NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a branch-out of Neo-Mekanta's intro thread, and a reaction for this post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13413808&postcount=30). I would like this thread to remain totally, completely, and UTTERLY closed to all except ESUS members and those who have been allowed entry by myself. Contact via TG for more details.

Also, map. (http://voron_2.tripod.com/Star_trek_map2.jpg)

IC:

At Starbase 185, Admiral De La Fuego was enjoying his synthale. He was not at all concerned with the fate of the Arabella, nor with the fate of her crew. They went off to explore a different sector of space – perhaps even a completely different galaxy, thousands of light years away, perhaps millions of light years. It was common for such exploratory missions to last months, sometimes years.. The famed USS Voyager, for example, traveled for seven years – and the Arabella went out on its journey only ten days ago. No, De La Fuego had no reason to be concerned about Captain Narvick. Besides, Captain Narvick had a horrible track record, and, frankly, the Admiral was happy to just have him off his station.

At Deep Space 7, the personnel did not even know of the mission of the Arabella, and wouldn't care much either. Their job had to do with watching the Romulan Neutral Zone and the variou natural anomalies that occurred in the galaxy in which the UFP resided.

The homeworld of the Zakdorn was also very near the wormhole to that strange galaxy that houses the Mekantans, the Allaneans, and so many other new civilization the UFP would soon have the joy of meeting. They did not yet know that they would soon have the joy of first contact with the Mekantans.

The many suns of the Federation shone bright and clear on the night when captain Narvick's crew had so foolishly provoked the Mekantans. On Betazed, on Peliar Zel, on Nadena and Straleh, children slept in their beds without fear, and grown men held their wives in the confidence they would see them again tomorrow morning.

Starfleet Academy cadets listened to boring lectures on first contact diplomacy, the Prime Directive, and the ethics of non-intervention. On Utopia Planitia, training vessels and explorer ships went off their production docks with no hitches. In San Francisco, couples walked hand in hand and watched the full moon, and on Andoria, applicants for the Andoran academy put the last finishing touches on their submissions.

In short, the galaxy was at peace.

Liberty-City, Minas-Faerie

Alexander Kazansky grinned like a little boy as the map of the new galaxy was projected on the holotable before him. “So this is the navigational data from their ship... the Arabella, if I am not mistaken?”

"That's correct, Sir.” - Pavel, his elderly assitant, nodded. His face was filled with apprehension. “If the information in their ship's computers is correct, their civilization, while imperialist, communist, and even slave-owning...”

Maverick Monningham, pacing the back of the room, piped up. “Slavery in a communist society? Surely you imply labor camps?”

"Yes, but also forced labor of sapient AIs. And of course, their official ideology includes the thesis that slaves should not use violence to regain their freedom.” - Pavel turned to Kazansky again - “Regardless, Mr. President, I do not think that they would have ordered an attack.”

"Neither do I.” - the Count of Centreville kept smiling. - “Likely a rogue ship or something. But you know that the Mekantans won't investigate. They'll attack. And so will the rest of ESUS. And so should we.”

"We... should?” - Pavel's eyebrows rose. The old man seemed genuinely surprised. “But Sir, didn't you just agree...”

"They didn't attack. But officially they did – so that means we can begin contingency operations without consulting Congress.”

"But... what is the point? I understand how, Mr. President, I just want to know why?”

"One word: Minagoroshi. We must keep her from capturing all these systems to herself, and the one way to do it without attacking an ESUS member is to capture them first. Besides, we'll be infinitely kinder to them than the Mekantans.”

"Being tortured to death with a blunt spork is likely kinder...” - Pavel started, but then paled. - “What do you mean Minagoroshi could capture the entire place?”

"Now you understand. So... either we go there and bring freedom and justice to yet another galaxy, while profitting from unbounded conquests... or we let Minagoroshi grow so powerful as to be unstoppable... not a very tough choice, is it?”

Soon after

"You will now listen to an Emergency Message by the President of the United States of Allanea...”

All over the country, men and women turned towards their computer screens. They knew already something big was about to happen.

Our allies, the Mekantans, have recently encountered a new civilization – the United Federation of Planets. Unfortunately, the first contact ended in violence. I am forced, with a heavy heart, to invoke my powers under the Extra Solar Union of States Admittance Act 2004...

In the skies over Liberty-City, large, lumbering battleships, cruisers, cargo vessels appeared. And in the streets, Freemen cheered as armored vehicles and trucks rolled by towards the starport in an impromptu – or not-so-impromptu – parade.

By order of Marshal Al-Ghazi, all troops were dressed in ironed and pressed parade dressed, 10-inch bayonets glinting on their battle rifles, the sun reflecting off the badges on their wide-brimmed hats. There, in the starport, the ships waited – cargo vessels, battleships, and shuttles to take the Allaneans to orbit, and then to their objective.

...communism of the worst kind, slavery, compulsory education are just a few among the features of this UFP. And if, for some of you, the moral necessity of our strike is not enough, let me remind you – this is a new galaxy. Ours to liberate. Ours to claim. Ours to conquer. I promise you, Freemen. This will be worth it.

Aboard the USS Teenage Rebellion, Lieutenant Wilhelm Stossel looked over his men for one last time. Unlike the men in the city, he had access to the most classified files, and he knew exactly what the High Command's plans for Operation B'hava'el were. In fact, he helped draft these plans.

His men would have little initial role in the operation – but later, he knew, there would be plenty of stuff to stick a bayonet into.

The Sword of Liberty is now unsheathed. Soon, it shall taste the blood of the enemies of Liberty. That is all.

The waters of Liberty Bay moved, as if a giant whale was surfacing there. But it was not a whale. Instead, a gravship, 19 kilometers prow-to-stern, rose from the sea, water running from its enormous hull's size. It moved over the city, deep-red, like a gargantual dagger covered in blood.

