NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is closed. That's right, closed. If you don't know whether you're supposed to be posting here (ie you aren't in the ESUS,) kindly stay out.

IC:

Something was definitely up. IFF returns placed six heavy capital ships resting serenely in the Opterra system. Six ships, all with Facehuggerian IDs; a full half the entire Imperial Navy. If Star-Captain Danic Feth squinted, he thought he could see their shimmering green-black hulls in the distance. That meant they were close. Damn close.

His own ship, the ISV Trinity, was a dreadnought. Larger then many space stations, and far more heavily armed, she was a venerable old war horse. She had participated in uncounted campaigns over her eon-long service life, and with the latest upgrades, looked set to fight for eons more. But not with her commander.

No, her commander, Star-General Marcus, had been with her since the beginning. He was an immortal, one of the Emperor’s most trusted and skilled advisors. But now something was changing. He was being reassigned, and another CO was taking over. Marcus, he knew. He was a good leader. But this new guy? A ‘Star-General Tanthius?’ He was a mystery. And Danic hated mysteries, especially when they could interfere with the running of his ship. He could only hope the new CO turned out to be decent. If only…

“Wow, would you look at that? That’s the Vindicator out there!” Danic turned, his thoughts suitably interrupted. It was Yvette Steiner, Trinity’s primary sensor operator who was responsible for the outburst.

Truth be told, she was a skilled officer, though she was very wide eyed; and whet behind the ears. She’d just graduated from the academy last year, and she’d somehow managed to get a berth on one of the most competed over ships in the whole navy. Either she was very good at what she did, or she had friends in high places. Danic couldn’t decide which. Something told him, however, that her naivety would get her into trouble.

“Yes…” Danic started, before the full implication of her words hit him. The Vindicator was a dreadnought, the same as Trinity… what kind of target could possibly require such force?

Yvette seemed to read the gaping expression on his face. “I see you’re as surprised as I am. Well, Cap’n, do you know anything about our mission? Why we’ve got more firepower within a light second then most could even dream about?”

Danic shrugged. “Nope. If I had to guess, it’s got something to do with our new CO.”

“Speaking of which… do you know who’s replacing old Marcus? I tried to ask the ship, but she wanted it to be a surprise.” Yvette asked.

“His name’s Tanthius. I guess he’s the Emperor’s favorite or something…” Danic replied, not particularly interested in the latest politics.

Now it was Yvette’s turn to be surprised. “Neep! You mean the Tanthius? Hero of St. Jiub’s world? Conqueror of the Alanar Craftworld? Wow… I’m shocked you haven’t heard of him.”

“I don’t pay much attention to Command’s latest golden boy.” Danic replied gruffly.

“He’s actually been MIA… presumed KIA for the past fourteen years. There was a huge ceremony and parade when he came back... I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Yvette replied, shrugging as she did.

“I don’t pay attention to that crap. Deeds, not pomp are what define people.” Danic responded.

“I know… Marcus has proven himself a thousand times over… but if half the stories about Tanthius are true, we won’t be disappointed.” Yvette replied, smiling.

“Speaking of bullshit… isn’t the changing of the blade ceremony in an hour?” Danic replied, smiling.

“Aff, and as bridge crew, we’re obliged to attend.” She replied, rolling her eyes in mock outrage. “Shall we?” She asked, offering her arm.

“I hope Tanthius isn’t one of those Clones… they give me the bloody creeps.” Danic replied, looping his arm through hers as they walked to the nearest displacer gate.

***

Clone Centurion CAM-1138, Cams, stood at rigid attention. He was clad in full battle regalia, with a thick armored gauntlet by one side, and his mark thirty three deegun by the other, resting on his shoulder.

His century, the thirteenth in the thousand or so that comprised the 9th Opterran legion, had been requested as an honor guard by General Marcus… personally. It was a great honor, even if it was rather uncomfortable. Cams would have rather been in battle, slaughtering the foes of the Emperor and running the waters red with their blood. That was his purpose in life, just as it was the purpose of the men and women under his command. It was what they’d been made for, and what they’d been trained for. Since before they were all decanted from their gestation tanks, this simple drive had been hammered into their heads, irrevocably becoming a part of their personalities.

And that part of his personality, the part which demanded that he follow his duty, demanded he stand at attention and look cleaner then he felt. It wouldn’t do for General Tanthius to become offended.

Of course, his secondary objective, one he took of his own initiative, was to ensure that no ‘accidents’ happened during the ceremony. He didn’t trust the competence of the bridge officers organizing it, and he sure as hell didn’t trust the flight corps who would be attending. They were all just navy children, undisciplined civilians who played at being soldiers. Cams hated relying upon such people, even for simple transportation from battlezone to battlezone.

“CO arrival is imminent.” Cams half-heard and half-felt. It was the voice of his suit’s AI, speaking to him in a sweet feminine voice that sounded engineered to be agreeable. He knew better… she (for he considered his AI a person, as did many Imperial soldiers,) just liked screwing around with him. They both knew that the link between suit and soldier was absolute, almost like a blending.

Cams took one last look around the bay, eying the preparations carefully. Trinity’s main landing bay had been tapped for the ceremony. At a full half kilometer wide, it was more then large enough. Plus, sound seemed to reverberate through the open air, as though in a massive marble temple. It was no doubt an effect manipulated and created by Trinity herself.

Satisfied that everything was just right, and that there was (of course) no danger, Cams said “Weapons tight, troopers.” to the rest of his century, just as a little bit of added insurance. Paranoid? Probably. But that trait had kept him alive on several occasions and he saw no need to discard it now.

Cams smiled at the discipline of his men. Their weapons had already been in safe mode. Now if only the damn naval pilots were so disciplined.

***

Zap knew, he just knew that clone was sneering at him beneath that armored helmet. He was always shitting upon him with those disdainful looks, in a battlesuit or out of it. It was, of course, no secret that the Centurion and the Trinity’s flight leader didn’t get along. The Centurion thought Zap was a lazy, incompetent slacker. While Zap thought the Centurion was the human equivalent of an uptight anus, filled with so much shit that it must have begun displacing the man’s brains.

He was a triple-hard bastard, and not in the good way. They, that is to say the clones, were all like that. Way too uptight.

The ship’s crew, on the other hand was the opposite. Most of them were pretty laid back, if not a bit naive.

Speaking of naivety, Zap wondered just what sort of wet-behind-the-ears CO would be replacing Marcus. He had damn big shoes to fill, that was for damn sure.

“Ten-shun!” Zap heard the Centurion say, no doubt waiting for he and his pilots to salute.

“Fall in, guys.” Zap said, arcing his arm in a lazy salute at the man who just stepped through the displacer gate at the opening of the hangar. He was clad in the black and silver of the Imperial Navy, with but two caveats: his breast was devoid of rank or commendations, and a royal purple cape trailed behind him, its presence the sole indicator (excluding, perhaps, his bearing) of his rank.

He was a particularly tall and powerfully built man, and muscular too. Every chiseled muscle looked like a panther’s, coiled and ready to strike at the least provocation. The man’s piercing, steel-grey eyes took in their surroundings, looking almost irritated at the spectacle. It struck Zap that this guy might be as paranoid as the damned clones.

What really attracted his attention, though, wasn’t the man himself. It was what, or rather who, cluing to his arm for dear life. It was no doubt his wife, and a very attractive woman she was. There was a sort of exotic beauty about her, though her physique screamed ‘Facehuggerian!’ to him. A mane of long, silver-blue hair ran down her back, looking like nothing less then woven sapphire. She wore a long, silver and black ceremonial dress, like a feminized version of the normal naval uniform. In it, she was gorgeous. And out of it, Zap suspected she was more gorgeous. Zap, being the man he was, couldn’t help but let his gaze linger a bit too long.

“Careful, Zapper… I’ve got it on good authority that he’ll tear your balls off if you so much as look at her funny.” One of Zap’s pilots, call sign Dutch, whispered from behind him.

***

At the center of the room, perhaps thirty meters ahead of Tanthius stood two men. One, an older and distinguished man with graying hair and a set of piercing steel-grey eyes, like Tanthius’ own. He recognized Marcus, his old friend, easily.

The other man, with the white hair, Septimus, he also recognized. Though he wished he didn’t.

”Ahh, Tanthius! I see you’ve finally taken my advice and gotten a slave girl. And a very good one, by the looks of it! Surely you wouldn’t mind sharing, would you?” Septimus said as Tanthius and he approached the pair.

