NationStates Jolt Archive

0700 hours, February 19th, 2671 (Military Calendar)\
Scorpion System, Planet Zarva

The Scorpion system was one of great use to the defense of the Imperium. Here was a refueling station that allowed ships to come in, dock, get quick repairs and rearm, and take on supplies. Then they would be off to their other jobs. Serving as a repair, and supply center, as well as producing many goods and weapons in the Imperium, it was a priority to protect for HIGHCOM. So it was that a network of twenty-four Super MAC stations and a fleet of twelve ships remained in system, always, to protect it. In addition to local patrol forces, it was a tough nut to crack.

And so it was that Commander Clarkson found himself on the carrier Ruthless, surpervising the system. He was known as a harsh commander, taking no quarter with rebels and punishing treason with death. He loved his people, though, as they worked hard and were immensely loyal to him. He pushed them hard and they responded, something he liked. So, he prepared to have another uneventful day, as he dispensed out patrol orders and resupply missions. Sighing to himself, he wished something happened today, but nothing ever did. Harvest was under attack and an unknown enemy had appeared, but he was stuck playing policeman. It was annoying.

“Whatever. Duty calls.” A file appeared on his laptop and he opened it. Inside was a report on a strange anomaly that had appeared on the edge of the system......

Space seemed to rend and tear under the sheer pressure of the Immaterium itself. Reality buckled and broke, all laws and rules seemed fleeting as existence bowed before the might of the Warp. The Gods themselves dwelt in the daemonic miasma that lay beyond the universe, the hallowed gods of the warriors who now slid forth in their great vessels, bestriding the Materium once more.

The vessel was a sleek thing of black metal, gleaming amidst the stars as the warp rift closed behind it. It was gilded, countless prayers and offerings to the gods intoned upon it's shimmering surface, aglow with ruinous power.

It was the Flame of Tzeentch, a Chronosian Grand Cruiser, and it prowled the void now at the edge of the system like some predator, hungry for flesh.

OOC: Quick post because I have to run to work :'(

Clarkson gazed at the data, eyes scrunched up. "What the hell? These readings don't make sense..." Reaching over, he tapped a key. A deep voice replied. "Goliath here." Goliath was the A.I. of the Ruthless and a longtime companion of the Commander. He was someone Clarkson trusted with his life. The A.I. was very blunt and honest, and had agreed with many of the severe actions the Commander had taken, seeing as they were pragmatic.

"Goliath, I have a strange reading in sector 045. I need you to deploy two Clarion drones to go check it out."

"Already on their way." Two dull thumps sounded as the drones were launched from their tubes and rocketed towards the Flame of Tzeentch, their sensors washing over the hull of the Chronosian ship.

The ship, glowering edifice of black metal as it was, moved slightly, drifting through the void as the sensor drones let their mechanical eyes wash over it. It idled, almost slowing to a stop as they circled it, intent on finding out who it was, where it came from. They were not alone, here in this system, and that must terrify them so, to be confronted by the unknown. The vessel finally stopped, its engines still burning, bright like the coronas of suns, aglow with plasma.

A message cut through the coldness of the void, silence fading as the boom of a voice echoed across all channels.

This is the Flame of Tzeentch, Soverign vessel of the Chronosian Imperium. In the name of the Dark Gods, we would kindly ask you to retract your toys. We don't take kindly to machines clawing at our secrets when all you really have to do is ask.

Identify yourselves, or face the wrath of the Warp.

Clarkson looked at the data coming in from the drones, eyes narrowed. "What in God's name is that thing? Looks like a fucking Gothic church for Christ's sake!" A blinking light appeared on his console as the data from the drones began to come in. Nothing much was being gained, as they were only on their first pass and they were there to get pictures, not scan just yet. Grumbling, Clarkson flipped the channel.

"Who is-"

This is the Flame of Tzeentch, Sovereign vessel of the Chronosian Imperium. In the name of the Dark Gods, we would kindly ask you to retract your toys. We don't take kindly to machines clawing at our secrets when all you really have to do is ask.

Identify yourselves, or face the wrath of the Warp.

The Commander paused, eyes blinking. Goliath soon appeared. "Goliath, exactly who are-"

"The Chronosians? An Imperium was have encountered in our many missions. They are part of an alliance known as the Galactic Empire." Data about the nation and the alliance replaced the Clarion spy drones pictures. Schematics of Space Marines and a few images of their ships above Asfaltum appeared.

"They are also in the Extra-Solar Union of Systems, the alliance we have recently joined. The Emperor seeks to ensure our power and protection by joining yet another alliance. With entry into his alliance, the Galactic Empire, the Chronosian Imperium and the Lost Empire of Balrogga will be our allies twice over. I suggest you do what they say." Clarkson could only nod and send the command. The drones veered off before they could finish their pass and headed back to the Ruthless. A return message was sent to the Flame of Tzeentch

"I apologize, we just haven't received word about you yet all the way out here. We had no intention of stealing anything; we just detected an anomaly and, per procedure, checked it out with the drones. But enough of that. I am Commander Clarkson, commander of the Terran carrier, the Ruthless, and overseer of this system. May I ask what you are doing here?"