The Allaneans raised their heads, waved their arms, and cheered as the President's ship was the last to take to orbit.

And then the Allanean First Force Projection Battlegroup took to hyperdrive. They would visit the Mekkantan wormhole, and when they crossed the other side, they would commence Operation B'hava'el.

--QUETZAL NODE ONLINE
--TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE INITIATED
An attack on an ESUS member. A distasteful member, but a member none the less. Terms of alliance require us to send aid.

Aid remains undefined. Could we not simply send, say, a single Avatar?

Affirmative. However, data collected on the perpetrators suggests a low level of resistance to a coordinated attack. I estimate that a single Son and his battlegroup could acquire the entirety of their holdings. Further more, they control substantial assets, which would be beneficial to the Citizenry.

Now there's an idea... Why not let the Citizenry handle it? Chimera has been acting up lately, this would sate their thirst.

Fine. Send a Son still, I want to kill things.

Agreed. Citizenry exoatmospheric capabilities are negligible. Joseph has been designated Warlord, and is en route to the Mekantan position. Synthesis of teleoperatives initiated. Estimated time until completion, five hours. The Son will settle matters from this point on. Conclusion reached, node deactivated.

--TRIPARTITE SEQUENCE CONCLUDED
--QUETZAL NODE HAS GONE OFFLINE. CONTINUE TO BROWSE?

Captain Arnold Heikman smiled. Finally, a chance to actually do something besides basic forcible eviction operations. He mentally dialed up his platoon leaders, their avatars popping into existence as they answered, floating above the Captain's desk.

Alright, listen up. We've got a contract from QUETZAL, deployment time in five hours.

A rather irate-looking dachshund groaned noisily, flopping pathetically onto it's side.

Ah great, another eviction notice we've gotta deliver? I'm tired of cleaning up natives, Cap.

Then you'll be happy to hear that it's not an eviction op, Lieutenant. A Mekantan Darkship and escorts was attacked, and we're the Otagian gift basket.

Holy shit. Who'd be stupid enough to take on a Mekantan ship, let alone a fleet of 'em?

A kangaroo bounced excitedly in midair, grinning madly.

Does it matter? We getta blow the shit out of something! Something sentient enough to actually put up some sort of fight! Hoorah!

Settle down, Kavis. The ship was annihilated, of course, but not before a good portion of it's crew was mindraped. You'll each receive a full tactical file on the target, which you'll disseminate to your platoons. I want each and every man's suit prepped and rigged within four hours, gents. We'll run tactical sims during the downtime between that and the target. You have your orders. Dismissed.

With a salute, returned by the avatars floating above his desk, Heikman closed the link, and began the upload procedure to his Suit aboard the Joseph fleet. As he ticked along the checklist, he couldn't help but to feel giddy.

Finally, some damn action!

OOC: Just to let you know, Canon, your pic of the map doesn't work.Tripod is known for that.

IC: The Ascendants had been there for the battle, and seen the idiocy of this "Federation." How it had tried to hurt and fight a Mekantan Darkship....and failed miserably. They didn't know what was going on, but they knew two things. That the Mekantans, along with Minagoroshi, would do untold damage to the species of this Federation. And that, if they wanted to protect what they could, they would have to take as many planets as they could. Such was the reason for the Ascendants entering the war. Over the homeworld of the Ascendants, a large gathering of ships, not seen since the Race Wars of earlier ages, was to be seen.

This force was large for an Ascendant fleet. Two Battleships, six Carriers, seven Cruisers, ten Destroyers, and thirteen frigates were gathered, along with a total of seven Xel'athi dreadnoughts, and a multitude of smaller craft. This one was to be led by Breanna herself; she wanted to ensure personally, that, as many were saved as possible. She relaxed inside her Battleship, the Infinite Crusade, and listened to the reports of the fleet. Soon enough, the fleet had gathered all they needed,mostly the Xel'athi and their vehicles, and they began to set out. A message was sent through the ESUS Battlenet, detailing the force they were sending, and then they activated their phase drives and began to head for the Mekantan wormhole....and on to the Federation.

OOC: Guys, please contact me via PM with your email addy and I'll send you your map.

Regardless, the wormhole is in the far galactic North of Federation space.

The nearest locations are the Zakdorn system, Starbase 185, and Deep Space 6 (or 7).

Please post more with your people actually interacting with, or shooting at, my people, I need something to respond to.

OOC: Tag, post imminent.

While the drums of war were beginning to rattle, the troops were being rallied for yet another one of Allanea's wars, most of the Allanean media responded with triumphant rejoicing. The Port-Allanea Democrat depicted an image of the USS Teenage Rebellion hovering in orbit, her mighty hull riddled with weapons of war, with the caption (in bold capital letters): "Open The Can of Whoopass". The Thermopilae Republican depicted endless formations of troops marching off to fight, bayonets flickering in the rising sun, and the caption said: "The Sword Is Unsheathed". ANN beamed, into billions of IPTV-equipped households, footage of the War Parade, of the Presidential Yacht as it rose into the sky, of banners unfureled and bayonets fixed, of Peaceful Engineering Platforms rolling into their cargo vessels. And yet, the feeling of war euphoria was not all-encompassing.

Antalia Reynes spoke in harsh criticism of the war in the Senate, and had almost – but almost – gathered together enough Senator votes to prevent deployment. In Congress, her motion crashed 11% Aye to 85% Nay. The Allaneans knews the words of the ESUS treaty, and the public thirsted for blood.

Reynes' adopted daughter – the beautiful and mysterious Xenia Reynes submitted an anti-war editorial to a youth magazine called The Younger Mind, and the Liberty Times repeated it. It was called Nation of Boys.