“She is no more my slave then you are a good man, Septimus.” He felt his love clutch his hand tighter.

“What then? Oh, don’t tell me she’s your mate! I thought you went for the willful ones? This one’s already broken. I can see it in her eyes.” The snow-haired man replied with a sneer.

Inside, Tanthius raged with renewed anger, though he didn’t allow it to show. “Our relationship is none of your concern.”

“There will be plenty of time for bickering later. In the mean time, try to smile a little, eh? You’ll be taking command of these men; you don’t want to make a bad impression, do you?” Marcus intervened.

***

The changing of the blade ceremony is one of the Facehuggerians’ most important rituals. It marks the passing over of a ship and her crew, from one commander to another. To ignore it is considered to cause very bad luck for the ship and her crew.

The climax of the ceremony is when the previous CO hands over the ship’s saber, something of a mascot; engraved with the name of every victory the ship has earned over its lifetime.

Trinity’s saber was engraved indeed. It had apparently been lengthened, since it had run out of blade to engrave before it ran out of victories to commemorate. Now, it was long, more akin to a claymore then a saber, and heavy.

Tanthius knew he had to put on a show for the ceremony, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Actions today, not fondly remembered victories are what mattered. One only had to look at the Roman empire for proof of that.

Mentally sighing, Tanthius grasped the offered hilt with confidence, pulling it free from its similarly-engraved scabbard and soliciting a faint grinding noise.

“Trinity’s self sharpening to a monoam edge. Not enough to cut one of our suits, but enough to slice some lightly armored mook without even trying.” Marcus said, replying to Tanthius’ quizzical look.

Overhead, the lights flashed once. Then twice, before dimming and raising. “The blade has been accepted, and I welcome Trinity’s new master aboard.” Marcus said, more loudly so that everyone could hear.

***

Once the ceremony was officially concluded, Marcus met Tanthius in the flag officers’ quarters, the better to dole out his orders away from prying eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what over half the fleet is doing here, gathering in one place. You’ve no doubt already guessed that we’re attacking someone. The question is… who? Who could need or deserve such grievous application of force? Well, are you familiar with the GFFA?” Marcus asked.

“They are a young upstart group. Too weak to affect intergalactic politics, but just strong enough to resist a limited invasion.” Tanthius replied.

”Indeed, old friend. That’s why this is not a ‘limited invasion.’” Marcus replied. “You will be leading this fleet as part of a larger ESUS Expeditionary force. More importantly… you will have strategic control over the whole campaign by virtue of vote in the ESUS senate, though tactical control is handled by individual fleet commanders.

As for hands… you need not choose your own generals. The Emperor has arranged for the Indrans and Mekantans to assist you in planning space and ground operations, respectively.”

“And what of the Sskiss? I would think they are a shoe-in for planetary operations.” Tanthius asked, leaning forward.

”Yes. However, there is some concern about them amongst the brotherhood. While they are excellent warriors, we are worried that they do not know how to lead humans in battle.” Marcus replied.

“I see. So I was chosen over you or Septimus because, unlike you, I can actually work with Xenos. Very well… is there anything else?” Tanthius shot back.

“Aff. All your capital ships have undergone significant retrofits since you’ve returned to the Empire. Most of the more… esoteric weapons have been removed, and standard weaponry added in their place. All your ships have significantly more torpedo tubes, boosting their long range punch significantly. Crews have been reduced in favor of more ground troops, and suppressors are now standard. Oh, and the internals of each ship are now Tychium based, giving you some new defensive options.” Marcus replied.

”I will begin planning immediately.” Tanthius replied.

“One more thing before I go. I wanted you to have this…” Marcus said, holding out an almost calligraphically S-shaped hunk of red and grey-painted metal which pulsed and throbbed with hidden power.

“Marcus, you can’t give me this!” Tanthius said, reaching for the device with a trembling hand.

“The crowbar… that crowbar is a potent symbol for our people. Freeman used it against the Xenos. He rallied our people around it… Something tells me that you’ll need it more then I will. Now, I must go. Your father wants you to leave for the ESUS Headquarters immediately. Good luck, and I’ll see you when you get back.” Marcus replied.

***

The Trinity’s command briefing hall was deceptively small, with just enough space to fit a round, wooden table large enough to seat perhaps seventy humans. Of course, here there weren’t just humans, rather a wide variety of species. Humans and their Anikari offshoots, reptilian Sskiss, and more. And those who could not attend were represented by FTL communications, giving them blow by blow recaps of what went on, and even allowing them to chirp in, should they feel the need.

The table itself was not native to the Trinity; it had been imported from the ESUS. It’s color was as a dark mahogany wood with the seal of the ESUS, a stylized, silver phoenix rising majestically from a field of stars. Soon, that symbol would be emblazoned across the whole ESUS fleet, as work machines struggled to keep up with demand for the stylized symbol.

Towards one ‘side’ of the table, General Tanthius stood, remote control in hand. He was clad in a more traditional Imperial Naval uniform, this time sans cape, with the Imperial flag emblazoned across his breast. However, there was also another symbol. The ESUS-insignia in patch form vied for position on his uniform, shimmering in the dull light.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and Xenogens. I am Star-General Tanthius, and I have requested your presence here today to discuss our mission. Now, I don’t know what your leaders have told you, but our ultimate target for this entire campaign is the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. They have attempted to undermine our alliance, and we will not let this stand.” Tanthius knew that their pretext was probably a lie, just as most of the sentients in the room probably knew it. But then, they were all soldiers. Politics are meant to be handled by politicians, not the troops on the line.

Tanthius continued. “As such, this expeditionary fleet is going to assault their holdings. For ease of coordination, I have prepared an order of battle for our forces. In essence, we will split into three task forces: Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. There is also a dedicated group of commerce raiders, for those who are so inclined. Each strike group will operate independently, and has been optimized to cover the weaknesses of its constituents.

Information regarding our targets, intelligence, and squadron membership has been both uploaded to your consoles around this table, as well as sent via courier to your command ships.

Any planets we capture will be considered holdings of the ESUS, under administration of those who capture them until we can assign the conquered population a permanent nationality, though this is at the discretion of individual fleet commanders.

ROEs are simple. Anything goes, except for strategic weapons (planet killers, temporal weapons, and anything more powerful then that), and genocide. Though try to remember that we are ‘supposed’ to be the good guys here, and that we are wanting to have something left to rule at the end of this campaign.

Once this meeting ends, I expect you to marshal your fleets, and move to specific task force rally points, in preparation for attacking your targets. I understand that some, namely the Hyperspatial Travels’ fleet, has already mobilized and begun the assault. Use this to your advantage, Beta.

Remember, we are the invaders here. Our supply lines are longer, and they will be fighting to protect their homes. Do not underestimate them. Thank you for your time. Are there any questions?”

On board the FSN Hunter's Mercy

Galeel Stryer fidgeted uncomfortably in his dress uniform. This is what he gets for escaping that deathtrap at Togrin IV, itchy clothes. At least he had his ship, and his books. Finally, it was time for the conference. Turning on the holoscreen, he watched as it slowly filled up with all the members involved in this endeavor. After Tanthius finished, Galeel made his simple report.

"Alrighty, the Privateers are moving into position, we will disrupt their supplies...or something like that. Galeel out."

Before returning to the command bridge, he stopped by his quarters to change back into his khaki's and plaid shirt.

At the bridge, he watched as the ship moved out of inhabited space to make the jump. Great, I barely survive getting blown up by everything imaginable, and now I get to lead this little sortie against a bunch of pompous fools. Oh well, at least I get to smash some skulls.

Inside a dimly lit room, New Felopolis, Epsilon Prime

Garrett Perkins grinned softly to himself as he watched news feeds from across the Autocrasy burn late into the night and the next morning. The news of Torontonias going to war had hit home, many people were still weary of the civil war, thought it was now relegated to a thing of ancient past. He had been using the war as a pretext to clamp down on Civil and Political rights as the people organized rallies in support, against or for alternatives to the war they now seemed barreling down to.

His Propaganda minister, Julia Ogden had played the ESUS card to great effect. Although much of the populace, led to believe that Torontonias was a peaceful, business minded nation had a hard time dealing with a massive military construction program, along with their beloved trade and defense alliance heading down the dark and disruptive path of war. However, such dissention had been quelled when information was widely disbursed that it was justified by the ESUS and that the entire alliance would now be going to war, although technically that Corporate Autocracy had been committed to such a war before the alliance did.

