NationStates Jolt Archive

"Its beautiful isn't it? look at all of these vessels flying in perfect formation...its like something you would see in the old Hellespontos war footage. But of course, on a far larger scale." Admiral Fletk turned his gaze towards his old friend and second officer, Tirrel Kaladedalah and said "Quite, first of all you wouldn't see so many battleships in a defensive operation like the Hellespontos war was." Tirrel laughed, "Yes, quite...these LRR, I remember hearing about them some where but I can never quite place it. They've been to Mars before yes?" Flekt snorted "These 'Lunatic Retard Robots' as they call themselves actually aided us against Tor Yvresse" Tirrel interrupted "Then why are we doing this?" Flekt cocked an eye at his friend "Let me finish...as I was saying, they aided the Coalition against Tor Yvresse but when Melkor made their appearance on the field of honour...these pigs turned tail and ran. Ol' Long Tooth* would've loved to see this day." Tirrel looked down at the Earth with a look of superiority and contempt "Hah, these Earthers have no heart for war obviously...This ones for Ol' Marduk then Commander." Flekt nodded, "Carry on Captain, she's your ship." Tirrel clicked his heels in salute and turned sharply to face the front of his bridge. "Prepare charges, 10 Megaton Anti-Matter, Ringo-twoo-niner." knowing by heart the Aumanii WMD codes, the gunnery crew lay down three, ten megaton anti-matter warheads "Crew, prepare firing solutions." once more, the crew went to task. Taking estimated locations of LRR city centers and typing them into the computer, meanwhile helmsman entered course corrections into the AUSD Ragnaroks flight computers. All was ready for the onslaught, there was no going back. Admiral Flekt put his hand on Tirrel's shoulder "Good work comrade, I'll take it from here." Flekt stepped forward and spoke clearly and concisely, "Comm's, please record this following message, jam out all LRR communications and replace it with the following." Flekt adjusted his tunic and spoke once more in a commanding voice, "Citizens of the LRR, hear my words for they may be your last. Your government is composed of cowards, liars and scoundrels. They brought this upon you by supporting an unjust war in the Raumreich. Never forget, you pitiful scum that we are your masters." with that Flekt made a motion to cut transmission. Tirrel, seeing the cue from his Commander bellowed the order "Fire!" Three of the sturdiest vessels in the Battlegroup fired in unison, unleashing death upon the thickly populated landscape of the LRR. Flekt nodded to his second officer in appreciation. "That went smoothly. Now please Mr. Kaladedelah, lead us out of here." Tirrel clapped his hands together "You heard the Admiral, prepare for transit, waypoint, 'Freehold'."

OOC:

Well, There is a history lesson in there for people who dont know ICly why my nation hates the LRR so much...pitiful cowards who ran at the first sign of real combat.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v361/Auman/Battlegroup2.bmp

There's a link to a picture I rendered, if you want an idea of want the battlegroup looked like.

Stargent Jay Hawks sat in the crowded briefing room, looking around nervously at his friends. They'd been shoved into this little square room that hadn't been used since the War on DOL. He had a suspicion that this had something to do with Auman, namely because the officer up front was trying to understand exactly what they were supposed to be doing. A few Strikers (OOC: Black ops units) were looking surly over in the corner. One of them was Officer Alex Watt. The air was nervous. The officer spoke.

"Right, listen up. You can be sure a hell of a lot of others are recieving this briefing, but don't look too shocked just yet. I'll make it pretty clear straight off: Auman is at war with LRR. They're on Earth. We're Auman's ally. We're on Earth. Can I make it any more obvious?"

The troopers suddenly looked worried. They knew exactly what this meant.
"That's right. SR is at war, once again. At this moment, 100,000 of you are being briefed on the situation. The rest of the military are only recieving memos. The reason? When it's hammer time, you're going to be the first out there. It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow. But it'll be coming soon."

A picture of the Aumanii battlegroup flipped onto a view screen.

"This here is teh Aumanii battlegroup-" Hawkins looked up in interest "-right before using a WMD... or at least I think it was-" several people looked over, including the Strikers in the corner "-on LRR. Ladies and Gentlemen, we're the first ones in. Get your shit together and sit down while we wait for more orders by Auman."

At a military airfield over in Area Theta, deep inside the SR Military Zone...

SR pilots prepared to board their recon aircraft, old, aging HAWK fighters. They were small, and left over from some war that nobody would ever write a book about. They carried only enough weapons to defend themselves. Their main weapon: a digital camera.

Pilot James "Shrike" Field and Wingman David "Falcon" Henson were briefed on their objectives. Their mission was to wait until a few days after the strike had calmed down, then fly over and see what the hell was going on out there. It was definately a dangerous mission, one that could be really, really bad if it went wrong. But it was requried: SR didn't want to hit the area going in blind, so to speak.

In the officer of Commandant Soldant
"We haven't seen a good war in years..." sighed Soldant, slowly looking up from a newspaper announcing SR's involvement. "We're fighting for our allies, versus a nation we've never even heard of... I hope to God that Auman knows what they're doing, and will watch over us from the skies above." The Military minister shifted slightly on his feet. "Well Sir, that's what our recon mission hopes to determine. We'll just have to see what happens. Remember that Auman is relying on us; we're the Earth forces. We're the natives, so to speak, and we know our planet."

Soldant sighed and looked at the globe. "Indeed. And that's why we'll fight."

Hattian Battleship Spirit of the Revolution

"Admiral Kerensky, we've detected an Aumanii fleet attacking LRR on Earth. Kerensky sighed and stroked his beard. "Damned fascists. Call up the fleet, move us nearer to the Aumanii's. LRR is our ally and I am sure a declaration of war will come soon. Begin charging the Ion cannons."

Hundreds of ships of the Hattian Battlefleet 4 activated their engines and began drifting silently through the emptiness of space towards the Aumanii fleet, while fighters and bombers swarmed around them like flies. Led by the gigantic Revolution class battleships, the Aumaniis would soon learn of the fury of the enraged proletariat.

Aboard the Alarin class Command ship M'lord, we have detected a large Hattian fleet approaching the Aumanii one. Very well, hail the Aumanii and set the course, we shall not allow the Hattian scum to interfere with our plans. And make sure the Divine Dragon is ready for combat.

Sol System, Somewhere near Jupiter
Corsica Station was a backwater by the standards of the People's Navy, even though it was near Jupiter. While classified as a fortress, the station was smaller than a Defender, and most nations would classify it merely as a large weapons platform. Nothing exciting ever happened here, it's purpose was simply to provide a base for the Sol detachment of the People's Navy, a squadron of destroyers that provided escorts for Verniian freighters and allied shipping. The last thing of excitement that had happened was when Erewohn hurled asteroids into Mars orbit. Currently the base was commanded by a commodore who didn't really care about his duties, and viewed the base as exile from Gregor. Daily life was dull, regulations were loose, and generally nothing important happened. Today though, that changed.
---
Captain Stover, commanding officer of VNS Sydney, strode into Commodore Hunter's office on Corsica.

"Commodore, there's something on the news networks you might want to take a look at. Auman attacked LRR."

"They did? Finally, something interesting on the news." Commodore Hunter hurried over to the bulkhead of his office, turning on a holovid, and began eagerly listening to the network.

"Sir?"

"What is it?"

"I'd like your permission to take the squadron out on a preparedness test."

"Sure. Go ahead."

Stover saluted and walked out, a smile on his face.
---
The eight small and old Turbulent destroyers formed up into formation as they moved away from the station. "Targetting calculations finished Captain."

"Good, reconfigure missiles for planetary bombardment and fire."

The small ships wheeled around to present their broadsides in the direction of Mars. Missiles spat from their tubes, followed by another salvo thirty seconds later. The missiles tore across space at 95,000 Gs of accel, cutting out at 130 seconds of accel, saving their remaining fifty seconds of power for last minute course corrections and evasions.

Sixty-four missiles now hurtled through space at just under .25c. Each carried a thirty megaton warhead in it's nose. The missiles had been fired at the right moment that when they arrived, the nation of Auman would be facing toward them. The trip would take just over two hours from firing to impact.

OOC: Whether they get through or not is up to you. Given that they will be radiating very little power right up to last minute course corrections, they'd be hard to spot with just passives. The warheads are programmed for airburts, and I'm not aiming at anything in particular on the ground, just a general bombardment.

Admiral April West finished reading Wazzu’s Executive’s ‘memo.’ “Damnit!” She said aloud, “That woman is going to be the death of us. The Aumanis launch an attack like that and she wants us to stand off alert? Like hell!”

In a vid on the background, SNN was showing live footage of riots in Wazzu. “Rios has been hiding from the universe since the day she took office, she can’t even keep her country in order. What makes you think she can keep international peace by having us stand fast?”

West’s secretary didn’t answer her tirade, and the youthful looking Admiral softened her face. “I’m sorry,” she almost laughed to herself, “talk about killing the messenger, eh? It’s not your fault Jim.

“Look, she may be the political head, but for now I am the military head of what she considers the ‘Human Protectorate.’ There is too much violence going on for us to sit by and doze. Get a message out to the Commodores to put their commands in ready alert now. I don’t want to be caught with our pants down.”

Without speaking, the secretary bowed and took off to carry out instructions, leaving Admiral West to long for her fighter jockey days. Life was so much simpler then.


EDIT: The amount of reaction mass it takes even a comparibly small object to reach a quarter of C is quite high, and it is quite a lot to burn over 130 seconds. Consequently, several extremely bright, sun-like anamolies were EASILLY detected heading insystem from Juipiter.

Observers abounded, reports were made and filed...and at least in Wazzu, files were lost in the jumble of activity bombarding the nation undergoing forced reconstitution. Anomolies were common, especially in the Sol System. What preoccupied Wazzu mind would even think such a thing would be trouble in the future?

Aboard the AUSD Ragnarok:

"Admiral, sensors have detected several vessels on attack vectors." chimed the sensor officer. Admiral Flekt simply stared at his dataslate, which displayed the scene of carnage that had just played out. "Captain, please order the fleet to engage SLT drives immediately...Martian orbit if you will."
"Aye Captain." said Tirrel softly. The mood on the bridge had gone from one of excitement to that which most in the Aumanii Navy would admit, shame. A shameful act had just transpired. "There has been enough death for today, enough killing. Lets save this for tomorrow." The fleet suddenly exploded forth into high Martian orbit and even as the sensors took their time to re-orient themselves the crew of the Ragnarok could feel a sense of urgency around them. "Lord Admiral, Iam recieving a transmission from Vascilian HQ, they are deployment orders." "Thank you ensign" replied Admiral Flekt as he read the new orders on his dataslate. The Admiral cleared his throat and spoke once more, "Apparently the Vernii have assets in this system. We are to join the 7th, 4th and 15th fleets and engage them. 9th, 11th, 3rd and 6th fleets will remain in the Martian system to defend the homeland. We (the 1st) will lead the assault force." Flekt looked down suddenly, his attention brought to him by his vibrating dataslate. "Scratch that" he said clippedly "Aumanii assault group shall meet with Tannelornian fleet elements and intercept incoming missile salvo and engage enemy assets in force. Further Vascilian support will be called in...information will be despatched at a later date." Admiral Flekt called his prime officers to the map room when he was finished his adress. They stepped into the darkly lit, stale smelling chamber and as they did so a holographic projection filled it. The outer asteroid field was pictured along, as well as the locations of allied military vessels, civilian shipping, known and suspected pirate hide outs and most importantly the estimated trajectory of the incoming salvo, based upon outlying early warning devices and friendly ship sensors. The Prime Officers took a moment to study the projection, noting that the fleet would be in position to defend in a matter of minutes. The gunnery officer, Jarlo Yimanek coughed slightly, no look of concern on his face "Sir, this should be a piece of cake...the amount of guns we have on hand and the amount of warning, unless these things have some sort of trick to them." several other officers gave signs of approval, many of them have dealt with situations like this before. "Aye, I agree with you...this attack was poorly planned I think, mainly just trying to divert our attentions elsewhere, or force us into battle on the homefront, diverting resources, etc..." Flekt paced slightly, looking towards the incoming salvo with interest. "I would still like to send an advance fighter screen to investigate and widdle down the size of that swarm. Better safe than sorry." "Sir, permission to speak sir?" asked the sensor officer, Rika Jiseh, a female operator fresh from the academy. "Permission granted...though, you dont have to rest on such formalities with me, none of these bastards do!" the all laughed at that. "Thank you sir. The enemy may be deploying some sort of an Electronic Counter Measure to fool our sensors...they may be closer than they look, possibly on a different axis, not ever there or may'be phased as unlikey as that is." Flekt looked interested "So what do you suggest comrade?" Jiseh pursed her lips together and shrugged, "Get there faster? we need to get closer to get a better picture...the sooner we're there the more time we'll have to find out whats going on and plan for it." The Admiral nodded "Inform the engine room to increase power to the engines." Flekt spoke at the ceiling, and a crackled response came back from the intercom. "Well then, I believe that is all...shall we?" Flekt motioned towards the bridge and the group filed out of the planning chambers.

"Inform the 7th and 15th fleets to form up with the 1st and 4th in 'intercept, wolfpack' formation, we cant have any unexpected guest's" the comm's officer gave a brief acknowledgement and within seconds the fleets began to shift into position. Three waves of fighters were sent to investigate the approaching salvo. Minutes later reports came filtering back, "High yield, WMD." "Well I guess that answer's that." said Flekt, knowing that, at least in his experience, that most conventional high yield weaponry was not outfitted with any strange counter measures. "Prepare all ordinance for intercept if you will Mr. Yimanek, inform the fleets of charge and firing solution's." Yimanek gave out a curt 'aye' and went about his arithmatic. "Firing solution achieved Admiral, ready on your mark." Flekt looked to his second, Captain Kaladedalah who, with a smirk gave the order. "Fire!" Space lit up as it was filled with dozens of bright beams and engine flares. Intercept missiles and Energy cannon filled the path of the on coming swarm in a crossfire, wreaking havoc on the weapon systems. "Flank units stay on stand by" said Jiseh calmly, the order was relayed through Yeoman to the Comm's officer and finally to the fleet. The ships guns took a moment to recycle and while they were doing so the flanking fleets fired on the swarm of missiles and it went back and forth as such for 15 minutes. Admiral Flekt calmly asked his Comm officer to despatch another wave of fighters to check on the progress of the advancing enemy threat and report any success.

OOC:

God damned space combat...

IC:

The populace looks to the sky in confusion and surprise. While LRR support of Vernii was news, people didn't think it would warrant a huge conflict. And news will not reach the fleet, spread across the galaxy, for several weeks traveling by sub-etha.

The major cities are flattened, and casualties reach in the millions. Nearly the entire government is wiped out, but since there was really never any government in the first place, this is not too much of a problem. However, ABM defenses manage to protect most of the rest of the country. Fortunately, only 50% of the LRR population lives on earth, so there is a cap to how many people can die. Coming in from the coast, the population density of LRR drops sharply to something akin to mongolia, and in this remote landscape, the LRRMFs regroup and prepare their defense. Defensive structures are manned, and anti-orbital cannons put on-line.

LRRN missile boat squadrons, decimated by the initial attack, still manage to make a good showing along with corvettes and submarines. The LRR EDF had been mostly destroyed, except for two light cruisers and a handful of frigates, the beneficiaries of better-than-average camoflauge.

Of course, there is still great confusion. A message is sent to the Aumanii fleet which reads something like "WTF, mate?"

The WMD attack destroyed almost no LRRMFs establishments, and the majority of the casualties are civillians.

When the fleet hears about this in several weeks' time, not only hospital ships will come into the battle.

But the thing about the LRRSF is that they don't go berserk. It is essential that whatever the outcome, the LRRSF has a moral victory on its side. So the LRRSF will not attack Auman proper. Any Aumanii ships found to be carrying military goods will be returned to Auman proper or evacuated and then destroyed.

OCC: Perhaps we could RP the interception of one of your freighters by an LRRSF cruiser.

IC:

That's what seperates the LRRSF from other fleets...they carry no hatred of the enemy. If you kill 100 million LRR, they won't do the same to you. They, unlike other navies, seem to have a strong code of moral conduct.

"General, I understand that Rios wants you to stand down too, but do you really think that is wise? We've already seen high-yield attacks on Earth and Mars. This conflict threatens to drag us in, we need to be ready."

"Admiral West," the general responded, "Your safe from imediate reprocussions up there in orbit. But down here, I have to look out for my people. We are already dealing with riots, we don't need a coup accusation from on high either."

"That woman is the coup leader." West blurted out. But she understood what the old General was saying. He was a wise man. If Rios could blame someone else for a coup attempt, someone high, it would shift attention off her 'constitutional changes.'

The general ended the short silence. "I'm sorry Admiral, my hands are tied isolating the riots under direct instruction from Chief Rios. I can't do anything, but I hope I'll have your support in keeping Wazzu safe."

The two nodded at each other and the link cut. And that was it.

That was Admiral Wests answer. General Makua wouldn't be able to do anything personally, but he would be sure one of his subbordinates 'rebeled' and kept the defenses secretly online anyway. It would be West's job to keep that poor officer safe if Rios came crashing down.

Now, just to get talking to the Cytherea, Asgard, and Elysium commands....

The report came late to Admiral West. Damnit she thought, You’d think Tachyon streams would allow commanders to get information as it happens! But she could see why the report had taken time.

The Aumani were all over what appeared to be a large number of C-fractional objects on a collision course with Mars…for the time still out of Wazzu reach. But it was their origin that was interesting.

West typed a few quick commands and set a FTL link to a Juipiter gas mining station garrison. A sleepy face under a mess of hair answered, the local commander must have been asleep.

“Lieutanant Johnson.” The man’s eyes widened with recognition, “I have a career opportunity for you.”

A short Tri-D and briefing later, the Lieutanant and Admiral resumed their discussion. “LT,” she said it as ‘ell-tee’, “We’ve also intercepted some Aumani transmissions. As soon as they are finished clearing up those C-fracs,” lets hope they clear them all before they hit she thought, “the same group has orders to hit the originating station. That gives you a little time, a little time, to get there first.”

“Get there first Ma’am?” LT Johnson asked.

“This little war has gone past war and into murder, this could be a first step in stopping that. Using your limited resources and limited time, I want you to capture that station before the Aumani get there. If you can do that, I’ll have the RIRG and some excess fleet elements there to back you up, and a meritorious rank.”

Lieutanant Johnson gulped visibly, but it was Admiral West who spoke again. “LT, there are many officers who dream of a chance like this. Listen to your people and lead them well. I have confidence in you.”

“Thank you Admiral.” He spoke up, and she cut the link.

West sighed. There was a chance to stop this…and it was up to a young, timid officer assigned to a distant post with minimal resources and time closing in fast. Would he fumble or would he step up to the plate and become a hero? Or would the universe conspire against him and allow the Aumani to arrive first…or something worse..?

******

Somewhere in orbit around Juipiter, emergency klaxons blared in a small gas-mining facility. A contingent of troops gathered for a short briefing, boarded a few modified fighteres and launched. Escorted by “low-cost” light fighters, they dropped into Juipiters atmosphere and dissappeared into the clouds. Their approach to the Verniian Corsica Station would be hidden for at least part of the trip.

"Admiral? Sensor data coming in from Kaeneian relays around Europa... A Vernii station there just chucked a bunch of kinetics at Mars."

Admiral Wick looked up and sighed.

"Why do people insist on throwing stuff at Mars? It would be like randomly ortillerying Earth..."

"Aumanii assets are responding as well so it should be cleared up."

"Ok - feed Aumanii command the sensor data and feed it to the planetary defense batteries in case anything gets through. Oh - and include a note to the Aumanii to check their targets a bit more carefully next time."

Wick turned back to his console and sighed - there had been the hope that Auman's entrance to MIDAS would mute their rash tendencies. Apparently they would have to keep a better eye on their ally.

Rage no longer even described the emotions pulsating through Reynard Adonis', Lord Marshal of the Sol System Protectorate Zone, veins as his eyes stab utter hatred out of the viewports of the HMS Fearless, the Penrod the Great-class dreadnought that carries the flag of the Sol System Task Force.
Klaxons blare across the Fearless as general quarters and battle stations are sounded across the ship, and its companion warships in the SSTF. Adonis has completely removed the SSTF from Mars, bothering only to transfer a few additional LACs to supplement planetary defenses. The eight dreadnoughts, sixteen battleships, eight battlecruisers, one super-carrier, two carriers, twenty heavy cruisers, twenty-five light cruisers, and thirty destroyers forming the SSTF are now roaring out of the Mars planetary system toward the Belt and on to Jupiter. Adonis gives no regard to borders, traffic patterns, or cargo containers as his war fleet moves to complete a vendetta against the Verniian forces in Sol.
"Sir, response from ISSSF headquarters in orbit over Jupiter. They politely decline-," the comm officer never finishes.
"Tell them that if they do not respect the rights granted to me by His Majesty and the High Command per General Order Seventeen in regards to the Raumreich War that the next place I stop after eradicating the Proles from existence will be there station and it will be to summarily execute the lot of them using my bare hands!"
"....Yes, My Lord."
A few minutes later, Adonis has his response. Besides the SSTF now moving to intercept from Mars, five ISSSF heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, nine frigates, and four destroyers are moving to head off the Verniians as well. Murder is the only thing on Adonis' mind as he broods on the bridge of the Fearless. Too often the Verniians have shamed his command, shamed his honor, and disregard his laxity regarding their presence in Sol. That will end now.

As the missiles streaked towards Mars the Badbaltrias Network launched all it's fighters heading to intercept any that strayed of course and appeared to head towards a nation not involved in the conflict. However it was clear they let any others pass, any heading towards a MIDAS Nation.

Official Statement

It is the decision of the council that as the Auman forces where the first to deploy weapons of Mass Destruction in this conflict that the MIDAS nations bring onto themselves any similar response while they continue to condone the actions of their member state. It is for this reason that we officially annouce an embargo on all goods from Nations involved in this conflict for the duration of this conflict or until such time as approiate action and censor is leveled against the people of Auman. And until the MIDAS alliance gives us clear evidence as to it's future intention to not begin a WMD war in the future. Whichever result comes last.

It is fortunate for the LRR defenses that the Aumanii fleet is drawn away, because they are in no shape for combat. The few ships which had managed to escape destruction are employed in picking up escape pods and radiation cleanup operations.

Several bogeys are detected in LRR airspace, but are dismissed as essentially harmless. Hawk fighter wings remain on the ground (what a coincidence, my fighters and yours, SR, are named the hawk).

Soon the energy of the LRRMFs is funneled into rescue and cleanup operations, since it doesn't look like anything else will come of things.

Meanwhile, the first few LRRSF ships hear news of the attack. Before long, a trickle of cruisers and frigates arrives in the Gregor system. The cruisers are the newest LRR class, and are a marked improvment upon the older ones. They carry old Super Acolyte fighters, but the V mark, the recent version, is such a brute that it can still handle anything.

Of course, there's still hope for peace. They don't want to fight- they want to explore, which is what the LRRSF spends most of its time and resources doing.

A message is sent to the Aumanii government:

You have acted in a most cowardly fashion, heavy-handed and grossly inappropriate. You struck us in a way that we could not match and killed mostly innocent civillians. This cannot be condoned, but we do not want any more killing on our behalf. We are open to a peace agreement and hope that this sol system front can be closed quickly.

However, we ask that the perpetrators of this mass murder be turned over to an international war crimes tribunal.

But as things now stand, all Aumanii vessels are subject to search and seizure if they enter LRR space or approach an LRR station, trading vessel, or other establishment, in accordance with united nations resolutions.

OK everyone, form up, we're headed uptown the message came via directional laser, a computer controlled component to the 3RLIDAR system. And then the clouds gave way.

Empty space lay ahead of Ensign Baley's fighter as it climbed out of Juipiter's gravity well at it's maximum 20 gravities. Corsica Station was in high enough orbit that it could not be seen with the unaided eye at this point, but subsentient AI rendered graphical representations showed the station clearly enough. No doubt Baley and his group would be visible to them in much the same way now.

"They are going to see us boss." Baley LIDARed to his squad...those who got long assignments far from home didn't tend to be the most disiplined of soldiers...or pilot/navigators.

"Roger that 5, lets get jammin' all!" It was by mutual consent that even those higher on the chain of command kept things loose, it helped the rogues work together...it kept the stress down.

So it was just after all 18 craft left the obscuring Jovian atmosphere that they began trying to jam...sensors. Communications were left untouched in an attempt to hide the exact trajectories of the oncomming sortie.