* * *

A Nation of Boys

Advanced anti-aging technology, per se, is not in unique to Allanea. Practically any nation that has the means to travel faster than the speed of light had also defeated aging. What is unique to Allanea is most Freemen prefer to halt the aging process not at some later age, but approximately between the age of 16 and the age of 19. Of course, some people freeze their physical age later, or restore it to an earlier stage of developement. What matters for us is the tendency that is here revealed.

The Allaneans are, in a very real sense, a nation of boys, not men. Every major failure of Allanean foreign relations or Allanean warmaking, as well as many of our successes can be explained if you accept the notino that the Allanean – the Collective Allanean, so to speak, is a teenager. If we could draw a man or a woman who would embody Allanea in the same fashion that John Bull was the symbol of England and the Liberte embodied France it would be a nerdish highschool boy.

Consider the supposed stereotypical features of the teenager, as he is depicted in literature and art. The desire to boil down complex issues to a two-bit solution (this is not necessarily bad – some complex issues actually can have a simple solution), the unwilligness to compromise, the fixation with firearms, with sex, with violence – sound familiar, anyone?

If one could choose a new anthem for Allanea, it would be the anthem of our Armored Forces – "Allanea, Fuck Yeah." Of course, liberty is not a bad thing. And of course, having your citizens universally armed is nigh-necessary if you want to maintain that liberty. But Allaneans go beyond establishing liberty and a well-armed population. They idolize these things – which should be the baselines of this society.

Sometimes, of course, these are good things. While the 'free world' dithered and whined around the Antanjilian dictatorship, the Allaneans went in, secured the surrender of the dictator's army, and killed him and all his underlings. While the 'free world' ignored the suffering of debt-slaves in Torontonias, Alexander Kazansky – the very embodiment living of the concept of the eternal teenager – rode in on a white horse and liberated all of them without a bullet fired.

But by and large, a society composed of teenage boys and their girlfriends will completely fail the resolution of a complex issue. This is what is about to occur, I believe, with the impending war. The Allaneans will likely win it – but will fail at the task of bringing the same freedom that they enjoy at home to the Federation populace. Hundreds of thosands – perhaps millions – will die in vain. As such, I think we'd better not go.

Do not get me wrong. I am an Allanean, and I love my nation. Teenagers are sometimes very useful. But I do wish they grew up.

OOC: Consider this a bump.

Tha Diabolical sped away from the meeting with the Mekantan Darkship and The Serendipity, Uplifting to T-Space and making the quick jump to where the wormhole was half a light year away. The small frigate faded into reality as it Emerged in Real Space and dove into the naturally occurring spacefold.


-----


“What do sensors show?”

“There are a number of systems within long range sensors. The information we got over the Battlenet from the Mekantan interrogation claims there is also something called Starbase 185 and a station named Deep Space 6 nearby.”

“Put a map up on the screen.”

A moment later the sketchy image from the Battlenet appeared on the Holo-screen showing the area nearest the wormhole mouth.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/initialmap.gif

“Head for the starbase first. It is isolated from the others. The systems near the station might notice its disappearance and we would lose the benefit of surprise before we build up numbers. Reconfigure the ship to look like it has been attacked and limp to the Starbase. They will think in their false sense of security that they are invulnerable and take us in. Once inside we will take the base and use it to reconstruct a fleet or three.”

An hour later, an obviously damaged ship approached Starbase 185, barely transmitting a distress signal in an unknown language. The ship showed failing power systems and looked like it might lose out the struggle for existence altogether. All the computer could make out was something about pirates attacking a freighter…




OOC:

short post with some interaction and a snippet of the map you sent showing the area in question.

Aboard StarBase 185

Starbase 185 was not precisely well-staffed at that time of the year. There were four Galaxy-class ships under construction, and there were two explorer vessels undergoing refits. Finally, there were two Akira class cruisers at the ready.

As the message was recorded by the Starbase's equipment, there was quite some commotion.

"Pirates?" – the Admiral stared at his ensign – "In this sector? I'd think we'd know if there was some pirate activity in the area."

" Maybe they're new pirates." –shrugged the ensign.

"You've got a point there. Ready two runabouts, the Jordan and the Mississippi. Send them out to grant assistance."

And so the two runabouts made way towards the ship. Their plan was simple – figure out the extent of the damage and either evacuate survivors or tow the ship in.

"Unidentified vessel, this is the Jordan. Please state the extent of your damage. We will tow you in if needed."

The reply was jumbled and broken, as if the transmitter was damaged and did not work like it should.

Pirates…..attacked out of …..seventeen killed…….core damaged…..life support g…..cannot hear….

The message repeated three more times before it seem like the transmitter failed altogether.

As the runabouts neared, they could see extensive damages done to the ship with sparks shooting out of holes torn through the ship. It looked like something nasty hit the ship and hit it hard. It was a miracle there was someone still alive aboard the ship to even send a jumbled message. It appeared like the ship would lose its integrity and vent the remaining atmosphere and crew any minute. It was clear the ship needed to be towed into a dock where an atmosphere could envelope the 60 meter ship.

The officer aboard the Jordan paled slightly at hearing about the damage, and then nodded to the men under his command. "Lock on to their life signs. Beam the survivors aboard and to the ship in."

Unidentified vessel, we will beam the crew aboard now and tow the ship in. You will be given medical attention. Stand by to be beamed aboard.

Only static answered them.

As they attempted to get a lock onto the remaining crew, the wild fluctuations in the damaged power core caused enough disturbances that they were unable to get anything.

Elsewhere, the Allanean ships began to enter hyperdrive. They intended to be at their target within the day - even though it was on the other end of Federation territory.

It was B'hava'el System that they were aiming at.

"What do you mean we can't do it?"

"We have no choice, commander! We must tow the entire ship in and hope they make it!"

"Very well. Tell ops to lock a tractor beam on it as soon as we get in range, we can't lose a second here! People are dying!"

And so the two Runabouts began to tow the strange freighter towards drydock, where the docking gate began to open rapidly to accept it, like a mother accepting an injured baby into her arms.