Although the decision making process of the war was now in Alliance hands, in competent, Militaristic ones, not the cushy, self-concerned hands of the TSDC, which was currently consolidated into the Torontonian Combined Forces with the land and home defense forces, all of which were being committed to war, save a few defensive ships. However, that wouldn’t stop him from manipulating domestic issues at home. He would be using this war to cover up a consolidation of power the likes of which the nation had never seen. But that was irrelevant to the task at hand, although he entered power for that very reason, and had lusted for an excuse to beef up military power, it was the ESUS’s ball now, and was the precise reason that he was sending his most skilled tactician to lead the charge for Torontonias. With the flick of his wrist he activated his Communications suite. With that action he then thrust a man with little diplomatic experience onto the International stage representing his nation. This had a two fold reason, if the war went poorly he would fry and simultaneously sour ESUS relations with his incompetence, which would be magnified by the embarrassment the alliance would suffer, but if they succeeded, he would have a powerful military ally, as it would be credited to himself as the sole reason he ascended to the higher naval echelons of power.

High Orbit over Atlas

With the last of the military ships that would make it for the initial assault being pressed out of the line and staffed with personnel, Eric Jutenburg paced his ready room on the TSDC Galea. The small Legionnaire ship was nothing special, unremarkable from the numerous others that patrolled Torontonian space. Normally, his nervous habit would not surface while he was in command of a military ship, but this was no normal occasion. While overseeing the construction of the new ships, which were being built for the renewed security of the nation, as well as watching the ESUS war situation aggressively move forward, he had no idea what would be in store next. Then he had gotten the call.

Had the situation not have been deadly serious, he would have laughed out loud when the gravelly voice on the other end of the line identified himself as the newly installed CfedO. The idea of a practical joke on a slow day crossed his mind at first, but then the identification codes started pouring in, he knew this was no laughing matter. The man, Garrett Perkins had called to inform him that the ESUS was now at war, and with the Torontonian forces consolidated to deal with the threat of the GFFA, it had been personally decided that he was going to be leading the charge. He was then promoted from the rank of Grand Admiral of the Combined Forces and informed his command was being transferred to the TSDC Plutocrat a massive Samnite Battleship that had been additionally fitted with extra defensive systems and weapons and would serve as the Command ship of the fleet.

As well, he was told that he was to move the ship to a group of coordinated just outside of the Nubia system, now that the static was gone, and he was to meet up with the rest of the task force which was being dispatched to a location which would be transmitted when he needed it. The quiet Captain had achieved his dreams of glory and power in one day, but certainly had no time to enjoy it. As well, he had to go about how he was going to deal with the plethora of lifeforms, which resided in the ESUS. Deciding to cross those bridges when he got there, he made his move.

The Plutocrat was sleek, like all of the ships of its class. It was the top of the line of Torontonian warships, only outranked by the newly constructed Flagship, the Epsilon Guardian which had yet to see combat. It both greatly honoured and frightened him that he was being placed in such a position of power, he figured that spontaneity being his friend, he would deal with prickly International questions which they posed themselves to him. Sitting on the observation deck, taking a few moments to luxuriate over the enormity of his new status, and his new vessel, he committed to making it the pride of the combined forces. As he double-checked that all systems were go, including the small contingent of fighters stationed on the ship. Quickly moving to the Command Centre near the forward section of the ship, and quickly Jumped to the Coordinates in the nearby Nubian system.

Outside the Nubian System

Jutenburg was staggered by what he saw. If there was a reason that the fleet didn’t conglomerate in the system, it was because of its sheer enormity. He didn’t realize how many ships were being committed to the war effort until now, in which he realized that he quite possibly had the entire TSDC out here, under his command. Along with the few dozen ships he had brought with him, there were easily thousands of ships either parked in space or gliding along in formation, the amount of manpower concentrated in such a small region was astounding. The ships displayed the local insignias of the three fleets, Alpha’s Black Scorpion tail in a red hexagon displayed proudly, Beta fleet’s golden scorpion crushing a sun in its claws on others, and finally the Blue scorpion swarm over a helpless planet. Finally, sections of the homeguard fleet with its green shield in front of Epsilon Prime with a black scorpion on the front. However, all of these ships also had shiny new ESUS insignias branded on their sides, the rising phoenix from a field of stars, which bound them all under a single command. If the Torontonian government wanted to send a message with this deployment, it was certainly one of full and all encompassing commitment.

Once the ships were assembled into some semblance of order, and Grand Admiral Jutenburg had introduced himself and established a chain of command with High Admirals Joyce, Paluzi and Hulgo. Although slow and unwieldy, the ships were able to get into an organized jump sequence surprisingly quickly. Once assembled, the massive swarm like formation of ships jumped, but only after getting the OK from a local Science Vessel which confirmed that such a concentrated folding of space would not damage the fabric of space itself.

The ships then bent the fabric of space to their will, some captains and crewman would come to swear that such a massive, unified jump made the very region around them condensed into but a wrinkle as this momentous fleet jumped away, but those stories would be relegated to folk tales of this grand war.

One thing that Jutenburg did not look forward too was the information that followed the new jump coordinates. It would appear that their old rivals, the Facehuggerians were not only leading the Grand Combined forces of the ESUS, but were also their local fleet commanders. Although much of the military had moved on from the Civil War, the pain still smoldered within Eric as he thought about his ancestors humiliating defeat by the Facehuggerians massive ships. He had vowed that if he ever encountered one of the massive Facehuggerian warships, he was going to scrape his ships bow across the sleek hull of the closest one in defiance, regardless of the situation.

Facehuggerian Meeting Formation

…Jutenburg soon came to his senses, which the fleet reemerged, from the fold into the meeting area. They seemed to be the first ones there aside from the Facehuggerians. Although Jutenburg still loathed the Facehuggerians, their ships were frighteningly awe-inspiring. Although he commanded from a ship, which dwarfed most other TSDC ships, even the most humble Central Facehuggerian ship could easily swallow several of the Samnites at once in one gulp. It made him rethink his plans of modest retribution, as well as making him come to the realization that the stories of his childhood were disturbingly true.

However, they had their own way of making an entrance. What the Facehuggerians made up in size, they lacked in numbers. The entrance of the Torontonian fleet was like a swarm of angry rats in the midst of elephants. A single one going unnoticed, but the simple mass of the combined fleet demanded at least modest recognition. The ships set up positions around the Facehuggerian ships, the fleet equally splitting under their various commanders and settling around their own Facehuggerian destroyer, the thinning out of the fleet would make it easier for other ships to arrive as well as to establish some sort of give and take relationship with their commanders.
Upon arriving, Jutenburg sent out confirmation codes to ensure that his fleet was going to be plastered into a pulp by the massive ships. Once recognized he was briefly informed by an AI registering from the ISV Trinity directing them to dock with the massive vessel. Something told Jutenburg that he should know about that ship, but he couldn’t quite put his hand on it, he assumed it must have some significance to the Facehuggerians, as it didn’t bring up anything important from his personal knowledge.

Once on the massive vessel, Jutenburg and his small entourage of three high-ranking tacticians were roughly guided towards the meeting chambers. Jutenburg cast suspicious glances everywhere, although most of them were simply reflected back at him from the tinted screen of the Clone Troopers. They were known to be fierce and ferocious, but seeing them running around the ship just didn’t seem right. After much struggle he managed to find his way into the room, where he was confronted by a man who in Jutenburgs eyes essentially defined what it meant to be Facehuggerian, built to the point of being overcompensating. The mountain of a man was truly intimidating to the smaller Torontonian in comparison, and his seemingly physical perfection made Jutenburg quickly glanced down to his Epsilon adapted feet with their extra reverse offshoot. It took all his mental power not to slink back out of the room, cowering like his tacticians did.

Fanning his impassioned hatred of all things Facehuggerians, he used it as leverage to the overpowering urge to run and never stop from the room, and courageously stepped up to introduce himself to the man before he started, as no one else appeared to had arrived yet. Before he went into physical contact, he did a one over on himself, and cursed to realize he hadn’t added the new insignia that bonded him to the rest of the ESUS. Pulling the patch out of a pocket in his pants, he placed it beside the TSDC logo, closer to his heart and let it display proudly in the light of the meeting area. Moving to shake the Commanders hand and turning on that slick Torontonian charm, he forced a smile that to even the most trained could be considered genuine, and introduced himself

“Star-General, I am Grand Admiral Eric Jutenburg of the Torontonian Combined Forces reporting for duty. We brought everything we could muster, Space and land combined, hopefully it will be enough to win this conflict quickly and efficiently, with …minimal allied casualties.” Jutenburg curtly stated

And hopefully you could be unfortunate enough to be one of them He thought icily.

