-energy penetrator missiles were released, alongside more conventional anti-vehicle missiles and the armored vehicles began to light up in orange balls of fire as their ammunition and power supplies cooked up. The enemies inside buildings fared much better. Some of the Imperials had set up bases of fire in high-rise apartment and office buildings. Against them, the air attack fared the worst. However, even those troops were vulnerable to thousands upon thousands of hyper-velocity flechettes from the multi-barreled railguns of the assault shuttles and pinnaces which had now switched to hovering fire support mode, and began landing troops.

General Sharon Issard's smile was broad as the Imperial Battalion of Mechanized Infantry that had come so close to overrunning her mishmash unit's position was being turned to ash in short order. Cries of heartfelt relief went out amongst her troops as they realized they would live, and most importantly that the day they had been waiting for five long years had finally come. The Navy had returned home and nearly literally on the final hour.

"General! The Imperials are being beaten back!" One of her aides said, the young man's voice unable to contain the emotions he felt.

Issard could not reply, for the sight was simply too unbelievable to be fully comprehended in such a short time. For a minute, she stood, watching the carnage fully unfolding as dozens upon dozens of CSN orbital insertion craft deployed companies and battalions of fresh Marines down on the ground around Skyveil Tower, that until moments ago, Issard had thought would be her grave. She snapped out of her stunned silence and began barking orders. She would have some of her people join up with the Marines and do all they could to help. She couldnt allow the MARINES of all services to take full credit of kicking the Imps out of her city now could she.

"General?" Came a hushed voice from behind her and she wheeled on her heels to come face to face with the man who had handed down her current command to her. He looked like he had gone through a hundred battles, bloodied and face blackened by ash, Anton Halburton stood stoically before Issard.

"Mr. Halburton." Issard replied, nodding to the man. Only then did she notice the six additional men and women accompanying the Syndicate operations chief. All of them looked like they'd been through hell and their rifles were facing the ground. The soldiers however held the rifles in tactical carry, as a pointed reminder that they would not stand for any threats to their commander.

Lieutenant Paul Krueger came to stand a step behind and beside his General with three other troopers assuming protective stances behind her. Both Halburton's and Issard's bodyguards eyed each-other carefully, measuring the others for any signs of deception or threat. Seeing none, both of the small groups relaxed just a tiny bit. Seeing the silent exchange between professionals, Halburton chuckled lightly: issard frowned at the unexpected sound.

"Oh relax General Issard. I didnt come here to off you. As a matter of fact, I came here to congratulate you on your stellar performance here. I know I shouldnt have expected anything less from an officer of your caliber, but I was surprised nevertheless."

"I wouldnt call it a 'stellar performance' Mr Halburton. If the Navy hadnt dropped in on the party, we would've been dead in another fifteen minutes flat, and three hundred and fifty of the men and women of this battalion DID die here." Issard said grimly.

"General, you faced impossible odds here. The fact alone that you made it this far makes your accomplishment an incredible one. No matter how this battle came to an end, it does not change your accomplishments one bit." It felt odd to Halburton to convince a general while he had been a mere Captain back in the days long past when he had still served his country in an official sense. However he was a man who had seen all life could throw at him and he could and did recognize the fact that either General Sharon Issard was incredibly lucky to have achieved so much here, or she was one hell of an Officer. He suspected the latter. Now he observed her reactions closely, and knew that his initial judgement of her had been correct. Issard didnt reply, and they booth stood there in silence for a moment before Halburton spoke again.

"Anyway, its about time we make our leave. I figure the Marines will be here soon and they will be asking too many uncomfortable questions." Halburton broke the silence and chuckled again.

"Goodbye General. I do hope we'll have a chance to meet again some time. I wouldnt count on it, but fate works in mysterious ways..." He finished and trotted off with his group.

Issard shook her head in bewilderment as the Syndicate operative left. She hadnt ever quite gotten a grasp of the man, but whatever Anton Halburton was now, General Sharon Issard had known for a while that his former service couldnt have been in anything less than the elite of Clairmont's Armed Forces. No doubt the higher ups would still want to get their hands on this former soldier turned rogue, but Issard felt that she owed the man enough to keep her mouth shut about whatever she had come to know of him.

She turned to her staff and began issuing orders for joining up with the Marines.

Irmansul City airspace

The sight was beautiful. Nevermind the fact that each of those silver streaks killed hundreds, if not thousands of human beings, Captain Nikkol Fukai found the sight here above the skies immensely satisfying. Against the backdrop of the rays of the rising sun, the skies themselves were raining down fire. Miniature suns were spawning to life as far as he could see from his position in the skies, which could only mean that this was nothing short of a continentwide orbital fire mission on all hostile forces. For minutes, it rained. Kinetic energy impactors, fusion bolts from Naval Hellbore Energy batteries, lasers, tactical nukes... the orbiting Clairmontian warships were letting go with a massive amount of weaponry, while placing each shot with as much care as they could to inflict casualties only on the enemy.

But in many cases, the enemy targets that had to be destroyed were simply too close to the innocent civilians the Navy had come to save. Transport barges that were hit took with them thousands more Clairmontian lives. Imperial bases were annihilated along with the slave labor of civilians they had been using. In minutes, tens of thousands more were added to the final death toll exacted from the Clairmontian citizens and the faces of the Navy personnel forced to fire those shots were grim as they realized that while yes they were killing the hated invaders, to do so they were also killing the people they had sworn to protect. But in the end, they as their commanders and leaders realized that despite the horrifying reality of what they had done, it was a terrible task that had to be done, for in the hands of the 4th Imperium, Clairmont would have faced certain extinction.

Fukai understood the job the Navy was doing, and whispered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god there might be that he wasnt the one who had to press the trigger up there. He glanced to the west and observed the icons superimposed to the cockpit canopy that signified the strike craft of 108th Navy Strike Craft Wing, hot in pursuit of the fleeing Imperial parasite fighters that until moments ago had been within minutes of destroying Fukai's squadron, only to be pursued and destroyed in turn. He checked the screens before him grimly, and realized that only three of his squadron, including him, had survived. 1st Lieutenant Haverwood had lost his plane but had ejected in time, 2nd Lieutenant Brimmer's craft was damaged but she was certain she could take her back to the barn. During the invasion, Fukai's squadron had had a casualty rate of nearly four hundred percent. Of the original pilots he had assumed command of, only Haverwood had survived to see this day. The two new flew alongside, both savoring the sight.

"It looks like it'll be a beautifull day skipper.." Whispered Lieutenant Haverwood over the squadron net.

"Never thought I'd see another one of those..." Fukai replied.

Command Central
Manticore's Nest

The sounds of hundreds of cheers combined could be felt to almost rumble the underground cavern as the civilians and military people alike gathered in Command Central let go with everything in their lungs as the Expeditionary Fleet rained death on the Imperial Invasion force. The release of everyone's feelings assailed the ears of everyone present like a hammer, but nobody cared as they vented their raw feelings to those around them. Hundreds of reports were coming in from battalions, regiments and divisions about the successes the Armed Forces were achieving now as they were granted the help of their brothers in arms in the Navy's orbiting warships. Reports were also coming in from Marine and Fleet Strike units. Units that had been held reserve from the planetfall operation on the Imperial Capital world for just this day. Now they were dropping from the sky amongst the enemy that had been hammered, hammered and hammered repeatedly by strikes from orbit. Backed by both orbital and aerial support they were mopping up the enemy ground forces that had succeeded in sustaining cohesion under the initial onslaught. And they were mopping the Imperials up, the day which had only thirty minutes ago seemed as the day which would see the death of Clairmont had turned into what would be a decisive victory. A day which would now instead see the death of the hated Imperials.