As the twin tractor beams gently grasp the crippled freighter, a couple pieces of hull, both nearly man-sized broke loose from the aft section near the engines. The scorched and blackened hull fragments bumped together and then drifted away from the towed ship. As the freighter was dragged towards it’s salvation, the fragments were left to drift up and over the station until they were captured by the micro-gravity of the structure, slowly orbiting the starbase.

The freighter was effortlessly towed towards the opening bay doors.

"Admiral, the freighter has docked successfully."

"Very well, get the repair crews to it on the double. Once the survivors are outside the ship, beam them to sickbay. I will meet them there." – de La Fuego said. "Ops, beam me to medical."

"Energizing."

As the mock freighter was lowered to the deck, the emergency door was automatically blown open and the docking ramp fell down, askew from the ship sitting directly upon the deck instead of using the landing gear. Security guards approached the ship as seven crewmembers lay “unconscious”. They had solidified their forms so when the victims used their teleportation device, the system would find something to lock upon.

As security entered the ship, they were greeted by smoky barely breathable atmosphere. It was no wonder why there were seven unconscious forms lying about the room. Beyond the command bridge of the freighter, a single door sealed and very hot to the touch betrayed the inferno that must lie beyond. Proper firefighting techniques were needed to be present before someone opened the door to what was beyond.

On the deck, the seven rescued crew faded away as they were transported to the Medlab. The ship waited and watched, playing the part of a critically wounded freighter while it awaited the command from R’Lah.

Dock

"I should have known!" – Chief Ficus spat as the wave of terrible heat singed his face and enormous red beard. "That won't do! Someone get us some environmental suits on the double! We need to get in there before that ship's warp core goes off in here."

Sickbay

Doctor Newham rushed to and fro, several nurses attending his every word. He was a small man, bald, and yet incredibly professional and fast in his motions, with incredible bedside manners and a perfect professional record. He had served in a front line hostpital during the Dominion War – and yet ended up shuffled here because of some minor paperwork error.

He hated it – and with every case that came into his sickbay, he hoped this would be the one. The one where they would all understand that they were wrong. That they shouldn't have sent him into the far end of nowhere, and give him a new job. A job that he truly deserved. Say, a Medical Academy position.

And the Admiral was here too, in all the splendor of his black-and-red dress uniform.

"Greetings. Welcome aboard Starbase 185. Can you tell me more about those pirates that have attacked you? We need to know if we are to deal with them."

The transporter teleported the seven straight into the beds in Medlab. The crew scurried around like chickens trying to get the equipment to function properly which for some reason appeared to not register the obviously solid patients lying in their scanners. Finally one by one they responded to the strange aliens lying unconscious upon their surfaces. What really happened were the scanners worked perfectly because there really was no body lying upon their surfaces. It was just a telekinetic shell covered by a photonic hologram.

One of the seven reached into the computer with their mind and used her CyberPsi on the medical computer. Once gaining control, she made each computer register the presence of a typical humanoid suffering from the typical effects of smoke inhalation and several contusions and burns. Another Ta’Nar was carefully scanning the computer for the presence of any AI. Upon finding none he just began to infiltrate the computer with is mind, pass-wording any comm. Systems and setting it up to engage all the passwords at once.

As the medical personal worked and finally began to revive the aliens, everything was set up and ready to go. R’Lah opened one eye and carefully regulated his “breathing” so I appeared he had woken up.

And the Admiral was here too, in all the splendor of his black-and-red dress uniform.

"Greetings. Welcome aboard Starbase 185. Can you tell me more about those pirates that have attacked you? We need to know if we are to deal with them."

“Cough, cough. They came out of nowhere. Green painted ships with spooky green glowing engines. They destroyed two of my other ships; we only just escaped with our lives. Cough, hack.”

The captain of the freighter began to wheeze and gasp for air. The nurse came over with an O2 masks and that alleviated some of the coughing.

“There were two of them and they looked Romulan.”

Drifting outside the station, the two fragments seemed to be attracted to the antennae of the transmitter as if they were magnetic. They drifted towards it and finally struck it with a clang. The two forms seemed to liquefy and reform into insect-like shapes and start tearing the transmitter to shreds with glowing energy blades. At the same time, the ship began to fall to pieces, Man-sized chunks dropped to the deck as the ship literally fell to pieces, burying the crewmen inside. The pieces twitched and changed shape and became two meter tall insects with four arms and four legs. An eyeless head covered with neck spines and a huge toothy maw crawled from the pile of black metal. The insects clanged as they stepped upon the floor, leaving blackened round footprints which seemed to grow and expand like a fast action film from the archives. The blackness spread everywhere the Kythons touched. The alien creatures swarmed over every inch of the landing bay, leaving black swatches of Infection behind.

As the Infection took hold of the material of the landing bay, it was transformed into Thur’Tahg, a metamorphic metal first discovered hundreds of years ago in another dimension. The Ta’Nar quickly came up with a use for the living non-sentient metal, Kythons. They engineered a sentience that would exist alongside Thur’Tahg and inhabit the metal. The result was the things storming through the station. Infection could overtake both animal and mineral, affecting both at the subatomic level. As enough was created, more Kythons could emerge from the newly formed black metal.

Another insidious property of the Infection was the psionic possession of the computer systems. It attacked through the electrical conduits, taking control of the computers by possession, not hacking. It was the computer and possessed the defenses and wall as the contents of the system. You cannot password protect a computer from itself; it needs the password to verify permissions.

In the Medlab, a massive Psionic blast was emitted by R’Lah after he sent the signal to the two Kythons in orbit and the Shipmind in the launch bay. The attack was meant to overload the conscious processes and render those within range unconscious.

As the psionic power blast hit, Dr. Newham, Admiral De La Fuego, and all the nurses in the room collapsed immediately. But that was not everything. The Ta'nar power blast was slightly overkill, reaching out through the very walls and several levels of the station, tearing through crew ranks.