“I am sure it will be a pleasure to serve under the dignified Central Facehuggerian command, which has quite a reputation with the TSDC. Also, I would imagine that ‘Grand Admiral’ would be too pompous for one who represents only a fraction of the Joint ESUS Fleet, so Admiral, or T’Admiral could be substituted, or anything that you wish to simplify the communication structure with. I am a simple man, and I don’t really care for such fancy titles anyway.”

As he took his seat, he could only imagine what the Facehuggerian commander was thinking at the moment. He inwardly smirked that the fact that he probably seemed like a green commander to his eyes, which he most likely was, but would hope to surprise when push came to shove in battle. As the meeting started, Jutenburg was surprised, and slightly embarrassed when he realized he was in the same fleet as the Facehuggerians, he had known they were the “Supreme Commanders” so to speak, but they were now lopped in locally as well, Jutenburg’s brash show of ignorance would cost him standing he would now have to recover through competent commanding. As well, he was pleased to discover that the rival Sskiss were relegated to another fleet, and their old allied Arizona Nova and Metallinauts had been placed in Alpha fleet as well. There were a few others he didn’t know personally, but would hopefully create bonds as the campaign went on.

Once the meeting was over and the floor was opened for questions, Jutenburg asked a pressing one on his mind.

“Star-General Tanthius? Is there any sort of standardized communications network? The Torontonian ships are all linked together through our own protocols, but I would imagine that all the ships in the fleet can’t be bothered to learn them. As well, is there going to be an encrypted band the whole fleet will transmit on? Detailing us of their progress, along with localized Task force communications? Because I would imagine it could get pretty hectic if we all transmitted tactical information over different channels at the same time, especially for some forces that may lack sophisticated AI structures to handle them.”

One of the Tacticians also asked

“Star-General? Is there going to be a Commander of each Local Task force? Or are they going to coordinate as a group?”

Once all questions were satisfied, and the meeting concluded, Jutenburg left the ship and breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the belly of that beast, and back on his own ship. He also mused over his first impression with the Facehuggerian Star-General, he had hoped to seem cooperative without seeming subordinate. Finally, his thoughts settled on the uncertain outcome of this war. War was hectic and unpredictable, there could be no telling what route it would take, men who were puffed up with overconfidence in their skills were always the first to fall, which is why he attempted to keep a level head. The day had been insane in the amount that had gone on, so he decided to relegate moving to the rendezvous point to his second in command and catch a few moments sleep…

It had been no great secret that the Empire had been preparing to go to war.

Years ago, Anikar had put out the call for Third Fleet (before the New Fleet Protocol and the split) to begin a full mustering, and had not explained why. Within a couple years the mustering did complete; but nobody was going anywhere. In a surprise move, Anikar then essentially switched out the duties of the First Fleet and, she assured all, momentarily retired them to an inactive status, making Third Fleet the patrollers in the Core. For years like a restless wolf the fleet paced about the Core, and all the while news analysts and pundits worried and wondered just what was going on. Then, Tigerlan attacked Xenonier, and the declaration of war was leveled upon the GFFA. Anikar immediately ordered First Fleet back to its normal duties, and dispatched the Third (and by now, due to the New Fleet Protocol, Sixth) Fleet to rally with the ESUS. When asked how she could have known about such a thing happening, she simply replied, "I was not waiting for this. I was waiting for the flashpoint. The universe has been but an explosive keg for the last century, and it was only a matter of time until someone lit the fuse."

-=ANSS The Invisible Hand

High Admiral Colombe Absalom stood stolidly upon the central dais on the Hand's o-deck. He struck quite a different figure than his predecessor, Admiral Ultan - Ultan was large, bear-like, and physically intimidating, while Absalom, who was slighter and thinner, nonetheless cultivated an aura of a more mental intimidation.

The vessel's captain, the Kaleesh Bakur nur Khurshid, walked up to him, his cloak sweeping in train, and saluted in his way - the clenched fist of his right hand over his heart, and said in his deep, gravelly voice, "Sir, Third Fleet has finished assembling here, and awaits your orders."

Absalom nodded, fixing his piercing gaze upon the Kaleesh. He had, though he did not show it, a deep respect for Bakur. Rejected by his own people by such a primitive notion as cursed bloodlines, Bakur had worked out for himself command of this ship out of pure talent, work, and ambition - not unlike himself - and was a being worthy of the respect of anyone.

"Excellent," replied Absalom. "Feed orders back to prepare the fleet to embark. The coordinates are already stored, look under the ESUS lists, and switch our status with the hub from Alpha Readiness to Green."

Bakur nodded, returning the piercing gaze of Admiral Absalom with his own two reptilian eyes. "It will be done, Admiral," and turned about back toward the busy flurry of activity that was o-deck. Absalom nodded himself. Finally, a crew that was worth its weight. He had a very good feeling about this command, and this war.

-=Meeting Room of the ISV Trinity

High Admiral Ultan sat quietly - truth be told, he was sleepy and not a little headsore after a long night celebrating. Apparently he had been deep in the cups himself, as he remembered little. He was a rare sort within Arizona Nova, preferring the numbing affects of alcohol to what was considered the far finer acuteness of caffeinated drink, and was often remarked as having the "Terran crudeness" in that regard. Like it mattered, as he was often called far more cruder crudes. It was probably because of this particular oddness on his part he was chosen as ambassador to Central Facehuggeria, not that he minded. He liked them, they were a blunt people, and he valued bluntness. Blunt, and strong. He respected that. As he listened to the Facehuggerian outline the war, his comm began to buzz. Stifling a yawn, he pulled it out and looked at the screen. Third and Sixth were on the move. He felt a slight twinge of longing - had it been perhaps a century or so earlier he might have been commanding it himself - but it was not like this retirement was not without its good points. He carefully input the details that the Facehuggerian had outlined and sent it back to High Admiral Absalom. He reflected for a moment on that one - he was right strange, so quiet and pale. The first time he came on the bridge, Admiral Ultan asked where his parents were, not knowing this tiny person would be succeeding him years later. He was competent, and sharp, but just weird in manner. He banished the thoughts from his head, and set the communicator back among his belongings and turning his attention back toward the Facehuggerian.

There was no great parade. There was no grand speech. There was not even a nod. They got nothing, the men and ships going to war. All they got, was silence.

Maybe it was in part to the main world of Azaha being in a state of civil unrest, and the Daemon Prince himself unable to reassert control. Or maybe it was the fact, that not one commander in Azaha condoned this war, what they thought to be, a belligerent act of ignorant aggression.

But now, they rolled into port, the silent, and dishonored ships. The fleet was small, again because of the opposition to the war, and the civil unrest.

There was only one great ship, and that was a Super carrier, some 2 kilometers long. Accompnaying it were about 30 other ships, consisting of escort carriers, destroyers, and a few battle cruisers.

Another one was with them, the second biggest class of ship the Azahan had. A 3 kilometer behemoth, a mass troop transport called the Collossus. She carried 75 thousand troops, 800 walkers, thousands of gunships/transports, and last but not elast, 750 dedicated Vulture gunships.

It was a meager force in total. But such is the price of war.

A communications was sent out, letting everyone know that the Azahan were there, and were waiting at the Beta rallying point. They had seen the breifing when they approached the meeting point, and understood. Now all they did, was wait.

High Gaurd Fleet Yards, Intergalactic Space / ISV Trinity Command Briefing Hall;


Admiral David McKenzie, KHGV Sword of Inevitable Justice, listened to the Facehugger's speech impassively from the stillness of his state room, half a galaxy away - a small holodrone relaying his seated image with microscopic perfection, the tall, Caucasian man appearing in the slimline armour of his Dress Whites.


Commanding a defencive reactionary force, as well as overseeing the Dominion's commitment to privateering efforts, David suspected little to be said that would be of his benefit, and so behind his inscrutable surface allowed organizational details to preoccupy his thoughts; anything to avoid dwelling on the almost certainly farcical cause of this war, or upon the inevitable cost it would exact of those on both sides.


Idly, he queried the station's computer, fleet dispositions and ship status appearing within his mind's eye; the two superfortresses of his response force positioned in the voids between stars while his own command sat nestled in the embrace of the most powerful displacer platform ever built, and a score of frigates - the so-called 'pocket dreadnoughts' - shifted from stealthy, unseen patrols to equally unseen rallying points.