But should the sensors actually be jammed, it would have been long enough to see what was comming.

Five remarkably tiny and low-mass fighters broke the clouds first at a full 20g's, followed by three more escorting eight atmospheric mining ships at 5 gravities, and two more of the tiny fighters lagging behind, accelerating at only 2g's. The differences in acceleration quickly broke up the tight formation.

In his fighter at the front, Ensign Baley hoped that only static filled the screens of the station...and that it's 4 destroyers were still comfortably far away. If not, this could become a bumpy ride indeed.

However lazy and poorly trained Corsica's sensor crews were, it's computers couldn't help but notice the small craft accelerating towards it from Jupiter's atmosphere. Point-defense computers had never seen the type of fighters before, and lumped them into the same threat category as missiles. Lights blinked on stations all throughout the tactical section, and finally the tac officer noticed, and pressed the "Engage" button.

Hatches opened on the exterior of the station, and three counter-missiles shot out, programmed to ram their enemy with their wedges. PD laser clusters swiveled in their mounts and began firing.

The throne room in the Imperial Palace has been cleared of most its occupants as news reaches Gustav Alderman II of the actions of the Aumanese and the responses by the international community. The majority of the Imperial Court has been ushered out by Imperial Sovereign Protectors, and the throne room has been sealed. Now Gustav II stares down on the remaining intimates and high officials standing on the massive lion's head crest of House Alderman worked into the room's marble floor in gold.
The occupants of the room are Prime Minister Duke Leo Sterling, First Minister of Foreign Affairs Lady Diedre Rolt, Second Star Lord Grossadmiral Sir Daniel Trisdant, Grossgeneralfeldmarschall of Proxima Centauri Baron Michael von Vanderstein, Director William Pickering of the Ministry of External State Security, and finally Princess Josephine Alderman, Gustav II's sister. Besides the small group are also twelve Sovereign Protectors, four Myrmidons, and three of Gustav II's personal hands.
"I will not suffer the actions of LRR, Tor Yvresse, or Five Civilized Nations purely because of Aumanese indiscretion,"[i] Gustav II's says in German.
[i]"Your Majesty," Sterling says, "perhaps we should condemn the Aumanese actions in this war, distance ourselves from them and appeal to the nations taking action that we did not know what they intended. We could seek to remain free of this dis-."
Gustav II silences Sterling with a raised hand, "Nein, Duke Sterling. I will not condone the actions of the Aumanese, but I will not openly condemn them either. I will not look weak at this critical junction in Valinon's history. We are the Valinor and we bow to no one."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Lady Rolt? Gustav II says turning to the recently ascended successor of the deceased Count Viktor Leopold.
"Your Majesty?""
"Contact the government of the Five Civilized Nations. Tell them we will not intervene if they seek action against Auman, but any action against our own military or the other members of the alliance will be interpreted as an act of war and will be met with due and proper force. Send a message to Tor Yvresse expressing my displeasure over their own actions in regard to this matter. And finally a letter of condolence to the LRR, but impress on them we will not tolerate any action against our own forces or those of our other allies."
"It will be done, Your Majesty."
"Josephine?"
"Ja, Gustav?" Josephine says, sadism and murderous glee filling her eyes as she radiates pleasure at what she knows is coming.
"Contact Hegemon Ansel," Gustav II says. "If the Five Civilized Nations, the LRR, or Tor Yvresse will not yield on this matter we will deal with them as we did the WIckians."
Josephine rises from her smaller throne a step below her brother's a hand brushes his arm as she moves to leave and commune with one of the most vile men in the Raumreich.
"The rest of you," Gustav II says in a harsh whisper, "get out."
In a few minutes Gustav II is left alone, only a pair of Sovereign Protectors remain at the door. His palsm clasp around the Throne of the Twin Suns' armrests, and eyes are half-closed as he considers his next move.

HNSC Spirit of the Revolution

"Admiral, all stations are prepared for contact, we only await your order. Current sensor readings show the Aumanii fleet is quite formidible." The man pressed a button, and a 3 dimensional hologram appeared in front of Kerensky showing the Aumanii fleet and all ships within sensor range. "They are currently engaging long range WMDs detected towards Mars. We haven't yet recieved a message that war has been declared, so it is still possible this could have a peaceful resolution." Kerensky nodded and shifted in his seat. He then pointed at the hologram, "Are we within weapons range?" The man shook his head, "Just outside of range."

Kerensky stroked his chin thoughtfully. He then pressed a button, opening up a communication channel with the Aumaniis...

Greetings from the Soviet Socialist Republic of Hattia. I am Star Admiral Kerensky of the Hattian People's Space fleet. We request that you turn over those responsible for the attack on our allies in LRR. War can still be averted, but it is your call.

Space is the mother of all vacuums. Where even between stars, some particulate matter exists, and solar winds are present nearer stars, the lack of air doesn’t just affect animals. Without air, without some reflective index, the laser becomes a terrible weapon, and invisible killer that due to it’s incredible speed, is undetectable until it strikes….

Something flashed on the nose of Ensign Barley’s fighter, a multi-hued rainbow as light reflected and refracted in the Drake’s outer lining of clear armor. In the moment it took for him to realize what it was, some of that armor evaporated…doing its purpose by taking some of the energy away from the hull.

“SHIT!” The word poured over the squad-com as Barley pulled instinctively into evasive maneuvers. You couldn’t really see a laser coming, or where it was being aimed, but you could at least make yourself harder to hit by being unpredictable.

As the others in his sub-squad took his cue and went evasive, the young Ensign jacked into his AI without permission. The universe expanded.

What was once blips on his screens were now represented in his mind, in full 3D, multi-spectrum, all-round vision of the sort the mind was not physically capable of handling. It was thanks only to that AI becoming a part of his brain that he was able to perceive it all, and it was the reason that permission was strictly required before plugging in. Neural links were extremely addicting, to the point of causing mental instability and full out insanity in addicts while they were not connected. For Wazzu, which spent huge sums of funds training a few “navigator/pilots” rather then the same training many tens of thousands, the loss of one such individual was a hard hit in the pocketbook.

But the roguish didn’t always follow procedures to the T, and Barley was now in. He still couldn’t see the lasers, nothing could overcome that physical limitation, but his movements were now more precise, and he saw the counter-missiles incoming.

What a waste he thought, and loosed three point missiles to intercept the interceptors. Wazzu didn’t have the gravity or energy storage technology of most other advanced nations, and couldn’t make gravitic missiles…it had but one option to compete. Fusion propelled, and thus warhead missile were used, and the “point missiles” were of the same type that once wiped out a Melkoran base through the Eldar web system.

The three missiles accelerated at an amazing rate, and struck the counter-missiles. The collision was barely enough to detonate them, and three bright flashes blinded sensors a moment in fusion mayhem. It was long enough for the Ensign to get in trouble.

“Damnit Barley, slow down! That’s a station, and a low budget and old one at that! Keep the points in yer pants! If anything more threatening comes by you can whip ‘em out, but low-yield weapons only on the station!”

“Awwww, common boss!” Barley replied, “How about one more past their port side, a warning shot. The jammers aren’t working, we may as well give them a moments pause!”

A rainbow glint off the squad leader’s wing convinced him. Point lasers wouldn’t do much to the tough little fighters, TransCorp had put more resources into them then most nations put into corvettes, or even frigates, but that didn’t mean he liked being shot at. “Ok 5, but you’d better miss. If you hit that station, I’m sending one of my own up your exhaust.”

Barley screamed victory in his mind, but not past his lips as he let a fourth point missile fly. The third of a meter long conical missile sped towards the station on a near collision course. As it did so, Barley listened to his squad leader’s voice over the open com.

“Corsica Station, this is Lieutenant John Wheyland of the Dominion of Wazzu. You are guilty of launching c-fractional weapons, weapons of mass murder, against population centers on Mars. Stand down and prepare to be boarded or you will be destroyed.”

Barley recognized that destruction of the station wasn’t really the squadron’s goal, but if it would keep him alive, the station didn’t have to know that….


EDIT: OOC: Information on Fusion Point Missiles (http://members.cox.net/davage/NationStates/Wazzu/Military/Weapons/FPM.html)

Private message to Gustav II

Sir while we understand that you personally did not know of the Aumans planned actions, and that nor did any of their allies in all likelyhood, you have not, any of you, condemned them for their continued aggresion, and for their attack upon the Lunatic Retard Robots civilian population. Your silence on this matter is a silent agreement with their actions, and so we must take the course we have taken. All that is needed is for you to place Embargo upon the Aumanise people and demand them to turn over the War Criminals and we shall end our own EMbargo with yourselves.

Make public the disgust you must feel for what has been done in your name, or remain silent and let that silence speak volumes about your true thoughts on the matter.

Farseer Council

End Transmission

Earth, off the LRR coast

Water sprayed and drained as the flat tops of 5 huge submarines surfaced 10 miles from shore. As they rose, men and women popped out from hatches on the deck and got to work. Larger doors also opened as elevators rose VTOL transports amidships.

Meanwhile, a transmission was sent unencoded on several open frequencies. “Attention LRR officials, this is Commodore Meson of the Wazzu Third Expiditionary Fleet, please respond. Attention LRR officials….”

The message is recieved by one of the LRRN's large trimaran command ships in the sea of Okhotsk.

"We read you, Wazzu third expeditionary fleet, over."

"LRR Authoriity, this is Commodore Meson. I bring aid and supplies under the authority of Ela Rios, Chief Board Member of the Dominion of Wazzu. I request a meeting to determine the distribution of this aid and cleanup work and to clarify the official political position of Wazzu."

"Roger that, commodore Meson. A dropship will arrive to pick you up and bring you to the RNS (Robotic Navy Ship- the new designation) Big Pink, or if you prefer to come by your own means, we are motoring at <insert coordinates here>."

The Commodore did take the unknown speakers invitation, aas the actual arrival of a dropship was a confirmation he was speaking to someone of importance rather then a local disk jocky. And so did he arrive via forign dropship, with minimal escort, on the Big Pink.

Klaxons sounded throughout the old station as it's crew went to battle stations. The spherical sidewall generators came online, weapon mounts were manned for the first time in months, and the crew readied for battle.

A counter-missile streaked out and smacked into the fusion missile, destroying both from the force of the impact. PD lasers continued tracking and firing at their targets, and counter-missiles streaked out after the fighters.

Hatches opened, and the barrels of the station's eight light cruiser grade 90cm lasers extended. The crews were wearing skin suits, since the outer compartments had their atmosphere pumped out during battle, to minimize concussions from explosions. They finished hooking up power feeds and bringing the weapons online, and stood by. Green lights lit up at the tactical stations as the weapons were ready to fire, and their officers waited for the Commodore's orders.

So it's going to be the hard way Ensign Barley thought OK then!

The order for everyone to plug in came over the network, and as thoughts touched each other through artificial communications, Barley's squad leader was only half suprised to be the first in. Barley could feel the LT's dissapointment in him, but nothing was THOUGHT towards him specifically. Instead, the general order came through, Lets have some fun.

The group refocused the effort of their electronic countermeasures wasted on the station towards the incomming missilies, which had less room for complexity...and less need in their mission to self destruct. The missiles veered off, thinking the fighters were in a place other then they were.

The fighters themselves continued to dodge, letting the AIs control the ECM while they took pot-shots with their laser boosted particle-beams at the station's exposed weaponry.

The Commodore did take the unknown speakers invitation, aas the actual arrival of a dropship was a confirmation he was speaking to someone of importance rather then a local disk jocky. And so did he arrive via forign dropship, with minimal escort, on the Big Pink.

Commodore Meson is met by a man wearing the insignia of a Vice-admiral of the Robotic Navy/Space Flotilla on a standard-issue one-piece jumpsuit.

"Greetings, Commodore Meson, I'm Vice Admiral John Bowie (guess what his middle initial is), and I'm, believe it or not, the ranking LRR military officer on the planet."

Bowie is a man in his late 30's, with a messy haircut and an overworked appearance.

Meson is brought into the bridge, which offers a good view of the surrounding coastline.

"The Aumanii attack caught us completely by surprise, and just about all the coastal cities were flattened. About 20 million people are assumed dead, with hundreds of millions more seriously hurt. We've got recovery teams working up and down the coast, with more arriving daily, but they're overworked."

Commodore Meson is met by a man wearing the insignia of a Vice-admiral of the Robotic Navy/Space Flotilla on a standard-issue one-piece jumpsuit.

"Greetings, Commodore Meson, I'm Vice Admiral John Bowie (guess what his middle initial is), and I'm, believe it or not, the ranking LRR military officer on the planet."

Bowie is a man in his late 30's, with a messy haircut and an overworked appearance.

Meson is brought into the bridge, which offers a good view of the surrounding coastline.

"The Aumanii attack caught us completely by surprise, and just about all the coastal cities were flattened. About 20 million people are assumed dead, with hundreds of millions more seriously hurt. We've got recovery teams working up and down the coast, with more arriving daily, but they're overworked."

"A tragity to be sure, we'll have to find a way to deal with the Aumani, but I'm afraid that is outside my authority.

"Wazzu is in a bit of a fit just now. I'm afraid some extrimists took offense at a reorginization of the bureaucracy. Perhaps you've heard of them? The Society for the Preservation of Humanity?

"Anyway, the racists started some riots and have moved to remove the legal government. It has been enough to stir a sympathizer to rebel, and I'm afraid our space assets are quite out of our control at the moment.

"But my assets are sea assets, and my assets are now yours. Ela Rios doesn't approve of the massacre here, and while we can't get after the Aumani for the moment, we can certainly help you. If you'll have it, I've several thousand troops standing by, ready to deploy with medical and food aid, and construction equipment to permit easier landing of more supplies.

"Of course, they will all go ashore with no more then sidearms for defense, and only anti-radiation protection, not armor. I'd be happy to send observers of yours or international red cross along with them...."

"You may fire."
"Targets confirmed, firing now."
The station's tactical officer pressed down on the firing key, and the station's rate of fire doubled as the cruiser grade weapons went into action. Other hatches opened, and two missiles, the same type the destroyers had used against Mars, were put into space, carrying kiloton range nukes with proximity triggers.

The station's sidewalls deflected or absorbed most of the fighters shots, but every now and then one would penetrate, scoring a small crater in the armor of the station.

As the rate of fire doubled, Ensign Barley wondered to himself. The briefing said the station's firepower was equal to one of their cruisers, but what was a cruiser to Wazzu? Wazzu didn't have any cruisers, and just two destroyers. It liked to concentrate its resources into smaller, more capible packages.

Take this fighter for instance, Barley's mind pondered boredly, I'm only flying a Drake, a light fighter, but mama nation put more into this baby as what is estimated the Vernii do with one of their Frigates.... And then there is the training. Because we have fewer crews, Barley grunted as he pulled a manuver barely within the ability of his inertial suit to compensate, mama nation can put twenty times the cost of training into an outcast like me as into their gunners. No wonder they can't aim.

So how is it I wonder that they think their oversized, immobile, aging, cruiser-armed station can overtake my subsquad of what to them are the equivalent of three frigates. Maybe they don't know?

Barley was getting tired of this. Awww, common boss, can't we please just get rid of this thing instead?

You know we can't, orders. But yea, I'm bored too, and we are comming up on this thing fast, lets try something else.

Plans were formed as quick as thought, and shared at lightspeed. The five fighters took on a formation, the five points of a pentagon, flat side towards the onrushing station, released countermeasures, faced outwards from one another, and lept away from each other...as to avoid ramming the station.

The countermeasures were reflective, magnetic caltraps, meant to scatter incomming light and particles and shred balistics. But whereas the fighters manuvered away from the collision course, the caltraps could not.

It was too late for the missiles as well, to which the spread, low-density pattern of the caltraps was too little for the proximity sensors.

So caltraps and deflected, fragmented parts of missiles sped towards the station as a cloud of deadly debris.

Of course, none of it was enough to pierce hull (unless there was some weak hatch or glass in the middle of all that armor), but it would pose more then just hazard to weapons barrels, open missile magazines, communications antennas, and sensor arrays vulnerably placed out of necessity on the outside of the armor. And with the gathered velocity of the fighters, there wasn't much time to do anything about it.

But in the manuver, the fighters had exposed their flat sides. Somewhat larger targets, even after an unexpected move, some took glancing blows...and poor Ensign Barley took a direct hit to one wing.

The 90cm laser burnt a hole through part of a wing, and melted and scrapped a pod carried on one of the small fighter's hardpoints. It also put a hole right through Barley's ego.

The debris and caltrops disintegrated on impact with the sidewall with flashes of light as the gravity of it ripped them apart.

Commodore Hunter was livid. "Are you telling me, that you can't hit a fucking fighter?!" he screamed at his unfortunate tactical officer.

"It's not us sir, it's our weapons. They were meant for engaging light warships, not tracking fighters. They're simply too slow."

"Damnit. What are the destroyers doing?"

"Right now they're holding station."

"Damnit, Stover is probably laughing his ass off. Get them back here, now!"
---
"Com from Corsica, Skipper. They sound pretty pissed."

Stover smiled, "As they rightfully should be, they're makin' idiots of themselves. Oh well, I guess we ought to help them out of their mess."

The eight destroyers rotated in space, bringing their bows pointing back toward the station, and began to accelerate back to it.

The five front fighters may have stripped the outcroppings of a side of the station, but they were beyond it now, as their momentum dragged them deeper into space. Each was now facing...running actually...from a fresh broadside of weapons, untouched by earlier battle. One of the fighters rolled uncontrolably for a while.

But on the now-blinded side, 8 Pascal mining ships decelerated as they approached the station.

Somewhere behind them, two small fighters throttled up their engines and ignited four accessory pods attached to their hardpoints...they reached an outstanding 60 gravities of acceleration on an interception point for the destroyers.

***TRANSMISSION***

From: The Aumanii Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Vascilia City, Auman, Mars.
To: The LRR Government equivalent,LRR, Earth.
Subject: Cease Fire.

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

"It has come to the attention of the glorious regime of Auman that the gutted nation of the Lunatic Retard Robots wishes to sign a conditional peace agreement. Firstly, the Aumanii government is obviously in the superior negotiating position and as such ignores the requests of the LRR in their entirety. Secondly, we wish to impose our own set of conditions upon the LRR. The conditions of the agreement are as follows:

-The LRR will cease all contact with the Vernii and will recall all shipping to Earth orbit.
-Said nation will submit all craft for inspection by Aumanii security forces in a most prompt and festidious manner.
-The LRR will accept Aumanii humanitarian assistance.
-The Aumanii government will be allowed to post military forces in and around the nation of the LRR until such a time as it is no longer deemed a threat.

Those are the terms of Peace, if you chose to accept them. That is all."

OOC:

Im not handing those crew's over, if you didn't realize...I have the upper hand.

Channing Ansel, Hegemon of the Ortagan Hegemony, stands in his own private Nu-space conference sim awaiting the arrival of Princess Josephine Alderman. Already Channing has given the Valinor access to the precious cache of singularity weapons, and has committed an overwhelming majority of his own realm's military resources to the Valinor led war effort. True he is being paid well enough with a virtually limitless supply of Valinor foreign aid to support the new Interim Council and his own power base, plus being granted the entirety of the Southern Raumreich as an extra addition.
Ansel turns to sweep the view he creates for himself in Nu-space. It is a barren rock of a moon with a cratered, ancient surface. On the horizon a vast aqua blue gas giant with strange gray-green rings orbits. Casting an eerie glow across the moon's surface. Ansel finds it soothing, a good thing when confronting Gustav II or his bizarre sister.
But the Master of the growing Ortagan Hegemony smiles wolfishly, with the actions of Tor Yvresse, LRR, and the nations of the ESUS he has an idea of what the Aldermans will offer. No doubt Ortaga may find its empire expanded beyond the Raumreich before he had thought if these nations persist in their war efforts.

Pilot James "Shrike" Field and Wingman David "Falcon" Henson sat in the briefing room. Field was looking around nervously, wondering what the hell was going on. Henson seemed excited. The flight officer sat up the front, looking at the maps.

"Right, here's where we're at. Aumanii is setting a cease fire with LRR... nobody said anything about SR. We're going to play the rogue nation for a while, before LRR gets knocked out. We've done a whole lot of nothing up until now, so hopefully we'll catch them with their pants down. Today we start our assault in motion. At this stage, it's aerial warfare, no ground forces just yet, or maybe never, depending on orders...."

The officer tapped away at a keyboard. The map enlarged on the screen.
"Right, your orders are as follows. It's a very basic recon mission, no fire unless you're fired upon. If they shoot, shoot back, unless you're heading out of there. Basically, you're using your shiny, new digital cameras to look for manufacturing plants, or anything relating to manufacturing. Take a picture, mark the location. Then move on."

Field stared up at the map. It seemed pretty straightforward.

"After that, fly home, fly fast. Any questions?"

Henson put his hand up. "I do sir, what about enemy resistance? Air defence? Anything like that?"

The officer looked at a trooper to his left, who was hovering around the door. He simply shrugged and walked out.

"Um... no clue. The weather might get a little rough out there. Now bugger off, we're in a war here people!"


The SR pilots raced to their aircrafts, while ground crew fooled around with various pieces of equipment. Field vaguely knew their functions... others he did not. He climed into his seat, strapping himself in with the help of his assistant, who wasn't talking. The skies looked rough. It was time for their role.

"This is BlueBell base, radio check code alpha. I say again, alpha."
"This is Echo one, check code alpha confirmed."
"Echo two, check code alpha confirmed."
"Ech-... alp-.... med."
"Bluebell to Echo Three, radio disturbence, get it checked."
"Echo four, check code alpha confirmed."

They waited for Echo 3 to have his radio set. Field and Henson waited.

"Echo three, check code alpha confirmed."

BlueBell: "Roger, taxi to respective runways."
Echo One: "Hey Falcon, you ready for this?"
Echo Three: "I reckon so Shrike..."

The aircraft accellerated and flew off into the dark, cloudly skies. Visibility wasn't the best, but it wasn't enough to call off the mission.

Echo Four: "I got a really bad feeling about this."
Echo Two: "Shut up four, we don't need any of that crap up here."
BlueBell: "This is bluebell, you're clear. Good luck out there guys."

Echo One: "Right people, keep your eyes open, we don't wanna run into any unexpected visitors out here..."

The aircraft started their flight to LRR...

On board the AUSD Ragnarok:

"Lord Admiral, I have reports from fighter wings. Skies clear." Flekt gave a brief, toothy smile. "Thank you Mr. Kaladedalah. Please inform the fleet to make way to Jupiter at full combat readiness." Flekt's second officer nodded and calmly went about his business.

OOC:

Short postz0rZ

The five front fighters may have stripped the outcroppings of a side of the station, but they were beyond it now, as their momentum dragged them deeper into space. Each was now facing...running actually...from a fresh broadside of weapons, untouched by earlier battle. One of the fighters rolled uncontrolably for a while.

But on the now-blinded side, 8 Pascal mining ships decelerated as they approached the station.

Somewhere behind them, two small fighters throttled up their engines and ignited four accessory pods attached to their hardpoints...they reached an outstanding 60 gravities of acceleration on an interception point for the destroyers.

OOC: OK, Vernii has been on since this, my last post, so I am guessing he had a chance to post but wasn't sure his people would take any other action at the moment. I admit my own post wasn't exactly exciting. So, I'm going to post again and leave him more oppertunity. Vernii, if I am incorrect in my assumption, tell me, and I'll delete the post.

"MAYDAY! MAYDAY!" Ensign Barley called out as his fighter barreled out of control and away from the station. The fighters random movements mixed with Barleys futile attempts for stability still made the craft a difficult target, but not as difficult as if he were still actually flying the wretched thing. As if the emphesize this, several parts of the craft flashed brightly in multi-colored succession as lasers evaporated chuncks of the little fighters remarkable low-density armor.

"Damnit Boss, you shoulda let me blow that wreck!" Barley called out into the darkness, "Now I gotta wait for pickup!"

"Shuddup and pay attention! You've three on yer tail!"

But there was little the ensign could do about it, his fighter was still psinning wildly as the proximity fuse of the first was tripped. Barley's canopy darkened to protect his eyes as a tiny sun lit up nearby, destroying the other two missiles.

Barley blinked as he remembere3d that the vacuum of speace did not carry concussion waves, that they got their deadlyness elseways. Instinctively, he looked down at his namebadge. It was black.

Thee downside to low density armor was singular...terrable radiation protection. Barley would die horribly within the hour.