Chaos and terror ensued. In Ops, the XO and weapons officer struggled pointlessly against the password system. In dock, the engineering crew was buried alive under the swarms of Kythons – some had bones broken and screamed terribly in pain as they tried to wiggle out from under the living avalanche, and others were killed outright.

Those few unharmed personnel unholstered their phasers and prepared to face an unknown threat.

The Akira cruisers, so far unharmed, started sending their personnel aboard as soon they understood that something was wrong.

They had phaser rifles, and of course, they were a bit anxious - but they weren't afraid per se. They were Starfleet, and they would prevail. Because, they knew, Starfleet always prevails. They did not know that their own ships' computers would go down in a few seconds - but their general prediction would not change when they found out.

The infected computer of the Starbase began to rummage through several files marked Top Secret and chuckled as it discovered the usages of Transponder Codes possessed by station commanders. It quickly broadcast the proper codes for each of the ships near the station, taking control of the ships and powering sown the cores, making the ships utterly lifeless. Except for some emergency power like live-support, the ships were dead.

The Infection spread like a wildfire, the more there was the more surface area to spread it to other areas by direct contact. The swarming Kythons were not making anything easier. In Combat Mode, they were infections and they just loved to spread the stuff about.

Normally Ta’Nar would not other with prisoners, The Warlord commanded R’Lah to make an example of these “feddies” so he had a particular nasty idea and wished to collect them. He had a planned use for them in the next encounter. Standard procedures would have been to vent the entire station, removing the occupants and their precious atmosphere.

Outside the station, the two Kythons had rendered the transmitter gone and infected the outer hill, causing the infection to spread from both without and within. Outside structures were converted into more Kythons while the hull remained intact for the time being.

In the landing bay, the security teams arrived with great confidence in their weapons and began to fir them at the alien invaders. The Kythons never bothered to dodge away from the energy beams, instead seemed to lunge into the path. As energy from the attacks was absorbed into the Kython, it split into two and created a new Kython. As more energy beams flashed forward, Kythons duplicated and swarmed into the paths of the security teams.

His name was John Fikes. He was a crewman aboard the USS Indominable, and he was not afraid of anything except spiders and such.. He knew – in theory – that fear could be a useful emotion, that it warns you about dangers, and so forth, and so on. He knew that all. But he had enlisted after the end of the Dominion War, and had not yet faced any really scary situation since.

Now it was different. He and his Away Team retreated slowly, firing their phasers again and again at the terrifying alien creatures. As a child, he didn't like spiders. But these were worse, far worse – half-spider, half-lizard, atrocities from terrible, suppressed nightmares from his childhood. He switched his phaser from stun to kill, and then to higher, higher settings that should have vaporized one of these monsters outright. And yet they kept on coming.

Next to him, Ensign Roarke hit his communicator badge again and again to no avail. The Indomitable not responding.

One of the creatures' swung its terrible hand – equipped with long, three-jointed fingers and claws that looked unnervingly like energy blads – just inches from John's face. He felt something hot trickle down his leg and knew without checking, that it was urine as his bladder let go completely.

Crewman Fikes took a step back and tripped over an abandoned repairman's instrument. He fell backwards, screaming, and hit his head over something hard.

There was pain, and then darkness.

The swarming Kythons moved into the station, infecting as they went. The security forces kept firing their weapons, causing the monstrosities to replicate with more energy applied bringing even faster replication. By now the original 200 had grown to over a thousand just by the efforts of the security forces.

And they kept firing.

"Damn!" –swore Ensign Roarke – "That's just making things worse! Cease fire! Cease fire! And someone help Fikes!"

Across the station, the Away Teams – apart from the more, err, dense specimens of Federation Naval Culture – ceased fire as they realized t was having no effect.

The crew recognized the obvious – they were horrendously outnumbered by the most intimidating aliens they've ever seen, they could not do the aliens any harm, and they had no communications and the ship's computer had been taken over. Additionally, the aliens appeared to be able to read their minds.

As such – apart for a token amount of men who chose to resist unto death – surrender was practically the uniform option.

R’Lah concentrated upon his new strength so he could use it properly. He carefully broadcast a single message to all within the station.


Attention:

Defenders of the Starbase, you will immediately surrender or I will begin to destroy you instead of seizing and controlling your technology. You will all lay down your arms and move to the main launch bay. Once there you will board the ship that is waiting for you.

Failure to do so will result in your death for the station is going to be ripped apart. You can decide to either live or die, it makes me no problem if you take the latter, less upkeep. You will move now. Do not take any belonging or weapons with you.


-----


Outside the bay, the ebon Thur’Tahg began to form a massive ship almost a full kilometer in length. The Kythons changed into quicksilver-like blobs and merged together to form the hull of the ship. The doorway to the docking arm stood open as the first passengers arrived.

TIMEWARP STRIKES!


-----


As the crew was taken away, the station behind them was converted into the fleet R’Lah needed. The ebon Thur’Tahg formed the frigates, Destroyers, Cruisers, Battleships, and Carriers. He made sure there was enough Interrogator Prison Barges to contain the captives.

Crew who decided to remain aboard the doomed station would find that after the last passenger boarded the barge, the Infection began to eat anything, not just inorganic materials. As walls and entire decks were converted into ships, the atmosphere was vented and entire sections became death traps.

Soon, a massive fleet of 150 ships was completed along with a couple barges. The Grand Admiral was looking at the data captured from the computers to see what was at the worlds and which place in the neighborhood was best to use as the next target.

Zakdorn

At first, nobody suspected anything wrong. But then, when subspace contact with the Balroggan ship was lost, subspace observation beacons from the DS-6 were redirected to point into Federation space. And when no station was detected – as there was no station where Starbase 185 used to be – a single old, outdated spacecraft was sent into the area. It would arrive there within several days.