Resupply would be easy - the advantage of a small fleet - but such logistics were nevertheless prepared well in advance, munitions crated and contracts quietly signed.


With a mental sigh, he refocused, taping his neural lace's sensory buffer and reviewing the meeting up to that point in but a fraction; nothing important, as he'd thought, atleast so far. Now, what to do about the KAG? Those trigger-happy, self-styled 'adventurers' could be a blessing or a curse - if he played his cards just right...

A single Otagian frigate- essentially a pair of cannons and a plasma drive- dropped out of the Mobius Continuum, a black cylinder against the black of space. Plasma drives firing, it took up a position next to the far larger Facehuggerian vessels, its fifty meter form barely registering against the gargants. Pirrouteing, the tiny frigate brought its comm lasers to bare towards the dreadnought.

ISV Trinity, this is QAV Anthill of the Otagian Monarchy. I represent the fleet set aside for this campaign. We await your orders.

The Mindsetti flagship, MSN Majestic, known to her crew as the Planetsmasher, hung in the void between stars, silently drifting in the vacuous waters of space, barely rippling the fragile surface of space-time despite her mammoth mass. She represented the pinnacle of Mindsetti ingenuity and mechanical prowess; her thirteen kilometre length kept aloof by a trillion proprietary parts – and the blood and sweat of her crew. Her edges blurred slightly by her dense shielding, her outline vastly overshadowed the fleet she now led. And what a fleet it was! Fifty first generation Sonne battleships, accompanied by their newer, more powerful second generation counterparts; a hundred McCoy class cruisers, flanking a hundred heavy carriers.

Such power had not been amassed for generations.

The gym was deep inside the bowels of the Majestic. It lay on deck sixty-two, in an unmarked corridor in the crew recreation zone. The entire deck was deserted; the minimal crew of eight thousand were either in their cabins, asleep, or at battle stations. The ship had maintained battle readiness on a round the block basis for almost a week. To save power, the deck's lighting had been dimmed, and the emergency lights trailing a winding path through the corridors cast an eerie halogen glow over the blue tinged semi-organic walls.

“Admiral, I think I've located him,” a stiff bridge officer chirped.

“Oh?”

Admiral Anthan, ever the professional, maintained his stony gaze, despite the distinct tang of worry that had permeated the bridge for the past hour. The Majestic was big, granted, but not so big that you should be able to lose someone inside it. The disappearance of the Prime shortly after he boarded had worried all senior staff, and most of all Anthan himself, whose head would roll if the Prime so much as wished it so. He'd initially worried that this was some kind of twisted test; perhaps the Prime was toying with his crew, to gauge their reactions to losing the head of the chain of command. He was undecided as to whether locating him was good news, or a more troubling alternative.

“Well, speak up, child! Your silence doesn't tell me where he's been!” He barked.

The flustered ensign fumbled clumsily with his virtual vision, hastily brushing his invisible hands over the button labelled 'transfer'. The Admiral's eyes crossed slightly, as his focus shifted to his peripheral vision, and his implanted virtual desktop.

“Deck sixty-two gym, eh? John, get down there, and inform him we've completed preparations for the first jump. If it pleases his excellency, he's more than welcome to witness it from my bridge,” he said, his palms sweating slightly. “And, uh, try not to get yourself killed.”

Commanding Officer John had served with Anthan for almost eighty years; almost half of it on the Majestic. He was as close to a friend as you could get in the harsh social environment of the Mindsetti navy. He'd even shared his bed a few times in the past – as well as his wives. John was a sprightly three-hundred year old Mindsetti through and through. Born in the Kazi district of the megalopolis M-1, he'd never really fit in with his extensively extended family, and so joined the navy on his sixteenth birthday. He'd never looked back since. Not until now, that is.

* * *

The emergency lighting was unable to illuminate the several decks tall gym ceiling, leaving it in murky shadows. The room eerily mirrored the ancient cathedrals of old; their reverent atmosphere echoed by the deadness of the deserted deck. The only sound to be heard was the brisk clicking of the Commander's boots on the slightly textured floor, as he made his way along the empty corridors to the deck sixty-two gym.

“Bloody deserted decks, waste of oxygen, freaking me out with the creepy ass lighting and silence,” he mumbled to himself.

As he advanced on the sealed door of the gym, his pace slowed, and he made a visible effort to compose himself – fixing his suit, straightening his cuffs, making sure his badges were shiny and highly visible. Then, content that he was presentable in the eyes of the supreme leader of The Mindset, he opened the door.

The room was totally empty.

Perplexed, he ventured further into the chasm, trying to be as silent as possible, his ears straining in the gloom.

He neck snapped easily.

“Oh, you're no fun!”

Nurik emerged from the darkness without a sound, a look of deep disappointment on his face.

“I'd rather hoped they'd send a full squadron down. One man, alone, without the slightest hint of armament? How utterly boring. I'll have to file a complaint.”

He smiled slightly, glanced at the body, and said, “pity, too. Just look at all those shiny pins on his lapel.”

Now heartily enjoying his private joke, Nurik Dancos took a leisurely walk towards a neatly folded pile of his clothes, covered his bare chest with a stylishly cut dress-shirt, and made his way up to the bridge. Admiral Anthan was expecting him, afterall.

* * *

His unannounced arrival on the bridge caused quite a stir. Admiral Anthan practically leaped out of his chair, almost puncturing his eyeball with a hasty salute.

Nurik smiled a toothy grin and said, “hello, Admiral.”

The Admiral tried to maintain his stony exterior and failed, utterly. He searched for something noble and triumphant to say, something fitting of such a historical event.

“Where's John?”

Nurik's grin didn't fade. If anything, it got wider.

“John? Oh! You mean the officer you sent to fetch me? Poor fellow, I sent him straight to bed. He was suffering from atrocious neck pain.”

He strolled towards the central podium of the bridge, and began lazily looking over the shoulders of the crew, who, without fail, cowered away from him.

The Admiral sought to compose himself, and quickly remarked, “welcome to the bridge of the Majestic, your excellency. I am most humbled by your presence. I am happy to report that the fleet is assembled, and we've just begun our jump countdown. We currently stand at t-minus sixty seconds.”

He offered his hand to the Prime.

“I would shake your hand, Admiral, but only if I wished to melt it. Seeing as you're a crafty fellow who may just help us win a few battles, I wouldn't want something so disastrously crippling to happen to you, no? It's one of the more interesting side effects of a personal shield, you see.”

The Admiral attempted a smile, failed, and instead settled for a concerned grimace.

“We've jumped, sir.”

“Very good, ensign. Contact the Central Facehuggerian flagship. Inform them of our arrival.”

The Admiral looked back at Nurik, attempting to search his lifelessly black eyes for any hint of approval.

“Very good, Admiral. Keep me informed of developments.”

And with that, Nurik left the bridge to seek amusement elsewhere.

“I can’t believe they’re actually going to go through with it.” Commodore Tetsumero said spitefully as the two men exited the council chamber.

“Well what did you expect?” replied Admiral Takasugi, slightly annoyed, “It would hardly be appropriate to back out now.”

The two men stepped onto the lift that would carry them to Tactical HQ. The door slid shut, and they could feel the inertial array kick in; preventing them from needing to be sprayed of the floor with a hose. “Still,” said Tetsumero, “this is reckless. I don’t see how we can win.”

“The aim is not to win, Commodore,” the array disengaged and lift door opened, revealing the intensely busy headquarters with its innumerable displays and computer kiosks, “it’s a show of force, a token gesture; our aim is to prove our value to our allies. Only this, and nothing more.”

They stepped off the lift, approaching the Grand Admiral who stood fixated upon one of the holographic diagrams; this one displaying estimated fleet distribution within the outermost Sagittarius belt. “362 ships and a million mecha is not a token force.” Tetsumero said under his breath.

“Gentlemen,” The Grand Admiral turned to meet them, “What have you brought me?”

“Only information,” Tetsumero replied, “arguments are still being heard and Takahashi still hasn’t made his case for…”

“The Daimyo will approve the action, as will the Shogun.” Takasugi interrupted.

The Grand Admirals eyes narrowed, though whether this was a sign of approval or disappointment was anyone’s guess. “Is that all?”

“Sir,” Tetsumero grunted affirmatively.