******

The other four fighters were also still moving away from the station, allowing their momentum to get them to a higher, slower, safer orbit. But now it was time for a change. The Vernii ships were headeed back to the station, and all that stood in their way were two of their comrads accelerating in the opposite direction. The engagement would be brief.

"Alright, form up," came the command over the radio, "But watch yer backsides. That station is still a hazard at this range.

"Telemetry for new trajectory is bein sent, confirm download, we're headed for more action."

Only occassional hits glanced off the edges of the 4 fighters as they regrouped, still moving away from the station, and took on a new heading...an interception course that with the help of Juipiters gravity and a little thrust, would eventually put them on the same place and vector as the Vernii ships rather then the quicker intercept of their 2 squadmates. {{OOC: Hows THAT for a runon sentance for you?! :) ]]

******

One fighter spun wildly out of control, its pilot all but dead. Two fighters accelerated like made towards the incomming Vernii ships for what would be a quick exchange of blows. Four scarred fighters lept away from the station on a roundabout course that would eventually intercept the Vernii ships...if they did not too drastically alter course. Of the ten, that left three, three escorting the modified civilian craft towards the planet side, the blind side of the station. And like the transports, the fighters were slowing down.

"OK folks, lets light'em up!" came the word over the comm, and thereafter streams of electrons sped invisibly through space at the damaged station.

Now, its hard to make an electron beam damaging. The particles have so little mass compared to their charge that they need a long pagth, preferably a circular path to build up kinetic energy. But the small weapons of the fighters weren't designed for this. The beams wouldn't do more then scratch the paint.

No, the weapon pods were designed to put as much charge on a target's surface as possible in order to disroupt electrical systems. It was a temporary solution, the charge would eventually bleed off a station or ship's sharp points, but it could give precious time....

******

Far from Juipiter, various Wazzu ships were headed to support the assault. Without FTL drives, it would be some time before they arrived.

******

On a small mining station orbiting Juipiter, the last of the garrison's mobile defense went into high alert. The six gunboats attached to the outside of the artificial satelite were designed for truely high-velocity encounters, and so were being held in reserve durring this slow conflict...just in case anybody unexpected should show up.

OOC: OK, Vernii has been on since this, my last post, so I am guessing he had a chance to post but wasn't sure his people would take any other action at the moment. I admit my own post wasn't exactly exciting. So, I'm going to post again and leave him more oppertunity. Vernii, if I am incorrect in my assumption, tell me, and I'll delete the post.

Pretty much, I didn't have much time to post anything, and couldn't think of anything anyway.

So let me make sure I got your post right:

1.) Two fighters are coming directly toward my destroyers, and four others are taking a longer way around to intercept them.

2.) The transports and their escorts are still approaching the station, and trying to mess with it's planetside electronics with the electron beam?

The Auman peace agreement is rejected whole, and the Auman government is criticized as an immoral body interested only in causing suffering. Humanitarian assistance from Auman is laughed at. If they cared, they wouldn't have killed 20,000,000 civillians in the first place. The Aumanii military is criticized for being totally devoid of morality and honor, and for playing the bully. It is also made clear that the LRR space fleet is still almost fully intact, and the nuclear attack hit very few military facilities, limited to ABM batteries and missile boat pens. The LRR military is far from gutted, while a good deal of the civilian population is reeling from the massive casualties inflicted upon it.

(To Wazzu)

"Yes, that would be most helpful. We've already got makeshift landing beaches carved out of the cliffs here and here (Bowie points to positions on a map), and five more are unfinished. Your troops can be either airlifted in directly to the cities, or you can land them and give them some more time to make ready. Any extra hands you can muster, we can use."

"The Auman peace agreement is rejected whole, and the Auman government is criticized as an immoral body interested only in causing suffering. Humanitarian assistance from Auman is laughed at. If they cared, they wouldn't have killed 20,000,000 civillians in the first place. The Aumanii military is criticized for being totally devoid of morality and honor, and for playing the bully. It is also made clear that the LRR space fleet is still almost fully intact, and the nuclear attack hit very few military facilities, limited to ABM batteries and missile boat pens. The LRR military is far from gutted, while a good deal of the civilian population is reeling from the massive casualties inflicted upon it."

"This is a depressing turn of events, seeing as how our terms were completely reasonable. Operations against your nation will continue as scheduled and it will end 'very' poorly for you."

OOC:

Bad idea...

[[OOC: Vernii, OOC Thread (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6692527&posted=1#post6692527)]]

(To Wazzu)

"Yes, that would be most helpful. We've already got makeshift landing beaches carved out of the cliffs here and here (Bowie points to positions on a map), and five more are unfinished. Your troops can be either airlifted in directly to the cities, or you can land them and give them some more time to make ready. Any extra hands you can muster, we can use."

"Errr, I was hoping for landing pad really for...not dropships exactly, but large suborbital transports. But, we'll take what we can get."

Behind the Commodore, an aide was writting quickly on a datapad, and the information was being relayed realtime back to the fleet.

"As soon as you can find observers, we'll begin operations."

OCC: *Points to the zero moral legs that Auman has left*

Yeah it looks like you really messed up. You should have waited for that last telegram! YOU FOOL! *Slaps Auman with a herring*

Yeah, only a bit less than half the LRR population actually resides on earth, and a little less than 5% of the LRRSF resides there. You're facing mind-boggling decentralization here.

IC:

"We've already got some RN crews as observers, they'll meet up with your units once they land...or before if that's more convenient. As for large landing pads...that might be a little bit hard but we've still got a mostly intact flotilla base south of Damogran. It can handle ships up to one kilometer in length, although its facilities are, as of now, pretty spartan. We'll have mobile engineer units up there ASAP, though."

OOC:

I cant get in depth, but LRR. Ive never had any moral legs to begin with :D

"Two bogeys coming right as us Skipper."
"I see them Commander."
Captain Stover leaned back in his command chair as he studied the plot, the fighters would probably only present a minor threat to his ships, but at the moment they had a clear shot down the throat of his wedge.
"Squadron orders, bring our bows up twenty degrees."
The destroyers obeyed his commands, bringing up their vulnerable bows behind their ventral impeller wedge, and letting their velocity keep them on their current course. Of course, while they wouldn't be able to fire down his thoat if he kept the position, it also meant he couldn't fire on them until they swept past into the firing arcs of his broadside weapons.
---
The chief sensor officer pounded his fist repeatedly into his console. "Fucking piece of shit! Fuck whoever assigned us this 1st generation trash!"

Hunter arched his eyebrow quizically, and his voice carried mild annoyane. "Is there a problem lieutenant?"

"Planetside primary sensors are out, we're blind on that side."

"I'm already on it, dispatching repair teams right now." the damage control officer spoke up from his station, "Calm your ass down, it'll be a few minutes." he said, half smirking.

OOC:

I cant get in depth, but LRR. Ive never had any moral legs to begin with :D

Well, now you're down both arms.

Echo squadron was now 2/3 of the way to LRR
Echo 1: "Watch yourself here people, if things are going to go wrong, we'll hit it here."
Echo 2: "I don't understand sir...?"
Echo 1: "I'm asuming some sort of patrol will be out this far, make sure your shit is armed and report in."
Echo 2: "Roger that sir, echo 2 is prepared."
Echo 3: "Echo 3, I'm ready."
Echo 4: "Affirmative, echo 4 is go."
Echo 1: "Keep your eyes open and your mouths closed, unless you see something."

OOC: In case nobody knows, I'm on Earth here.

A wing of three Hawk fighters flies lazily on patrol, out pretty far from the main defense nets.

"Something's 'ere."
"What?"
"Small fighters, recons probably."
"Attention hostile flight, do not enter LRR airspace. Got that? Do not enter LRR airspace. Just turn around and go home. What do you even want with us anyway? Don't you think 20,000,000 people dead is enough? Sickos. Now run along home."

Echo 2: "What the hell?"
Echo 1: "Roger that, I heard it to. Bluebell, Echo reporting in. Have contact."
BlueBell: "Affirmative, maintain course."
Echo 4: "Did they just say-"
Echo 1: "You heard them, maintain course. Ignore them, but keep an eye on them."
Echo 2: "Roger that sir, holding."

The fighters continued on their present course.

Echo 2: "What the hell?"
Echo 1: "Roger that, I heard it to. Bluebell, Echo reporting in. Have contact."
BlueBell: "Affirmative, maintain course."
Echo 4: "Did they just say-"
Echo 1: "You heard them, maintain course. Ignore them, but keep an eye on them."
Echo 2: "Roger that sir, holding."

The fighters continued on their present course.

"Damnit you sick perverts! GO HOME! What do you want with us? You senseless, immoral automatons! Do you think we want to shoot you down?But if you kill anybody, it'll make me so angry...you don't even want to know! And you'll probably die too! So go home for your own sakes as much as anyone."

They had arrived, above the nation of Lunatic Retard Robots and in Orbit of Mars, the Khaine and Asuryan fleets. Launching Fighters and other craft hey entered the airspace on Earth, and sped towards the intruding vessels.

'Hostile vessels understand that as of this moment the nation of Lunatic Retard Robots is under our protection while we sort this mess out. We will make no aggresive movements nor support them should they aid military Vernii but we will not allow this continued unprovoked attack to continue'

The council had to smile as they continued down this course, to see the Yvressi people defending Mon-Keigh would doubtless confuse many people but then sometimes even the heartles do the right thing. It didn't hurt that it would confuse those who had gotten a different impression of them.

As the Vampire Class Fighter surged through the atmosphere of the planet and towards the Mon-Keigh vessels their pilots had different thoughts running through their heads, thoughts of violence and death, and each was ready to go in missiles leading the way.

With the arrival of Tor Yvresse vessels, the RSF command breathes a sigh of relief. Only a few cruisers and frigates had arrived into earth orbit, and fleets were assembling in deep space to defend mining colonies and the far-flung LRR infrastructure. Still more continue to cruise space, searching for Aumanii shipping to check. The RSF had no problem with civilian shipping, but any Aumanii military vessels would be siezed in accordance with the trade embargo. There were no star systems to defend, but there are many major bases that might be a target for Aumanii ships if they can find them.

Suddenly a squadron of twelve, skeletal Precentor drone fighters streak by the Wazzu warships headed for Corsica. The compact bundels of sensors, weaponry, engines, and a control receiver/transmitter for the parent ships AI move to support their Wazzu allies.
The bulk of the Sol System Task Force has at last cleared the Belt and is moving to engage the Verniian military forces in Sol. Adonis fleet becomes a blur of new contact signals as additional Precentors and DOS drones streak away from the ships of the task force. LACs accelerate away from their carrier bases as they move to form a forward rank before the fleet. The 111 warships of the SSTF form up in a masterful formation presenting the Verniians with their starboard broadside at a range of 1.3 million kilometers.
"Verniian fleet commander, this is Lord Marshal Reynard Adonis of the Sol System Protectorate Zone. You will be given this one, and only one, chance to surrender to my authority and resign yourselves to a prisoner of war status. If you persist in resisting and further endangering the community of Mars, I will reduce you to dust as I should have already done," the voice is cold, a icy rage filling the comm as Adonis makes his demands.
"You have three minutes."

**********

A series of Clippership-class heavy aerospace transports lift off from New Bergia and Lotus, two of Valinon's larger treaty ports on Earth. They are followed by half-a-dozen Windjammer-class sonic jets and are escorted by three flights of sleek, barb-like Needle-class modular aerospace fighters configured for long-range interception.
It is a mercy mission from the Valinor, over three months worth of medical supplies and food from the Earth treaty ports plus the infamous Cross' Light Brigade of field medics and mobile hospitals that is one of two left on Earth. They are destined for LRR proper.

As the Valinon ships near LRR, they are greeted by the sight of a large formation of Hawk fighters.

"Thanks for coming, Valinon aid force, we need all the help we can get. We'll escort you into our airspace until you can be handed over to ground-based control."

"Shit!"
That was the only sound on the bridge of Sydney as the bridge crew sat in stunned silence for ten seconds.
"Tac, fire off an energy salvo from our opposite broadside. Coms, after that, I want you to tell them we surrender."

Light energy fire shot from the opposite broadside facing away from the Valinor fleet, a salvo fired for "the honor of the flag."

"Lord Marshal Adonis, this is Captain Stover, Commanding Officer of DesRon Five of the People's Navy. We surrender."

[[OOC: Valinon, OOC Thread (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6693202&posted=1#post6693202)]]


Corsica Station

The three fighters slowed down to a crawl, and a stop, turned, and faced the blind side of the station, but did little else.

The 8 transports approached slowly and connected with a CLANGGGgggg. Not knowing the inside was evacuated, the ships decided to try and not kill anyone by keeping pressure inside. So they started cutting through the stations thick armor through a hatch connected to the inside of the transports...a device meant to make emergency rescue hatches.

Only a few troops left the ships to walk on the outside of the station, assisted only by a light powered arrmor adapted for use in freefall/low-gravity conditions.

******

Oh CRAP! the thought crossed the minds of two pilots simultaniously, as their AIs showed the projected impeller fields. It wasn't not being able to hit the ships they were worried about, it was not being able to avoid hitting the impellar fields themselves.

In link-connected brainpower, they veered upwards just as their auxillary boosters cut out. Maybe they would die, maybe not...maybe they would be able to get a shot or two in.

One thing was sure, the destroyers had the greater range, and by boosting upwards, they had just exposed their broadsides. Would the destroyers take the shot? Or protect their butts? Or would LTJG Hurtz get lucky with mixed results?


EDIT: [[OOC: Looks like Valinon meant near the destroyers]] In their haste to avoid the impellar fields, the two pilots didn't notice the sudden arrival of the fleet...a fleet nearly the size/number of the entire Wazzu Merchant Defense Forces.

OOC: Sorry, Wazzu, the SSTF is 1.3 million klicks from Corsica near the destroyers. My apologies for being vague. But I've been suddenly swamped by threads.

Adonis nods, and turns to leave the bridge. His chief of staff, a young Fregattenkapitan approaches.
"My Lord?"
"Prepare my pinnace, Nigel, and have Nevrast brought up from my quarters," the Fregattenkapitan looks in silence as Adonis sweeps past. The mention of the legendary Sword of the Servants Adonis wields in the name of His Majesty as the Grossmeister of the Order of Penrod the Great is a thing of legend. It is one of the six swords forged by the order of Penrod the Great himself at the founding of the Second Empire.
"My Lord?" Nigel says, still off-guard.
"It is time to settle accounts personally, Nigel. My honor has been slighted by these Verniians one time too many, today they have finally stepped one step too far."

**********

Eighteen minutes later eighteen heavy assault shuttles move away from the SSTF's core formation of dreadnoughts. Seven of them move toward the Corsican bearing Sardaukar personnel to oversee the surrender of the massive station. The others disperse to dock with the destroyers, the one headed for Stover's vessel is followed closely by a smaller shuttle. Aboard it Adonis holds Nevrast before him and waits for the moment he knows is coming.

Pinnaces and escape pods jettison from the destroyers. After they reach a safe distance, a set commands are executed by each ship's main computer. Scuttling charges rip through the hull, shredding compartments open to space and breaking each of them in half. Charges placed around each computer core and any other sensitive equipment ensure that they will not fall into enemy hands.

Meanwhile, the station crew sets to work smashing apart classified equipment and wiping their computers.

The metal tip of Nevrast's scabbrad (OOC: Why can't I spell tonight....) hitting the floor of the pinnace makes even the Sardaukar pilot jump. A low snarl fills the main cabin of the pinnace.
"Find me Captain Stover at once! Transmit Verniians that if they do not cut their acceleration to zero, stand down at once, and identify their commander I will have them all deported to the worse ESS prison camp I can find!"
"...Yes, My Lord."

The parasite vessels cut their acceleration as ordered, and a few seconds later a transmission comes from the cutter Sydney One.

"Lord Adonis, this is Captain Stover. Surely you realize it's standard protocol for most navies to not allow their vessels to fall into enemy hands?"

"At this point in time, Herr Stover, nothing is standard procedure anymore. For too long I have suffered Verniian insultes with decorum and patience. Today, you have gone too far. You will be escorted back to the Fearless, there....there we shall call into account your transgressions. A pair of Precentors will escort you to the Fearless' main hanger. The rest of your command will await retrival by destroyers detached for this duty," Adonis voice is cold, very cold, and with a merciless lust for revenge born of a trained warrior that has seen battle longer than Stover has been alive.

Inside transport 3, Sargent Tina Shur watched a crude mechanical device finish cutting a small scuttle in the stations hull. Her hand overed over a lift button.

"OK girls," her mostly male crew hated that, "set for stun. If you kill and your stunners working, you'll be in a bloody lot of trouble! Now down the hatch!"

She pressed the button and air escaped from the small transports innards into the station. It was perhaps fortionate that the light powered armor they wore had full environmental capibilities.

One by one, they jumped in head first, into the chaos of skin-suited staff and unknown security.

Their 7 companion ships offloaded beside them.

******

1.3 million klicks from Corsica and gaining, two fighter jockys looked out in wonder. A large fleet and the sudden self destruction of their quary raced silently by in the other direction.

"Well Bob," said one to the other, "I guess thats a day. Wha'da'ya'say we call a taxi?"

The two fighters burnt the rest of their fuel for an easy pickup trajectory while elsehwere in the system a frigate left its convoy on an intercept course.

He sounded pissed. Stover thought as his cutter glided in to dock with Fearless. The light over the airlock turned green, and Captain Stover stepped through it and onto the hangar floor. His executive officer followed behind him.

Stover and his executive are soon surrounded by an eight-man squad of Sardaukar in full danger suits. One bearing the rank insignia of a leutnant drops his PPG rifle for a moment and speaks.
"You will wait here until the Lord Marshal arrives," at that time a pinnace flies into the hanger bay. It come smoothly to its landing and the ramp descends.
An aging Valinor man appearing to be in his late seventies or early eighties makes down the ramp at a crisp pace that belays his age. He is dressed in a full dress uniform of a Sardukar, charcoal uniform trimmed in black with campaign tabs older than most of the men present and enough medals and commendations to gleem in the artifical light of the hanger bay. His face is scarred and marked with age, skin tanned by the light of an untold number of suns. At his side a finely crafted sword moves with the stiff motions of his walk. His blue eyes are locked on Stover with a look of the divine purpose of vengance in them.
The Sardaukar surrounding Stover and his executive move rapidly out of the man's way, their heads bow to the floor. A man in the uniform of an Armada Fregattenkapitan, along with a pair of Sardaukar move at an outright run trying to catch up with their older superior.
He steps before Stover, until he is only a few feet away.
"Captain Stover, I am Reynard Adonis, and I demand satisfaction of my honor for which you have so impunge. Never have I been so disguisted with how war is conducted than it is by the People's Republic. And never has any party had the audacity to make such a despicable attack against a planet when I have been kind enough to leave your command alone despite the war raging the Raumreich. Today you shall learn the lesson of how true men of honor and warriors carry out their duty."

"You're challenging me to a duel? Right here? Don't I get to set what weapon and what time, since you challenged me? For that matter, don't I have the right to refuse?" Stover is very clearly alarmed, and his XO's face is white.

Adonis barks in German into the assembled Valinor soldiers, seconds later a Hauptmann approaches, hastily removing his sword from his belt and offering it to Adonis in its scabbard, handle first. Adonis grabs it and presents it horizontally to Stover.
"You have your weapon, you loathesome scum, and you have your right to refuse. However, if you do so I will make sure you are put into the lowest prison cell I can find in Sol. If my Order's code would allow it I would put you in one of the wreckage of Grenada or space you in orbit over Mars so I watch your body burn in what passes for an atmosphere. But I cannot. I can only hope that Almighty God will find a place for you to rot continually in hell after you pass from this world."

Stover's face turns dark red in anger. "Very well then, since you insist on satisfying your "pride", then I will oblige!" He looks around, "So right here then? Any set of amount of paces or anything like that?"

"Such is the futile little rules of your Prole born decadence," Adonis takes a handful of steps back and shouts in German again to the Sardaukar. Another squad approaches and the sixteen men form a circle roughly twenty feet in diameter.
With that Adonis draws Nevrast from the scabbard at his side with a casaul ease. The blade bares the strange blue sheen of Valinor wrought neo-titanium, and it is finally etched with intricate patterns delinating its history and its purpose in the Second Empire. Adonis drops into an en garde position, feet resting roughly a shoulder's with apart from one another his right one pointed toward Stover and the left at a ninety degree angle. horizontal to the other foot.
"Draw your blade, Prole!"

Shitshitshitshitshit! Stover closes his eyes for a brief second in a silent prayer, along with the rapid fire thoughts in his mind, and draws his sword. Officers of the People's Navy were given at least basic training in melee, and so he takes the same position as Adonis, if a bit sloppier.

A gleam fills the old Sardaukar's eyes, he moves quickly on his younger but obviously less experience opponent. With two ease sliding steps he crosses the distance, still presenting Stover with his side and offering a far thinner target. He moves with a feint appearing to aim at Stover's middle torso, but then quickly reverses his thrust with a flick of his hand and a raising of his arm. Now his blade plunges downward, aimed for the space where there is a hollow between the neck and collar bone. Where Nevrast can pierce Stover all the way through and slide easily into his heart and left lung.

Stover starts to react on instinct, but then realizes the feint barely quick enough to bring his sword up to block the down swing of Adonis' sword. He backs away from Adonis, and begins to circle warily. Sweat beads on his forehead, almost had me then, just a second too slow and I'd be dead. He moved back to his en garde position, with his sword up.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Mars. I would like to address you about recent actions in Earth orbit undertaken by the nation of Auman. This aggression against the nation of ‘lunatic robots’ has been completely unprovoked. This wanton destruction is an atrocity by any standards. This action reflects badly upon all Martian nations, and therefore it is our duty to publically and officially condemn this act for all the nations of the Solar System to see, so that all can see that the vast majority of Mars is not like that southern nation, contemptible in its deeds. We do not ask for any apologies or explanations, there can be no apologies for this, and we do not care about the motives of Auman for these actions. Good day."

~ Samara Neja, Vicereigne of Mars
http://www.necrontyr.plus.com/images/neja.jpg

"Lord Admiral, we've intercepted allied transmissions. Vernii Garrison has been captured." Admiral Flekt let out a sight of disappointment. "Very well. We shall continue on to confirm this turn of events. Redeploy the 7th and 15th fleets to Earth Orbit, send the 4th to Mars for reassignment." Tirrel nodded his head and Flekts will be done. Some time later the Aumanii 1st fleet arrived within communications range of the allied armada, if you could call it that. "Please send a communication to the commander of this ramshackle, I want to know why they've robbed us of this honour." Flekts face showed no sign of emotion, as it was, Flekt appeared totally calm, shockingly after the days events.

OOC:

You should've saved that Duel Valinon.

Deleted

Stover starts to react on instinct, but then realizes the feint barely quick enough to bring his sword up to block the down swing of Adonis' sword. He backs away from Adonis, and begins to circle warily. Sweat beads on his forehead, almost had me then, just a second too slow and I'd be dead. He moved back to his en garde position, with his sword up.


Many would taunt the younger Stover for his unease, lure him into further unease and unsureness. But Adonis is a master at this art, and his rage leaves little room for such fine niceties that the Valinor aristocracy so often entertains.
He backs away from Stover for a minute, circling with his opponent as he studies him. The tip of Nevrast is only inches away from the tip of Stover's own borrowed blade. And then the old Sardaukar moves again.
This time Adonis attack is a simple slash to intercept Stover's left side, while traversing an arch across the front of his own body. Adonis waits for Stover's to intercept his blade that way he may turn it aside and close to more intimate quarters of engagement with his opponent.

"Shit!" Stover blurts out as he steps back and deflects Adonis' slash. He takes another step backward.

Adonis slides around Stovers own blade, allowing its edge to guide Nevrast under itself. Adonis makes another arch, sweeping upward, his curved blade making straight for Stovers neck. It is an attack relying on speed and an opponents inexperience, in the duels of most it would fail utterly. But here, Adonis believes that it will either behead the foul Proles as he spouts profanity, or throw him off balance for a quick thrust through his torso to finish him.

Stover blinks in suprise just before the blade slices cleanly through his neck. His head falls to the floor with a thud, and his body tumbles down next to it. A pool of blood quickly forms, soaking through his uniform. His executive officer turns away quickly, hand over his mouth to staunch his gag reflex.

"Damnit you sick perverts! GO HOME! What do you want with us? You senseless, immoral automatons! Do you think we want to shoot you down?But if you kill anybody, it'll make me so angry...you don't even want to know! And you'll probably die too! So go home for your own sakes as much as anyone."

