NationStates Jolt Archive

This story is already over. The battle has already been fought and decided, with the victors having crushed their enemies and the losers having their story lost to the cosmos. But the ending is only the beginning of a new journey, a journey which will take the hand of the victor into the stars. Whether he meets the same ruin as those who came before him or rises beyond their wildest dreams is a story still to be told by time.

Tears At Dawn
Part One: The Agony

5 Standard Years Ago
The Citadel, Lorkhan
The Perseus Arm, Milky Way Galaxy

The old empire was in ruins. Once a vassal of power that reached to the moons of Ardina, into the wastes of Jurktir, and across most of the known planet of Lorkhan, the kingdom was broken and rested in its last days here where it all began. The event known as the Outbreak had decimated the frontier of the Inter-System Alliance thirty years ago, and its spread crippled the military front and the core systems. Without many of the key ISA members to govern and the military unable to project the power of the federation, colonies rebelled and territories fell to dispute. Meanwhile back in the heartland, Executor Oberius was ineffective as a leader and drove the kingdom into the ground, losing crucial allies and resources left and right. Worst of all, the heartland suffered constant attack from the remnants of the Koghiran invasion, beasts having waited two hundred years in silence under an oppressive fist for the time to strike back at their foes.

The Citadel had been the capital of Lorkhan since it was discovered toward the end of the Dawn Age. It was originally merely an outpost made of a few human colonist transport ships which had landed on the planet. Led by the matron prophet Liljanna, one thousand one hundred and ninety six people came here to escape the old human colonies and claim what was an uncharted planet beyond the terran territories. The goal was to create a sustainable planetary government by their own means, and lead humanity into it's next stage as Liljanna had prophesied in what she called The Calling. The planet’s rolling plains and great expanse of woodland made for an excellent planet to colonize. The first settlers built a small settlement around the ships which they lived out of and where they fought off the alien natives, a race similar to elves, who raided the colony periodically. In time the species began to integrate and as many years passed by they became one with the colony, and thus Lorkhan was born and the first half of Lilijanna’s vision came to life.

Around the walls of the Citadel were thousands of armed men ready to give their lives for the continuation of that vision as well as the crown and the ring which served as the symbol of Lorkhan’s power since the Dawn. The sound of war drums sang throughout the adamantite towers as the guard prepared for the Koghiran barbarians from the north. From his command tower on the western wall, Knight Marshall Adrius Mendil looked over the expanse of plain lands and the endless forest that long served as the heartland’s natural barrier. He could see the first swarm of Koghiran coming from the cover of the forest on their primitive steeds. From the markings on their banners, Adrius recognized the savages as members of the Ordijau Clan. They were a vicious tribe of the Koghiran species, but they were not too bright and hadn’t a military leader among them capable of leading a significant assault against the Citadel.

“Child’s play.” Adrius said with a long drawn out sigh as he stepped down from his optiscope.

“Ordijau?” inquired an officer behind him of lower rank. Though the man only held the status of captain, his armor and ornamental robes shined brilliantly in the royal purple of nobility, and a contingent of elegantly armored women stood beside him with fine glowing crescent blades by their hips and pikes that sparked with energy. He was built of good stock, standing a good six feet tall and his brilliant platinum hair and mako green eyes shined beneath the visage of his helm. The man was clearly more than a typical soldier.

“Yes, my lord. They’ll be no trouble. A handful of our Skytigra craft will wipe them out from above without any cost to our own forces.”

Skytigra were the standard conventional light aerial fighters of Lorkhan. They were designed to carry one pilot and a gunner at most, though even the lightweight rapid fire weapon systems could easily be handled by the pilot alone. They were usually used for aerial patrols or military strikes that required swiftness over force. Hardly a frightening sight in an air battle and easily shot down by a top of the line locking system, the small craft would still spell disaster on infantry forces without high tech surface to air weapon support.

“But that will cost us fusion we do not have, Marshall. My people are cold and they are hungry. They need what little of these crystals we have left to heat their homes, not to squander on effortless overkill.”

“Prince Aerthon, please if we send men out there we will have casualties. You must understand that will hurt your people even more. Even if a mission on foot is successful, we mustn’t safely assume that the Koghiran don’t have more coming who will slaughter whoever we send out there.”