“In that case gentlemen, I have your assignments.” The Grand Admiral said passively, handing each man a datachip from atop kiosk next to him. “Commodore Tetsumero, you are to take command of Kuroshio station. Make sure it’s defendable… very defendable, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” he replied with a short bow.

“Good, you leave immediately.”

“Sir!” He said sharply, this time saluting. An awkward moment passed in which no one spoke.

“I said ‘immediately,’ Commodore.” The Grand Admiral finally said, his gaze narrowing.

“Umm… yes, sir…” Tetsumero said, a hint of surprise and fright in his voice. He turned quickly back towards the lift.

The Grand Admiral turned back to the display he had been studying when the men had entered, inviting Takasugi to sand next to him. “See that,” he said referring to the image before them, “that’s everything… all of it… all we have left.” There was a hint of gloom in the Admirals voice, a display of emotion most unlike his usually indifferent façade

Takasugi said nothing.

The Grand Admirals voice returned to normalcy, “I can afford to loose those ships, commander… but I cannot afford to loose the war. The Daimyo will want put Hijikata in charge of the fleet.”

“Hijikata, but…” Takasugi began.

“He will refuse, of course. He may be a politician, but the man is smart enough to know that he’s not the brilliant commander he used to be.” The Grand Admiral interrupted. “In his place they will send Admiral Takahashi.”

“Takahashi would be an appropriate choice.”

“Indeed.” The Grand Admiral paused, “But in his heart he’s still a captain, always has been… he’s out of his league.” The Grand Admiral turned to Takasugi with an expression so stern it could have killed a lesser man, “Intelligence reports this enemy to be greater then any we have yet faced, and now is the worst conceivable time to face them. I am deploying the Arashi; you are to take its command. Follow the expeditionary force, monitor their progress, and when Takahashi screws up… ‘relieve’ him.”

Again Takasugi said nothing, but his expression relayed understanding.

“Dismissed, Admiral.”

For the first time in hundreds of years, Tirara Vinan was going to be in a monumental war once again. She sat in her command chair on the bridge of the IPFS Phaeralon and stared out at the multicolored spectra that was the temporal hyperspace corridor her vessel traversed as she thought back to some of the most critical battles she faced when she was a lowly major during the war with the Suchae. So many lives lost, Human, AI and Tredaran alike. She knew that while war would ultimately result in lives lost for all parties, she knew that the enemy the Indran Fleet was about to face was inconsequential in comparison to the might and power of the Suchae.

Depicted on the forward holographic display were the TIF vessels Cerberus and Styx, both Omega Class Temporal Dreadnaughts. On displays throughout the spacious bridge, she could see that the battle conditions that the Indran Temporal Incursion Fleet has set almost three weeks ago, had not slowed its pace one iota. Crew of each of the three races were monitoring the vital components of the ship, manning offensive and defensive stations, keeping track of the fleet of twenty vessels that were flying in close formation on route to the destination where the ESUS Forces were staging for their initial attack on their new enemy.

The recent rejoining of the ESUS Alliance came as something of a surprise to General Vinan when she heard the reports in her daily classified briefing. Due to massive amounts of instability throughout the galaxy and with the inescapable hatred for the alliance that the Indrans poured quantity-less amounts of blood, sweat and tears into revitalizing, It had been decided by the High Command that the ESUS could use the support of the Indrans once more.

Her mind-wanderings were interrupted when a voice from behind her spoke up.

“General Vinan. I have spoken with commander of the Delphi Task Force. They are ready to deploy the rift as soon as we exit hyperspace and confirm with the Star-General the plan is a go.”

General Vinan looked up to see the strikingly beautiful commander who had just given her the oral report. That Commander was Azure Vinan, Tirara’s daughter. Under most circumstances she would not have assigned her daughter to this mission, however, with the war requiring the utilization of the Fleet’s newest creation, the Bellerophon Class Long Range Artillery Assault Dreadnaught, her expertise would be needed more than ever. She was still pleased to see her daughter doing so well for herself.

“Commander, its good to see you again. Though I am a bit surprised, why aren’t you on board the Bellerophon?”

“I had some final things to finish up here before we arrived at the Cluster. Mark is keeping my seat warm on the Bellerophon.”

“Very well.”

She sat back in her command chair and spoke in a lower tone so only her daughter could hear her.

“So you and Mark? How are things going between the two of you?”

“As well as can be. He wanted me to tell you….”

She was cut off mid-sentence when a young lieutenant at the navigation console interrupted.

“General, we are approaching the destination.”

In less than a heartbeat, Tirara was back in General mode.

“Helm, drop us out of hyperspace. Order the fleet to follow suit.”


As graceful as a streamlined barracuda, the Phaeralon and the nineteen other vessels smoothly transitioned from temporal hyperspace back into normal space. As they slowed, they immediately took readings of the surrounding area. As they had been briefed beforehand, they were unsurprised yet still awed to find the incredible numbers of warships located in what was once, and arguably still, Indran Territory, The Monoceros Cluster. Home of the ESUS Senate Chambers.

As the Indran formation slowed to stationkeeping speeds they passed by small and massive vessels alike each with one of the national symbols of Central Facehuggeria, Flaming Souls, Torontonias, Arizona Nova, Azaha, Kanuckistan, Otagia, The Mindset and Nobuseri. However despite the radical differences in construction, design, and size of many of these ships, they all proudly bore a marking that was recently fitted to the hull of the twenty Indran Vessels now coming to a stationary halt, the new symbol for the Extra Solar Union of Systems Alliance. This was truly a diverse, and more importantly, a unified fleet. It was created from the most powerful, the most respected civilizations throughout the universe. Even with all her military training, General Vinan, couldn’t help but sense the pride that extended through the bulkheads of the ships representing the many different cultures in this cluster. She brushed that aside and stood up as she prepared to contact the Star-General Tanthius aboard the ISV Trinity.

“Major, open a hailing frequency with the Trinity.”

Within seconds, she was standing as a hologram, aboard the Trinity with the representatives of all the nations who had vessels in the immediate region, as well as those who hadn’t arrived yet. Some were there in person, like the Facehuggerians, others were there by proxy, like herself. She straightened her anthracite colored battle dress uniform and turned towards the Star-General and saluted.

“Star-General Tanthius. It is an honor to finally meet you in person. I am General Tirara Vinan, senior commander of the Indran Temporal Incursion Fleet High Command. I am here to assume the position as ESUS Fleet Commander and your Second-in-Command. I am given the authority under Indran Law as a Flag Officer of the Temporal Incursion Fleet. The ESUS combined Fleet will soon be ready to deploy to the regions of space of our enemy, the GFFA. Give us the word, and we will crush our enemy with overwhelming force. We await your deployment orders, sir.”

With that, the holotransmission ended and General Tirara Vinan sat back in her command chair, and awaited the order. Like a thousand other commanders, on a thousand other battlefields, she awaited the dawn.

Brilliant blue light pierced the blackness of space, tendrils of energy crackled from the rift as ships began to pour from it, the Unified Worlds had gone all out, pledging to defend its fellow ESUS members and support the destruction of the Imperialist GFFA. The first ship to emerge was the Freestar X, Captained by Supreme Admiral Ulayla Syphera herself…

“Comm, please inform the Beta Squadron leader that we are in position… Maximum encryption level…”

“Affirmative Admiral.” The young lieutenant said, instantly recording a short burst transmission over the ESUS battle net,

“Operations reports.” Syphera ordered, pulling up a holographic representation of the space, and repositioning ships in a more defensible position.

“Admiral, alert fighters have been launched, and the sensors buoys have been deployed, construction vessels have started building Communication Relay 12, all this interference has lowered signal quality by 20 percent, which prohibits some lesser functions of the communication systems for the moment, we expect full and secure connections to the battle net within the hour.”

“Excellent, any local resources or objects?”

“Salvage crews have found a derelict freighter about a light-year away, and some debris fields just beyond that, they’ve begun salvage operations. The freighter seems to be quite old, and its current drift pattern indicates it came from a small star system over 12 light-years from our current position.” The Information officer chirped in, “There aren’t any other power signatures besides ours in this sector, and the gravitational sensors declare the area clear.”

“That could change at any moment Lieutenant, how are the ground troop preparations going?” She asked, handing over the ship organization to the onboard Sentient Intelligence…

“Sir, transports one through one hundred and twelve confirm they will be ready for planet fall whenever you order it.”

“Remind the squad commanders to avoid damaging civilian life or property, our feud is with the governments, not the people.” Admiral Syphera said, before walking to her communications officer, “How long until you can get the message on the battle net?”