BlueBell: "Echo squadron, this is BlueBell. RTB, we say again, RTB."
Echo 1: "Wha? Sir-"
BlueBell: "I say again, RTB. Orders by SR High Command."
Echo 1: "Son of a bitch! Echo squadron, pull out... another bloody scrapped mission. I say again, pull out."
Echo 4: "Roger, Echo 4 pulling out."
Echo 2: "Roger, Eccho 2 pulling out."
Echo 3: "......"
Silence from Echo 3.
Echo 1: "Echo 3 do you read?"
Silence.
Echo 1: "Bluebell, this is Echo, we can't make contact with echo 3."
BlueBell: "Roger that... no signal. His radio might be busted."
Echo 1: "Sir I can't see him... anyone see him?"
Nobody could see anything. A storm was really starting to cause problems.
BlueBell: "It's too much, get the hell out of there. Echo 3 is down."

Echo 1: "Damn... Echo 3 is down. I say again, 3 is down."

Back at SR High Command
Commander Soldant Hawkins looked around, completely confused. The military and diplomatic advisor tried to explain the situation.
"So now Auman doesn't want us to do anything? Hmm... this is mighty confusing."
"He recomends that we offer humanitarian aid to LRR."
The military advisor looked at the diplomatic advisor.
Soldant looked at everyone.
"Well... I suppose. We'll see."

Ensign Barley could barely move now. His hair fell in front of his eyes under his helmet, and his entire body burned and blistered against his skintight pressure suit. And as he reached for the self destruct he decided that it wasn't the millions of dollars put into his training, his education, and subliminal programming that made him do it...it was the sheer want to be free of it all.

Ensign Barley disappeared in a brilliant flash of light, fighter and all.

Inside transport 3, Sargent Tina Shur watched a crude mechanical device finish cutting a small scuttle in the stations hull. Her hand overed over a lift button.

"OK girls," her mostly male crew hated that, "set for stun. If you kill and your stunners working, you'll be in a bloody lot of trouble! Now down the hatch!"

She pressed the button and air escaped from the small transports innards into the station. It was perhaps fortionate that the light powered armor they wore had full environmental capibilities.

One by one, they jumped in head first, into the chaos of skin-suited staff and unknown security.

Their 7 companion ships offloaded beside them.

"Commodore, internal security sensors have noted a hull breach, and numerous intruders."

"Damnit! Seal off the compartment, get security teams to it immediately."

Blast doors and hatches slammed themselves shut and locked around the occupied compartment. The station's three squads (ten men each) of Marines quickly looted the station armory of it's weapons and armor. While there weren't any suits pf powered armor among them, each was wearing a suit of regular light armor that would provide protection a little better than a kevlar vest.

Back on earth, cleanup operations run smoothly. If it wasn't for the advanced ABM systems, casualties could have been in the hundreds of millions, but many incoming warheads were downed before they could detonate.

http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/afghanistan/images/kabul-iap_ac-wreck.jpg

A destroyed An-32, perhaps one of the last things the Aumanii fleet might have expected to find. The An-32, in one form or another, had been in service with the RAF for hundreds of years, and offered a cheap alternative to the dropship.

"Commodore, internal security sensors have noted a hull breach, and numerous intruders."

"Damnit! Seal off the compartment, get security teams to it immediately."

Blast doors and hatches slammed themselves shut and locked around the occupied compartment. The station's three squads (ten men each) of Marines quickly looted the station armory of it's weapons and armor. While there weren't any suits pf powered armor among them, each was wearing a suit of regular light armor that would provide protection a little better than a kevlar vest.

Private Ryan dived headfirst down the rabbit hole third and came out rolling off the far bulkhead. Gravity, but he sensors showed no air. Still, he felt the vibrations as his brothers in arms came through 8 such holes in the armor.

Ryan moved out to a cover position, felt a clang, and heard a scream over the radio. It wasn't hard to spot PFC James...he was pinned down...literally. Only his armor was keeping him from being crushed by the the heavy hatch.

A curse, also unintentional, came over the radio as the Lieutenant stepped through the makeshift hole. "Red team, get you man out of that! Purple team, form up around me! Everyone else, you know what to do, secure this place!"

Still offloading, teams formed up and left down passageways that were unknowingly blocked ahead. And purple team grouped around the officer who was studying an emergency evacuation plan. "There seargant, their command should be there, get me there." With a power-backed nod, the seargant signaled his understanding, and they took off.

After dropping off their loads, the 8 mining/rescue craft blocked their makeshift openings and took off. A good hundread meters should help prevent their countertakeover by enemy forces.

121 of the men they left behind soon found their way barred, their advance slowed by the need to burn through doors (the LT's purple group didn't bother, they used explosives). The other 40 spread out over the blind side of the station...outside.

The light cruiser RSV Sgt. Pepper, the flagship of the LRR EDF, makes an excursion towards Jupiter to check on a mining outpost there...

"CLEAR!" a young explosives expert yelled unneccessarially through the radio. Vibrations shook the floor and what was left of a armored hatch layed half sheered off its hinges. Someone tossed a fist-sized ball through the hole and blinding flashes soon followed.

Purple group jumped through by twos looking to secure the next compartment, their masks allowing them to see past the strobe, their stunners held high, and other weapons at the ready should the pistols fail.

Their advance was fast, more hazardous then that of the other teams. The LT needed to get to his counterpart quickly without getting bogged down....

The light cruiser Sgt. Pepper continues towards Jupiter, but picks up signs of trouble.

"I'm detecting large fleets in orbit around Jupiter...the occasional energy spike as well. Probably a battle."
"Will we have to go through in order to reach the outpost?"
"Looks like it, if they don't move."
"Well, continue on our present course until we get to within a million kilometers."
"Aye."

Meanwhile, at the small science outpost SOX-J-1, the six-robot crew looks out at the fleets surrounding their small chunk of rock, one of Jupiter's innumerable moons. The station was maintaining radio silence, ever since the news of the WMD strikes, and the ships they watch are quickly identified as Valinon, Wazzu, Auman, and Vernii vessels.

Adonis turns away from Stover's beheaded corpse, blood still running down the full groove of Nevrast and pooling onto the formerly spotless plating of the Fearless's main hanger bay.
"Clen up this waste," Adonis says to the Sardaukar Hauptmann who had given the ill-fated Stover's his blade. As the Sardaukar move in to gather up Stover's corpse, Adonis holds up a hand. The Sardaukar stop, and Adonis approaches the corpse. He reaches to Stover's uniform and callously wipes the blood from Nevrast onto the fallen capitan's uniform.
"Continue, and escort the rest of the prisoners away," Adonis says, sheathing Nevrast and making for the lifts to take him back to the Fearless's bridge.

**********

On the bridge of the Fearless Vizeadmiral Sheridan, the fleet commander of the Sol System Protectorate Zone's naval assets comes to attention as the Lord Marshal reclaims his bridge.
"My Lord," he says with a slight bow as Adonis takes the captain's station he had vacated mere seconds before.
"Have we collected all the prisoners?"
"There are still a few life-pods to be collected, My Lord. But the majority of the prisoners have been secured by our destroyers."
"Good," Adonis says, and activates a tactical display. "I want our first and second cruiser screens to form up on the Fearless and lay in a course to make for the Verniian fortress facility. Corsica, I believe it is called. We will make a clean sweep of the Sol System in short order."
"Yes, Lord Marshal, it will be done."
As the bulk of the Sol System Task Force lingers to bring the Verniians into their custody, the Fearless with a screen of eight heavy cruisers, ten light cruisers, and twelve destroyers moves towards Corsica at a speed of 478 gravities.

"This is it!" the Seargant announced.

"Alright, get us in, but don't blow the doors and try not to stun whoever is commanding inside. I wan't to talk to my opposite."

"Yes sir." the response came, and a few members of purple group started working on getting the heavy blast doors open.

On their way from insystem to Corsica, the Valinon (Valanese? :) ) task force passes rapidly by three seemingly unescorted Wazzu freighters at their seemingly slow (but standard) 1g deceleration…their path will take them directly to Corsica Station.

Elsewhere in the system, (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=346411) two other Wazzu “fleets” and a variety of other ships are now headed for the station at a much more rapid pace, but they are also much further away.

The Sgt. Pepper inches towards SOX-J-1, waiting to be noticed.

Passing the giant fleets, it dispatches a small corvette to the station, which lands on the icy surface of the small moon, carrying provisions and spare parts.

With the apparent withdrawal of hostile forces the Khaines fleets withdrew from Sol once more heading back into the Web way. The Asuryan fleet elements however remained above LRR in case they where mistaken. The withdrawal of some Four seperate fleet elements signalled however a return for now to the status quo of the Yvressi Sol alert status.

The occasional patrol of smaller craft was launched from the remaining vessels but it was almost slow and seemed an after thought, They did not truely expect another attack to be launched. Which was why now Larger Transport vessels headed towards the Earth laden down with Medical supplies, and oher forms of aid.

They where escorted in from Mars most of the way by craft launched from the Badbaltrias network, although as they neared Earth the responsibilty fell to the Asuryan Fleet.

'Lunatic Retard Robots Air command request permission to land Medical supplies and other essentials over.'

Word of the dissappearance of the TY vessels was quick to reach the remaining garrison at Townsley Mining Station. Fearing a fleet movement, the 6 gunboats that comprised that reserve lept into action and away from Juipiter...towards Admiral West's gunboat.

With the apparent withdrawal of hostile forces the Khaines fleets withdrew from Sol once more heading back into the Web way. The Asuryan fleet elements however remained above LRR in case they where mistaken. The withdrawal of some Four seperate fleet elements signalled however a return for now to the status quo of the Yvressi Sol alert status.

The occasional patrol of smaller craft was launched from the remaining vessels but it was almost slow and seemed an after thought, They did not truely expect another attack to be launched. Which was why now Larger Transport vessels headed towards the Earth laden down with Medical supplies, and oher forms of aid.

They where escorted in from Mars most of the way by craft launched from the Badbaltrias network, although as they neared Earth the responsibilty fell to the Asuryan Fleet.

'Lunatic Retard Robots Air command request permission to land Medical supplies and other essentials over.'

"You are cleared to land, but since the ATC network won't be up to speed for some weeks you'll have to just wing it. Any one of the large capacity strips near the city of Damogran should be able to take your ships."

"Hatch secured."
Four marines of Squad One waited at a safe distance on the other side of a battle steel hatch they had just shut and locked. The boarders were advancing toward their position, and they had finished piling up furniture and such to form a barricade going across the middle of the compartment. "Command, can you try anything that would slow these people down? We could use a bit more time to deploy down here."
---
The Station Security officer looked up at Commodore Hunter from his station. "Sir, I could shut down the grav plating in the occupied compartments. It could slow down their spread for a bit."

"Do it."
---
Grav plating in the compartments that internal sensors had indentified to hold enemy troops suddenly switched off.

Private Walker cut his torch instinctively as his legs suddenly propelled him towards the “ceiling.” He cursed as his helmeted head sounded on what was now a bulkhead shortly after everyone else’s hands. Now what? he questioned himself from his new perspective.

“Private! Get your butt down here!” His sergeant sounded off, “Everyone get a cord, we’re going to do this the hard way”

5 minutes later, Walker found himself roughly tied in front of the door, his feet safely on what was once the floor just in case gravity should come back. He resumed cutting, his progress impeded somewhat by the lines.

Sweat soon glistened his face…the LT was getting antsy.

******

Elsewhere in the station, power armored figures soon adjusted to the lack of gravity. It made cutting through blast doors tougher, but now they could bounce off bulkheads and speed mid-air down passageways. Somehow or another, it was a more natural working environment.

Several groaned when they realized that gravity was still “on” in the sections they advanced into, all wondered when they would stop stunning civilians and run into some resistance (even if they could only stun them too).

The newly made hole in the blast door came free with several clunking "sounds" that reverbrated through the bulkhead as it bounced through the empty space made by the torch. "Thats it!" Private Walker announced through the radio.

With a little help he was soon untied, and the lines were strung to the free-floating part of the door. A few light tugs to guide it through it's thick bracing and Purple group ran right into...

...the burnt backside of a couch and a whole lot of feathers.

"Well, now what?" Walker thought aloud. Behind him, the LT began "pacing" in freefall.

******

One pin later, a small hand-grenade was thrown into the padding.

Wazzu didn't use conventional hand grenades, but had a variety of special items. This one was basically just a pressurized super-refrigerant. In an atmosphere, this would cause flash-freezing of anything in the surrounding area...here it did that and then some.

Seconds later frozen feathers shot through the torched hatch and shattered against the far bulkhead...glistening peices proceeded to float everywhere in the lack of gravity...it was actually quite pretty.

With a reminder not to stun the station's commander, Purple group gathered around the tunnel of furnature, tossed in a strobe, and rushed in.

LT Johnson didn’t waste cursing, or even chewing out the poor sod who stunned Johnson’s counterpart. He was sure the boy’s sergeant would do it, and surer still the kid was already doing it to himself mentally.

Instead, he headed straight for the communications station. A quick study, the flip of a few toggle-switches (such as they were) and he was not only broadcasting not only on all frequencies into space, but also on the station’s public address system…or so he hoped.

“Attention incoming Valinor Fleet, this is Lieutenant Johnson of the Wazzu Merchant Defense Forces. This station has been captured.” With a look to one of his group who was currently cuffing the stunned officer, LT Johnson added, “The command staff is currently being put under arrest for attempted genocide by use of weapons of mass destruction. The residents of this station are now under Wazzu protection. Please stand down your arms and approach the station peacefully.”

There, thought Johnson as he told the computer to repeat the transmission once, see if that doesn’t get the attention of the station’s security personal. If they keep resisting, they risk us leaving them to the Valinor, literally.

“Sergeant,” he called, “get your techies over here, see if they can start playing this gravity game to our advantage. And get that pressure up!”

“Yessir!” Came the quick reply, and 3 men stepped forward to figure out the foreign controls while the rest of the team set up cover in the breached compartment.

OOC COMMENTARY HERE ( http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6770994&posted=1#post6770994)

How odd LT Johnson thought. The Valinon task force had arrived without firing a shot, without broadcasting a thought...it sat there in Jovian orbital space, quiet. Are they just going to sit there all day or are they going to make up their bloody minds?

Two Wazzu freighters floated past the group of ships on a docking approach to the now captured station. It would be welcome relief, Johnson's soldiers had been in their power suits for a while now, it must be getting pretty stuffy. But what am I going to do with all these people? he asked himself.

The train of thought was cut off by a nearby soldier working the unfamiliar sensor boards. "Sir, contact comming in, it claims to be a Squire under command of Admiral West."

West? Commanding a gunboat? the Lieutenant thought. She ought to have a fleet behind her-

"Shall I give them permission sir?"

"Do it, but make sure there is an escort at the hatch." If it is her, she'll wan't one, if it isn't, I will. He left the last unsaid, it didn't needed to be said.

"Yessir," the tech-soldier responded, and went back to his duties.

OOC: My apologies for my absence, Wazzu. Although my return may leave you wishing I had not returned at all.

The image of a man in a slightly rumpled uniform of Sardaukar appears in response to Johnson's hail. The man's hair is snow white, with a full mustache matching the color. On his peaked cap is a lion and sun device, marking him as the Lord Marshal of the Sol System Protectorate Zone.
"This is Lord Reynard Adonis, commanding Valinor assets in Sol," his voice is brisk, controlled anger almost visible beneath his cool demeanor. "The People's Republic of Vernii has committed uncountable actions of destruction of against the United Star Empire, both in the Sol System and beyond. As such, the United Star Empire of Valinon demands the extradition of the commanding officers of this station to Valinor authority."
"Finally, Lieutenant Johnson," Adonis says in colder tones, "our reports say that the station has not yet been fully secured. At this time I recommend that you withdraw your men from Corsica post-haste. I am going to deal with the Verniian as I should have the moment they stepped foot in the Sol System."
Even Wazzu knows what Valinor justice for Verniian prisoners means. The brutally attacks on the treaty ports of Boralis and Armandur on Earth have forever colored the Valinor judicial systems attitudes toward Verniians. The last Verniian prisoners put before the Valinor College of Consuls, led by Emperor Rowald himself, had ordered the execution of the Verniians within twenty-eight hours of their appearance in court. Less than sixteen hours later, the Verniians were shot by Sardaukar specially brought in from Earth based units. Valinor justice to those who have scorned the way of honor in war is swift and final.

Lord Reynard Adonis (http://starwars.cside.ne.jp/limited/pellaeon.jpg)

As the image of the Lord Marshall appeared LT Johnson blessed the Wazzu education and military training systems, he was sure they were directly responsible for his soldiers' ability to find the environmental controls in this forign station. Had it been a bit warmer his face would be dripping in sweat.

It wasn't that he was a coward, he was the cream of the cream of the cream, like any of Wazzu's relatively few people in fleet. Well, maybe the bottom of the barrel cream, but still cream! No, it was just that he was a simple Lieutenant who was flung to a far-out no-matter space mining station. He wasn't used to dealing with this high a person in his own nation (West's call had scared him), never-the-less foreigners.

His imediate thought was simple and direct, STALL!

"Ahh, sir. I'd love to appease you," you think I wan't to be on this peice of junk?, "but I'm afraid I am under strict orders to take and hold this station. The local resistance is unarmed and all but cooperative at the moment," with you sitting out there "and the commanders..."

Johnson looked down to his right a moment where one such station commander was lying bound and stunned, "Well, you'll have to talk to Admiral West about them. She's docking now, I'm sure she'll be up in just a few moments...."

Indeed, outside the station, a small gunboat had just locked onto one of the docking ports of the station, and one of the two freighters was moving to clamp onto another.

Adonis looks hard at Johnson, a wrathful understanding crosses his face.
"Then be so kind as to inform Admiral West that I wish to speak with her within the next fifteen minutes. If I do not speak with her before then, I will once again suggest the withdrawal of Wazzu forces from the Corsica facility. Rest assured, it will not long be a place where the Prole scum can plot to further attack the Sol system again."
Adonis' image disappears. The Valinor task force begins to slow, coming to a powered holding position roughly half a million kilometers from Corsica. The ships then turn and present their broadsides to Corsica, and their missile ports and energy batteries remained primed and ready to fire. An initial screen of DOS drones shoot away from the cruisers and the Fearless, rapidly moving to cover the core of the fleet.

The Squire class gunboat was fairly small, and it sat docked not far from the command station. Even with armored Wazzu “marines” filling into the station to relieve their power-suited compatriots (and all the securing that went with it), Admiral Jane West’s walk was short and not all that unpleasant.

The holed door to the main room (*where a defense officer lay groaning, now half awake) whooshed open in a manner that fondly reminded West of childhood space dreams. No one called “Attention on Deck,” it wasn’t a tradition of the nation, but Lieutenant Johnson did notice her entrance and saluted.

“Lieutenant Commander, report.”

Johnson stood a little taller, the woman certainly made good on her promises. “Admiral, the station is secure, though thanks largely to local cooperation. They know the Valinor are out there, and that if we’re driven off, they die.”

“And what of the Valinor themselves?”

“They are holding powered station half a million klicks off, demanding our leave and transfer of high-ranking prisoners.”

Another groan sounded from the corner.

“And who is that?”

“One of your prisoners ma’am. The others are in lockup, but I wanted to keep this one here to talk to. I figured it could help keep the peace.”

“Good thinking. Get me the Valinor.”

******

Another hail was put forward.

"Sooo..." came the calm voice of a woman in a simple black jumpsuit leasurely leaning back in a command chair, "...I hear you have a proposition for me."


*OOC: The oppertunity for Vernii to continue the RP remains open. The station is "pacified", just that, in quotes. All his people are still his if he chooses to RP them, and could make hell for anyone if they choose.

Or he could still have other assets around Sol.

Back on earth, the cleanup goes smoothly.

Cities are soon decontaminated, although the number of survivors doesn't reach much more than 1,000 people.

There aren't many corpses to bury, but the task is quite sad just the same, and the suicide rate skyrockets.

And all in all, Auman gets away with absolutely zero punishment. Just a slap on the wrist, and that's all. No Aumanii admirals are punished at all, and LRR earth soon is just a shadow of its former self, with most of its former occupants leaving for Sunset or colonies out in space.

OOC: LRR, the Liga der Raumreich is trying to give you a way to take action against the Aumanii here (http://s4.invisionfree.com/The_Planet_Mars/index.php?showtopic=301). Look at the first article on the last post.

Oooh! Quite good. So, should I send some delegates to testify? Should this become another thread?

I would prefer if all matters pertaining to the Liga der Raumreich are handled in the Raumreich forum. You can find that here (http://s8.invisionfree.com/Raumreich/index.php?), and there is a specific sub-forum for the Liga.

Ok. I did it.

After an increasingly annoying two minutes, Admiral West looked over to her fellow officer. "Lieutenant Commander, are you sure we are set up to recieve?"

"Yes Ma'am, they did this last time too. I wonder if they are just trying to make themselves up as dominant."

"Johnson, I'm not sure why they put you on this backwater post, you'd make a great tactician." West mulled over this thought for a few moments. "Alright, if they are going to make us wait, we won't wait idly. Get ahold of Olympus Mining Station and tell them to tow the facility here."

"Tow it here Ma'am?"

"That's right, and make sure the message is sent unencoded. I want the Valinon to see that we aren't going to wait for them."

"Yes Ma'am!" The young officer enthusiastically got one of his three men right to work...and the other two to work initiating some new arrivals on what had been learned of the station's control panels.

OOC: My apologies once again, Wazzu. This thread got buried in my subscriptions file. Please forgive my tardiness.

Adonis' image once again reappears on the transceiver, "Yes, Admiral West, the proposition of the Valinor is simple. The commander of the Verniian Sol based forces is wanted by the Star Empire for numerous charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity, both from the current Raumreich conflict and the War of the Wall of Stars. His Majesty and His Majesty's Government formally request that they be turned over to our custody so they may pay in full for their numerous attempts at genocide and mass destruction."
His eyes blaze for a moment, "Finally, I am under orders to completely purge the Verniian presence from this system. This extends to the station they call Corsica. For too long I have been polite and cordial to the Verniians in this system, and I have let their presence pass. My generosity has been repaid in the blood of those I command and the blood of the Valinor, and it has now ended. As such, I will see the Verniian presence in this system extinguished in a more conclusive fashion."

[[OOC: No worries.]]

Admiral West smiled when the Valinon officer's image appeared. Though thinking It's about time, she was genuinely happy to finally talk to the man.

"My lord Adonis," she began respectfully. "I fully understand your anger, though I think it may be...misdirected. I am not up to date on events in your territory, but other then the flotilla you recently intercepted there has been no detected traffic to or from this station. To put it frankly, I don't see how this commander," she noded her head to the right, to indicate his presence in the room, "could have had any part in war crimes there."

Adonis' anger was not lost on the Admiral though. "On the other hand, the command staff in this room may have had a part in the decision to launch c-fractional attacks on Mars. I think that puts them clearly in the jurisdiction of the Martian Duma.

"My government may want my hide at the moment, but I am still loyal to it, and so consider myself still bound to the MIDAS and Duma accords. Even if it means my capture by Wazzu, I am honorbound to bring the command staff of Corsica to Justice, and not to vengence."

West felt dirty. She wasn't given to talking...so why was it all pouring out now? Did it mean this meant more to her, or less?

"Your feelings are well intentioned, if misplaced," Adonis says abruptly. "But this is a matter for the Valinor to decide. Too long have we suffered the insults and blows of the Verniians and their ilk without recompensation. This period in our history has come to an end. Rest assured the flag officers will be given a fair and equal trial before the Consuls of the Star Empire. There they may throw themselves on the mercy of justice."
"At the most we will entertain a trial of this scum before the MIDAS diplomatic council. The nations of MIDAS have been the only ones to take action against the Verniians in regard to this second attack, and as such it is perfectly within the bounds of its member states to decide the fate of these...Proles. His Majesty and His Majesty's Government will allow the Verniians to be turned over to MIDAS without compliant, to the Duma we would not. Already we hear voices within the Duma that are supporters of this scum, this trash that attacks the innocent without cause and without provocation. This is unthinkable, and disguisting. To risk any chance that these criminals would not be punished in the utmost for their despicable acts is a crime within itself."
Adonis clears his throat, "But that still leaves the last matter unaddressed. The station of Corsica must be completely erradicated from existence. I will not attack the station for the next thirty standard minutes. I would encourage you, Admiral West, to get your men and the prisoners that you can to depart. Those that choose to stay behind can find whatever awaits them in hell."