Aerthon had long served in what he felt were the best interests of his people. Not a selfish man by principle, his pet projects usually regarded to benefit what he felt best for his subjects and he kept a plethora of opportunities for them always in mind. He was a popular figure who had tried his hand in many different areas, becoming both a captain in the Silverwing Sentinels, a student at the Citadel Academy of Law, an actor in two major stage plays, and a business man on the side who had released his own civilian line of skycycle sportscraft. In many ways he was already more powerful than his father, and certainly more popular. But in this event where the defense of the Citadel was at hand, even he was subordinate to the Knight-Marshalls. In this instance Mendil was right.

The Prince sighed in defeat, and not wishing to further the argument against the seasoned military commander he turned toward the door.

“I will alert my father that the attack has begun. Shall I assume that Thoron should prepare the Silverwing Sentinels?”

“We’ll need all the help we can get when the Bour-dume make their assault.” The Marshall replied. “May the Aelstari grant us victory."

The game of politics that lay at the heart of Lorkhan had become a labyrinth of treacherous backhand deals, shadowy plots, inter-stellar arrangements, and assassinations. The foremost target on the latter’s list was the crowned ruler Executor Oberius himself. The very council who put him power had been dreaming of regicide for the last decade, but Oberius had grown quite paranoid since the decline and it was unlikely to find anyone willing to do the job. The deterrent wasn’t so much the fear of being caught, but the fear of whatever further crisis would follow. The Executor’s death would leave a power vacuum that would certainly lead to a civil war which Lorkhan could not afford. While Oberius’ son, Aerthon was technically the hereditary heir to the crown, he hadn’t the council’s approval to wear the ring of power traditionally passed on from ruler, to council, to ruler as a symbolic sign of courtship with the whole of the systems its voice in the council. Aerthon’s long opposition to the council and advocacy of Lorkhan’s sovereignty had earned him many enemies, and little hope of their acceptance. But times were growing bleak and the council needed to step into action since it had became increasingly obvious Oberius was not fit to rule, and he made it clear he wasn’t wise enough to step down.

Aerthon walked aside the man who many suspected would become the next ruler, Thoron Codax, the commander of the elite Silverwing Sentinels and the captain of interior security for Citadel Keep. He was a devout follower of the Aelstari and the ideals of the ISA. Though he was a man of honor and principle, he was also a career soldier and required a certain chain of command to live under in his day to day life. He wouldn’t go too far with his own responsibilities without asking for say so from a higher up, and in this case that would be the council. He was also popular with the people and had earned a strong conservative base among traditionalist who hung to the old ideals of the kingdom. He’d become a perfect pawn of the council, which Aerthon felt was the opposite of what the kingdom needed. Still, the love that the two men shared for one another was too great to divide them over how they chose to love their kingdom.

“The council has already retreated to Triselika on Vasprion.” Thoron exposed to his friend and comrade, bringing his silvery hood down upon his shoulders as the pair escaped the torrential downpour that was picking up outside. They made their way through the network of tunnels that was the Citadel Keep, a fine combination of artistic design and efficiency. Security cameras and turrets were hidden behind chandeliers and water fountains. Servo bots whisked by the pair acting as both maintenance and combat support, though they were designed to appear as birds and butterflies flapping through the gigantic corridors. Though these halls were usually congested with the coming and goings of royal guards and dignitaries, they had become barren since the alert of the siege and a silence had fallen over the place save for the sound of artificial birds chirping and running water from fountains. This was truly a fortress paradise.

“Don’t you think that as strange your father was not taken with them?”

Aerthon shrugged as he strode to his private communication center. “Perhaps my father was not even made aware of their retreat until after the fact. The council are treacherous my friend, and I wouldn’t hesitate to suspect that they know more about the siege than you or I would.”

“I won’t hear any conspiracy of treason, Aerthon. The council is in debt to the Executor just as he is to them. The suspension of loyalty is a fault of the lower folk.” The knight interrupted, his diamond plate gauntlet waving as a sign to end the conversation.

Aerthon ‘s sigh carried just as much weight as any words he could use to retort to Thoron’s naivety, but the Sentinel Captain ignored it as he moved on to the next course of discussion.

“I will lead the defense of the Keep with three hundred of our finest men. You will take the rest of the Sentinels and help to defend the populace, Aelstari forbid those savages actually breach the wall this time.”

“Aye.” Aerthon nodded in acknowledgment. “May the Aelstari shine on you my friend.”

Thoron Codax smirked as he hugged his best friend for what he knew might have been the last time. “May they shine brighter on you, my Prince.”