“Just give me a few more seconds mam, the battle network is flooded with chatter, I have to make sure this goes through the appropriate channels and isn’t lost in the relay tests that are being conducted.” He said,

“Good, finish the relays, when ready, bring the fleet to the meeting point and I’ll report our success personally.”

“Yes mam.”



The hour ticked by slowly, in fact, it was a little over an hour, the final components of the station had refused to activate the first time, and had caused a minor delay as they replaced the crystal, which had been accidentally polarized. The salvage operation had gone well, the debris fields had been collected, analyzed, and recycled, and the salvaged freighter was inside one of the Salvage vessels, which was in fact, an refitted carrier, the technicians were busy stripping it of everything of value… the two freeze dried bodies onboard were stored in the morgue for return to their home country for a proper burial if possible.

“Admiral, we have stowed the metal onboard the factory ships and the freighter is in docking bay 12, and is being inspected. The Communication relay has been completed, and awaits activation; signal strength is strong enough to ensure communications with the ESUS battle net from deep inside GFFA territory, our auxiliary mission has been completed and we are warming up the Impellors for a jump.” The Operations officer declared, bringing the fleet formations up on the main display.

“Good, did they find anything interesting Commander?” she asked the Tactical officer to her right,

”Nothing but junk, a few data crystals, the computer banks and a couple tons of rotten vegetables, it seems the cargo hold was the only compartment that didn’t decompress, although we are still trying to cut through a set of doors on the bottom-most deck, they seem to have been physically melted together…”

“Keep me posted.”

“Admiral we are ready to initiate jump.” The Helm officer announced,



“Sir, we’ve almost got through the door…” The salvage technician said, watching as the massive doors began to split open as the sonic amplifiers slowly found the right resonance…

The door cracked even more, and one of the tall Derg’glas defense robots stepped up next to him, within a few seconds the door fell apart, and the robot stepped in front of the officer,

“Sir, if you will please step back while we secure the area?” It said in its metallic voice… And two more followed the first into the room, where they took a few minutes to examine the catch of the day…

“This compartment is clear of any harmful effects, you may now enter.” It called from the room, and the swarm of technicians entered the room and looked up in awe at the massive crates…

“Great Reis…” one of them murmured, “The ship must have been physically built around this cargo load, there is no way it could have been loaded…”

“One-Twelve, could you carefully open this for us?” Another technician asked the commanding Derg’glas, who responded by activating the energy sword on his arm, and slowly opening the crate… Whose side fell open, revealing massive stacks of a silvery-golden metal…

“Sir, I’m detecting temporal radiation coming from this stuff, but it’s not showing up on the banks as any known element.”



The Freestar and the rest of the fleet emerged with the same blue rift now nearby the ESUS Senate chambers… Falling back into a defensible formation, the running lights on all the ships flicked on, and the sensor ships began deciphering Friend-Foe Identification tags on all the ships.

“Central Facehuggerians… Flaming Soulians… Torontonians… Arizona Novanians… Azahans… Kanuckistani… Otagian… Mindsetti… Nobuseri… Even Indran ships…” Syphera listed from the view screen, ignoring the tags and recognizing them merely from their design… “Comm, send hails to all, but open a channel with the Indran flagship…”

“Channel open Admiral…”

“This is Supreme Admiral Syphera, of the Siesatian Battle Group; we request permission to send you information on an element we have discovered that shows peculiar temporal signatures.” She ended, before turning to the Comm. officer again, “Send our progress reports in to the Admirals Council, and let them know what is going on… And for Reis sake, bring the status alert to Condition 2; I don’t want to be caught without some measure of preparation…

Aboard her flagship, the NGSS John Knudsen Northrop, General Amanda Harris patiently waited for the fleet to exit hyperspace in her ready room, and as she did, her eyes were drawn over to the wall opposite of her desk where the bright tactical display stood. Every vessel in the massive fleet was proudly displayed for the General with all of the important information about them including the status of weapons, shields, and power systems. Dominating this screen were the outlines of the four nine-point-two kilometer long Zereul Class Battle Carriers while the smaller Yorktown Class Carriers and Kingmaker Class Battleships were dispersed between them. On the outer rim of this fleet were the much smaller Ancient Class Battle Cruisers and the Wilmington Class Corvettes that were only represented by tiny dots.

General Harris took note of all this with a slight nod of approval, but no matter what she wanted to think, there was that constant feeling that it just did not look right, as if something was missing. She knew exactly what it was though. A few months earlier, the original battle carrier, the Zereul, commanded by her grandfather, was lost trying to defend an ally against the Galactic Empire. She had witnessed the horrific event, the loss of ten vessels, the taking of one hundred-fifty thousand lives, aboard her command ship. And no matter what she did, it still stuck with her to this day.

Her voice broke the silence in the room and her own pessimistic thinking. “Computer, display course setting.”

The display zoomed out to show the position of the fleet in comparison to the starting point, the colony world of P3X-719, and the destination, the ESUS Senate Chambers. They were almost there, only a few more minutes remained in hyperspace. It was time to get ready. General Harris glanced over at the old mahogany timepiece that rested on the metal shelf nearby and leaned over in her armchair to tie her black shoes. She sighed a little and knew that it was going to be a long few days ahead of her. But she was glad that she got in a few extra hours of rest and relaxation before hand.

Suddenly, a burst of chilling air rushed throughout her ready room causing her to sit back up. “What the hell?” she muttered turning her head towards the vessel’s windows that were now covered with what appeared to be frost. She wondered how frost of all things could happen in space. Then darkness began to pour out from that direction and cover the whole side of the room. She now knew what, or more appropriately, who, it was that was doing this. General Harris remembered from some time ago when she was speaking with a friend of hers, Brigadier General Cartwright, the commander of the Siri O’Neill, about such things happening aboard his vessel when a certain someone decided to pay a visit.

After a moment, a fiery-eyed black figure stepped forth from the darkness and examined the room around it carefully to see if it was at its desired location. It gave an approving grin at the situation and set a medium sized sack in its hand down onto the carpeting. The darkness that had just provided an entrance for this being began rushing back into it, replacing the freezing air with the heat provided by the vessel. The lights overhead were now able to reveal just who this person was. What stood before the General now was a medium sized female elf clad in a long black leather coat, pants, boots, and vest. A lightsaber, two silver revolvers, and throwing knives hung from her belt, easily accessible. Her previously red eyes were now a bright shade of green and looked down upon the General seated at the desk.

“I see you do like to make an entrance, Chairwoman O’Neill.” General Harris chose not to make eye contact and began to shuffle through the papers on her desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing at this time, Amanda. I am merely here to observe and such. That is all.”

“Very well,” she replied, devoid of any emotion. She rose from behind from her desk and quickly grabbed her service cap. “I have a meeting to attend soon. I trust you can find your way around?”

“Of course.” The Chairwoman watched the General’s actions and listened to her speaking patterns. It all concerned her greatly. This had to be settled soon, and she decided that this was the best time to confront the problem. “Stop, please.”

General Harris stopped right before exiting the room and turned around towards the Chairwoman. “What is it?”

The Chairwoman’s face seemed to grow older and sadder. “I remember a time when you thought of me as your mother and were always overjoyed to see me. You used to call me by my name and wanted to engage in long conversation. But it appears that those days are over. You don’t trust me anymore. You look upon me and despise what I am. I know why you feel as you do. Ever since you found out that I am a Sith Overlord, you have been acting this way.” She sighed a little. “But you must remember, when Jack and I used to look after you long ago, I was the same person then as I am now. I have not changed. You just know what I really am now.”

The General finally spoke up with great pain in her voice. “You are right, Siri, but that does not change the fact that my grandfather and the thousands of people under his command were killed by the Sith.” She wanted revenge for what had happened, a way to right the wrong that had been done. But in her mind, there was even a thought about killing the Chairwoman at this moment.

Her eyes seemed to stare right into the General as she spoke and was troubled by what she saw. “Do you think killing me will bring them all back? Will that help to ease your pain? No, it will not. I had nothing to do with their deaths and you know that, Amanda…” Interrupting the Chairwoman, a voice came in over the intercom, informing them that they had arrived at the ESUS Senate Chambers, but soon after it had stopped, she continued. “It is wrong to blame me for what the others have done. Just because one small segment of a people do something bad, that does not mean that everyone is guilty for what they have done. Remember that.” She folded her arms and changed the topic. “We will discuss this some other time. You have a meeting to attend.”