Commodore Hunter finally awoke completely. His face paled at the mention of Valinor justice, the fate of the around two hundred survivors of the attacks on Earth from the previous war was rather well known.

He tries to stay out of view of the screen. "PSST! I'd appreciate it greatly if you didn't turn us over to them. Really, really appreciate it." he whispers to Admiral West.

West's face seemed to show a pain over the comment she hoped did not pass over the intercom. "Lord Adonis, individuals are charged for crimes they are suspected of committed, but they are not arbitrarially punished for the actions of their countrymen unless all rule of law is thrown out.

"However, there is merrit in some of what you have said. While MIDAS is not set up to deal with judicial matters, a tribunal would not be difficult to set up. If the majority of MIDAS nations agree that MIDAS should be the one to try the command staff of Corsica, then-"

"You'll do no such thing." Another voice came over the intercom, along with the face of an aging man. But it seemed oddly timed. A quick check would reveal that indeed, the message was comming over standard EM frequencies, unencoded, about 10 light seconds away...the message was 20 seconds lagged...and decelerating towards Corsica.

"West," the apparant Admiral spoke up, "You've no further authority here. You and your prisoners will both be taken into custidy..." The voice continued as yet another spoke up.

"Ma'am, don't pay him too much mind." Commodore Tully entered the conversation with a sort of half quirky smile. While it was obvious he was from the second fleet (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=6692527&postcount=62) (actually only 7 seconds out), his message was hardly lagged at all...his signal was comming from the now moving/towed Wazzu mining facility Olympus.

With 'Admiral' Brayson annoyingly jabbering on from his incomming group (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=346411&postcount=12) (it was obvious the new signal hadn't reached him yet), Admiral West and Commodore Tully continued their conversation.

"Now Tully, I told you not to come after me."

"I'm sorry Admiral, I couldn't help it, Earth and Elysium Govenor Baily kicked me out and sent me after you."

"So your here to arrest me too?"

"I told you to pay it no mind, Brayson doesn't have the balls or the support, if you'll pardon my language Ma'am." West gave a slight nod that he was still in the green zone. "Anyway, what's the situation?"

Of course Tully had been following the open comms, but it wasn't polite to recognize evesdropping even when it was known to be taking place. Not that many Wazzuians were polite....

"Lord Adonis here was just agreeing to trial of Corsica's command staff by MIDAS, if they will accept it, and demanding we leave the station so he can get some target practice on civilians." And THAT was a direct hit on his honor, and much more typically of (usually hidden) Wazzu behavior.

In the background, 'Admiral' Brayson continued to...bray. His face had turned red from Commodore Tully's obviously traitorous remarks (especially the hit on Brayson's own honor), but that didn't stop him from flapping his lips and flaunting both his ego and his new rank.

Lord Adonis sits on the bridge of the Fearless, listening with bemused interests to the unsecure Wazzu comm traffic.
"It seems that the Dominion has its own internal matters to deal with. Comm?"
"Yes, M'lord?"
"Get me a secure MIDAS channel to this Admiral Brayson."
"Done, M'Lord."
"Admiral Brayson of the Dominion of Wazzu, this is Lord Marshal Reynard Adonis, commander of His Majesty's Sol System Protectorate Zone. The United Star Empire of Valinon will not look kindly on any further prisoner transferrals either within Wazzu itself or to other outside powers. Unless they are to deliver the Verniians to our own authority, or they are being transferred to a secure MIDAS facility once we return to the Mars planetary system. The Star Empire will have this matter as quickly as possible, the people who have lost family and friends over Mars and on Earth have waited long enough for justice from these Verniians. I will allow no further interruptions in this process to move toward justice."
With that Adonis cuts the comm, "Dispatch ten Sardaukar squads to Corsica and have them board the station at areas not currently under the complete control of Wazzu personnel. They are to secure and evacuate as many Verniian personnel as possible."
"Yes, sir."
Eight minutes later ten assault transports break away from the Fearless on a course with various airlocks and breaching points scattered across the Corsica's hull. The assault transports are largely empty as they only care eight Sardaukar and their crew, most of the space has been given over to cram as many Verniians onboard as possible.

Still several light-seconds away, a bemused Admiral Brayson didn't see the message until it after it had been cut out. And has he saw Lord Adonis finish his speach, he opened his mouth to reply only to find out that the link had alreadly long been cut off. If he was red before, he was purple now.

******

"Riderships dataching Ma'am, incomming." sung a voice at a console.

"Lieutenant Commander Johnson, you did well in the last battle, care to try your wits again?"

Johnson gulped inaudibly, but nodded. "Yes Ma'am.

"Scan, ID on those riderships?"

"I've never seen 'em before sir, but the Vernii comp says they are transports. It seems to fit the discription."

LCDR Johnson visibly relaxed. They weren't letting the Corsicans near any weapons, so the station's external defenses were down. The stationers were otherwise cooperating. The forces that had arrived were already well spread out through the station.

"Private, how well can you work those environmental controls?"

"The interface is funny, but it's pretty standard stuff, no problem sir."

"OK, we're not going to let them pick us into taking the first hostile move. Let them dock. Comm, be prepared to evacuate people from the areas they look like they are connecting to, and have teams ready to respond."

"Do you want our power troops called back sir?"

"No, they've worked enough for now, let them rest. We may need them later. Just standard troops...and ask Hive and Swarm to be ready, but not to launch or fire."

"Yessir."

Orders were sent out...and no one opposed the incomming transports.

******

In the background, Commodore Tully sparred Admiral Brayson over open frequency radio.

Hauptmann Sean Dontis watches as the lead elements of the squad he has chosen to lead the boarding party from returns from the brief sweep of the surrounding corridor that lead away from airlock target four.
"Sir," says the Leutnant commanding Dontis' "headquarters" squad, "we have the reports from the other parties. All report in as having made successful contact and entry into the station."
Dontis nods in response, "Have all other squads begin running standard search patterns. I want a room to room survey of all surrounding areas. Any Verniian personnel encountered are to be escorted back to the transports. As for troops from Wazzu, I want to be informed the minute we establish contact with them."
"Yes, sir!" the Leutnant speaks tersely into the comm gear inside his compact danger suit. Even Dontis' own squad has only four troops in full power armor, for this mission manuverability and dispersed fire-power had been favored.
"Stabsfeldwebel!" Dontis barks at one of the men in power-armor bearing a staff sergeant's triple bars.
"Yes, Sir!"
"Your with me along with Peters and von Heinlien. Leutnant take another four men with you, with one of our armor troopers here to support the transport crew."
"Yes, Sir."
"Fredericks, we'll make our sweep down this corridor," Dontis nods to one of the corridors leading to the right, away from the transport. With that, Dontis, his two other danger suit troopers, and Fredericks move down the corridor. A few minutes later the young Leutnant takes his own command down the left corridor.

Corsica's new command crew watched as station sensors tracked the invaders from their entry points, and the defenders moving to response. LCDR Johnson waited until a first group arrived at a first hatch, then spoke up. "Alright private, put 'em on the floor...gently."

"Yessir." the response came quickly.

Inside the abandoned and now Valinon occupied areas, gravity quickly increased from 1 g, to 6. The process took 10 seconds...the private really didn't want to hurt them if he didn't have to.

The command staff watched vid monitors for the response.

******

The debate between Admiral Brayer and Commodore Tully ended rather suddenly in a flurry of encoded messages between several ships. It was not shown outwards, but anybody aboard one of several Wazzu ships knew what was going on either by context, or those coded messages.

Mutiny.

Brayer and Tully may have chosen their sides, but each individual of each ships crew, from lowly spacer to captain had their own ideas.

But outwardly, other then the sudden increase in coded comm traffic and the sudden stop of the flag-officer's debate, all appeared normal. The two fleets continued to decelerate at a steady 10 gravities, some their support ships some distance behind slowing down at 1 gravity...they had started decelerating earlier.

******

Admiral West for her part didn't bother trying to open a comm with anyone. She simply had a young enlisted woman record a message to be broadcast and repeated once.

"Valinor task force, you have invaded soverign Wazzu territory. You are in violation of the MIDAS treaty. Stand down."

******

In another orbit of Juipiter, tiny Wazzu mining station Olympus was working its own way towards an eventual meeting with Corsica. But even for a small station, the move around mighty Jupiter was large with only two small tugs.

Adonis image reappears, "This is no more Wazzu sovereign territory than Roum is Valinor territory. This station has been used to stage attacks on the Star Empire since we encountered the Verniians. And it is no more under your complete control than the entirety of Earth. I have heard the reports from the shuttle, and I would suggest that you release my men from over-standard gravity before I selectively disable the station's internal compensator system. There are currently eighteen minutes left in the count-down for the lifespan of that station, I am trying to evacuate the Verniians so they may stand before MIDAS. If you continue to hamper this operation, I will consider the station of Corsica to be a continuing threat to Valinon and turn it to dust."
Adonis expression is livid, the ancient soldier, diplomat, and knight has at long last lost control.
"By our intelligence estimates your forces on Corsica are outnumbered still by at least two-to-one odds, and wholly dependent upon your control of the command center and therefore the station's essential system. This will stop being such an asset when the station's systems are disabled one by one. I have tolerated the Verniian impudence long enough, it ends now!" his image vanishes.
In the distance, four missile pods streak away from the Fearless and a new wave of DOS drones deploys from both the dreadnought and its screen. The weapon ports of laser and graser batteries are opened and they move to target areas of Corsica that will disable the station: internal compensators, beta nodes, sensor arrays, communication arrays, and gravitic pulse receivers. Whether Adonis is bluffing, or truly willing to reduce Corsica to ash seems a very, very thin line of distinction.

Again, Admiral West doesn't bother to make contact, she just broadcasts openly.

"Adonis," she purposefully leaves out his title, "are you then denyinig your government's claim on Vernii systems? This station is under my full control and is Wazzu territory. Your men are under arrest. You are in violation of the MIDAS treaty and at risk of loosing the last of your honor. This is your last chance to stand down."

The message cut and action was observed.

Gunboats detached and fighters launched from the Wazzu "freighter" near the station, and a number of smaller fighters launched from the other freighter...the one that had docked to the station and released Wazzu troops.

Three additional light fighters that participated in the earlier assault on Corsica eased out from the sensor shadow behind the station.

Six more gunboats detached from Olympus station in a far orbit.

Quite unrelated, several ships of the two incomming Wazzu fleets broke formation and headed towards the opposite fleet...not that there was any sign it was unrelated.

But highly related, those that did not break off now stopped their deceleration, turned, and armed weapons...but did not target.

Corsica itself armed nothing...no one sat at the controls of its defenses.

Wazzu had never before assembled so many fleet elements...though neither had it such seperate and conflicting control of them.

Of course someone had to butt in. That someone was Admiral Wick, who had been monitoring the situation via the Kaeneian satillite network and fleet arrays around Europa and Jupiter. There were no SDF warships in the area, though a SSG had just left Martian orbit and was heading outsystem towards Jupiter at speed. No warships these, they were recovery cruisers and that in itself conveyed Wick's opinion of the situation.

Radio waves, being faster and transmitted from a nearby Kaeniean satillite, arrived faster. The message was encrypted via low level MIDAS encryption and was directed to both Adonis and West.

"If I might interupt? It looks to me like the situation is well in hand with the capture of Corsica station. Only a few pieces of the puzzle need to fall into place - and one of those is a handshake aboard the station in question. The preferably intact station in question.

Another piece of the puzzle would be the position of Admiral West. My guess, and call it educated, would be that you intent to take possession of this station as a prize of war. My speculations on your intentions after that point will remain my own, but suffice to say I do not see a reason to deny her of that prize.

Lord Adonis, you and the men under your command are to be commended for their swift action in securing the system against Vernii attacks in such a decisive manner. While my thanks are likely small reward for your actions they are all I can offer at present. Never fear - I've got a nice small cell waiting for the Vernii here at MIDAS Flag HQ."

Wick's message ended here. He just hoped both parties would listen to it before the recovery cruisers because nessecary.

"Yes, I would deny a claim my government made to any Verniian territory at this time," Adonis rages at the comm. "In my tactical opinion that territory is not yet secured as there are Verniian forces resisting and capable of resisting Valinor authority in those systems."
He looks wrathfully at the silenced comm, then turns away.
"Guns!"
"Yes, My Lord."
"Prepare a Bane-class fusion warhead and set it for detonation 80,000 kilometers above Corsica. We will give the Wazzu one warning shot, then we will see how far they are willing to go with this."
"...My Lord?"
"Do it, now Leutnant!"
"Yes, My Lord."
"M'lord," says the comm officer, "we have incoming hails."
"Ignore the Wazzu attempts to argue protoccol, that station is no more under their control than Sol is under Valinor."
"It's not Wazzu, M'Lord. We have calls from Admiral Wick of Sunset....and a priority message from Grossadmiral Trisdant on Sanctuary."
Adonis' eyes widen for a minute, "Give me Trisdant's message."
"It's text only, M'Lord. Forwarding to your station."
Adonis brings up the plain document:

From: Grossadmiral Sir Daniel Trisdant, Second Star Lord of His Majesty's Kreigsmarine
To: Lord Generalfeldmarschall Reynard Adonis, Lord Marshal of the Sol System Protectorate Zone
Encryption: Fuscia-311, Emergency Flash Broadcast, Nu-space link 4556-A

Reynard,

You are hereby ordered to stand down immediately by both His Majesty and the High Command. We will not have war on Wazzu, and His Majesty will not risk a break with MIDAS. Make sure that any Verniian prisoners of war, especially Verniian flag officers, are transferred to either your own command or MIDAS jurdistiction.
The station of Corsica will be left in the hands of the Wazzu for the moment, that is a point we can argue later. It is not worth a shooting engagement over. The Wazzu will have enough problems with Admiral West's involvement in this affair, we can deal with this later in a more proper forum.
Pushing this matter will not go well for you, Reynard. His Majesty is already greatly displeased with actions across Sol and with Quentin in the Raumreich. I strongly suggest you call this affair off.

Daniel

Adonis rapidly closes and purges the file.
"Forward the message from Admiral Wick," Adonis listens to Wick's words, then opens a channel to the Sunsettian Admiral's flagship.
"Your thanks will be all that is required, Admiral," Adonis says in cool terms. "But I wish to once again say that I will not allow this matter to be drug out. I wish to see these Verniians put before MIDAS as soon as possible and will do all that is necessary," he emphasizes those words, "to ensure this process is expedited. I would also request that my men be immediately released from excess gravity fields aboard Corsica as they were there to transfer prisoners to SSTF ships before the station was to be reduced to the shrapnel it deserves to be."

The Wazzu fleets sped closer, still not decelerating. Olympus mining "station" inched toward Corsica's orbit...it would be a long time in comming.

The ships that seperated from their own fleets joined the others...and in the background of encrypted direct-communication haze, Admiral Brrayson and Commodore Tully came to an accord. Whatever happened, neither could save their people or accomplish their goals if someone else got in the way. They would lay their differences aside for now, and solve them afterwards when and if oppertunity presented itself.

-------------------
KDF Aalsmeer
-------------------

The KDF Aalsmeer was a small Knootian escort vessel named after an equally small Dutch city. The bridge crew of the vessel was busily monitoring fleet movements. The Knootian Defence Force had just dispatched vessels for Mars, where fighting was rumoured to have broken out. The open audio channel provided some distraction from the daily chores of a starship operating normally and at 100% efficiency. One more hour untill they would be relieved.

A beeping sound on the comm panel of the captains chair disrupted this passive stance of the crew. The captain, a woman whose skin had an interestingly arabic texture, had been used to escort duty for trade vessels through the asteroid belt. However when this text message flashed over her screen she knew that this was more serious.

"Helm, change heading. We have a new mission coming from Admiral Wick."

The ship glided into another course and began to decellerate.

---


To: Lord Generalfeldmarschall Adonis and Admiral West
From: Captain Amatullah, KDF Aalsmeer, Knootian Defence Force

"Good day, gentlemen. My vessel has been dispached here upon the request of Admiral Wick from the SDF in accordance with our protocols to assist MIDAS in this matter. We are here to assist you in any way possible. I ask that you all remain calm and find a reasonable compromise for this current... situation. We are capable and willing to take over prisoners temporarily should this be required as a compromise. I can assure you that I am here with a full mandate to keep the peace.

Amatullah out."

The Wazzu fleets were getting close now, their support ships still strung out far behind them. Yet they showed no hostile action beyond a ready stance.

Aboard the station, an intercom call rang out to those still trapped under higher gravity. "Attention intruders. You have been trapped for some time now and I'd dearly like to take the strain off your bodies." It was LCDR Johnson speaking, "But in return, you'll have to agree to put down your weapons and enter full custidy. If you agree, just speak up, we can hear you over the intercom."

Elsewhere, the various Vernii command staff were themselves being rounded up...and 8 civilian gas-mining craft converted for search and rescue came out from behind the station and firmly docked themselves to the station proper.

"Stable? Stablizing would be a better term Atef. Lord Adonis seems to be willing to work with Wazzu on securing the station - will Admiral West be willing to work with Wazzu though? She might do well to abandon the station to her countrymen while slipping away in the chaos."

----

The recovery cruisers raced closer, though they were still not close enough to do more than pick up the shattered hulls of ships if people started shooting. Aboard each systems, both tactical and rescue, were checked again and again and shuttles and fighters were loaded and readied to leapt into the breach.

The fleets, which had been on a crossing path, converged for a moment, with the only (converted) civilian ship not lagging behind in front. Space warped...that one ship was also the only FTL capible...but instead of seeing its dissappearance, both fleets slowed drastically and continued on their seperate trajectories.

Commodore Tully's fleet continued toward the station.

The ships of Admiral Brayson's fleet turned, made a quick thrusting manuver in unison, and placed themselves behind their fellows.

A small escort left both ships and headed towards docking points on Corsica...docking points nearest West's stolen Squire (gunboat).

The two transports slipped into dock under the cover of their escorts. (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6859083&posted=1#post6859083)

KDF Aalsmeer

Captain Amatullah was getting increasingly confused. A ship left the station, and nobody was replying to her hail. The briefing had apparently been wholly insufficient to prepare her for this mission.

"Repeat the hail", she ordered. "This time on an open channel."

Meanwhile the ship came to a full stop within visual range of the station, scanning the area.

"Into custody!" Adonis rages as he listens to the comm chatter from Corsica. "This West is as foolish as she is rogue. Generalmajor!"
"Yes, My Lord?"
"How many of your powered suits are equipped with the new geo-syn unit receivers?"
"Only four, My Lord. I did not think they would be needed on a mere rescue mission."
Adonis flashes a wicked smile, "It will be enough. Comm, get a link to Admiral West and then to the assault shuttles."
"Yes, M'Lord."
"Admiral West, I demand that you release my men and allow them to return to their assault transports at once. Further denial of this action will result in my men being freed from the excessive gravity by any means necessary."
Adonis cuts the comm and switches to a heavily encrypted link with the assault shuttle commanders, "It seems we will soon get a chance to test Doctor Metternich's new simulated force devices. Activate the Mule projectors and comm with the troops that have gravity Delta-frames equipped in their armor. They should not have moved beyond the Mule's influence yet. If West will not concende to my demands, then you will activate the gravity Mules and we will have them remove the entire section of the station."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Understoood, Lord Marshal," the acknowledgements go on.

To: Lord Generalfeldmarschall Adonis and Admiral West
From: Captain Amatullah, KDF Aalsmeer, Knootian Defence Force

"Good day, gentlemen. My vessel has been dispached here upon the request of Admiral Wick from the SDF in accordance with our protocols to assist MIDAS in this matter. We are here to assist you in any way possible. I ask that you all remain calm and find a reasonable compromise for this current... situation. We are capable and willing to take over prisoners temporarily should this be required as a compromise. I can assure you that I am here with a full mandate to keep the peace.

Amatullah out."



"Admiral West, I demand that you release my men and allow them to return to their assault transports at once. Further denial of this action will result in my men being freed from the excessive gravity by any means necessary."


-----

“Well, he sounds quite serious, doesn’t he?” West asked her comrade in arms.

“I don’t see any harm in it Admiral…if he’ll just go away.”

“Point. And Captain Amatullah?”

“Knootoss isn’t MIDAS, I’m not certain Adonis will accept them transferring the command staff with them, but the Sunsettians aren’t far behind.”

“Point two. I agree, do you want the honors?”

“No, no, she’s your ship Admiral, please….”

“He.” West replied, to which Commodore Tully only grinned.


“Valinon Task Force, this is Admiral West. Release of your soldiers will be granted upon Lord Adonis’ word he’ll leave this station be. Otherwise, the soldiers will be placed under MIDAS custody for violations of allied sovereignty alongside this station’s command staff.

KDF Aalsmeer, your assistance in this matter is much appreciated, but ill advised. Advance with caution and at your own risk.

Sunset flotilla, I have in my custody the command staff of the previously Vernii controlled station Corsica. The members are to be transferred to MIDAS jurisdiction under charges of attempted genocide against Martian civilians. I request a vote among MIDAS member nations whether to transfer these suspects to Martian Duma judicial control or to create a temporary military court in MIDAS for their trial. I further request your help in transferring the accused to Mars.

That’s all for now.”


The com cut off and West turned towards someone on the small craft’s bridge. “Adonis sounded both serious and a bit crazed, I think it’s time to wake up our Olympus troopers.”

“Yesma’am” came the smart reply.

------

Outside the station, small transports were flying between ships, and a few of the ships had docked with the station to expedite exchange of personnel.

The SSG finally neared the station and Jupiter itself. It had been a long time since a SDF warship had been seen here. In fact, the last time of note was the Europan War. While these were barely warships they still kept a vigilant eye open in case someone decided to take some pot shots at them.

The ships decelerated and shuttles shot from their bays towards the station. Aboard were both marine teams as well as technicians and engineers. The former would assist in transfering any prisoners and the later would help patch things back together if needed.

An open transmission shot from the lead ship on clear MIDAS freqencies.

"SDF Benjamin Spock, Captain Reggie Smiley commanding. I've dispatched some shuttles to pick everyone up who wants to come along for the ride. I'm intending to leave within the hour, so if you could have everyone in a landing bay and tell us where that landing bay is I'd be much obliged."

Aboard each shuttle four marines stood restlessly awaiting their arrival on the station. The pilots also waited - though they were waiting for a landing location primarily.

Full of a sense of duty, the frigate RGSV Space Oddity approaches the Vernii station and Valinon fleet.

"Attention, Valinon fleet, this is the RGSV Space Oddity, representing the international council on human rights. We request permission to monitor the condition and transfer of Vernii and other prisoners of war from Corsica station, over."

"SDF Benjamin Spock,

"Captain Reggie, this is Corsica control, welcome to the Jovian system.

"You are clear to talk at gate 3C, lighting now."

The controller somewhere in the station's command center flipped a switch and prayed it was the correct one.

Outside, transfer of crew between ships was nearing completion. It helped that one group was larger then the other...it helped even more that despite this being a large grouping of Wazzu ships, there were still reletively few ships, and small crews.

Adonis' hands grasp the arms of the admiral's chair on the Fearless's bridge with a grip driven by rage and bitter sense of defeat.
"Channel secure to Admiral West, M'Lord."
Adonis nods curtly, "Admiral West, my men will withdraw from Corsica and retire to the ships of the SSTF. However, I will not withdraw the SSTF from this area until the Verniian prisoners are transferred to the custody of Sunset."
The sensor officer suddenly looks up, an Oberleutant moves toward him and confers for a moment. The junior officer then moves rapidly to Adonis' station. The Lord Marshal of Sol arches his eyebrows.
"My Lord," says the Oberleutant, "we have two new inbounds from the inner system. One is a Knootian escort class and the other an LRR frigate."
"Their purpose?" Adonis says quickly, the channel to West open but muted.
"The Knootian captain, one Amatullah, says he is here to assist with the situation. The LRR warship wishes to monitor the condition of the prisoners and the transfer."
Adonis expression grows hard at the mention of the LRR intent, "It would be nice if the same was shown to our own personnel and civilians where the Verniians are concerned. So far no one has cared about their attrocities. Even the Ortagans are just in this war for their own sick gains."
With that he turns back to the channel with West, "Admiral, I will also accept the transferral of prisoners to the Knootian vessel currently within our sphere of operations as long as it is agreed they will return to Mars and disembark the Verniians there."
He cuts the channel, "Open a channel to the LRR vessel."
"LRR vessel, this is Lord Marshal Reynard Adonis, commanding from the HMS Fearless. The Verniian prisoners in this area are not under our jurdistiction and as such we cannot grant you the permission you seek. Any further concerns should be addressed to Admiral West of Wazzu, Sunset, or Knootoss."