Fleet Admiral Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations of the Clairmont Space Navy allowed himself to smile. He could not remember the last time he could have smiled due to genuine feeling of joy. His smile turned broad as more and more reports came in of succesful strikes against the enemy on the ground. Very few had retained faith during the last year about the Expeditionary Force's return, but the men and women of the Navy had gone about their endless and blood filled journey to the end, and returned home. Even Caparelli had allowed himself to doubt if the Navy would ever make it back here for every year after endless year had brought more death, more destruction and killed even more of the lingering hope that he had held in reserve. Realizing now, he shouldnt have ever allowed himself to doubt the men and women who had set out on their great Crusade against the 4th Imperium.

"Sir, the Sword on line one." His comms officer said, bringing him turning around to face the wall mounted display. As he acknowledged the Officer's notification, he young man connected him with Clairmont's head of state.

"Tom, I just heard the news. Are they really kicking those fuckers to oblivion?" The man who had for the last forty years shouldered the burden due to Clairmont's ruler asked with eyes that still could not quite believe that the people he had sworn to protect and serve would survive through the invasion that had come so close to destroying his beloved nation.

"Yes Sir. For the last twenty-eight minutes three battlesquadrons of the Expeditionary Fleet under Admiral Harrington's command have been deploying Marines and fire support from geosynchronous orbit above the mainland. Our aerial recon already confirms the neutralization or decapitation of all main field armies the Imps had broken through to the inner plains. Admiral Harrington's orbital reconnaissance also indicates that barring three, all of the Imperial landing barges have been completely destroyed. The three that remain were all heavily damaged by strike craft, but they could not be fully destroyed due to their positions practically in the middle of large towns." Caparelli said, and continued after a short pause.

"Furthermore, eight heavy divisions of Marine Mech Infantry have hit the ground under direct support from the battlesquadrons in orbit and strike craft in athmosphere. Currently, they are engaged in mopping up the Imperial units that have holed up in urban areas or are otherwise impossible to hit with direct orbital strikes. From the reports I've had and from what I've been able to discuss with Pat Givens, ONI and Military Intelligence, we can expect all cohesive Imperial forces to be eliminated within a month or two." He concluded.

Benjamin Alexander shook his head in disbelief. Nearly a minute of total silence passed before he had fully processed what Caparelli had said and could speak again.
"Jesus Tom...."

"Yes Sir"

"So Admiral Rowe pulled it through..."

"No Sir. The CO of those battlesquadrons is Admiral Harrington. It appears that Admiral Rowe was critically injured during an action against the Imperials in Birhat. Admiral Harrington assumed command of those three battlesquadrons and brought them here. The situation in Birhat at the moment is unknown. However Admiral Harrington could confirm that the Fleet Strike forces dispatched to engage the Imperial capitol city on planet Endicot had achieved local superiority over the Imperial opposition and that they had orbital fire support from ships that remained there."

"Good. We will establish contact with the units at Birhat as soon as possible, however the situation here is of the utmost importance right now. I want you to see this through Tom, meanwhile Im going to get personally in touch with Admiral Harrington." Alexander said and a true, genuine smile lit his face.

Clairmont

02-09-2007, 22:12

Altitude 15,000 feet
Southern Clairmont Airspace approaching Irmansul City

The stolen three Imperial assault shuttles cut through the skies gracefully while their occupants bled off the fear and anxiety that had filled them for the entirety of the mission. Now it seemed that they had survived through it. The few minutes after they had vacated the Imperial transport barge had been nerve wracking. The Spec War cyberpunks had jury-rigged transponder systems for each of the 'liberated' assault shuttles. However, they had been extremely mishmashed installations, and as the first squadron of CSN strike craft had approached the shuttles, everyone aboard had been nearly expecting missile warnings. But none had come, and the squadron leader had hailed the three shuttles cautiously. Colonel Nauman had been convincing in the ensuing conversation and thus the three formerly Imperial craft now had a protective shell of twelve CSN strike craft, whose pilots had been quite lively with their praise over the comm as they learned that it had been the occupants of these Imperial assault shuttles that had made the brutal efficiency of Admiral Harrington's attack possible.

Stewart and the officers, or those that remained anyway, of the Infiltration Battalion sat at the large space reserved for officers onboard the shuttle. Compared to the seating arrangements of the regular rank and file, the officer's space was downright luxurious, but Stewart wasnt really noticing any of it. He was more exhausted than he ever could have believed to be possible, but at the same time he felt an immense feeling of completion. He didnt really feel happy that the man who had been responsible for the murder of his family was now dead, but he did feel... satisfied. He called up the company roster and his suit AI projected a holographic keyboard and screen in the air ahead of him. He began methodically checking the final casualty list. First Sergeant Harrigan... dead as was Lieutenant Vaubon, meaning Second Platoon's leadership had been decapitated. Second Platoon had easily taken the worst of the casualties, having outright lost forty-six percent of their effective shooters. Stewart scrolled through another fifty-seven detailed casualty reports, sighing as he finally reached the end of the all too long list. He would write letters to the families and loved ones of those who had died personally, and he knew each of those who had gone to their graves would come back to haunt him in his dreams. A part of him couldnt shake the feeling that had he been smarter, faster or overall a better commander, he might have saved those people. He did not however know that every officer that cared worth a damn felt the same way as he did now. The difference was that the officers with more experience would learn to cope with the feeling of guilt better, Stewart still lacked that experience.

"It doesnt get any easier Captain..." Stewart heard someone murmur next to him. He hadnt noticed Colonel Naumann approaching, which wasnt surprising considering the man was one of the Spec War ghosts. Stewart didnt answer to the Colonel right away.

"No matter how many men and women you send to their deaths, however necessary or unavoidable each of those deaths feels like, dealing with them will always feel like shit. Thats the crushing burden any truly good officer has to bear Captain Trent. The fact that you feel those deaths. Too many officers think in terms of acceptable losses and wont shed a single thought to those men and women who died to accomplish the mission. Being a Commander is not only about fighting through hellfire Trent, its also about responsibility. It sucks, I know, but I expect great things from you. You've got what it takes to be one of the best Captain, dont let me down." The Colonel said, slapping Stewart on the shoulder and walking away briskly.

Stewart gaped after the older man. He had never heard Colonel Naumann say a single word of praise about anyone, so his emotions over what he had said to him now were understandable. He didnt yet know for a certain that he could carry the heavy burden of responsibility that the path his career had taken would bring him, but he would try. He would do everything in his power to not let the Colonel down, but most importantly to not let himself down. He shook off his confusion and bewilderment and began tapping at the holographic keyboard hovering in thin air in front of him. Afterall, the Colonel was correct. A good officer carried a great responsibility, to the men and women under their command... and to the families and loved ones of those people who deserved to know how those they loved had lost their lives.

Dear Mrs' Harrigan. I regret to inform you.... He began, and the fond memories of time spent with Second Platoon's casualties played through his mind.

"Hey you..." A soft and all too tender voice cut through the cloud of sorrow that had enshrouded Stewart. He gazed to the seat next to him to find Karen DeVries sitting there. She had moved beside him with quiet steps and surprised him just like Naumann. It seemed like all of the SpecWar Operatives moved like ghosts. The ice around Stewart's heart began to melt as the woman he had come to care for very deeply radiated her love and support to him.