Aerthon watched Thoron as turned away and walked down the marble hall until he was well out of site. This time it was Aerthon’s smirk as he ushered open the door to his personal communications node. Inside were two of the lavishly armored women who served as his personal guard, each a near reflection of the other with tip top figures standing close to six feet tall with long flowing auburn hair perfected with a beautiful platnium streaks over their foreheads. Whoever or whatever they were, the fair skinned women existed outside of the bureaucracy of Lorkhan and the ISA. They belonged to Aerthon personally, but this was far from a temporary break for pleasure. There was business to be finished. Aerthon tapped a few keys into a console as the door locked shut behind him and his guards took position on either end waiting patiently for any unfortunate soul who might be unlucky enough to walk in during this particular meeting.

A holoimage of an older man in military uniform projected from the node. He was a well decorated officer with several rewards hanging from his sleeves and chest as proof of his merit. His pearl white uniform hinted that perhaps he had been a commanding officer in a navy, and the markings on his lavender skin indicated that he was not from Lorkhan, though his dialect of Common hinted he had done much business with Aerthon’s home planet in the past.

“The Koghiri invasion has begun?” The man inquired bare of emotive in his voice.

“Yes.” Aerthon nodded. “How long will it take until you can assemble a fleet?”

“The fleet should be prepared within a matter of days, but it will take several more to reach Lorkhan undetected.” The man paused a moment, pondering whether he should follow up with his next question or ignore it completely. But his curiosity had him in its thrall. “What of our men on Vasprion?”

Aerthon smirked as he looked out of the corner of his eye toward the elite guard positioned at the door.

“Taken care of Admiral Kutaan. Taken care of.”

The siege had gone on for several days and was quickly drawing into its second week. An attack that began as small groups of aggressors launching minuscule attacks against the city walls had now turned into a chaotic web of weapons fire both on land and in the air. Already thousands of defenders had been lost to the Koghiran assault and there was no end yet in sight. The only respite for the troops on the front line was the evident fact that the Koghiran casualties were far greater than that of the fighters of the Citadel.

Though the Koghiran were vast in number, the battle at Citadel Keep had been maintained in the favor of Lorkhan. The Citadel was built at the top of a great plateau overlooking a deep valley on the west, leaving only the eastern road a means for ground troops to advance. The bulk of the Koghiran offensive had came up through there, with soldiers coming out of the woodlands at the bottom of the road. Citadel bombers had been purging much of the woodlands with firebombing techniques made to expose Koghiran forces to Citadel artillery. Meanwhile troops were positioning themselves around the other side of the woodland to hit the Koghiran from the rear. Though the battle continued, victory was in the hands of the Citadel so long as the main gate was held.

Within the city itself, transport ships from the Citadel’s last holdings on the moon of Centari descended with support troops to help defend the Executor and the Keep. Further south, however; The Koghiran had breached the slums of South Dromina District. The Silverwing Sentinels stood fast to fight them off with their fusion based weapons, cutting them down with their technoblades and warding off Koghiran banazi tactics with successful phalanx maneuvers. At the front of this vanguard of warriors was Prince Aerthon, fanatical as he ever was about defending his people from the threats beyond these walls. He watched as the city’s defenders gunned down the Koghiran, creating walls of the dead that piled on top of one another, only for another wave of raiders to knock the barrier of cadavers down. This was the brutality of combat that he came to revel in.

“We need to retreat, my liege.” Shouted a junior officer from the 19th Citadel Guard Battalion from behind the cover of rubble as he sprayed several shots toward the breach the Koghiran came in through. “There’s too many of them. We need the Silverwings to guard the Keep.”

“I will command the Sentinels, warrant officer. The Keep is defended well enough from any threat. You should place greater faith in Lord Codax. We need our men here to contain these breaches. If they create a large enough hole in our defense, they won‘t even need to win the main gate.”

“But sir,” the man interjected, “The Bour-dume have launched several aerial strikes against its walls. Some of them are even crashing their fighters into the tower. They need support!”

The Prince lifted the meager warrant officer from the ground single handedly by the lapels of his collar and flared with rage. His glowing emerald eyes seemed to cut straight through the warrant officer, drilling fear into the soldier’s heart. Some said that Prince Aerthon was touched by madness, his passion and devotion capable of carrying him far over the edge. The soldiers under his command had a certain respect for it, but when turned against them it brought them dread.

“My father turned his back on these people and holed himself in his fortress in fear. It is he who should be leading our brothers against these dogs. Their fliers are no danger to the depths of the Keep. My father is safely guarded, I assure you. But if you must flee to the safety of the Keep, then I will let you live with your spinelessness. I wouldn’t want a coward under my command, so please don’t let me deter you. My duty is to safeguard the citizens of the Citadel. That is what I will do with my men!”