Aboard the prison ship

"Well," – Doctor Newham spoke to the frightened crewmembers – "Look at the bright side. We're alive, we're being humanely treated and well-fed. None of us has been killed yet apart from a few that died – accidentally, I am sure – in the original incidents, apparently from ship parts falling on them. It's clear to me those aliens are not hostile. Pretty soon we'll be released, or maybe rescued. You know how such things go." – he added knowingly.

Most of the crew knew little about Zakdorn, apart from the Admiral and some of the senior officers. They knew a few very interesting details – that the planet was home of the Federation's best strategists, and that it was relatively heavily defended, sporting some Federation Armor forces, local militia, and over three hundred ships for defense against a possible Romulan incursion.

Further, there would be arrays of phaser-bases planetary defenses, but nothing otherwise of interest to the Balroggans.

In the meanwhile, the elderly UFP vessel was still en route towards its target.

Deep within T-Space, the fleet moved towards their next target. The closest on the map was the Zakdorn system. R’Lah wanted to find out what was there so he consulted not only the stolen data from the devoured Starbase but he also directed the crew to “investigate” the prisoners while they were sleeping. Dig deep and dig hard but make sure there was no indication they were being reamed mentally. Let them have their delusions, it will crash down soon enough.

While the prisoners were being probed, the fleet remained within T-Space somewhere near the wormhole in case one of their allies came through. They wanted to update them with the new information as they came through.

Most of the crew knew little about Zakdorn, apart from the Admiral and some of the senior officers. They knew a few very interesting details – that the planet was home of the Federation's best strategists, and that it was relatively heavily defended, sporting some Federation Armor forces, local militia, and over three hundred ships for defense against a possible Romulan incursion.

Further, there would be arrays of phaser-bases planetary defenses, but nothing otherwise of interest to the Balroggans.

In the meanwhile, the elderly UFP vessel was still en route towards its target.

Timewarp placed the post ahead of where it should be. Reposted it Quoted to place it in the proper order.

OOC: Done with consent of Canon Federation player.

IC:
Bajor System

The first Allanean ships began to break hyperdrive on the very outskirts of the system – silent, omnious oblong hulks, painted in uniform black, bearing the squadron markings of the First Force Projection Battlegroup, drives flaring as they entered the system. These were mere destroyers, and as such would be greeted by Federation and Bajoran ships as nothing but very big alien vessels.

They moved in, carrying slowly towards B'Hava'el. Near the orbit of the 14th planet, they had their first enemy encounter. The Galaxy-class starship did not really have time to fight. Once it hailed the Allanean warships, the Allaneans simply used the hail signal location as an aim point for a missile salvo, and laughed as two hundred kinetic-kill missiles tore the saucer-shaped primary hull apart.

Federation forces were still scrambling for the emergency signals from the starship's wreckage as more warships began to break hyperdrive, joining the destroyers just past the orbit of the 14th planet of the system. These were cruisers – Porcupine gunships and Swift Retribution warships.

Two hours later they engaged a Miranda-class science vessel, a Klingon Warbird – God only knows what it was doing in-system – and some form of Federation Scout vessel. There was, again, no contest. The Allaneans had their orders – they sheered off the nacelles of the Federation ships with energy weapons, and then allowed the crew to surrender. The Warbird, naturally, became a cloud of rapidly-expanding gas, plasma, and wreckage. Allaneans respected Klingons.

More ships were breaking hyperdrive – now Wrath-class battleships and Insider Trading dreadnaughts, finally accompanied by the fleet's assault carrier. The final addition was a gigantic -even by Allanean marks – red-painted warship. It was the Presidential Yacht SS Miriel nos Feanor, ten miles prow to stern.

And it was then that the Bajorans hit them.

Bajoran interceptors and raiders, taking off from Bajor VII. The Allaneans saw them as a great source of amusement. Porcupine guns flared all at ones, targeting the flimsy fighters. Warships lobbed tons and tons of smart dust, shredding the Bajoran vessels in flight. The Presidential Yacht flexed it's gravitic drive fields, ripping wings off Bajoran fighters like a boy ripping wings off a fly and throwing the remains, crumpled like paper balls, into deep space. Allanean fighter pilots took to space in their machines, using the opportunity to rack up kill counts.

But now the gloves were beginning to come off.

The ships began to spread out through the system. Kinetic kill missiles impacted Bajoran starports and the Militia's airbases, as well as whatever could be identified as a militia shipyards. Beam weapons and clean fusion orbital bombs did some work, too. The Lunar V facility would be targeted by ten Porcupine warships who used hyperdrive to appear in low orbit and pound it for two minutes with their Gatling Hellbores. All that was left was a nice set of craters and a lake of hot glass.

Aboard the USS Queen of Allanea

“Fieldmarshal, we are approaching their... station. It's so... tiny.”

“Brief me on our readiness.” - said Kazansky, leaning on the command table. In front of him hovered a 3D image of the system, with the various Allanean starships marked on it.

“We have the transports breaking into realspace now. We have ground troops in top readiness. All fratellos, special ops units, Bolos and airborne units are on standby, Mechanized Infantry and Marines in last stages of landing preparation, Fieldmarshal.”

“Very good. But there is no need to land quite yet.” - Kazansky nodded. - “Gentoo?”

The penguinoid squeaked from her position behind a computer terminal. “I'm almost ready, Alex. Preparing to launch the code in ten minutes.”

“Oh god, that's going to be fun.”

Aboard DS-9, ten minutes later.

It was the unfortunate feature of Federation computers that they automaticall ran new code when it was sent to them. And so here was code, written by someone with knowledge of Federation systems - with an eye to improving their computers.

“Colonel Kira, we have no main computer!” - shouted an engineer as the station's mainframe began to shut itself down.

“What do you mean we don't?”