"Hey..." He said back, managing a smile.

"So...I heard that the Navy is buying the rounds." She said.

"Hah... the suckers owe that to us. Taking their time getting here." Stewart said, chuckling weakly.

"But they actually came, shit I had actually started to believe they wouldnt make it."

"Yeah...Im not sure I ever really believed they would make it. I guess I gave them far too little credit:" Stewart replied, his tone sad.

"It doesnt matter what we believed Stewie. This day actually came, and we can reclaim our home. Begin rebuilding."

Stewart stayed silent for a while before saying anything.

"I... I figured I'd want to ask you something if there ever came a day when I could. I figured I never could ask since I had lost faith in us actually winning this war. But
since it's starting to seem that we did win, I actually have to gather the courage to ask." Stewart mumbled and Karen's eyebrows rose.

"I'd like to...start that rebuilding with you. Settle down... buy a house, a dog..that sort of thing." He said and the smile that lit his face was genuine and warm.

For a moment, Karen only stared at the man he had come to love. She hadnt expected to hear this from someone who until recently had been on the brink of madness due to the terrible things he had witnessed and done during the war. How close he had come to becoming a blood crazed murdered himself in the course of revenge he had set upon after his family had died at the hands of the Imperials. Ghosts still hovered at the edges in Stewart's eyes and would for some time. But the man had took a step towards the path of enjoying life and Karen DeVries' heart lit up as she finally got the confirmation she had waited, that the man she had come to love so fiercely wanted to share his life with her.

"Honey... you have no idea how long I've been expecting to hear something like that from you." She said and kissed Stewart deeply.

For the first time in half a decade, Stewart Trent believed that the years he had left would truly be worth living.

Clairmont

10-09-2007, 23:02

Clairmont Island
Manticore's Nest
2 weeks after Expeditionary Force's return

The tension in the conference room was palatable as the gathered leaders of Clairmont waited. They had sat here for three hours now, having gathered swiftly as they were told that the hypercom relay at Hephaestus had received a carrier signal carrying Navy identifier tags from Birhat. Since according to Admiral Harrington, the forces that she had left to Birhat had had no hypercom systems of their own, this event could only mean that those forces had found a way to re-establish communications.

The weeks following the return of the Expeditionary Fleet had flown by rapidly. The first few days the Navy had been providing near constant orbital support fire while committing Fleet Strike ground pounders against major Imperial concentrations that could not be directly taken out due to unacceptable collateral damage. The men and women of the Fleet Strike had bled and died hard to take back every inch of ground the Imperials still glutched on, but after a week of near constant fighting, the resistance had finally began to subside.

In many cases however the Imperials had opted not to die alone and had ended up taking civilians with them to the grave by either outright shooting them or blowing themselves up with nuclear demolition charges in the middle of villages and urban areas. Those had been the most fanatical nutcases of the former invasion force however. Both the Office of Naval Intelligence and Special Intelligence Service agreed that some of the Imperials had simply gone to ground, hiding in ruined cities or the wilderness. Digging those out would take months.

As the Military began gradually taking back cities and areas left under the heel of the Imperial warmachine, they discovered the full extent of the heinous crimes the occupational forces had wrought to the civilian populaces. Everywhere the liberating troops went, they saw men, women both old and young, that had been inducted to what could be called outright slave labor to provide the Imperials with whatever they might have needed. The shocked troops discovered enormous mass graves. Sites, that had served as horrifying testimonies to the final plan the Imperials had forged for their defeated enemies. They hadn't intended to merely enslave the Clairmontians after they had defeated all armed opposition. Their plan had been nothing short of a full genocide. To make absolutely certain, that the 3rd Imperium from which their own descended, would be completely wiped out from the face of the universe.

Suffice to say, their plan had come close to working. The deaths of over two billion people were sufficient proof of that.

The standby text on the wall-screen began blinking as the receiver system began the receipt of a full transmission signal. As the computers went through the procedures of decryption, signal amplification and clarification and finally translation to image and sound, the wall screen lit up. The one-hundred inch screen was dominated by the handsome, black haired man in the uniform of a CSN Fleet Admiral. A black beret emblazoned with the CSN emblem was seated in his head, and his forehead was covered by a quick-heal bandage. Duke of Walkyr, Fleet Admiral Alex Rowe's eyes were sharp and his face expressionless as his eyes met those of his superiors and close comrades, separated by the gulf of stars between the two star systems but connected now at last by the hypercom signal.

"Admiral Rowe." Protector Benjamin acknowledged with a beaming smile and nod.

"My Lord. It is my esteem pleasure to announce that the Imperial Capital System has for all intents and purposes, been pacified. We've beat them." The Admiral announced, an the Conference Room exploded to thunderous applause. Not even the emotionless facade of Alex Rowe could withstand the raw emotions being vented in the other end of the link, and his lips curled up in a smile of his own.

Admiral Caparelli was the first to speak back as the hammering clapping of hands died down a bit.
"You will have a chance to debrief fully Alex, but for now Im sure all of us here would like to now how it all went down in the end. We've already been informed of the events leading to Admiral Harrington detaching most of the Expeditionary Force and heading home, but after that Im afraid we dont know much."

Rowe straightened himself up slightly and gathered his thoughts before speaking.
"Well Sir. Im sure you have been informed that I myself was incapacitated during the final moments of the battle in orbit and Im afraid I regained consciousness three days afterwards. However, from what I've been told by Field Marshal Kolhammer and his staff of the events that passed during those three days in excruciating detail."

The Admiral paused for a few seconds to sip some water before continuing.
"As our initial planetfall operation went according to parameters and our boots on the ground managed to quickly disperse and commense maneuvering, we encountered our major obstacles only when we hit the Imperial Capitol City. From what our Intel specialists have been able to put together afterwards, our Fleet Strike forces went against two full Imperial equivalents of an Army Corps, some one hundred- to one hundred and forty thousand men. Since we wanted to avoid immense collateral damage to Imperial civilians, our forces were forced to start going through the city the hard way. At some point the advance began to halt, the Imperials were simply dug in way too tight and were fighting like maniacs to make things even more difficult. However, during the initial planetfall, several of our assault shuttles went down to planetary fire. One of those shuttles carried Alpha Company of the five-oh-first Mobile Infantry. That shuttle came down with the Company intact, and they landed right smack dab in the middle of the city." The admiral again sipped water.

"The Company, lead by one Colonel Michael O'Neal, proceeded on foot deeper to the city, linking up with elements of Special Warfare and Cadre Drop Commando units that had infiltrated the city in much lesser strength for the purposes of Intel gathering. Under the command of Colonel O'Neal. this force then proceeded to the Imperial Palace, managing to break through the weakened outer security and infiltrate the building. In the end, the joint force gained entry to the Imperial Council Chambers and in the ensuing fight succeeded in killing the Emperor, four of the Council members and most of the Emperor's personal guardians. At this point they had sustained over fifty percent casualties and came under attack from Imperial troops within the palace. Colonel O'Neal holed up in the Council Chambers and with the help of the SpecWar troopers and his own data specialists, managed to transmit the recording of the battle in which they killed the Emperor on a general hypercom channel to the entire Birhat system. Suffice to say, after that, the Imp fighting spirit went to the wind."

"During O'Neal's private little adventure, our ground forces along with Tappee's managed a breakthrough in the northern end of the axis of advance. Aided along by precision support fire, we succeeded in taking two divisions to the Imperial Military Headquarters. Combined with the death of their Emperor, and the loss of the Military High Command, we began seeing their forces in Birhat imploding. This was all before I regained consciousness however, by the time I came back around, most of the major fighting was pretty much over. After we got around to sufficiently fix the Imperial hypercom systems, we transmitted the news of their leaderships' demise sectorwide."