"Ok. We will contact them. Also...do you have any news of the Gregor system? We will likely go there in a short while to perform our inspection duties."

Another bridge officer opens up another channel to Corsica station, as the Captain talks with Admiral Adonis.

"Attention corsica station, this is the RGSV Space Oddity representing the International Council On Human Rights, Torture of Prisoners Of War Subcomittee. We request permission to inspect the condition of prisoners of war currently under your jurisdiction, over."

OCC: Hey, I have no doubts that the Ortagans will do something vile, but I haven't really been active in Thetis...and Gregor's still going on. No doubt I will give New Ortaga some grief later, probably the other parties too. And plus, I just got admitted to the ICHR.

"RGSV Space Oddity,

"Permission to dock at gate 3-Delta is approved. The prisoners are due to be transfered soon, we suggest you hurry."

******

The PA troopers, now awake and suited but with nothing to do, were granted new ordres.

They moved in twos with re-enforced harneses into the 6g area...to disarm the captured Valinor and carry them back into a less intense area. It was done quietly, and the prisoners were bound and collected with the station's command staff.

The frigate moves in to dock with the station, covered in the signs of battle.

After it lands, six members of the ship's crew, bearing cameras, clipboards, and notepads get out, dressed in full EVA suits. They then head into the station, looking for a Wazzu representative.

OOC: Wazzu, would you allow me to RP a little with the Sardaukar? There are some ways they have of getting around your little gravity control flirtation if given the chance. Adonis was just being polite, or as polite as he is going to be in his current state. And I think Wazzu soldiers showing up would have the Sardaukar move into action.
Also, LRR, representatives of human rights groups sent to Ortagan territory during the last two hundred years or so do one of two things: they are thrown out of the country, or they vanish. Neither the Hegemony or the old Grand Duchy signed any human rights treaties, and as such they tend to ignore them. Valinon hasn't signed any directly either, we're just more pleasant people as long as you don't smite us first. So expect any inspection group sent to the twisted little Hegemony to first get laughed at....then receive the business end of the Solar Navy's weapons batteries.

OOC: Wazzu, would you allow me to RP a little with the Sardaukar? There are some ways they have of getting around your little gravity control flirtation if given the chance. Adonis was just being polite, or as polite as he is going to be in his current state. And I think Wazzu soldiers showing up would have the Sardaukar move into action.
Also, LRR, representatives of human rights groups sent to Ortagan territory during the last two hundred years or so do one of two things: they are thrown out of the country, or they vanish. Neither the Hegemony or the old Grand Duchy signed any human rights treaties, and as such they tend to ignore them. Valinon hasn't signed any directly either, we're just more pleasant people as long as you don't smite us first. So expect any inspection group sent to the twisted little Hegemony to first get laughed at....then receive the business end of the Solar Navy's weapons batteries.

OOC: Thats why I used the future tense...I said what the Wazzu PA troops were intending to do...then waited. I'm giving you a chance to respond. If you want to intervene, your completely welcome...but they better get there fast. :)

OOC: I'm just kinda wondering why they would do anything. Granted, this wasn't followed by any kind of order to this effect, but it was stated to West...

"Admiral West, my men will withdraw from Corsica and retire to the ships of the SSTF. However, I will not withdraw the SSTF from this area until the Verniian prisoners are transferred to the custody of Sunset."

Oh well. If you two wanna get some sentients killed, fine by me. Seems a little silly to waste all that training though.

----

One after another the shuttles entered the bay and settled to the floor as landing legs extended and wings retracted. As soon as the drives cut out the doors dropped and the marines tromped down the ramp in their Daiklave's followed by the engineers and technicians in softsuits. Weapons were evident, though stowed, and the engineers and technicians didn't seem on their guard. One couldn't tell about the marines though - their armor hid every bit of flesh down to the eyes under layers of laminate.

Making their way to the airlock they waited while it cycled, the technical crew talking amoung themselves about the station construction while the marines seemingly held their own thoughts. In reality chatter was streaming over the VDA between the battle suits and the shuttle pilots. These were busy setting up the shuttles to recieve prisoners, pulling out extra seats and placing belts in a way that would allow their passengers to be quickly and safely secured.

On a side channel an entirely different conversation was occuring however...

"If you can get West alone make the offer then. If she accepts get her onto a shuttle, but if she isn't interested give her the recognition codes anyway. That'll get her through the gate and wherever she wants to go after that."

OOC: I hate writing an OOC comment without an IC one, but I am still waiting for Valinon to respond....

Sunset, it isn't about what we want, it is about what our characters want. West feels Adonis is making too many demands...and she suspects that once his crew is off he'll attack the station anyway.

Really, how fun would a story be if all our characters wanted exactly what we want? :)

"Link to gravity Mule field established," says a cool, vaguely femine voice in the ear of the Sardaukar. "Calibration complete, delta-frame is now ready to be used."
"Set gravitational field to standard," the Sardaukar says in calm tones. He feels the excess gravitational pull slowly slip away as the interaction between the delta-frame and the Mule reaches its perfection. The Valinor have purchased many things from their strange Ortagan allies, a people who are eeriely well versed in the ways of gravitational forces and showing just how weak it is in the grand scheme of forces in the universe. It is a pity to think so much genius has been lost in the revolution and fanaticism that has griped the Ortagans recently.
The Sardaukar rises along with his two companions in the second unit. They raise massive Impaler assault rifles that no normal soldier could lift as the Wazzu troopers approach.
"Stand down, now!" the Sardaukar barks at the approaching Wazzu. "We will withdraw once the gravity is fully release, any further attempts to impede this withdraw will result in armed force being used to ensure the success of our withdraw."

PFC Jenkins turned the corner and came to a sudden halt. He had gone in ready for danger, but not really expecting it would be present...not like this. Tension flowed down his nerves and gripped his muscles as the Sardaukar spoke.

His rifle was up, set to stun, but his natural flee/fight enhanced senses made him acutely aware that his thumb was resting on the switch. If it came down to it, a shootout would probably end in a draw...with both of them shot.

Not recognizing any rank insignia, Jenkins spoke slowly and respectfully and as if to a peer. "You know I can't do that, just as I know it wasn't your decision to come here. My team is here to transfer your people to a mutual ally. We all want to go home, don't make a fight out of this."

To himself he was thinking Common, don't be stupid. Your outnumbered and outgunned, this won't get you home. But he didn't say it aloud, fearing it might incite the soldier into premature action.

Sergeant Bean stood at rest in his under-armor (a simple flat-black jumpsuit resembling common Wazzu uniforms) as first the LRR then the first few Sunset crew walked through nearby doors. He waited until the small room was mostly full before he addressed anyone.

“Sirs, Ma’ams, welcome to Corsica. We are all here for the same thing and I trust we’ve all had our briefings on what that is, so if you’ll follow me I’ll show you the former Corsica command staff.”

Bean turned smartly and walked through a hatch which opened with the classis hiss. He waited on the other side for the Sunset and LRR leads to catch up, head cocked as if he were listening to something. As he spoke, he started walking again. “I’m afraid however we are having some trouble getting the Valinon to come peacefully. I hope they will be coming along soon.”

The LRR mointoring crew, led by the frigate's captain, James Leclerc, follows Seargent Bean, nodding to his comments and scribbling here and there.

"Excuse me...are you taking the Sardaukar prisoner or allowing them to leave the station without taking them prisoner? Also, could you inform us as to what kind of fighting has been going on in the station? What kind of casualties have there been?"

"Well sir, the station fell easily, there was no real resistance and we only used stunners. There has been no fighting sence, probably because the Valinon are sitting out there ready to slaughter 'em. I can't tell you what'll happen when they leave, but as far as we can tell we got all their weapons.

"As for the Sardaukar, we'll find out shortly."

"Well sir, the station fell easily, there was no real resistance and we only used stunners. There has been no fighting sence, probably because the Valinon are sitting out there ready to slaughter 'em. I can't tell you what'll happen when they leave, but as far as we can tell we got all their weapons.

"As for the Sardaukar, we'll find out shortly."

Captain Leclerc nods, and follows Seargent Bean through the bulkhead. In tow are the other five inspectors, who ready their cameras. One thing they did not want to be was someone in the way of Sardaukar, and they are ready to dash back out of the corridor at a moment's notice.

The Sardaukar keeps one hand on his Impaler rifle while the other one strays to the utility pouches on the belts near his armors waist.
"You will either allow us to leave this station by our own means," he says calmly as he draws out a cylinder out that is roughly a hand's length long and depresses a deadman's switch. "Or I will reduce this entire level to a hole in the station."

The Sardaukar keeps one hand on his Impaler rifle while the other one strays to the utility pouches on the belts near his armors waist.
"You will either allow us to leave this station by our own means," he says calmly as he draws out a cylinder out that is roughly a hand's length long and depresses a deadman's switch. "Or I will reduce this entire level to a whole in the station."

Back in Corsica's control room, LCDR Johnson's eyes went wide. He wouldn't. he thought...but knew that the Sardaukar just might. He weighed the options in his head.

For all the mental...problems that landed him on the outlying (and incomming) Olympus, when it came down to it Johnson still cared about his people. They were his. So it came hard to him that he might not be able to save them. Should the Sardaukar leave, he knew everyone aboard the station might die.

The young officer typed a few keys on his pocket-computer and spoke a few soft words into a microphone.

******

PFC Jenkins trembled a little in his suit as he heard the news...and then the clangs that rung throughout the hull of the station. He was experianced enough to know that sound...ships leaving...emergency style.

He waited a few tense moments knowing he would soon probably die, but hoping to give his people a few more minutes to get free.

Despite the inbuilt megaphone amplifying his words, his voice still came out soft and cold. "Start your war then."

Red-lights flashed throughout the station to the tune of Klaxons.

******

Outside, ships formorly docked to the station were pushing themselves away with all due haste. Shuttles and fighters ran for cover behind larger vessels. And all the craft turned their broadsides toward...the station. Their small fronts faced the Valinon starships.

"Roll to impose wedges!" Adonis barks as the Wazzu ships form up around Corsica. "Have all ships form up into defense pattern alpha-zee-delta. Deploy two waves of recon drones, so we can get full area coverage behind the wedge, and another wave of DOS drones.
The Fearless and her escorting screens roll, presenting their powerful belly wedges to the Wazzu ships forming up around Corsica. As they roll forty-two recon drones separate away from the ships and set up a dedicated sensor net covering the area around Corsica to establish better coverage as the warships hide behind their wedges. The shifting drones of the DOS network reform as well, moving to dedicate all their coverage to the portside, broadside, bows, and sterns of the SSTF detachment's formation.
"Re-establish a link to West."
"Done, M'Lord."
"West," Adonis says in cold tones, "I grow tired of your impudence. Either allow my men to leave the station or they will leave using force. You have five minutes to respond."
The wall of gravetic energy is slwoly built up by each ship of Adonis' formation moving into place and the area around the detachment becomes an impressive fortress of warships.

The Wazzu ships outside continued to spread out, still not changing their facing.

But this wasn't something PFC Jenkins could see inside the station. All he could see was the still very still Sardaukar trooper. His nerves were revved, his veins filled with adrenalin. "So are you going to do it, or do I have to do it for you?" he challenged, with a slight nod towards his rifle.



Stalemate...West didn't bother replying.



EDIT: OOPS! Name fix.

Captain Leclerc and his inspection team quickly leave the station and rebord the frigate, which pulls out of the docking bay.

"What happened?" asks Leclerc's XO.
"These Sardaukar...they were threatening to blow up the station or something, I think. We weren't able to do a thing. We didn't see the prisoners or anything."
"Guess we'll just ride this out."

SGT Bean was a little bit bemused by the sudden fleeing of the LRR personnel, but that was their buisness, not his. He looked to his other side towards the Sunsetian. "Your welcome to leave if you like sir, or stick around and meet West...that was your goal, right sir?"

Adonis taps his fingers impatiently on board the bridge of the Fearless.
"It is time," he says. "I will try one last time to end this bluff the Wazzu are trying to pull. Guns?"
"Yes, My Lord?"
"Prepare a full ECM and EMP barrage, and lock on to the Corsica station, fire on my mark."
The gunnery officer nods his readiness.
"Roll and fire one broadside, then roll again to impose wedges."
The dreadnought's cylinder bulk begins to roll, with the lower portion of its broadside presented.
"Fire, two rounds at two second intervals!"
The dreadnought rapidly responds to Adonis' command. The first missile attack leaps from the tubes of the warship's starboard side, and is followed two-seconds later be a second wave. A total of eighty missiles speed toward Corsica. Fifty-eight of the missiles are ECMs ranging from the most basic "screamer" missiles to comples "mirages" producing multiple sensor blinds and decoys. Ensconed in their ranks are twenty-two EMP missiles, with specific targets on the Corsica station: including the fortress' engineering, artificial gravity, command, and sensor sections.

**********

The Sardaukar smiles cooly, "Your out of your league, little Sollie. Go back home and pray that your nation never has to endure what true war is like."

It was neither West nor Brayson nor Tully nor Johnson who was ready for the manuver. Of them, none worked at that low a level of combat. But many ships captains did.

And while many made ready to fire this point defense system or that (some even fired early), and others aimed for return fire, one did something unique.

Captain Logan Framer of the WSS Valient, a Knight-Class Frigate, had his own theory on how to deal with enemy missile barrages. Like all ships of its type, the Valient was somewhat lacking in electronic warfare equipment, but the four Squire Gunboats it piggybacked were another matter, and Framer had drilled his crews well.

Against the multi-sentient crewed, extremely expensive EW/ECM suites carried by the small, fast, expensive ships, the missiles of Valinon with their limited room and low cost enough to be mass produced into the millions (billions?) were no match.

As the missiles left their magazines, they were presented with the image of being right on their target, both electrically and (secretly) "graviticly." Those that could detonated just outside the Valinon warship, taking those that couldn't along with them. What survived of the second wave was caught somewhat later and further out from the vessel. Captain Framer wondered juicially what damage the first would do, as some of his fellows in other ships, who had a direct line of sight on the Valinon warship, fired.

Having spread out in a vague disk-like pattern, not all of the Wazzu ships had the angle between the wedges to fire through...not all at once anyway. In order to fire, the Valinor ship had to spin, exposing itself to the entirety of the two Wazzu fleets (and Corsica station) a few ships at a time. Half the vessels in the fleet would be passed by the time missiles were launched and an attack directed, and would not have a chance to retaliate, but the other half....

Large ships were slow to manuver, and even so, there had to be enough time for both waves of missiles to clear the wedge's edge and fly towards the station. This did not leave enough time for Wazzu missiles to reach the ships and still get it, nor for mass launchers...not at this distance. But it did allow for weapons that propagated at a faster speed.

Knowing that their laser systems weren't really designed for heavy damage in ship-to-ship combat, those that existed fired at soft targets...sensor arrays, weapons turrets, recenly open missile magazines. Their few potshots wouldn't mean much in the larger scheme of things, but could possibly get lucky...or at least degrade future effectiveness if they weren't.

The Valinon also didn't have to worry about plasma weapons...Wazzu didn't have the technology for great plasma systems and so they didn't see much use.

What the Valinon did have to worry more about were the High Power Particle Beams (http://members.cox.net/davage/NationStates/Wazzu/Military/Weapons/HPPB.html) that the Knight-Class Frigates and Comet-Class Corvettes mounted along the axis of their hulls. As the Valinon ship rolled after firing, it exposed itself to 12 such shots...nearly one for each of the Wazzu ships who had a shot.

A couple fired twice, but the beams hit the wedge at a high angle and dissipated...there wasn't enough time for the large, powerful weapons to "recharge." 2 other ships didn't fire, much to their captain's and crew's unready chargin.

But that the Valinon had attacked their ally was enough. Even with no angle of attack, fighters and gunboats lept forward to the Valinon fleet for close combat while the larger ships formed themselves into wolf packs or made solo to various directions around the Valinon fleet at all possible speed. If a cross-fire could be imposed...well, the enemy ships couldn't impose their wedges in all directions....

A lowly frigate joined two escort carriers and the two freighters and stayed near the station.

[[OOC: Fleet/ship numbers and picture/OLD-stat links are presented on page 14 of the Battle of Gregor OOC (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=339432&page=14&pp=15&highlight=Wazzu) thread.]]


EDIT(IC): Aboard Corsica, PFC Jenkins keenly noticed that the Sardaukar still hadn't let go of the dead-mans-switch. Quickly mentally slapping himself for having some relief (he recognized logically that the man might still do it), the sound of blast-doors closing rang in his ears. Finally, he thought, Someone had the smarts to lock us in.

His suit beeped at him, his blood was pooling in his feet and legs. Unlike the Sardaukar, he didn't have a nifty gravity devise, it was only the strong artificial muscles of his suit that kept him mobile...but even with all the damn, squeezing airbags, it couldn't keep his blood up. He hadn't noticed he was getting light-headed, and he realized now that if he didn't start moving soon, soon he might not be able to.

He raised his rifle, flicked the 'kill' switch, and tried to sound tough. "No more waiting, you've five seconds to make a decision.

Point defense on the recovery cruiser flared as the missiles fired, instinctive intelligences finding an threat to SDF assets and neutralizing it. Long streams of cyan stabbed out and destroyed missile after missile even as they barely cleared their launchers. Recovery cruisers were built to defend and recover ships damaged in battle, thus the five cruisers put out a volume of fire in their point defense screens that belayed their size.

"What the hell are they thinking?" Captain Reggie raged as the volley sped towards the station. "Get the Dominion fleet on the horn - and the TCF near Io. Let's get some backup here... Open a channel to Adonis..."

"Channel open..."

"Firing on a station currently occupied by SDF personnel - my men and women - is a great way to tick me off. Keep your beef with West your beef. By endangering my crew you have drawn Sunset into your own disagreement - and given Vernii a public relations victory. Stand down, remove your men and women from the station, and don't drag this down any further."

----

Around Io the Dominion fleet split as a third headed towards Corsica. Black hulls blazened with the red falcon of the Dread Lady accelerated away from the burning world towards the fleets facing off around the station. They were the first to respond to the call though there were more stirring.

----

Aboard Corsica the armored troopers recieved the warning first and quick orders over the VDA got people moving.

"Check those seals! Weapons out - Pilots? What's your status?"

"Buttoning up and coming to full power."

"Ok - heading that way now."

Armored troopers ran ahead, opening doors for the slower technical staff as they made their way back towards the shuttles.

Sergeant Bean sighed as the Sunsettians left him too....

"If you want to come, come - we don't have much time if the station is taken under fire through. If you are willing to trust the prisoners to their legs they can come as well."

The Space Oddity watches as the Valinon and Sunset fleets face off.

While very well armored, beyond PD systems LRR frigates are somewhat lightly armed.

"If you want to come, come - we don't have much time if the station is taken under fire through. If you are willing to trust the prisoners to their legs they can come as well."

"No, go ahead." Bean said. "This is my station," he meant duty-station, not space-station, "and I won't abandon it." Truth to tell, he wasn't too worried about the Valinon task force blowing up the station. He was more worried about what the Sardaukar were doing, and was somewhat dissapointed that his guests were leaving without a tour.

But then, long-term space assignments can do weird things to the brain....

“Of all the ridiculous …”

Coming up on the scene at Corsica, Maresciallo Serafina Alighieri sat aboard the Angelan Revenant, scanning the displays and shaking her head. This had the potential to get real ugly, real fast.

“I hope they’re open to talk, regardless of abundant proof to the contrary,” she muttered under her breath. “Keep ‘em hot, people. No shooting unless we’re shot at. We’re not here to start a war with these bastards after all. Send word to Squadrone Sanguinaria - I want them backing us up in case this goes sour. Squadrone Novaculae is to make ready as well, but hold position until I give word.”

The Dominion ships form up, spread out in a long established holding pattern, plotting possible targets, their fighters prepped and ready to fly. A message is sent over an open channel, in the hopes of at least extracting their allies from Sunset. Back at Io, a second squadron broke off and made its way speedily towards the Corsica station to bolster their forces if necessary.

To all ships and governments represented in this current standoff:

This is Maresciallo Serafina Alighieri of the Dominion ship Michaelangelo. We have received a request for assistance by Sunset, and are here to honor our friendship and alliance ties. The station our allies are on has been fired on. We care not for the reasons, and what we want is simple.

We request a temporary cease fire so that the Sunset forces may safely evacuate. After that, we will peacefully withdraw and leave you to your business.

We have no desire to get into a conflict here, but we will defend ourselves and our allies if attacked, with the full power at our disposal.

Acknowledge.

Sunset, using the usual Trium protocols, is sent another message.

Serafina Alighieri of the Dominion ship Michaelangelo. Hope we can be of service. If this goes through, we encourage you to get yourselves and as many people as you can off that station as quickly as possible. Offer of escort open. I’m not aware of the more delicate situation here, so feel free to update.

A blue-white rift appears in space, scattered energy gradually taking the form of a warship. The ship has a predatory grace about it, but it reeks of a malignant evil. As the Wazzu weaponry descends upon on Fearless, a series of strange undulating energy signatures form on three points of the new arrival's hull. The shots dance over a field that glows blue-white as the energy is dispersed across the surface.
An ear-piercing sound is broadcast across all channels, and an image appears a moment later. The man appears to be blind, eyes starting blankly into the screen, he wears a deep black uniform with only a strange V-like emblem as designation.
"Lord Reynard Adonis, you are ordered to stand down by His Majesty's Special Liaison Service. As to the other nations present, His Majesty does not sanction the actions of the Lord Marshal and he will be dealt with appropriately. In the mean time, I formally request that Valinor personnel on the station be given over to my custody. I will ensure that the SSTF is not a threat."
He turns vaguely off screen, "You may open fire."
Three massive turrets deploy from recessed positions under the new arrivals compartmentalized armor. Beams of light stab out of them toward the Fearless, targeting the beta and alpha nodes that propel the dreadnought through space and generate the powerful wedge. A series of minor explosions cover the ships service.
"Also, by order of His Majesty all ships of the SSTF except for the carrier group under the HMS Intrepid are to return to Alpha Centauri. Violations will not be tolerated."

Aboard the Michaelangelo, Alighieri is not impressed. Nor is the rest of the squadron. She takes a moment, acknowledging the arrival of the second squadron and sending an additional alert to the one remaining at Io. It seemed that the Valinon forces wished to be difficult. The fact that they chose to open fire yet again, regardless of the fact it was at their own ships, was a definite concern. Thoughts of ‘rampancy’ and ‘uncivilized neanderthals’ flickered across the silent links between the augmented crews as they kept a ready watch, waiting for the orders to fire with something approaching … anticipation.

To the Valinon forces, including the ship so recently appearing on screen:

It would seem that manners and protocol are something yet to be taught in your nation. I will put it plainly.

We couldn’t care less about who you think you are, or your petty little issues here. What we do care about is the safety of our allies who your rash actions are endangering.

You will back off and hold further attacks long enough for Sunset's people to safely exit the station. You will do so without argument. In return, we shall continue to hold fire, escort our allies away from here safely, and allow you to continue to get your guns off without further interference.

Are we clear? If so, acknowledge. Directly. I am quickly losing patience.


ooc: as noted in the thread they were deployed in ( http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6897578&posted=1#post6897578), so as to avoid any doubt just what is meant by squadrons and all:

Squadrone Alpha - Caelestis Caduscum Fleet – (first to arrive)
3 Raptors - Gunship
2 Falchions – Heavy Cruiser
2 Alliances - Battlecruiser
1 Revenant - Cruiser
42 Mirrors – aerospace fighter
42 Interceptors – aerospace fighter
1 Excelsior - Battleship
And ... rather a lot of drones

Squadrone Sanguinaria – Nex Necis Fleet
1 Aquila (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Aquila.jpg) – Carrier
2 Osprey (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Osprey.jpg) – Heavy Cruiser
2 Harrier (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Harrier.jpg) – Destroyer
8 Kestrel (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Kestrel.jpg) – Corvette
20 Falcon (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Falcon.jpg ) – Dropships
132 Shrike (http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Ships/Shrike.jpg) aerospace fighters

[[OOC: OK, FTL in to block a munition propigating at effectively C...bad form...especially sequential shots rather then a combined volley. Good RP bringing the ship in, but if you tried that in a war I'd rip into your OOC reputation...not that I'm too good at it, but it's the thought that counts. :) So don't do that again!!! PS: Enough connecting words there?]]