“Someone has formatted our information storage and is installing a new operating system.”

“What?” - the station commander looked at the screens in disbelief. There, what appeared to be an unbearably cute penguin frolicked merrily. “Ensign, what the hell is a Linux kernel, and what is it doing on our mainframe?”

“Commander, we have shield failure!”

“What?! How is that possible?”

The screen blinked again, and a penguin appeared on it, or at least something that looked like one. “Crew of the Deep Space Nine space station, this is White House Information Technology Advisor Gentoo speaking. I have full control of your computer systems and have just completed a series of updates. You will stand down and transfer the station into Allanean hands, or else..”

Half an hour later

Kazansky was smiling happily as the airlock opened. He stepped through, flanked by his apprentices and personnel, the first Allanean on DS-9. He stopped just as he entered the station proper, the Starfleet personnel looking at him in surprise.

“Very well. This station is no longer Bajoran property, nor is it Federation territory. From now on, this is a United States Military Compound. And I name it Terok Nor again, because that sounds nicer.”

One of the Bajoran officers on board lost it. In simple, driving rage he charged Kazansky, drawing a phaser as he attacked.

Kazansky drew faster.

The gold-plated pistol fired seven times, destroying the Bajoran's face.

Kazansky shrugged as he wiped the blood off his face and glasses. “Please, nobody do that again. Your commander already surrendered the station. Please turn all weapons over to our forces. Oh, and... I heard that there's a nice bar around here. My boys could use a drink.”

OOC:
Dun really wanna get my main nation involved in this, but there is something I've been toying with, if you don't mind me testing it here...

And s'ok if I eat some random civie ship in the next post?


Also, the link to the map does work, you just have to copy/paste it into a new window.

IC:

The clan was tired, exhausted really; most wounded, some crippled, their flight from the Nemesis having driven them to the brink, cost them their homes, cost most of their brothers and sisters their very lives.

But in a way, they had been lucky, atleast more so than many neighbouring tribes, and now they luxuriated in their first real rest in what felt like ten lifetimes, tended their wounds, and slowly realised how close they'd come to mass starvation.

All was not that simple, however, as simple math soon uncovered; of those females still alive, too many were too wounded, or too immature, and the local systems, too poor - to Gather here would only delay their fate.

And so it was that they watched the muck dwellers wage war upon each other with some relish, safe in the starless embrace of the older, colder realm known to the clan as Dark Space, wincing as refineries, and their concentrations of nutritious volatiles, fusion isotopes, and refined hydrocarbons and metals, were carelessly vapourised - 'Stupid animals!' some cursed, as the intruding muck dweller shells finished off the local pack, and laid waste to the infestation of their world. But tho the destruction was great, the clan was, much to it's sorrow, small, and would be able to sustain itself off the wreckage for some time. Recover their strength, heal their wounds - a path to the future could be found here, amongst the corpses


And so it was, then, with some consternation that the clan watched, and the new muck dwellers did not leave, as they should have after such total destruction - the Lore quite clear on such matters. And while the clan was not above raiding - indeed, many took sport in harassing the violent animals - their warriors were few and half starved, while the muddies swarmed, and appeared quite fleet. Few doubted that with courage and care they could recover what they needed; fewer doubted it would be paid for in blood and lives.


As such, it was with great relief that the arrival of a lone shell attacking the invader's alpha-shell revealed the existence of a Realm Path - what a muck dweller might call a 'Wormhole', tho none of the clan even suspected the muddies capable of language - and ended the debate.

The Clan would slip momentarily into Massy Space, and transit to the new realm, befor sinking into the inky depths to gaze upon an entire new galaxy opened up befor them.

OOC: I actually do mind. I apologize, but I would prefer people only used their main nations in it. I already denied a fellow who wanted to bring his Q-based puppet and a fellow who wanted to bring in Shivans.

OOC: Shivans? o_O Oh, and this is totally relevant.

Meanwhile, several thousand lightyears from the wormhole, a world was being reborn.

It had once been named Sarmatia, a planet on the outer edges of the Traileric Home Sector. It was a docile, agricultural world, orbited by three small moons and a docking station. It's face had once been that of modern beauty, a planet unmarred by the sprawling cities familiar on other Traileric worlds. The cities here had been small, sporadic, and rarely visible from space. That had changed but four months before.

Tyranid Hivefleet Dratheria had swept across the system, overrun the local garrison, and literally devoured the home of seventeen million farmers and laborers in a matter of weeks. Only the prompt arrival of a far larger force had kept them from doing the same to the other hospitable planet of the system, Scythika, which had remained untouched.

Now, the barren gray rock that was Sarmatia was being orbited by titanic terraforming barges and other such apparatuses. Airships plied her skies, scrubbing the ground below to make ware for the Sowers and other such unmanned vessels that came along behind. Other, larger spaceborne vessels dotted Sarmatia's atmosphere, dangling multiple kilometer long cables to the ground below. What these cables did wasn't particularly clear, but their porous skins seemed to be bleeding nitrogen and ozone back into the dead atmosphere.

The tattered remains of the Fifth Legica were stationed on distant Scythika, mourning the eight hundred and twenty thousand hoplitai that had given their lives to delay the Tyranids. They were a broken Legica, and they knew it, there were only a few thousand of them left. The handful of survivors of the spaceborne fleet that had managed to hide from or outrun the Tyranids had already taken their own lives. The Legicate-Holder had perished, also, with the fleet, and so the survivors would likely be re-indicted into another Legica or given honorary discharge. In the meantime, they oversaw the rebuilding of their homeworld, and the raining of monuments to their dead. The Book of the Fallen had been shut, and the remains of Legica V Tyrannos were in limbo, awaiting orders, or redemption.

"Ah, but my dear Quark,” - Kazansky spoke with a voice so polite even a Cardassian spy would have been flattered by it, - “I have no intention to drive you out of your business. As a matter of fact...” - he smiled conspiratorially – “I have the full intent to make you prosper.”