The silence in the conference room was total. No one in their right minds had ever expected such turns of events, at best they had hoped for driving the Imperial leadership into exile, but a near total elimination of all their leaders? No one had considered that the maniacs might actually refuse to run.

"Where is Colonel O'Neal Alex? I'd like to personally congratulate the man who pulled up what he managed." Protector Benjamin said.

"Im afraid that the Colonel and the force that was with him are MIA at the moment. The Imperial palace is a wreck, and our troops have been digging through it for the past week, but so far we've had no further word from them since they sent the system wide message." Admiral Rowe said gravely. The expression on his face made his feelings clear, he did not expect to see the men and women who would for generations to come be referred to as heroes.

"Find them Alex. We owe them that much." Caparelli said in hushed tones.

"We owe them far more Sir, and we will find them." The younger Admiral said, and his tone carried with it confidence. They would indeed find those people, dead or alive.

"Well, we shall conclude for now Admiral Rowe. Im sure you have your hands full on your end, and we have our own burdens to carry. We shall continue at length in due time, but for now convey the most deepest gratitude to our and Tappee's people on your end. Clairmont owes you all a debt it can never sufficiently repay. " Protector Benjamin Alexander spoke with the strong voice that had carried him through the decades of leading his country through times of crisis and difficulties. There was so much he wanted to say, so much emotion, but there would be time to say all those things.

"Yes sir. I will tell them."

"Good, see you on the flipside Admiral." Alexander finished and cut the link.

As the Commanding Officer of the Expeditionary Force disappeared from the screen, Protector Alexander let his gaze go through all the people gathered in to hear the news from Birhat. They were the only ones who knew that the War had ended, for good and Benjamin Alexander understood, that the message had to be delivered to the Clairmontian people as well.

"I will go on nationwide broadcast today to bring these bearings to our people. They need to know that we can start rebuilding without fear." He said, and heads tilted around the table as those present signaled their agreement.

"However we cannot yet count the Imperial remnants fully out of the game. Admiral Caparelli, what are your immediate plans on dealing with those remnanets?"

"Well My Lord, me and my staff have been going through several operational plans to solidify our security and..." The Admiral's voice carried over all those gathered, but despite its grave overtures, all of those gathered in this room felt safer than they had in years.

Barwhon City

The wind speed had become high enough to reach storm strength, and the atmospheric dust levels in the city centrum were dangerously high. Neither of these problems came close to the seriousness of the telltales from the arrays of Radiation and Bio/Chem Hazard detectors carried by Charlie-Company, 165th Infantry. The detectors reported to their operators with the emotionless efficiency of machines, but the soldiers carrying the equipment could not avoid the grim emotions that filled them as they observed the data.

The results of extended use of Biological and Chemical warfare agents by the Imperium to combat the guerillas in the Barwhon megalopolis had resulted in the air becoming immensely hazardous to unprotected human beings if exposed to it for extended periods of time. However the invaders hadnt left it at that, they had used regular nuclear warheads both in the surrounding areas and even within the city during the years the war had dragged on. As it was, a person without full NBC protective gear would be exposed to lethal amounts of radiation, biologicals and chemicals in less than four hours. This had effectively lead to the population of Barwhon city to lock themselves up in the massive towers that housed 95% of the city population for most of the time. The towers had excellent systems for filtrating the air the people needed to breath and the water they needed to drink. The death toll resulting from the environment was nevertheless atrocious. Especially when considering that the vast majority of the people living in the most hazardous areas had been confined within the city by the Imperial invaders.

"These readings are un-fucking-believable." One of the Corporal's leading the advancing column muttered.

"Yeah, real-estate prices must have plummeted." Came a grunted reply.

"It'll take decades to clean this muck up."

"More like a couple of centuries Corporal, and thats still quite an optimistic estimate." The platoon lieutenant said back grimly. He had studied athmospheric processing in College during his schooling to become an engineer. He understood the difficulties of cleaning up the kind of hazards they faced here today.

"Centuries? People cant go around living in this crap for that long."

"Your capability of stating the obvious is noted Specialist." The First Sergeant of the platoon retorted.

"That's not the worst of it. From what I've heard, its like this all over the coastal plains. Apparently, as the Imps found out they were utterly screwed, they went about and began nuking whatever agricultural sectors they could hit with the dirtiest warheads they could mount on their fighters in the transport barges that couldnt be immediately hit from orbit. Combine that scorched earth tactic with the war, Intel has estimated that roughly sixty percent of the total land area suited for agricultural production in the coastal plains will be toxic for at least five hundred years no matter what." The Lieutenant continued.

"Shit... you mean if the civvies dont die of exposure, they'll die of starvation?"

"Precisely Specialist. All in all, only a few cities in the coastal plains could at the moment be rated as habitable and its statistically impossible to house and feed everyone with the land area that can be used safely." The Lieutenant replied, sighing. He had known his home would be gone by the time the Armed Forces could reclaim the Coastal Plains. What he hadnt expected was for the aftermath of half a decade of practically unrestricted warfare to be so brutal.

"We fought and died to take back our home, and now we cant fuckin' live here?" The First Sergeant asked bitterly.

"That is, for all intents and purposes, the gist of it Sergeant."

The company proceeded on in silence. The grim reality having taken everyone deep into their own thoughts. Thoughts of what would have to come in order for their homeland to continue living after the horrors that had been wrought upon her.

District 11, Irmansul City
Elysium Gate Cemetery

Out of the thousands upon thousands of places ravaged by the war on the face of Clairmont Island, the serene beauty of the cemetery had somehow avoided it all. This place, was the final resting ground for those who had lost their lives in the service of Clairmont. Men and women who had served Clairmont in one way or the other, and died doing their duty. Thousands upon thousands of finely crafted marble plaques marked the spots where the remains of those people were buried. Some of those plaques had stood in their places for centuries and had been worn to be nearly indistuingishable by the passage of time. Heroes of times past whose names had been all but forgotten by the descendants of those they had served.

Stewart Trent walked in the middle of endless rows of tombstones and his feelings were bleak. There were many new stones of white marble with names of soldiers who had gone to the grave fighting the Imperium. Too many, Stewart thought. An outsider might have found his course in the middle of the cemetery completely random, but they would have been mistaken. Stewart knew which graves he had to visit, graves which's occupants he remembered very well and to whom he owed a visit. To assure them that he remembered, and would always remember. Stewart didnt consider himself a firm believer in afterlife and all that, but he figured that when it was his turn to leave this life, it would be better to be safe than sorry and keep himself in good terms with those of his friends and loved ones who had died. Just in case he was wrong about afterlife.

He made another stop and read the engraving on the white marble stone. He assumed attention and saluted sharply, paying his respect to a friend who had helped one young and troubled Private Trent get through basic training and ended up saving the young man's life from an Imperial SpecOps Commando. Stewart's mind played back all those moments he remembered and treasured spending with the man who had become his first friend during Basic.

"The poker games just arent the same without you man..." Stewart whispered, and stood in silence for a moment before turning sharply and continuing to the next grave.

It took him two hours to reach the final grave in his grim procession. He stopped, faced the grave and lowered his eyes to the ground. The core of his being was too horribly burned by what he had seen and done for him to be able to cry, but he could not remember when the sorrow would have engulfed him so completely. He fell to his knees, and let his hand over the engraved letters
carved in the piece of beautifully grafted white marble. As his fingers followed the lines of each of the letters, a stab of pain like that of a knife struck his heart.