Suprised at the sudden appearance of the Valinon ship, the Wazzu fighters and gunboats broke off...the ships themselves didn't have another shot at the moment anyway.

About the same time, inside Corsica station, PFC Jenkins reached 5, and squeezed a trigger hoping dearly that the dead-man's-switch was a bluff. Ions accelerated fourth from his short-barreled rifle in an "energy shotgun" effect. It was one of the few hand-held energy weapons Wazzu used, and meant to NOT penetrate the hulls of ships or stations. None of that would matter if that bomb was real....


EDIT(IC): Admiral West watched the arrival of the Trium fleet with some bit of annoyance and some bit of interest. The Dread Lady's fleet wasn't opposed to the Wazzu forces in wanting to protect the station, at least temporarially, but its entrance was a potential complicating factor. What was interesting was that not even the Sunsettians had confidence in the Wazzu defenses. That either said something about the effectiveness of secrecy programs, or something about the grusomeness and reputation of the Valinon. She wasn't sure which she prefered.

Captain Leclerc watches the arrival of Dread Lady ships with joy, hoping that they would be able to resolve the conflict here.

And also, the arrival of Tony Vacit's ship causes relief. Finally, someone with a level head, thinks Leclerc. He commanded a Krivak class destroyer during the Dozle wars, and was present at the spaceport when Vacit and Dozle fought.

"Could you get me in contact with the Dread Lady and Sunset ships, please?"
"Radio channel open."
"Hello, Dread Lady Nathicana and Sunset ships. Good to see you. Would it be possible for us to slip in with your group for escort? We're alone out here."

Alighieri arches a brow as the LRR transmission comes over. The Dominion had no relations, formal or otherwise with the stragglers, yet, humanitarian missions were not unknown. So long as they did not hamper the Sunset extraction, there could be no harm. Biting back a curse at the lack of response from the Valinon ships, keeping apprised of the networked squadron monitoring the Wazzu forces warrily, she sent back a response.

LRR forces, you are more than welcome to accompany us when we leave. Recommend you keep clear of possible lines of fire, and if you insist on waiting, keep yourselves at a good distance from the immediate area around the station. We're not looking for trouble here, but by damn, we're ready for it if it finds us.

"I hope the blighters don't end up in the crossfire. It's not as though we've any 'lines' out here to hold," she mutters under her breath, the sound of her voice echoing on the typically silent bridge.

OOC: Have a care, Wazzu, I'm tired of threats against my OOC reputation. They're becoming so numerous it bores me, especially since I'm trying to correct it. Besides, I've never made a claim to good numbers RPing, and I loathe the fact I have attempted it.

Kommandant, message from the ships registering as members of the Dread Lady's forces.
The blind Myrmidon commander know as Yokuni turns his head in the direction of the younger officer on board the small bridge of the Spartan-class vessel.
Forward it to my station.
He listens to the AIs voice-over.
Open laser channel to the Dominion fleet, prepare for an encrypted communique.


What you decided about our mannerisms means little to us. The petty demands placed on communications by the nations of Sol are of no concern to His Majesty's Special Liaison Service, we answer to a far higher authority.
Rest assured that the actions of Lord Adonis are not the representation of His Majesty's will and they will be dealt with accordingly. I will personally handle the Lord Marshal. And it was not within our knowledge that Sunset personnel were on the station or we would have intervened sooner.
I would also remind the servants of the Dread Lady that if the Wazzu forces did have "full control" of the station as they claimed to they would have recognized that Lord Adonis' attack was one designed to disable and carried no lethal payloads. Even crazed by grief, the Lord Marshal still has some form of decorum. My command will ensure that the SSTF makes no further brash actions, as long as your parties do the same.

Kommandant, I am getting an energy spike from within the station. It seems that some sort of anti-personnel weapon has been detonated.
What? No personnel on the station should be engaged in combat. Our reports say Adonis' squads were disabled. Is it Verniians or Wazzu equipment?
Unknonw, Kommandant
Then start confirming, quickly.
Yes, Kommandant

**********

To an extent the young Sardaukar was bluffing, but not about the deadman's switch. The energy finds holes in the armor of the modified power armor designed to carry the gravimetric technology, and the Sardaukar releases the anti-personnal gernade, what is known to the Reichswehr as a "burner" gernade.
The hall is suddenly coated in a swelling of stick gelatin paste designed in the laboratories of University Base. The paste will cling to whatever it touches and eat through it with a voracious appetite driven by chemical hunger. It has an active life of ten minutes, and the Sardaukar will pay for their bluff as well.
The gernade wielding Sardaukar goes down screaming as the paste finds holes within his armor. And the horror of an attempt to salvage the pride of the dishonored SSTF begins.

An angry ripple ran across the Mainframe, generated by the proud Dominion soldati and officers aboard the Angelan-built ships as the answer came across and was quickly passed along at the speed of thought. Murmurs and speculations ran like wildfire through the crews of the other squadrons as the message spread. Back in Devras, those monitoring the communications over Spook clenched their jaws and spat curses at the haughty Valinon, their high and mighty ruler, and their ancestors five generations back. Insults had never been taken lightly in the Dominion. In times past, and if truth be known, still presently, it was common enough for someone to turn up dead for less slights. One thing was certain – they had made no friends in the Dominion this day, where memories ran long and the art of vendetta was bred true clean to the bone.

In some cases, it was all the more … enthusiastic gunners could do to hold back from opening fire. However, their strict training held firm, despite the heady feeling of animosity boiling to the surface, all the worse for those linked through the Mainframe, their emotions mingling and building on one another.

In the belly of the Michaelangelo however, a bare one-hundred mechasoldati, once-humans now augmented so far beyond their former selves that many doubted more than a bare shred of their humanity was even left, howled for blood. These were the few who had survived the ice fields of Europa; those who had suffered loss in the Sketch attack on the WorldDisc, who had volunteered to be turned to living weapons in their thirst for vengeance. Nowhere was the Dominion drive for vendetta illustrated so clearly, and in all it’s horrific beauty than in these last remaining troops. And nowhere did it burn more hotly.

I wonder, if we turned them loose, if they could just gnaw their way through those ships and … Alighieri broke off her irritated musings with a shudder. The Walking Dead, as they had come to be known, gave even her the shivers. She forced herself to make a slow count of thirty before she responds over an open channel, for all in the area to hear if they desire, jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the scene outside of the main viewport.

To the Valinon force:

I would respectfully suggest that if Sol powers concern you so little, that you haul your lice-ridden carcasses back to wherever it is you come from, so as to rid yourselves and us of having to so much as acknowledge one another. May I also respectfully remind you that you are in Sol space, not your own, and as such, ‘higher power’ or no, are subject to dealing with those powers who reside and rule here – whether you like it or not. We are no respecters of persons, powers, gods or otherwise who cannot even bother to keep a civil tongue. Nor are we ‘servants’, ‘lackeys’ or ‘bootlickers’ of the Lady, but proud Citizens under her rule. Unlike yourselves and your relationship to your Lord, it would seem.

I do not recall once questioning Wazzu’s control of the station, nor what your business was with them, nor do we care. Our only concern is that of Sunset and the other innocents caught between you, who have asked for safe conduct from this station – and who, by God, will receive it. We are pleased to hear that despite your stiff necks you can see reason enough to refrain from any unfortunate actions. We have already given our word to do the same. Your continued doubt is an insult to our integrity, our peaceful reputation, and our honor. While we may depart here as we arrived, with continued peaceable intentions, know that this incident and your demeanor will not be forgotten.

We await cessation of hostilities on both sides so that our allies and any others wishing to take advantage of our escort, to clear the station. Once this is accomplished, we intend to depart, leaving you to your business. Alighieri out.

And may you choke on it, il bastardi.

“Keep those monitors going, and the weapons hot. I’ll not be caught with our pants down should they be bluffing.”

The RGSV Space Oddity makes its way towards the back of the DLN fleet, its pitiful lack of combat utility painfully apparent. Its powerful sensors detect the use of a chemical weapon, which hastens its route to put the DLN fleet between itself and the Valinon fleet.

"So...do you think they'll fight?"
"It's likely. Attention all ships, this is the RGSV Space Oddity. We ask that all parties please hold their fire, to prevent unnecessary fighting."

With the situation marginally calmer outside the station the armored troops stopped for a moment.

"Should we collect the prisoners and transfer them away? No reason for them to get involved in this fracas."

"Let's see if we have enough time... Captain - do you think the Dominion fleet would mind holding for a few minutes while we grab the prisoners?"

Aboard the Captain Smiley considered the request for only a moment.

"Let's ask then..." Smiley switched to the Triumvirate channel. "Maresciallo Alighieri, could we have ten minutes to retrieve the Vernii prisoners on the station? If things go down I don't want to risk the lives of those who have honorably surrendered."

Switching to the appropriate Trium channel, Alighieri replies quickly.

"Of course - I had hoped that the offer we inferred would have been more clear, but yes. Any people you can get onto your ships with you, as far as I'm concerned. We are, after all, here to serve. Keep us informed of any special needs, otherwise, we'll just keep watching, and make sure you reach your destination safely."

"I'll have my crew double-rush then. Smiley out..."

Smiley switched back to the VDA.

"Get in, grab the prisoners, and get out - I'd like to be out of here in five minutes or less."

"Yes Sir."

The marines began to head back into the prisoner area to relieve the Wazzu troops of their burden at full speed. The pounding of their armored feet in the corridor would alert anyone ahead of them to their arrival, if the open frequncy alert they were transmitting didn't tell them they were coming.

[[OOC: Valinon, please don't take that harshly, I didn't mean it as such. I was pointing out that I wouldn't accept it if we were at odds, but I don't see us as so. It seems to me that we are both telling our stories through our characters, and their viewpoints, so I have no hard feelings. Hense the smily in my last OOC post. :) ]]

Admiral West couldn't see the Sunsettian troops doubling back for the prisoners, Corsica's computers weren't compatible with those of her little gunship. But LCDR Johnson's words were enough. She weighed the event with other recent ongoings.

The arrival of the Dominion ships, of the Valinon 'command' ship, and the howling death of her people comming over the comm. There was no fighting just now, could this be a last chance for sanity? Could this be her break?

West pulled up a file that had been transfered to her on her escape from Mars...the Sunset message included some coordinates. And after a thoughtful moment, she made a decision.

Upon order, a young member of her crew opened a channel, an open channel to open space so that all would hear.

"Valinon Kommandant, this is Admiral West.

"I think you'll agree that the deaths of a few just now is already enough bloodshed. I've no want for this fight and it sounds if you do not either. I am releasing Adonis' men to their craft, deal with them as you will.

"The Vernii prisoners are being released to MIDAS care under Sunset command.

"I request that you remove the Valinon forces from the area. I will hear any request of yours at this time."

******

Inside Corsica, blast doors hissed open. Gravity near the Valinon forces restored to normal, except where the grenade had 'restored' it to zero. Those Wazzu troopers lucky to be both far enough from the grenade and around the corner retreated slightly...wanting to retrieve the chemically chared bodies of their compatriots but ordered to stand back and let the Valinon leave.

Outside the station, most of the Wazzu ships continued to spread out, but now only due to momentum, not of any acceleration of their own. Weapons remained hot and ready, but no firing took place. The gunboats and fighters for their part sped back towards and swarmed around their 'carriers.'

"The only request His Majesty and His Majesty's Government will make at this time," comes Yokuni's cool voice, "is that the prisoner transfer to Mars be expedited with all possible haste. These Verniians have been allowed to plague the galaxy for far to long. My ship will oversee the withdrawal of the entirety of the Sol System Task Force from the Sol system."
With that, a series of launch tubes appear around the ventral spine of the Myrmidon warship and and three quartets of cylinder-like devices speed toward the crippled Fearless. The devices attach themselves to the hull of the Valinor dreadnought, and begin to broadcast energy signature much like their parent ship. Slowly, the dreadnought begins to move away from the station, followed by its escorts. The Spartan-class vessel remains imposed between the two.
Once the task force reaches a distance of two million kilometers from Corsica, they redeploy their wedges and vanish into hyperspace. The ships left behind near the wreckage of the Verniian destroyers do the same. A few minutes later Yokuni's ship joins them, disappearing in a blue-white electrical storm.
For the first time since the late years of Old Emperor Gustav's reign, the Valinor are almost completely withdrawn from Sol.

**********

As the Spartan-class vessel moves to retreat, another tight-beam transmission jumps toward the Dominion flagship


What you care to remember matters little to us. As for the matter of doubt, it is a necessity in this galaxy. No one has pure intentions in this system, nor in this universe, and to make claim of such only further arouses suspicion. For every light there is a shadow, for ever action and reaction, and for ever motive a hidden agenda.

Yokuni

"Good riddance." Alighieri mutters under her breath. "Raphi - open a channel."

Corsica station, Wazzu forces - Alighieri. Do you require assistance?

Meanwhile, the two squadrons maintained their position of watchfullness, weapons still at the ready, scanning for any possible threat while they waited for those who wished to join them to be able to do so.

"I think we're good now." the message came back, along with a visual of an aging Admiral West. She looked good for a human in her low few hundreads (something that was still comparably rare in Wazzu). "But we have a lot of internal...sorting to do.

"Whatever your reasons, thank you for stopping by." A small smile crossed her face, and the transmission ended.

******

Aboard Firestar Carrier Lodestar, Admiral Brayson was pissed. No one had headed his orders for the entire, short sorte...not even Lodestar's captain.

"Are you stupid Captain! Do you remember what a chain of command is? Get me that channel?"

Captain Grant just stood there looking at him, as someone might a pest who's presence they have become resigned to.

"Fine then!" hissed Brayson, and turned his attention towards the lowly comm tech. "Get me a channel to West."

Grant may have been calm, but the poor Ensign was terrified to have an Admiral yelling at him. "I...I...I..." he began, and was only able to finish at a reassuring nod from his skipper. "I can't do that Admiral."

Grant's nod wasn't lost on Brayson, his next order was to relieve the captain from duty...and it too was dissobeyed.

After some time of this, Captain Grant finally got tired enough to do something about it, and interputed the still howling admiral. "Admiral Brayson." Brayson got quiet now that someone was refering to him. "My crew and I were of mind to return under your command when you showed your ineptitude." Brayson's face was purple again. "You made me wonder when you ordered us to fire through the wedges. You made my crew wonder when you ordered our fighters to fly through the wedges. And you drove us all away with this last rant of yours.

"You are not fit for command. Unfortionately, I am now taking this ship out of Dominion hands and so am a traitor. I can't relieve you, but I can push you off my ship." Disbelief, then horror churned in Brayson's face as he thought of the notion og getting spaced.

"Lieutenant Briggs, please escort Admiral Brayson to the airlock."

Brayson screamed as the large, muscular Briggs started to drag him off by force. "He'll have a shuttle waiting for him in a moment."

Everyone in the room laughed the tension away. For his part, Brayson went quiet in shame.

******

The Wazzu ships started comming back, forming themselves into two forces. One to return home, one to follow West into desertion.

The marines reached the bay where the Vernii prisoners were being held and they found themselves facing what they least expected. Not the barrel of a plasma rifle but the massive hand of a battlesuit helping those who sat to their feet. One of the armored suits approached the highest ranking officer who stood in a small knot of officers in one corner of the bay.

"Commander, Lt. Douglas, SDF Marines. I'm here to take you and your men to Mars. With your cooperation we can get this done as quickly as possible and your and yours into better quarters. What do you say?"

The battle suit extended a massive hand for a handshake. As nice as they appeared they were not stupid however. Several other suits stood near the entrance, plasma rifles held casually at the waist.

----

Captain Smiley turned his attention to the wrecked destroyers while his men hurried about their business. He had five recovery cruisers and there were at least five large chunks - perhaps some presents were in order.

"Helm - let's grab us some wreckage. Co-ordinate with the rest of the group to grab intact hulls first as well the biggest chunks. Get them prepared for travel as soon as possible. Tactical? Coordinate with Engineering to get teams inside and searching them for survivors as soon as we are safely secured."

Hunter looked down at the marine's extended hand, and then reached out and grasped it in a handshake. He smiled grimly, "I'm Commodore Hunter, former commander of Corsica and the People's Navy Sol Detachment. Frankly, after possibly being prisoners of Adonis, confinement on Mars looks pretty good."

Noticing the Sunset recovery cruiser at what appeared to be wreckage, captain Leclerc figures that they might need some help.

"Attention, Sunset...er...recovery cruiser? This is the RGSV Space Oddity. We are wondering if you need any help with your operations, over."

Admiral West heard the announcement through the open hatchway that connected her little stolen ship to the station.

"Attention Verniian residents, this is Lieutenant Commander Andrew Johnson, Corsica's new Officer in Charge. Several new events have taken place that change our standing.

What? thought West.

"The Valinon taskforce has left."

Does he want to start a riot?!

"The stations old command crew are being transfered to MIDAS custidy."

He does!

"All other station personnel are pardoned of all acts commited between the time we boarded this station, and now."

Huh? West was on her feet now and summoning 4 escorts...the station might be disarmed, and she might know how to fight, but a commanding officer did NOT go around alone in recently anexed territory.

"This station will remain under Wazzu soverignty. Corporate and legal matters will be discussed with civilian leaders within the next few weeks. Anybody wishing to leave the station is encouraged to pack only what they can carry, this may be the last chance.

He's not starting a riot, he is starting an exodus! West realized, practically running down the Corsica's corridors.

'Well, this presents a unique opportunity...'

The marine toggled his comm system over while listening to the annoucements repeat.

"Captain - Wazzu has declared their control and is telling those who want to leave to leave. We have plenty of room and the residents have plenty to offer. Perhaps some free trips to Mars are in order?"

"Agreed Lieutenant - feel free to pass the word. Starting with the technical staff I assume?"

"Absolutely. Any rewards to be offered?"

"I think we can see clear to offer a bonus depending on skills and information, yes. Might want to mention this as well."

"Very capitalist of us isn't it?"

"Very. Carry on Lt."

OOC: I am leaving it up to Vernii if anyone stays or goes...and if so, just how many do each (or anything else).

I've claimed the station, but any populace that remain at it will remain Vernii's...it'll allow for some dynamic RPing in the future if Vernii chooses to use it (otherwise, I'll just assume people go about their normal buisness).

OOC: I'm actually a bit confused, are you offering the station crew the chance to defect?

OOC: Yes - though it's more like an offer of employment.

OOC: As I see it.

LCDR Johnson (not Wazzu, but "on the behalf of Wazzu") is claiming the station.

Vernii are being allowed to stay or get transportation back to Mars.

Those that stay MAY become defacto Wazzu "citizens", or at least residents of a station under a renegade Admiral...but they stay under your control (if you want it).

Those that leave under Wazzu ships will be returned to Mars and left to their own devices (find transportation to a yet untouched Vernii territory? An ally? Join another nation? Stick it out doing independent buisness in Sol system or beyond?)

Those that leave with Sunset are being offered Sunset citizenship...and some (a lot of?) starting cash. Knowledgeable people prefered.

[[OOC: Apologies for not posting for a while...I've been VERY busy with school. It looks like I normally will be durring weekdays (4 day break this weekend though!).]]


Admiral West stormed through the doors to the command room, and the little tunnel through what was once bracings that still existed. "JOHNSON!" She called, "Exactly WHAT are you doing?!"

LCDR Johnson had been expecting her tirade, but expecting and being ready for the anger of a living hero (as many saw her) were two different things. Hee looked worriedly from her, to a corner of the room...and she followed his gaze.

"Tully?!" West asked astonishedly. The commodore only smiled back at her...and her anger was less for it. The two of them had been friends since he had worked his way up through the ranks. "There had better be a good explination for this!"

"Of course there is Admiral, you'd better take a look at the screens."

The view was that of the ships outside...the two fleets had coalessed into one...and the vast majority were surrounding and aiming their weapons at a few ships in the center. At her ships, the ships of those who had decided to defect with her.

No, wait, that was the Valor, she recognized the ship. Admiral Brayson had been sent there, a like mind. The rest must be...defecting too?

West's head spun. She knew she had been a popular commander, but abandoning a nation to follow her? She had had to flee, but not them, not them. So why? How? What now?

"Tully, you got to get them to change their minds."

"They can't Admiral, it is too late."

And it was, at least for the officers.

West crashed into a chair, her head still abuzz.

One by one the recovery cruisers settled down on the hulks of the ruined destroyers and extended their mooring arms. As soon as they found a solid surface powerful current ran through them and the electro-adhesive pads gripped like iron. From the underside of each ship a tube extended and mated with an intact surface. Inside were engineering teams who began to cut through the hulls as soon as the attachment was complete.

----

Aboard the station the word was passed - the SDF was willing to take people to Mars in exchange for nothing more than skills and information. Given the similarities of Vernii and Sunset and indeed the rest of Mars the people would be at home in the capitalist nation, though there would simply be a lot more opportunities. For those who wanted a safety net there was a generous offer - a year of employment at double wages for those who would work for the SDF directly.

Admiral West sat in one of the command chairs in the back of the control room. Commodore Tully had left to oversee her fleet,her fleet, the idea astounded her, and Lieutenant Commander Johnson was faithfully overseeing the station, ready for the exodius.

Food thought West, I've thousands of people under my care and maybe a couple months worth of food. The station can produce its own, but not enough for us. But then, we have all the fuel we need.

And spare parts, what about them...destiny...no, not yet. I won't need that for a long time to come.

But food, what about the food? A look of inspiration crossed the Admiral's face.

"Commander Johnson." It wasn't a promotion, it was simply proper to call a Lieutenant Commander by the last title. "Your bringing Olympus here, right?"

"Yes Ma'am," he spoke up, "I want to merge them, one station."

"Good, because thats our future."

"Ma'am?"

"We're going into the gas buisness Commander, and because we're now set up with two production facilities for large nations, we are going to undercut everyone." She didn't say that the other reason they would likely undercut everyone would be low buisness...who would want to do buisness at such a renegade place?

"Oh and Commander."

"Yes Ma'am?"

"Start working on a message for our own people, both here and on Olympus. If they want to go home, this is their chance, the CoC will handle it."

"Yes Ma'am." The LCDR turned back to his work.

OOC: OK, this isn’t moving, so I imagine the RP is all but dead. I’m going to officially close it off, or at least lead the start of a new chapter. The following assumes that time has past, the fleets have left, and any Vernii who wanted to leave, have. If anyone feels they want to clear something up, they can. I just want to end this chapter so I can move on with the development of my nation.

LCDR Johnson watched displays as the two tugs (http://members.cox.net/sincityraiders/images/BumbleBee.jpg) maneuvered the smaller Olympus station against the massive Corsica. Soon now, the two stations would be joined as one, though they would have to be maintained separately as their systems were not made to be compatible.

Johnson reflected on recent events. The storming of the station, the conflict outside, the intervention of various foreign governments, and the departure of all the ships…well, almost all the ships. Some gunboats remained, and some fighters, the replacements for Olympus’ garrison. And then there were the tiny Hawks…space capable light-fighters that were meant for air now abandoned at the station. West hadn’t wanted to send any usable equipment home with the ship that took the majority of his new security crew here.

No, not his security crew, the General’s.

And then there was West and her new fleet. They had scattered, most going outwards to the shunned Kuiper colonies…the planetary engineers who had been outcast first by threat of murder by foreign nations, then by Wazzu’s own Isolationist Era. Those colonies held the hope of food, of supplies, of survival itself.

Wazzu, or at least the Dominion Protectorate of Wazzu, had lost not only half its main fleet, but its foothold on Jupiter…its hydrogen mines. The same mines that Johnson now commanded, that brought hope of trade, Olympus Corsica. The protectorate was far from helpless, but even with West’s fleet dispersed they were far too paranoid to attack the new double station…for now. There were too many secrets that could be revealed, and too much risk in becoming even more vulnerable to other nations.

The tachyon feed to Olympus had been shut down though, and now it maintained a link only with West’s one captured communication ship, which doubled as her only FTL capable ship. But that was for the best. For while they were stuck here, and while the outcast colonies might be able to provide some help, Olympus Corsica was their new home, their new base of operations.

Johnson idly wondered if people really would come, if they would risk both mainstream hate of dealing with West’s renegades, and the renegades themselves for a chance at ultra-cheap hydrogen fuel. He hoped so, or a lot of people in the fleet would have to start tightening their belts very soon.