Just as Aerthon was about to release the man, a sudden blunt force came upon the Prince and sent him crashing into an adjacent wall. The officer who had seconds ago wanted nothing more than to escape from his leader was now wishing nothing more but for him to still be at his side. The nine foot tall beast towered over the young man, its jaws gaping open revealing foot long tusks and rows of razor sharp fangs with the stench of human flesh and blood on the grizzly beast’s breath. In its right hand it held a crude hammer no smaller than the soldier himself capable of reducing him to a smear on a wall, but this particular Koghiran had drained itself in the heat of battle and was in need of sustenance that a blow from the hammer would not reward. The Koghiran’s maw descended quickly on the young man, its jaws wrapping around the man’s neck and locking him tightly within its grasp. The soldier hadn’t even the time to scream from the agonizing pain before the beast’s bite severed the man’s head from the rest of his body. But the meal was not enjoyed.

Bombardments from above began to rain down on the Citadel showering the alien menace in a rain of fire and plasma, and destroying everything in its path. The Koghiran warrior looked up just in time to see hundreds of attack fighters descending from six cruisers and a massive dreadnaught which was eclipsing Lorkhan’s sun. The beast could see the heavy weapons fire raining down on his position from above. He dropped his hammer to the ground and beat his chest, relinquishing a final war cry as he accepted his imminent death. The hail of blasts tore through the entire slums, halting the Koghiran’s offensive with explosive blasts that ripped everything in the district apart, the Silverwing Sentinels included.

The Veltar were the finest aviators in the ISA systems. Though the enigmatic elven race were tree dwellers on their home world, it happened to be the intense co-ordination of navigating a flight craft through their dense sprawls of towering woodland that earned them their talents. Their hyper sensitive nature, logical judgment, and lighting fast reflexes hadn’t hurt their reputation either. It had been their space fighters that helped win the frontier for the council and the Alliance in ages past, and children from planets all over were told of their magnificent aircraft that flew through the sky finer than any bird from the realms of man. For the troops on the ground desperate for a miracle, the Veltar were an unsuspected sight, but they were more than welcome as the many soldiers and fighter pilots hailing the newcomers had clearly shown.

“Citadel Defense, this is Admiral Kutaan, commander of Veltar One and Aktiaon Interceptor Fleet. Requesting permission to air drop support troops surrounding Citadel Keep.”

“Admiral Kutaan, this is Knight Marshall Adrius Mendil, glad to see you drop in! That’s a negative on air drops surrounding Citadel. Repeat, that’s a negative. We will need that support at the Eastern Gate Complex.”

“Understood, Knight Marshall. Our flight craft will focus on air to ground attacks in that sector.”

Admiral Kutaan made the motion to his communications officer to cut the transmission. The Veltar did so without question and awaited the order he instinctively knew would await next.

“Locate the source of that transmission.” Kutaan demanded.

“Sir, we have Knight Marshall Adrius Mendil located at a military fortification built into the western wall.” The communications officer replied, having already completed the trace of the signal during the conversation.

“Drop support into Citadel Keep anyway. Order the men to kill anyone who tries to stop them. Bring Zulaar Eta and Yulak Ned squadrons over to the Eastern Gate Complex as the Knight Marshall requested. I want our stealth ships concentrated on Marshall’s command center. He is to be terminated. Discreetly.”

“Sir!” the communications officer acknowledge as he tapped in a sequence of orders into the Veltari network.

“And get our scout ships to find the boy.” Kutaan added. “If he is alive, terminate him.”

And so it seemed as the Shadasaar skyfighters of the Veltar cut through the night, sweeping down on the Koghiran waves with aerial firepower, and swatting the Bour-dume Air-rak out of the sky like flies, that the Citadel was now completely on the winning end of the siege. No one would suspect that twelve strange oblique pods shot through the walls of Citadel Keep, deploying the old Inter-system’s finest covert teams into the halls of the Executor’s home. The Veltar agents blended in with the shadows and moved quickly toward their target, a security systems hub that would allow the Bour-dume entry into the Keep from an archaic underground drain system. Lord Thoron Codax’s front and rear defenses would never suspect an infiltration from below. Knight Marshall Mendil would never expect the treachery of the Veltar either, for three Niaari ghost ships had already uploaded a terminal virus that would corrupt the controls of the Bour-dume command cruiser. One of the Bour-dume’s poorly piloted airships crashing into the command structure wouldn’t raise any questions in an aerial battle that had already seen dozens of kamikaze attacks. The Veltar were here to bring victory to the Citadel. Or only so it seemed.