"Im sorry. Im so sorry I didn't come here until now. But I had to see all of this through. I had to KNOW, that the person who was responsible for your death had paid for his crimes, and he has. He paid the ultimate price. I still think he got off too easy, but beggars cant be choosers I guess. But now its done, and I can finally talk to you again."

The dead man in the grave answered only with silence, but Stewart continued after a short pause.

"I saw so much death, so many horrible things and in turn caused so much death and horror myself that at times, I thought I was losing myself. That I was becoming like them. Every fiber of my being, all my efforts, were just to pay back to those bastards. I didn't consider, or care that I might be losing my soul to buy that payback. I came close, but in the end there was someone who pulled me back from the brink." Stewart whispered and gazed behind him at the woman who smiled back at him warmly. Stewart returned the smile softly and turned back to face the grave.

"Her name is Karen, and by some grace of luck or that of a higher being, she actually appears to be quite fond of me. We've decided to start working out a future, together. I know you would have approved of her. You two would have spent countless hours debating the finer points of covert operations or drinking each other under the table." Stewart said and chuckled weakly.

Another moment of silence, as Stewart poured over everything he had wanted to say but couldn't for so many years.
"Sigmund filled his promise to you. He filled it to the end, stayed by my side as my own guardian angel through hell. He reminded me of the things I should not become, kept me sane for those years when I nearly succumbed to the rage. I've never seen such dedication from anyone, and somehow he always managed to play the part of a patient mentor and guardian. I was hard on him, far too hard at times. I regret that, and I imagine thats one thing I'll never forgive myself fully. He's here today as well. He wanted to complete his journey by coming, and paying his own respects to you." Stewart continued, and paused to take another look back at the Tappee agent standing next to Karen DeVries. He nodded respectfully, and fondly to the man who had, for all intents and purposes, become his stepfather during the war.

"I miss you so much dad. I miss my family that was stolen from me. It doesnt matter how many years will pass, a part of me died that night. A part that'll never come back. I cant replace that void that your deaths left in me, but I've come to try and live a life you would have wished for me. It isn't easy, and there are still times when I think that the pain is too great for me to endure further existence in this universe. But... there are two people in my life who will never give up on me. Kicking my ass up from the ground, making me see and understand that there is something in my life that makes it worth living. And I will, I will live dad, and I'll live a life you would be proud of." He finished and stood up.

Captain Stewart Trent, Commanding Officer Bravo Company, 101st Mobile Infantry Battalion, assumed parade ground attention, his right arm rising up to a perfect textbook salute that would have rivaled the best any training officer could have managed. He stood at full attention for fifteen seconds, lowered his arm again sharply and by the book, made an about face and walked away from his father's grave.

"He would have been proud of you love. He would have been so proud." Karen said and smiled, and Stewart returned the fond smile, genuinely.

Tappee

12-09-2007, 04:05

As Stewart and Karen walked away Sigmund stay behind, he was alone to his thoughts. In his profession did not allow the luxury of feeling emotion, and for the first in his life he fought to contain the flood of emotions that rushed over him. So much had happened over the years, how would he pick the right words.

“I…” he stammered for a moment “just don’t know what to say. I should have been the one to die that day not you. I had nothing; you had a wife and a son, a son who needed you more then could imagine. When he lost you, he was to so angry, an anger that nearly consumed him in darkness. But I understood his pain, I never knew my parents and was a raised as an orphan, and I never wanted Stewart to feel the emptiness that I felt as a child.” Tears slowly started filling his eyes “He fought so hard to make things right, and I saw so much you in him, he fought with such determination, and valour. Karen was right you would be proud of him, I am proud of him.”

He paused for a moment he paused to collect his thoughts, and regain his composer, and glanced over at Stewart and Karen who were walking of in the distance. “He is happy with her, you know. There is something about her, when they are together is seem that all his pain, all his anger goes away, and for that I am glad.”

Reaching into his pocket and pulled a small medal. He took a moment to look it over, it was a five pointed star surrounding the star with writing engraved all along the outside of the circle. Sigmund had received the medal during the out set of the war for uncovering the enemy plot. However, the medal meant nothing, it had paid for with the blood of friends. Quietly he placed it on the grave. “You deserved this more then I do old friend.”

Raising to his feet he turned and slowly walked away.

Clairmont

17-09-2007, 00:43

Irmansul City Centrum
Government Tower

The Government Tower had for as long as the city had existed, been the seat of Clairmont's governing body. The Protector's Council, the House of Lords and the House of Commons were placed here. Here the people who decided the fates of billions of people were decided. Laws were passed. Politics were fought over and wars were started. It was only fitting that the people would see the Government and their head of state returning to their rightful place and announce that the war they had endured for so long had come to an end.

The roof of the massive tower had been specifically designed to fulfill multiple purposes. The entire rooftop was fully domed with transparent plasteel. This allowed the space to be used regardless of the weather, and worked to give anyone on the roof an amazing view of the surrounding city and the sky. This place was utilized for the most important of events. State funeral's. Crucial meetings with visiting governmental leaders from other nations and ofcourse, announcement's made by the Protector himself through the news networks over the entire nation.

Hundreds of people had gathered to the central square of the rooftop. A podium stood at one end of the square, facing rows upon rows of seats on which men and women from all over the nation had gathered to send forward the words that their Leader was going to speak here today. All of them had already waited for hours as surviving Government officials arrived in one's and two's. The Prime Minister, Chancellor of the Exchequer, The Sword's Military Advisor and two other Cabinet Members had come. Suddenly, there was a surge of attention towards the entrance to the square as Battle Armored Cadre Drop Commando's filtered to place, taking protective positions all around the square. Two full squads took positions around the podium. As the stoic troopers finished securing the area, a procession of six armored troopers and one man dressed in the full official regalia of the Sword Protector of Clairmont, appeared and proceeded to the podium. While news reporters usually couldnt be trusted on to stay silent in any situation, now all of them along with everyone else present waited in silence as Clairmont's Head of State walked to the front of the square.

As he took his rightful position, he continued the elongated silence and allowed his eyes to circle the assembled crowd. His face was taut and serious, revealing no emotion, but his eyes told a different tale. They sparkled with hidden joy, but in the background there was immense sorrow and hidden anger. An outsider might not have understood the source of those emotions, but the Protector's Inner Circle most certainly knew and they waited with equal silence what their Leader would say here. Scores of HD camera's recorded every second of the event while high-gain audio pickups were ready to gather every word that would be spoken.

"My fellow Citizens of Clairmont, our honored allies. It is my esteem pleasure as the Sword Protector of Clairmont to announce, that our forces have succesfully eliminated all cohesive field forces of the Imperial Battle Fleet. In addition, Military High Command estimates that any effective Imperial Ground Units above Company strength on mainland Clairmont have been neutralized. As such, the official determination of this Government has been to conclude that the Star Protectorate of Clairmont has achieved complete military victory over the 4th Imperium of Endicot." Sword Protector Benjamin Alexander the Eleventh spoke with a voice of hardened battle steel, and the assembled crowd exploded in cheers.

The rumour mill had run its course during the past two weeks, and some had already pieced together fairly close quesses of the current state of affairs. Until now however, there had been no official confirmation to any of those rumours save for the most obvious attack from space against Imperial forces on the ground. Now the people all over the nation heard the news of the victory none of them until two weeks ago had believed was possible and their only reaction was to vent the impossible amounts of raw emotions that filled them at this hour. Benjamin Alexander waited paitently for the applause and cheers to die down to levels over which those people could actually hear him speak.