With a flash of light nine ships decelerated from the alpha wall of hyperspace outside the hyper limit of sol. All told it was four freighters all of whom belong to the Fucella Trading Company. They were light freighters at 1.5 km in length but were fast (for freighters) and laden with Foodstuffs, medical supplies, aeroponics (including a prefabricated areoponic station), even spare parts for stations and various vessels (many of whom were salvaged from the Thetis system, all in good repair though). A small yacht also accompanied the freighters obviously carrying a VIP of some kind.

Formed as a screen around the freighters were four destroyers of the WIckian navy, the largest ships the Valinor would permit through their wormhole junction. A keen observer would notice that three of the destroyers were larger then the fourth (which was a third smaller then a normal DD), the same size as a light cruiser. At nine hundred meters these Destroyers were the size of a Light cruiser. There were other differences too, a pair of the new DD's flanks were covered by a dozen hard points each supporting a "half" missile pod. The remaining DD lack these hard points however it did have no less then ten bay doors along its flank (five on each side).

They accelerated towards Corsica station at 300 gravities and would arrive in a day or so. No communcation was sent to any of the powers in SOL, however that would change as the ships neared Corsica station.

OOC: used this thread to start trading and to introduce new ships of mine…I multitask. Also wazzu i didnt know if u wanted to do this here or if u have another thread for trade let me know however it goes...thanks m8

[[OOC: This is fine, it doesn't really matter where it takes place and we don't have to get into specifics. Play it however you like. :) ]]

Olympus-Corsica Station, Jupiter Orbit, Sol System

LCDR Johnson's eyes widened at the tech's report. The Wickans had said they would be comming, but he didn't really expect this.

It wasn't the warships that suprised him. Lots of navies had lots of ships much larger then Wazzu made them, and he couldn't blame anyone for bringing warships to trade with a rogue station.

It was the freighters that caught his attention. 1.5km was a big ship even by Wazzu merchant standards...and the Wickens we rebuilding their nation? Superluminal transports must be more efficient when larger. Johnson decided. Fewer ports to visit, better use of materials and volume.

"Sergeant Boson, how full did you say our tanks were?"

"95% sir, for Corsica and Olympus both."

"Make sure they are overflowing by the time the Wickans get here, station and ship tanks both. I have a feeling they are going to suck us dry."

"Roger that sir."


WSS Nobility, Outbound from Jupiter, Sol System

Shit shit shit shit shit! thought Captain Reeves as he got the tightbeam from Olympus-Corsica. He knew traders, especially the first traders would bring warships...but he didn't expect the size of the freighters. Wazzuians weren't used to interstellar trade except with insystem-freighters through the use of the Sunset gate network, and that was limited. To Reeves, those freighters looked like they could empty out the new double station.

Sensors showed the freighters to be quite massive, likely full, but Nobility's sensors weren't the best, and from this distance he couldn't tell if it was faked.

But LCDR Johnson seemed optimistic, and Captain Reeves didn't have orders to respond, so he decided to keep heading towards the Kuiper belt for now.

Similar thoughts were shared by skippers of rogue ships throughout the system.

OOC: before i reply IC i figured i would make some OOC comments about what i intend to do here

These freighters are light freighters, the largest my merhcant marine uses are over 4km in length and upwards of 6 million tons of storage. The four i have here are "Fast" or "light" frighters. There is not too much storage around a million tons. Johnson is right about the nessisity of size for impeller rooms and reactors, ftl drives, it all takes up LOTs of room.

This convoy is fast as convoys go nearly twice as fast as a normal one, becasue i figured i need the speed. Also its easiest for me to arrive in sol from Alpha Centarui and ole Gustav II wont let anything other then a DD from my nation use it so i made sure my DD are quite good. and with the size of the freighters and the cargo they carry they are worth a lot so i protect them well.

i hope to establish trade with wazzu out of this an perhapes some others we will see i guess...IC reply to follow as i have class to go to now.

OOC: A general note about Wazzu. Wazzu is NOT a single entity anymore...not exactly.

Wazzu is actually made of 4 protectorates (of which the Dominion of Wazzu is the main one) and now both outcasts (people shunned after the Earth/Mars move political disaster) and renegades (Admiral West's group).

Olympus-Corsica station is controlled by Admiral West's deserters (from the Dominion protectorate). So if your looking to trade with Wazzu itself...or at least the main protectorate, then dealing with West isn't the best of ideas.

Oh...and though I have had puppets in the past, have one now, and plan to have at least one more in the future, they are all just placeholders. I only count my origional nation's population towards all these factions (which make up the greater entity known as "Wazzu").

OOC: Understood Wazzu...Think i will just speed this up to the point were my convoy is at the double station. If u had any other ideas i will just edit it later.

IC: The convoy was now holding station roughly half a million Km from what was Corsica station. The escorts always weary in Sol never remained stationary orbiting the freighters. This was a new strange system for the WIckains who up to this point mostly traded with the other Raumreich powers. While the Commonwealth Navy had no reason to suspect malice from most Sollies they have made enemies of the Aumanii and the other Martian powers helped defeat the WIckians staunchest allies the Vernii, whose fall still left a bitter taste in many WIckians throats.

A small non-Impeller powered vessel accelerated away from the yacht in the midst of the convoy, it transmitted a short message to the station:
Corsica station this is Fucella One, we request permission
to dock and to begin trade negotiations. Fucella One out.

Fucella One, welcome to Olympus-Corsica. You are cleared to dock at lock Gamma-3.


[[OOC: You said you wanted to do this quickly, and I don't have a lot of time durring the work week...so if you don't mind this liberty?]]

Sometime later, the personnel airlock to Fucella One swished open, revealing a lanky man in a flat black skin-tight jumpsuit (a lot like a wetsuit) and a broad smile. It was LCDR Johnson, the duel station's new commander.

Ryan Fucella was a self made man, he started his trading company from the ground up and so it was he who would greet Johnson, dressed in simple garb of a fine shirt and blue pants.

"AH LCDR Johnson I assume? I’m Ryan Fucella, owner and operator of the Fucella Trading Company." He offered his hand. "Sorry to keep you waiting we would have been here sooner but the darn Valinor gave us trouble at the wormhole something about the size of our escort’s vessels and they also are taxing us up the well Wazzu. I guess free trade doesn’t mean much too many people around here anymore." Fucella told the young commander.

"Trade is a good thing though, free or not." Johnson agreed with the businessman. "Which makes me wonder."

The Lieutenant Commander started leading them on towards the fuel storage areas...a short tour so to speak.

"Here you are with tons of supplies, enough to make us nearly self sufficient, at least in terms of food production. And yet your trading it for a one-time supply of hydrogen. Granted, it is a whole lot of extremely cheap less common isotopes, but still one shot.

"Is there some other kind of trade you wanted to take place in the future, or are your goals limited to this one shipment?"

"Aye so you 'ave come to the point of this whole mission already eh? Well its true we do have a need for hydrogen, we intend to continue trading for it in the future. You do point out that we are giving you things like and areoponics factory that will help your station become self sufficient. To say that my company has come here merely to trade with you kind people would be a lie." The WIckian told the Sollie officer.

"I want to establish a more or less permanent trading presence in Sol, and I am hoping that this station could be a sort of home base for my trading center. I wouldn’t require much say a few thousand feet of offices and quarters, and a shuttle dock. We can easily store freight in space so we wouldn’t need much docking bay, but a small one fore delicate cargo would be nice." Fucella said pitching his proposal to Johnson.

"In exchange for this my company can offer several things. For starters we can make this place all but self sufficient. We can officer interstellar trade with the nations of the Raumreich (by renting space on my freighters). We can offer the security a convoy escort flotilla has to offer. From there who knows?" He said enthusiastically.

“I wont bullshit ya Johnnie boy…A month ago I would have stuck me boot up your ass for being a Sollie for what y’all help do to Vernii and by default supporting the Hegemony and the death they wrought. But those grudges are for politicians to hold, I am a self made man. I earned everything I gots, My word is my bond…I think I can trust ya. Y’all are good people from what I seen, and u got back bone against the Valinor and I respect that. We can have something good here.” He said at first icy and cold but he warmed up towards the end.

"Essentially I come offering a sort of well partnership between you all and my company and the support of the assets of the WIckian Navy that my company receives...an offer of friendship I hope y’all take!" Fucella said even more excitably meaning every word he said.

"Don't start mixing us up. No one in my nation supported that Aumani attack, nor the Vernii one." Johnson was introspective a moment. "And none of us who have left Wazzu did either.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be confrontational. Business, right?" He sighed.

"OK, to be perfectly honest, this station is nearly self sufficient as it goes. But now we have a fleet to support, and that we can't do unless we get some materials from elsewhere...either from yourself, or someone else." he said, making it clear that he was willing to go to competetion.

"But I'd be lying if I said your idea didn't intrigue me. Office space is something we have, and though we have an over abundance of security at the moment, we could certainly use some perminately based trade.

"Ah, and here we are, the tanks."

They were tanks all right...large tanks...full of...gas. Well, liquid under the pressure, but still, it was a sight impressive in its sheer unimpressiveness. Having filled the tanks of the linked stations and all of their mining craft, there wasn't any movement outside.

"Full, each and every one of them, and with a beautifully high purity." Johnson felt like he was talking about drugs for a moment. "Did you want to see offices? Loading docks? Some other feature of borish wanderings?"

"Aye yes" Fucella's curious mind inspected the facilities. "Ever since i was a boy such things fanaticized me. Back home we use this sort of hydrogen to power mostly civilian product such as personal flyers, hover and ground cars as well as some of our ground passed military assets such as our mechs a long term deal for reasonably priced fuel is exciting."

"Fear I got carried away with myself earlier, once i get going I can’t hold anything back. My lawyers hate it say I can get better profit margins by holding parts of prospective deal back. Eh just being me I suppose. I would be most interested in seeing how y'all gather the hydrogen I hear it’s collected from Jupiter. I always wanted to see that particular planet." As the pair began walking he continued,

"So you say the security is tight around here, that’s good to know especially if we begin operations here. Yet y'all must need to expand your operations here before the incident here ya didn’t have half the navy to support, did ya? Need to add on to your alls factory here im sure we can assist you there, maybe branch out into ore processing some near by asteroids? In any case as i said earlier we can offer interstellar trade options to your organization here too, just think of the profit margins!" Fucella said excited again.

Taking the hint, Johnson began leading Fucella towards the processing labs...they were in the Olympus portion of Olympus-Corsica.

"Sir, I am a military man, my own interests in profit are only personal. My real interest is keeping my people alive, and I guess that puts me in a quazi buisness-government role. But thats why your trade center idea interests me."

For a moment, the officer seemed to launch into another conversation. "I wouldn't say security is tight, so much as it is efficient. As you mentioned, we have plenty of ships to respond to an external threat." Johnson was careful not to say 'half.' "As for internal, well, we have developed effective, non-intrusive policing back home."

Johnson's eyes took on a far-away look for a moment as he obviously reminiced about the place he was now forever banned from.

"Anyhow, I'm not interested in ore processing directly, nor even hydrogen mining. I'm interested in getting food and medicine for my fellows. But it seems to me that the Vernii who are still here are going to get restless fast. If I can make it worth their while, perhaps I'll get what I need, and together we'll get along better.

"Ahh, here we are." The bunch exited a passageway into a giant open room filled with cylinders the size of small shuttles. "Welcome to the heart of old Olympus. Hydrogen is mined by fusion powered ram-scoop craft and brought back here to be processed. We can take a look at those too if you like.

"Anyway, I'm not a scientist, but we have a good education back home." That far away look crossed his face again. He sighed, and continued. "So I can tell you the basics.

"The hydrogen we get is mostly the basic stuff, OK, but not the best for fusion. So we use reactors to bombard it with neutrons, and get deuterium and tritium from the process. I heard Whispering Voices had a more efficient system back on Earth, a biological system, but I don't know what happened to them and well, with such a large source in Jupiter, this works better then processing seawater.

"There are apparently some facilities in the Corsica section, but I'm afraid we haven't got around to cataloguing them yet. From reports, they are pretty basic, I've heard the Vernii have some other energy source and don't need it. I've also heard that even though Corsica was much larger then Olympus, it was more a staging point then a mining operation. I'm not sure what to believe yet. Maybe you know more?"

"I've done my fair share of trading with the Navy, and any place of militaristic importance to the Alliance would have had at least a token force of the Commonwealth Navy present. No, Corsica may have at one time been a staging point for a foray into Sol but now it is what it seemed a backwater. “Said Fucella as he continued to ponder Johnson’s words.

He Continued "Also if we do become trading partners, I am sure I can bring in some specialist that would be perfect at removing a lot of the old hardware in Corsica and installing some up to date alliance tech. I noticed a lot of the tech coming in its all pre-Wall of Stars that’s at least three generations out of date. WIckian and Vernii tech is very compatible. My aide assures me that sidewalls twice as strong could be installed as well as hard points for half pods and LAC bays. Perhaps it would free up your security force for other endeavors?"

"But I have seen enough of this station's refining process to be suitably impressed. My Company will put the hydrogen to good use and will come back for more. But will need your answer on my proposal within the day, confer with any superiors that you need to first. I hope we will be working together as partners in the future." Fucella extends his hand to the Sollie.

"Sir, I am not in the weapons market," Lieutenant Commander Johnson said as he reached out to grasp the mans hand, "but in all other ways, I am authorized to say we have a deal." And Johnson shook the hand of the businessman with a firm grip.

"Outstanding my Friend! Just Outstanding!" The WIckian confirmed.

OOC: Cool starting new trade i suppose what would come through here on a monthly bases would be a convoy a bit smaller then what we just seen. Some other larger ones may come through time to time to exchange escorts and such on there way to other parts of the galaxy. I'd probably keep a Picket squadron here to act as an escorting force for convoys coming back and fourth. If you ever do upgrade the station let me know ill see what i can do with the HHverse tech.

Admiral West walked down the halls of the station protected by a small cadre of soldiers. She was happy to see that the situation here was better then she had once hoped.

Trade and cooperation were blooming. Remaining Vernii were hard at work upkeeping the station. Traders from The Wick and several shunnedt Dominion Kuiper colonists (decendents of the outcast planet movers) patroned Olympus Corsica's seedy spots while cargo was on/offloaded. And almost invisible among the repopulating station were the rogue guards, keeping the peace.

Still, it could be better. West thought. Detached as she was from the community, even she could feel the bitter undertone. The people here had been torn from their country by war, a wound that could not be healed by economic prosperity alone. It would take time.

A scene of hope caught West's eye though. One of the guards stood kissing a station local in a side passageway. Suddenly noticing her, the enlisted man sprang to attention and soluted. Fear of reprisal for showing affection while in uniform was clearly evident on his face. But the Admiral could not bring herself to punish the soldier for the hope she had seen.

Instead she smiled as she passed by, and more felt then heard the sentry's sigh of relief as she turned a corner. Life goes on. The thought came. But thats not why I came.

West was heading for the Wickan trade offices. She had a purchase in mind.

Ryan Fucella sat at his simple desk in his office it was a long but profitable day of work. Another day another convoy to send about its duties, unfortunately it was much more complex then that, and that’s the reason for his throbbing headache.

However as he sipped a fresh cup of coffee that his assistant poured for him, he felt his tension leave his body, and he wondered what else would happen today.

Renegade Admiral Jane West didn't so much wonder into Ryan Fucella's office as stride confidently in. Centuries (thank god for now illegal bioengineering) of experiance gave her a force of will uncommon for a human...of course, the fact that she had a station guide who knew exactly where he was going helped immensly.

Now 'inside,' she made her way to Fucella's desk and offered her hand. "Mr. Fucella, I've heard much about you." That was probably literally true, though not in the normal sense. "I hope your in mood for an oppertunity today."

Fucella watched the Admiral march into his office, and he took here hand when she offered it.

"A pleasure to see you today admiral...as for opportunity I’m always interested in that especially if there is profit." He paused before continuing. "May I offer you some refreshment, coffee or something more potent perhaps?" Fucella inquired.

bump for wazzu

[[OOC: Sorry, time at a premium here.]]

"Icewater would be nice, if you have any...may I?" she inquired, indicating a seat. She took it at his nod. [[OOC: hope you forgive the timesaving liberty, if not, let me know]]

"Well, I wish to make a purchase. While to you it may be somewhat small, it will take a fair amount of my resources." West paused a moment to let that sink in. "But I think the cost to me will be worthwhile for both of us. You may find a sudden buyer for those defense products your company has been interested in selling me.

"But to start that, I need to buy an engine. A very large gravitic wedge engine. Still interested?"

"In the interests of our relationship I'd say that I am interested. However, it is not possible to buy an "engine" because such a thing doesn?t exits. The necessary components that make wedge possible is actually more of the core of the ship. Fore and Aft of the vessel there are Impeller "Rings" made up of Alpha and beta nodes, inside this ring are the massive impeller rooms that control the energy requirements for the impeller drives. These rooms occupy roughly 85 % of the diameter of the vessel and are almost 1.4 times that long on military grade vessels.?

?In a sense a ship is built around the "engine" which is why all our ships are roughly cigar shaped..." Fucella explains hoping he hasn?t bored the admiral too much.

"All that being said my company can easily purchase such hulls and components from our yards in Theeds. I can get freighter hulls easily, like the ones we operate out of this station. (Mid sized at just over a km in length) Or perhaps you need a more custom built design if that is the case I can get the parts need and you can build what ever you like around it here or in our yards in Theeds however this course is more expensive.?

?I suppose the question I should be asking you admiral is ?How big is big??? (The smallest core is about 600meters in length the largest is about 4km in length.)

Admiral West's face 'scrunched' in a bit in intense thought. When she concentrated again on the salesman, the expression is gone.

"Actually, a freighter would do nicely. And I'm not so concerned with volume of the ship as mass capacity. The more mass it can push at the greater acceleration, the better.

"And while I'd certainly be interested in seeing what design limits are so my...organization could build something to it's own specifications, for now, for this start, a freighter would do nicely."

"Ahh that is something my company can do for you, so you want something with more acceleration then actual storage capacity. I suggest our "Fast Freighter" its hull is comparable to that of a pocket battleship at 1.5km in length. With a military grade inertial compensator it is capable of 390 gravities of acceleration, however 350 is considered the maximum safe power. It also has military grade sidewalls that are comparable to that of a heavy cruiser with a comparable Point-Defense system and ten anti-ship missile launchers."

"Being some of the fastest most well protected and durable freighter its a bit more costly then your run of the mill prefab freighter, it will come in at 15 billion USD but you will find that its well worth it and it can be modified to what ever specification you wish."

Half a smile crossed West's face at the word durrable, but she decided not to debate it.

"Well, it is certainly well armed." she said instead, quite honestly. "The price is modest enough though. Tell me, is this a superluminal vessel?"

"Yes, the freighter is able to enter hyper space. This is done by converting the wedge to a hyper-sail that will propel the ship trough the grav-waves of hyperspace. This vessel is capable of half the total acceleration of a military vessel in hyper but it can still reach a respectable speed." Fucella told the admiral.

"Well, it sounds outstanding. I'll take it" West said, as if she were buying a car.

"But ahhh...as I said, I hope this is only the begining. I wonder if you have some materials I can look at.... There are two areas I am interested in.

"First, I'd like to see what some of your competetors are offering. I may wish to buy their products...through you. I understand the cost for me would be a bit higher, but I'm interested in avoiding attention and maybe you could make some profit on the transfer.

"Second, and a bit more difficult, I think I may later be interested in getting some of your engines to fit my own specifications. You wouldn't by chance have some design limits I could order to, would you?"

The rogue admiral's full attention was on Fucella now.

"Well my company has had dealings with the Gregor Corporation in the past, some of our larger freighters are still bought out of there and we use some of their frigates as VIP liners. They would have no qualms selling us whatever we could afford, after all sales mean profit. They are located at the IM here http://s6.invisionfree.com/International_Mall/index.php?showforum=11. The Commonwealth Yards of my own nation is just beginning to start its sales to outsiders located here http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=362904 I hear new vessels will be added to the approved sales list soon." He told the admiral

"So, I imagine the thing for you to do is to look at what both yards have to offer my company given your capital assets will gladly make any necessary purchases and transfer the ships to your own fleets control at a convenient rendezvous point for say 15% profit? That not that much for such covert efforts now is it?" Fucella asked of West.

i really like to BumP threads....

West cringed at hearing the "15%." She wasn't a bureaucrat in the strictist sense, but the military has a bureaucracy of it's own...especially when dealing with the military industrial complex. It took her a moment to realize that the 15% she was used to was of quite a higher price tag.

As her mind relaxed in that thought, she took a look over the brocures. "Interesting." she said in a monotone voice.

"But I'm not looking for ships, overall. I'm more interested in what one of your fellow corporate reps mentioned. Smaller items like improved sidewalls, weapons, anything I could mount on a ship of my own...or a base....

"And of course, I am interested in the limits of what I could do with those nifty...impeller drives of yours."

"I imagine that the shipyards can provide you with separate parts and systems such as sidewall generators or weapon systems. As for custom jobs with using the impeller wedge as a base the sky is really the limit except for two constraints that come to my mind. The fore and aft rings must be a certain distance from the ships bow and forecastle. Also keep in mind with the wedge that no weapon systems or sensors will be effective that are emplaced on the dorsal or ventral surfaces of the ships, however this area is impenetrable to enemy fire due to the nature of the wedge. Another is that the stern and bow of the vessel are exposed to enemy fire as no sidewall can be placed there. The CN is just recently experimenting with bow walls how once they are erected all forward acceleration becomes impossible." Fucella rambled on.

"However if you give us any specific requests I’m sure we can accommodate them somehow."

"My friend," West answered, "you have made me very happy.

"I guess now the question is, what do you want in payment? Wazzu Beggars are a bit hard for my people to come by at the moment...."

"Ahh yes I imagine that they are admiral...well for starters I'd say improving your economical base is in both of our best interests, is it not? My company could do these sales on a loan type basis with and understanding that we will get paid back in full with a half dozen years or so with only a marginal interest rate of say...7%." He considered, "It all depends just how large these sales are going to be, I think the smaller ones, weapon units, sidewalls, spare parts, etc. etc., could be covered with a barter system with your hydrogen production here and the bigger ones perhaps with some 'real estate' that’s of some worth around here say Asteroid mines and such. But we it comes to whole Impellor drives or ships I would be more partial to the loan system...I'm sure something beneficial to both of us can be arranged." He told the admiral.

West's face drew on a less pleasent expression. "I'm afraid I don't run a profit making buisness Mr. Fucella, a loan would be...inappropriate."

The rogue admiral paused a moment in thought as she reviewed her assets.

"How long are your people living now?" she finally asked.

Fucella was a businessmen first and as such profit was his chief motivator and so he was horribly confused at West un-business like attitude. But he would answer her question.
"On average I'd say 200 years or so, this is a "Benefit" of the genetic mutations forced upon us by the long since expelled Vagrant Overlords" The other modifications such as their eye stripping, lack of hair, changing eye color, would all be evident to an observer.

"Do you think your executives would like to double that without any such...manipulations? Or perhaps triple or better that for anyone willing to undergo gene therapy?

"Certainly that could be worth it to the company...and maybe someone else as well?"

Fucella frowned " No, I can speak for my company at least that we would not want any further manipulation done to our bodies. We had the changes forced upon us, our humanity stolen, that is something we will not be apart of again."

"I know it would not be that way with your scientists but once burned...No we would need some other form of payment.

"I would like to reiterate, the origional Rejuv treatment is a drug. Gene-Therapy is only a more advanced means of treatment, and is not necessary. So if your interested in the origional, that can remain a payment option.

"Otherwise, we may be able to offer other services." But now Admiral West was starting to run out of options. She physically and psychologically could not hand over sensitive information, and refused to resort to piracy. She was begining to wonder, How will I get my hands on that money?

"I am sorry but I am a business man and capital money is what business runs off of..." Fucella said sympathetically.

West frowned, she didn't like taking risks...but this was one she couldn't avoid. "Alright, payment in cash, but at 4% interest, not 7%. Remember, this is a potential start to buisness, not a one time deal. If it doesn't go through, I won't be able to purchase your products later."

"It's a deal and I truly hope this is a start of a long and profitable relationship." Fucella said extending his hand to West to confirm the deal.

West took Fucella's hand, "As do I." She then dutifully picked up the brocures and stood. "I'll see you iinnnn...two months for the initial tradeoff?"

"Yes, in two months is fine, just telegram me the list of what you need and where we are going to trade at and it shall be a deal." Fucella said happly.