General Harris nodded a little and exited the room through the sliding door. She had much to think about now but she shelved most of what had been said to the back of her mind and focused more on the meeting that she was about to appear at.

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It had been decided previously that instead of physically attending the meeting, General Harris would be present through the use of audio and video communications. The reason for this was to ensure that she would be able to issue commands to her fleet fairly quickly and not waste precious time traveling to and from the Trinity. Essentially, it was easier and more efficient to do this method instead.

On the bridge of the John Knudsen Northrop, General Harris gently sat her body into the comfortable command chair that seemed to be the focal point of the bridge. Around her were the various control stations for the vessel and each was manned by one person, with some, like the communications station, manned by two people. At the forward section of the bridge was the main display that now showed the numerous allied vessels sitting in this region of space.

Harris gestured towards one of the communications officers and ordered, “Comm, put me through to the meeting. Command chair audio and video only.”

A panel slid up from the side of the chair and came to rest vertically in front of her. It flashed the flag of the Corporation once, then displayed the meeting room where the various generals and admirals were attending. With a push of a button on her armrest, she and only she could hear the people talking in the room. After a moment of getting an idea of who everyone was, she pressed another button and appeared to those very people.

With an expressionless face, she began to speak, keeping everything straight to the point. “Good afternoon, Star-General Tanthius. I am General Amanda Harris, commander of Northrop-Grumman’s Task Force Alpha. I am pleased to say that as of this moment, our forces are ready to deploy where ever we are needed. In the meantime, I will be awaiting your orders.”

It took milliseconds for the Xenonian fleet to arrive, a mere moment that heralded their arrival. All four ships were the same ones that had already torn GFFA vessels apart in the defense of 7th period, all established military combat units, each with their own heirarchy and stalwart sense of tradition. They did not flaunt power, or make grand judgements, but rather observed, making minor comments and preparing themselves for the next step.

Four fleetships, and one construction fender. Half of the total Xenonian navy, should one choose to discount the final two ships under construction back in the far flung systems of the Period, home of the Protectorate and witness to the force that began this entire chain of events. With them, the ships brought all they needed, 50 000 Xenonian marines with their armoured backup, and enough materials to begin the construction of whatever facilities were nessecary for the campaign.

Weapons had been armed, tested, calibrated and ran through perhaps the most gruelling tests imaginable. The toughest training regimes had been broken out upon all forces to hammer every nessecity in their actions, every sense, every ounce of skill in all areas, natural and supernatural, to ensure they were at their very best for the oncoming war. Apperances had to be kept for observers ... both inside and out

Kenpaichi, surprisingly had been nominated as the supreme commander for the Xenonian Contingent, leaving his own Superior, Kaptain Hergiv, to manage the group duties and communicate with the larger section of the esus in terms of co-ordination. IT had meant for the young soldier leaving his sweetheart behind, and plunging himself into the realities of war yet again. Nonetheless, for all the grand displays of power that had come here, he was supposed to know why, and supposed to know how this was happening.

Putting out a hail to his fellow esus representatives informing them of the Xenonian arrival, he was forced to remindd himself every second as to why and how the ESUS, the pan-galatic super-alliance that it so often liked to tout itself as, had ever let this course of action that would cost so much, become so totally and fundamentally nessecary.

Above Pluto, several hundred saucer shaped craft held a high orbit, the planetoid little more distinct than a shadow in the distance. In the centre of their formation, a triplicate of larger ships, two cannon-like weapons and a Hagar class carrier sat perfectly motionlessly. Aboard the Hagar, "Pogonophobe", an important figure sat. Jutan, King of the Warrior caste, and chosen of the fractured castes to lead the military to victory. He was of average Jordaxian height, with grey hair tied in a topknot. His features, strikingly Indian in contrast with his name and hairstyle poked out of an embracing g-suit. The bridge itself was laid out with a circular acceleration couch in the centre, each of the bridge crew sitting within it, their eyes vacant as they carried out their duties in the neurite network that linked them to the ship directly. As navigational officers plotted courses to the rendezvous point in the Monocerous cluster, Jutan was in brief conference with the castes leadership.

-The Lao-tzu is present/Mutei is present/ISIS is present/Jutan is present.
:Jutan: Are we in agreement? The fleet is ready to depart as soon as our convoy is prepared. my crew inform me that it has just left the holding docks.
:Mutei: The Warrior caste is unimous.
:Lao-tzu: The Religious/bureaucratic caste is also.
:Jutan: Good. I shall be departing in several minutes. ISIS. Do you have any suggestions?
:ISIS: At this point, none. I will contact you on your private channel should anything arise.
:Mutei: Jutan, I wish you the best of luck in this endeavour.
:Lao-tzu: Show me that I was not swayed to your appointment unwisely.
-The Lao-tzu has left the conference.
:Mutei: old fool. I doubt that there is anyone better prepared to lead the armies and fleets than the king of the caste. I look forward to ISIS' field reports. Goodbye.
-Mutei has left the conference
:ISIS: Just like old times, hmm? Perhaps when we return our feuding leaders will have sorted their squabbles out. Your crew was correct, I should mention. Our supply escort will be with us in a few minutes. I instructed the navigator to send them the jump co-ordinates on your behalf. We should be leaving... we just did. Everything is running to schedule, for once. I'll let you get back to your ship now.

As the Jordaxian forces entered hyperspace, blinking out of existance without so much as a flash of light to signal their departure, Jutans eyes began to filter reality back to him as his brain exited him from the neurite simulations. It would take nearly a day to arrive in the Monocerous cluster, giving him adequate time for him to pour over the plan a Facehuggerian courier delivered directly a short time earlier. Despite his better instincts, and centuries as the castes King, the tingle of excitement of war to come rippled up his spine. He smiled at the prospect.


Aboard the Trinity, Commodore Abhaya, a tall individual, even for Jordaxians, with sharp, bright tibetan features, and no hair on his head to speak of, representative of the fractured castes sat in his appointed seat at the table, and listened to Tanthius' briefing, quietly downloading the information from the console to his personal datapad, the red glow of the Facehuggerian flag dimly reflecting across his face. With two blood red metal hands, etched in silver runes, he idly tapped a few notes into the pad and placed it face down on the table.

Glancing around the table briefly, as Tanthius' briefing finished, Abhaya quietly signalled that he had a question.

"Regarding supplies, is there any system in place to move and defend our own supply routes, or is this to be left to the three squadrons or individual nations in question?"

He awaited Tanthius response, and flipping the datapad back over quickly, sent departure preparation orders to his shuttle. He did not hold any opinion of the Facehuggerians, positive or negative, but despite repeated requests, nobody ever made a seat to match Jordaxian physiology, and his back was not enjoying the experience.

And so, the call to arms, a call greedily answered by civilizations without number. A chance to exercise superiority over another culture, to grind them into stardust. Bloodshed. What the Trailarii lived for, after all, had they not effectively decintegrated their own homeworld? The great collection of colony vessels, linked to one another and utterly swarming with the combined Broods of the Traileric heirarchy buzzed with the news, and the Nine, in their wisdom, dolled out who should answer the call. Powerful Archangels who had distinguished themselves on the field of battle many times over stood foreward, hands of those semi-ethereal battlesuits raised in worship. Six were selected, six hurried away to their Colossii. Twenty four legions seperated themselves from the collective and fed data into the slipstream drives. Doorways to the bleak nothing of hyperspace were opened, and they were gone.

Beruziel, Cadriel, Hadriel, Nylathriel, Akariel, and Michiel; these are the names of those who stood and were chosen, these are also the names of the titanic Colossii which now moved in on the ESUS HQ.

Hyperspace chewed them up and spat them back out a klick or two above the system, their intimidating presence silhouetted against the starry canvas of the galaxy, the galaxy they fought for, the wasteland affectionately referred to as home..The Archangel Hadriel had been elected fleet leader, and so, his ship was the first to break formation, the four hiveships of his legion not far behind. Tactics had already been discussed, there was little left to be said. Two hundred forty thousand eight hundred and fifteen Hoplites were shut away in the great chambers of the fleet, quite enough to fend off any boarding parties with reserves to counter-attack. Countless fighters, over a hundred frigates, nearly as many Diablo destroyer's, forty Juggernaught heavy cruisers, three Immortals, and of course, the twenty-four hiveships to lead them. The fireworks would nearly outshine the stars this day. Indeed, a large portion of the Trailarii fighting force was collected here, scarecly enough Broods remained to bolster the seven "people's armadas" that guarded their home.