"It is time to start the rebuilding. Heal the grievous wounds we have suffered. Nothing we do can bring back all those countless millions who died. We shall not forget the friends and loved ones we lost and we shall not, CAN NOT forget those men and women in uniform who fought desperately for all these years, no matter how impossible their goal seemed. We shall remember, for that is what we as the survivors owe to the deceased."

"Knowing how many died to bring this day forward makes what I have to say nearly impossible to bear." The Protector began, and was forced to gather his thoughts and steel his soul before he could speak the words he had dreaded he would have to say to the people.

"Our home is beyond repair. Many of your have heard the rumours of farmlands reduced to irradiated ash. Air itself so polluted that death results quickly from breathing it and cities ruined beyond hope of revival. It is my grim duty to inform you, the people of Clairmont, that those rumours are true." He said finally, and the assembled crowd was shocked into silence. All over Clairmont, the citizens who had waited eagerly to being rebuilding their lives felt their hopes crused. Most of those who had lived in the coastal plains under the heel of the Imperial boot already knew these news, but hearing them from their Head of State nevertheless shocked them.

"The Imperial Ground Forces here in mainland Clairmont utilized a scorched earth tactic as their final retribution. They destroyed our means of producing food while the war had already polluted the coastal plains. The combined result is that we currently lack the critical components of maintaining our population and infrastructure." He continued, and the shocked silence did as well.

"However, the military High Command as well as our Civilian Authorities in conjunction with the Sword's Office have already prepared a contignency plan to save the people of Clairmont from this calamity. As there is no way the 4th Imperium of Endicot could ever pay reparations for what they have done to us, an unanimous decision was made to annex twelve of the Solar Systems held by the Imperium. The Star Protectorate of Clairmont claims these Systems as the rightful posession due for the victor." Benjamin Alexander said, his voice and expression hard and no one had expected to hear what they just had heard.

"These twelve systems have been carefully selected to provide habitable living space, sufficient resource base and ease of colonization. The Clairmont Capitol will be relocated, to the former Imperial Solar System of Charybdis and on the third planet. This Solar System will be renamed Irmansul, and will become the first world to receive Clairmontian Colonists. The Civil Defense Department will be releasing an official statement tomorrow, as well as detailed plans of how the colonization will be carried out, time frame and steps necessary for citizens to undertake." Now the crowd was starting to whisper, in alarm, in wonder and in anger as their emotions about the announcements started surfacing. But Alexander ignored them and continued in that same voice of steel.

"I know this isnt what any of you expected after enduring so much. To lose our homes completely after fighting so hard is devastating and testimony to the lengths the Imperium went to annihilate us. But understand this now, what the Star Protectorate is is not made of cities, military forces or land. It is the people that together continue to live and thrive under the same flag that signifies our great nation. We may lose this home, but we will rebuild elsewhere. We will take our rightful place among the stars and leave our birth world, for that we must do to survive." The ruling Monarch of Clairmont allowed his eyes to stroll over the people gathered here today who by now could barely control their urge to release their thoughts and feelings of the announcement verbally. Anger, disappointment and sorrow, were feelings that were strong in their minds. Hatred towards the Imperials for driving them into this, anger and disappointment towards the Government who was now telling the people that they would have to leave their homes.

The Protector continued with the same voice of iron.

*****

Admiral Thomas Caparelli, Chief of Naval Operations of the Clairmont Space Navy was late. His flight had been delayed on re-entry when Orbital had received a report of a possible SAM launcher within his approach corridor. Such warnings were still common as Imperials who had gone into hiding and conducting a guerilla war. Those hostiles still held numbers of man-portable missiles that could be used to shoot down small-craft, and Orbital wasnt taking any chances with the CNO. As such, Caparelli's flight had had to wait in orbit while a Marine Rapid Reaction strike team deployed with two Pinnace's to check the warning. Which, luckily, had proven to be a false alarm.

Now Fleet Pinnace 297 was descending rapidly towards Irmansul city, and Caparelli cursed silently that he would be late from a critical event such as this. The people needed to see the Military standing behind their Protector and seeing the CNO not being there would be... bad PR to describe it lightly. But it couldnt be helped, having the people hear that the Imperials managed to kill the highest ranking military commander of the Armed Forces even after they had been defeated would be even worse.

"ETA fifteen minutes to the Government Tower Admiral." Chief Petty Officer Simons rattled over the intercom.

"Thank you PO." Caparelli replied. There was no need to rush the Chief, he was working out the approach perfectly and rushing the man wouldnt have done any good.

Caparelli sighed and turned his attention to the Electronic Warfare board to kill the time.

*****

The man looked as unremarkable as one might have. Quite usual complexion, apparent age of about thirty, which allowing for prolong meant about 130 years in truth. Dark hair, medium price suit and a HD set. Usual reporter with documents to prove he had the right to be here and subdermal implant ID to verify everything that he claimed to be, and all of those facts were indeed lies. Forgery and infiltration conducted over the course of years had brought the man to this place. He had expected a different mission, under different circumstances, but despite the shocked horror he still felt, he had been sufficiently trained to keep his outer appereance as normal as anyone might.

He adjusted his position slightly, as if to get a better view with the HD set. His right hand quickly brushed over his left wrist, feeling the two very slight bulges there, beneath his skin. It was almost time he mused, and if it hadnt been certain to attract attention to himself, he would have laughed. Unfortunately, the circumstances were entirely inappropriate for revealing the elation he felt, mixed with the disgust, contempt and hatred he felt towards the clown standing on that podium and rattling on and on and on about how the degenerates deserved to steal what wasnt even theirs. They cared so much about their petty laws, and yet when they had to face the unfortunate results of a war, they resorted to outright stealing to fix what they had brought upon themselves.

But whining about how it all ended wouldnt solve anything he mused. The war was lost, all he as a loyal soldier could do was to complete his final mission to the best of his ability. Even if this wouldnt crumble the Protectorate, it would hurt them badly, and it was almost time. He had waited this long only to see if Clairmontian Chief of Naval Operations would show up, which would have allowed him to inflict so much more damage. Unfortunately he couldnt risk waiting any longer, jeopardizing the operation entirely.

Captain Juada Surock, Imperial Covert Operations, flexed the muscle group that triggered the two sub-dermal pouches to intermix their contents, creating the most powerful non-nuclear explosive compound the 4th Imperium had in its disposal. The mixing would take a moment, after which the compound would automatically initiate a chain reaction that would trigger the explosive. As he felt the compounds mixing, Captain Surock finally allowed himself to smile, which quickly turned to an ugly grin and he put down his HD set as he prepared to die.

*****

Corporal Edward Candless, 2nd Cadre Drop Commando regiment scanned his area of responsibility with intent eyes. An outsider couldnt have seen the motion as his helmet hid the eyes that swept the space ahead of him like targeting lasers. He held his combat carbine in tactical posture, ready to bring it up to his shoulder in a heartbeat and neutralize any threat he could detect. The security measures were immense, and no one in City Police or regular Military expected anything to happen. But the Cadre took their duty to the Protector very seriously. At the moment however, even Candless had to admit that everything seemed to be going as well as could have been expected.

He completed his visual sweep again, but then his eyes caught something that didnt add up. One of the reporters, non-descript looking guy from Clairmont Central News Service, was smiling. Then the smile turned into a grin, and he laid down the HD set he had been holding. Which didnt add up, no sane reporter would have risked losing a single second of what would without a doubt, be the most important announcement they had ever had the privilege to witness during their entire careers. But this one certainly had done exactly that, which when combined with his apparent elation , which in itself was completely opposite to what all of his colleaques were feeling, made alarm bells scream in Corporal Candless' head. He started to bring up his rifle and shout an alarm over the platoon net, but he was an eternity too late.

The bomb in Imperial Captain Juada Surock's left arm blew up with force equaling nearly a thousand kilos of TNT, and no one in Government Tower's central square even had the time to scream.

Protector's Palace
3 Days after Government Tower bombing

Sword Protector Judah Alexander felt as if he was the only poor bastard in the conference room. Which, ofcourse wasnt true. Physically he wasnt alone, which didnt help fuck all when his mind had confined him to a room that was empty of everything else except the crushing sorrow. He rubbed his face, and felt like he was double the twenty-five years old that he really was. He hadnt expected to carry the massive responsibility, which his father had carried in another fifty to eighty years. However, as the universe constantly felt it had to deal another blow to Clairmont, so it had dealt one to the Alexander family and Judah Alexander, Benjamin Alexander the Eleventh's, eldest son had become the Protector.

He lifted his gaze up from his hands, and looked at the other people present. All of them still felt the shock of the events that had passed three days ago. Thomas Caparelli's gaze was as empty and cold as space, and he seemed to be staring at the wall. Judah flashed a brief, but hollow smile at the Admiral. He knew that his father and Caparelli had been good friends, having known each other for close to four decades. Thomas Caparelli had lost more than the Protector, he had lost a dear and lifelong friend at whose side he had stood for always, in any situation.

The others who were present didnt look much better, though most of them were Military. Very few members of the Government had lived through the bomb attack. None of them seemed to have anything to say, preferring to dwell in their own thoughts and misery as they still considered the massive loss they and the Country had suffered. It was time to break the silence Judah decided, and cleared his throat.

"Before we go into anything else, I feel that I must bring up something I discovered last night." He started and gathered the looks of those present.

As he noted that he had the undivided attention of the men and women with him, he pulled out a dossier and laid it on the table. It was labeled "Top Secret, Compartmentalized" and the appereance of the dossier seemed to light up the curiosity of the people who had until moments ago been too deep in their own feelings to consider anything practical.

"I found this in my father's files last night as I was going over those documents that he had felt I would need if.... something happened and I would have to take his place sooner than nature intended. This particular file was labeled highest level priority, and when I read it, suffice to say I was rather surprised." He began explaining, and as if by magic, a Military Intelligence Major appeared and handed everyone a copy of the dossier.

Judah cleared his throat before he began explaining. "It seems that for quite a while, my father felt that our system wasnt what was best for Clairmont. He mentioned in a letter that he had left for me that he had discussed those feelings only with you Thomas." Judah said, nodding at the CNO who acknowledged with a brief dip of his head. "My father had privately begun a multi-step plan that would fundamentally change our current Governmental structure and our Country. This plan is detailed in the folders you have just been given."

Breaths were indrawn as both military and civilian leaders alike began reading, and realized the massive understatement of what their new Sword Protector had said. Their faces distorted in denial, reflex action towards the changes described in the files they were reading. It wasnt just a change in the Government, the plan Benjamin Alexander had outlined would utterly transform the current Government.

"As you can see, the changes would be quite extensive. However, my father felt quite strongly that this would be a change towards the better, and I can only strongly agree when I take into consideration the aftermath of this war. I will need your support ladies and gentlemen, we need to carry this plan through. Not only to help our people survive, but to honor the wishes of the man who gave everything to serve this country." Judah Alexander concluded, with the voice of iron that had for centuries been a trait in the leaders whose surname had been Alexander.

"You do realize My Lord, that while you do find support among us, this will be a two-edged sword. The confusion will hinder the colonization and the following rebuilding all the while the benefits will help our people cope in the aftermath." Elaine Dumarest, Secretary of Transportation whispered.

"Quite true Elaine, which does not change the fact that this needs to be done. Ofcourse the details have to be worked out at length, but I feel confident we will succeed in that. "

Momentary silence followed and whispered discussion went on as leaders shared their thoughts and criticisms of the plan that had been handed to them. Minutes passed, but after about thirty minutes, silence ensued once again and Thomas Caparelli turned his eyes upon the Sword Protector of Clairmont.

"I believe we are in general agreement My Lord." He intoned simply.

Judah nodded, gathering his wandering thoughts and his breath.
"Very well gentlemen and ladies. I believe that the House of Commons and House of Lords will pass this plan, and as such we can bring this move towards the future forward in the coming year."

"Next year, the Star Protectorate of Clairmont will pass to history and the Freehold of Clairmont will be born."

The applause that followed came from hearts and minds, that had decided their new Ruling Monarch had earned their trust and support.

Birhat System
Planet Endicot
Former Imperial Capitol City
3 weeks after Expeditionary Fleet's return to Sol

The Imperial Palace had fallen far from its former glory. Air strikes, artillery, direct fire and combat within had ripped the glorious building apart. It was a symbol of the Imperium's fall from grace as it crumbled. For like the Imperium, the Palace had once stood there. Glorious, defiant and arrogant, ready to face anything that the Universe could throw upon it, but that which was built upon false foundations was destined to fall. So had the Imperium, and the Palace which had been the seat of their power.

A full battalion of troops was scouring through the palace, finding for anything of interest. For two whole weeks they had been about it and progress was slow. Many parts of the palace had simply collapsed under the fighting, and the forces that had come to prod and prowl through the building's innards had been forced to dig their way through those passages. None of them was too happy about the job they were given, for the work they had to do was hard and dangerous. Many had died from Imperial boobytraps or under fire from holdout Imperials who had been stranded in the palace and wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.

First Sergeant Rhoines had already lost two people to zealot nutcases who had simply strapped themselves with explosives and blown themselves up once they got close enough to any of the squad's twelve troops.

"Shiit, looks like they had a helluva fight here." The private who had been running point whispered.

Imperial bodies littered the crumbling corridor in their dozens. Having been ripped apart with weapons that could have only belonged to the ACS. The bodies filled the ground for thirty meters of corridor, all the way to a wall of rubble that blocked further passage.

"Yeah, looks like these bastards got their asses kicked real good." Another private grumbled.

"And loooks like we have more digging to do." The First Sergeant grunted and heard the muttered complaints of the platoon. Although they had an engineer squad with them, none of the squad's ten surviving troops believed for a second that they would be spared from the sheer grunt work involved in what had to be careful digging to avoid further collapses. The structural integrity here was hell and gone.

Rhoines called the engineers forward, who came carrying obstacle clearing gear. They set to work immediately as they got the equipment assembled, and lit up sonic digging equipment that began slowly shattering the high density rubble. The engineers could have gone about it quicker, but the danger of further collapses was quite sufficient to err on the side of caution.

Three hours passed by, and the engineers cursed silently as the rubble didnt seem to end.

"Ok, I think we'll have to retrace back. There's no way through this crap." The chief engineer muttered to first sergeant Rhoines.

"Its your call Sergeant. Im going to give the men a ten minute breather and then we'll...." He didnt have time to finish the sentence as the sound of something heavy falling to the floor alerted him to the direction of the rubble barricade where pieces of structural material fell down to the floor.

All the troops pulled up their weapons and aimed them at the direction of the disturbance, ready to fire at a moments notice, but their alertness turned to shock as an urban camouflaged, armored gauntled smashed through the rubble and cleared pieces away to create a hole large enough to see through. The gauntlet pulled back, and after a few seconds an armored helmet appeared to peek through the hole.

"Well well, welcome fellas! You sure took your goddamn time!" Colonel Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike, boomed through his ACS suits' voice amplifiers.

Serenity Orbital Station
Geosynchronous Orbit above Clairmont Island
6 months after Expeditionary Forces' return

Serenity Station had for centuries acted as the primary Orbital station of Clairmont's space effort. Through it, cargo was transshipped to and from Clairmont mainland. Hundreds of ships docked with the station every week, both military and civilian alike. Warships, merchant vessels, passenger liners and private yachts, all were serviced by the station. Massive cargo storage facilities littered the near space around the structure. Raw ore, building materials, reactor bunkerage and military munitions depots. Millions of tons of materials vital for the Protectorate's economic and military operations. None of that cargo however was as important as what passed through the station today. No mere piece of equipment could come close to the worth of living, breathing human beings and three hundred thousand people waited here today. Waiting to move to a new home.

It had taken months to organize the colonization effort. Although the Protectorate maintained a vast merchant marine, and immense troop lift and civilian transportation capability, making the whole thing happen had been a herculean task. To someone who did not understand the full implications of trying to move several billion people over the gulf of interstellar space, it might have appeared as simple inefficient planning. The people who had been tasked with making the effort happen however did luckily understand, and had made it happen.

Over sixty percent of the merchant marine had simply been drafted to Government use. None of the major trade cartels bothered to complain much, they understood the reasons. That sixty percent could theoretically transport an enormous amount of people at a time. An amount that wasnt so huge when considered on the grand scale of things, and compared to the total population of Clairmont. However, even those vessels couldn't be utilized to full extent thanks to the fact that cargo freighters and ore carriers could hardly be immediately used to carry human beings, for their cargo spaces werent pressurized. They would have to be extensively modified with additional life support and quarters for the colonists to come and even then the trip would be miserable for the people who had to spend it in those converted freighters. There were no options though, somehow those people had to be moved and BuShip had gone to work to frantically modify the vessels to fill the required parameters.

The first batch of freighters to be modified had been completed, along with a significant number of passenger liners and military troop transports. These ships would as such be the first colony ships of Clairmont, and ferry three hundred thousand people to the newly annexed and named Irmansul System, to set foot on the surface of its third planet. The colonists filled Serenity Station to capacity as they waited to step aboard their transports, sad and angry for having to leave their old lives behind. But they were also eager, for they would be the first colonists of Clairmont to leave to the stars. The vessels, that would ferry them, were already docked with the Orbital station, but last minute checks had to be made for the crews of the vessels to be sure that no modified compartment would suddenly lose pressure, or that any other of myriad of catastrophic accidents would take place.

Julia O'Donnel still couldnt quite believe how she had ended here. For a time, she like many others had lost hope that they would survive the war or its aftermath. But she had come through. Brought herself and her children through those horror filled years when the Imperials had held Medusa City. Somehow, the universe had decided that she would live and then slapped her with the cruel truth, that she would have to leave her home. She had cried and anquished over that for a time, but not for long as she had come to terms with the possibility that perhaps a truly fresh start was something that she and her kids needed. And then had come the Civil Defense Departments call for the first colonists, and she had suddenly been quite grateful for those years she had had the farsightedness to spend studying Urban Planning in College, for the Colonies would need a wide range of skilled people to start the process.

She had been slated for the first wave, and had been brought up here five hours ago from recently repaired Horfelth Space Port. Those five hours of waiting had felt like years. Still not quite believing what kind of journey she was embarking on, and having not quite come to terms with the fact that her old life would never come back, she had tried to make her fears of the unknown to subside by talking to the other people in the gallery. They hadnt offered her much solace from her fears however, feeling the same way about stepping to the unknown. She had rather chose to spend the time waiting by engaging in gazing at the myriad of starships in the space beyond the massive viewport, that dominated the outer wall of the docking gallery, with her kids.

"Mommy mommy! Is that our ship?" Her younger son, the 5 year old Joshua asked intently while pointing at the hulking freighter docked nearest to them through the viewport.

"Yes Joshua, I think it is." She replied and smiled as the young boy's face lit up in a smile at his mothers' confirmation.

"Its soo big. How long will we stay aboard it?" The boy continued with his questions.

"About two weeks Joshua. But dont worry, Im sure you and Nick will have lots of friends to play with." She said and the boy grinned back, continuing to gaze at the space beyond the thick viewport.

There were many children gathered in the gallery with their mothers and fathers. Too many of those children had lost their mothers or fathers, in the war Julia knew and almost allowed herself to succumb to the gloomy thoughts that had plagued her for too long after she had lost her husband. She pulled herself back from the brink of that pit, and joined her two sons in gazing at the gathered starships. She didnt know how long she stood there, but the loud voice from the docking gallery speakers startled her back from her once again wandering thoughts.

"Attention. Colonists ticketed to board transport Shining Star. The transport is now ready to begin loading. You are instructed to board at docking terminal nineteen-alpha. Thank you." The announcement boomed crisply and clearly, and the mass of people began flowing to the indicated direction. Hesitantly at first, as many of them still hadnt fully embraced the fact that they were leaving their homes.

As Julia set foot at the edge of the docking tube to the stupendous vessel, she gazed through the large viewport, pausing for a short moment to look upon the bright blue planet below, that had been her home for as long as she had lived, and the home of Clairmont for all the centuries it had existed. She whispered with a low voice, saying her goodbyes to the planet to which she had born and to her husband who would not be at her side on the journey, she was embarking on, and stepped aboard the transport without another glance back.

*****The End*****

Closing thoughts: Whoa. When I started this story I didnt quite grasp that it could take this long to finish. There were times when my inspiration for writing was so low, that I figured I would just leave it. Then came times when that inspiration struck me once more, and I was compelled to carry on. I started to write this precisely 3 years and 2 months ago, and now reading through it all I can see the ways my writing style changed as time passed. Its funny to read your own work from such a lengthy time period, sometimes it was hard to realize that some parts were actually my writing. Afterwards reading through this I've also come to realize how much improvement could have been made in many parts, but I hope everyone who has actually bothered to read through the whole thing has atleast enjoyed it to some degree. Im compelled to believe anyone with so much spare time would, or otherwise wouldnt have bothered :D

This story was born out of inspiration I received from many sources. Honor Harrington to name one significant contributor, and ofcourse John Ringo's Posleen War books. When I began I had a rough outline, not much details and I ended up working those details as I went. I realize now that it wasnt propably the best way to go about writing a coherent story, and I also realize that I REALLY should have wrote some kind of compendium for myself about dates, timeframes and other repeated details and saved myself a lot of bother. I'll remember that next time, and there will be a next time. Im not sure when I'll get around to figuring out the details for my next story/rp, but I think I have enough inspiration and ideas stored for many stories yet to come.

I would also like to thank all of those who participated in making this story happen. Vrak and Tappee especially, you two were awesome and I hope we can put our heads together in the future as well to write more good stories. But for now, I think I need a short break from writing entirely. Nothing extravagant, but something to let me collect my thoughts.

Oh and if anyone who read this has comments/criticism/etc. to give out at this point, please do so. I'd welcome some feedback.

NationStates Jolt Archive

Ashes of Victory [Part 2 of the Imperium War saga]