The Ferengi Ambassador to Bajor looked at the Fieldmarshal with certain dismay. “What do you mean, make me prosper?”

"Consider this. I have already made orders that computer data relevant to the most common currencies used in Allanea and the key ESUS states be transferred to you. I have also made arrangements for you to receive rent to all the business spaces left abandoned on this station.”

It was true. After the Federation and Bajoran forces surrendered the station to the Allaneans, many of the most notable shops on the Terok Nor promenade have closed completely, taken their inventory and went down to the planet – where, so far, the Allaneans had yet to land forces of any kind.

"And why...” - Quark paused - “...are you doing this?”

"You are the Ferengi Ambassador. I consideer it good policy to bribe the Ferengi Ambassador. Besides, my troops need a place to gamble, to buy their drinks and their... exotic dances. “

* * *

"The provisional government has refused to negotiate with us, Mr. President. They say they have called for Federation assistance, and that Federation forces will be there soon.”

Kazansky nodded, sipping on his synthale – the cheapest, lousiest synthale that Quark had to offer. “I never expected them to, really. If the data we have so far is correct, their greatest ambition is to join the Federation outright.”

"What?” - the aide was a bit perplexed by this piece of news - “Their deliberate ambition as a government is to... give their sovereignty to someone else? And there are no riots?”

"To be fair, Lieutenant, there are a number of resistance groups.”

"I thought Bajor was a democratic republic.” - the aide grew even more perplexed - “I thought population of republics is generally not prone to civil strife of this type, unless they've just emerged from...”

"A conflict.” - Kazansky nodded. - “I believe you've been studying from the usual Demented Schooling textbook. They're right. But Bajor has undergone two conflicts recently, and I'm not even counting the coup they had. Previously, believe it or not, they used to be a pacifist nation. They were so focused on worshipping the wormhole aliens, they didn't even establish eff-tee-ell space flight for two hundred millenia.” - the Allanean commander in chief reached for the signed baseball on his desk and started playing with it absent-mindedly.

"But when they got exposed to war... oh boy, did they learn fast. Today, the word “Bajoran” is very nearly a synonym for “terrorist” in many places – and they're really good at it, too.” - Kazansky's face broke into a smile. - “And this is exactly what we're going to profit from. Oh boy, are we going to profit.”

* * *
Near Terok Nor – opposite its famous wormhole – the Allaneans were building a gate to open a wormhole of their own – an ITS standard gate, donated to the war effort by the Nivensky-Ringworld Foundation.

Through it, cargo ships would begin to move back and forth to the Libertas Sector. It would help in the resupply of the invading army – and the shipment of POWs. For the Allaneans expected to have large amounts of POWs, soon.

Alexander Kazansky market off twotargets on his map of the galaxy. Starbase 621, Starbase 319.

Two of his favored apprentices were given the task. Colonel Priscilla Conde and Lieutenant Wihelm Stossel would capture the starbases. .

Somewhere in Federation space

Admiral Fiven appeared concerned. “Gentlemen, we received a signal from Bajor of high importance. According to the Bajorans, our station there has been taken over by some strange aliens calling themselves the Allaneans. The aliens appear to have a fleet of around three hundred ships, most of immense size and incredibly advanced design.”

“What do you mean by immense size, Admiral?” - one of the subordinates asked.

“The biggest ship has been measured at slightly under twenty kilometers prow to stern. I would have discounted this myself, but they provide a variety of photo and video evidence.”

“How advanced is their technology, exactly?” - another man piped up.

“Well, they blew up every single ship the Bajoran and Federation forces in-system could throw at them, and then they blew up every Bajoran militia base they were fired on from.”

There were several gasps of horror in the audience.

“However, the aliens show no hostility to people who do not attack them. It appears that they've declined, so far, to attack the Bajorans, and have repeatedly offered the Bajoran government a variety of wealth, if they but support them in the oncoming... the Bajorans say that the Allaneans are planing to invade us.”

“And yet they did not move to occupy the planet?”

“Nor did they use any violence at all after eliminating direct threats to themselves. So the Bajorans refused, so far, to go along with them. Many in their provisional government feel a certain admiration for our culture, as you know.”

“So what do we do? Do we go help them?” - a particularly hot-headed Captain spoke up.

“No need – they're not under attack. We do, however, need to build up forces here. And I have a feeling I know just where these... Allaneans will strike next.”

OOC: This is just a bump. I still am waiting on your posts, people.

OOC: I actually do mind. I apologize, but I would prefer people only used their main nations in it. I already denied a fellow who wanted to bring his Q-based puppet and a fellow who wanted to bring in Shivans.

OOC:
Ah, pitty.

Tho unlike those others, the critters I was hoping to play with aren't very powerful, if that makes a difference.

OOC: This is just a bump. I still am waiting on your posts, people.

OOC: ..Scroll up.

OOC: Waiting on Balrogga and NM before I make my move.

Kazansky blinked, his nostrils flaring, his face becoming red with anger. “What do you mean they've joined the Federation?”

"Yeah,” - spoke the grey-haired Marshal who was Chief of Military Intelligence - “We don't know how we missed that one...”

"Moron!” - screamed the President, leaping over the table in one sharp move. - “Fool!” - he punched the man in the face, drawing blood. As the underling collapsed, Kazansky kicked him in the ribs. A distracting cracking sound was heard. The Marshal tried to stand up, and then his superior kneed him in the face, breaking his nose. “Fucktard! It's not a tiny small detail you can miss! It's a fucking planet!” - he began to slap the officer's name with ferocity. - “You fool! Дурак! Козел! Баклан! You walrus penis! You stupid impotent necrontyr spawn! You fuck! People could have been killed! What's worse, our people could have been killed!” - he threw the man into the corner, where the marshal proceeded to curl up in the fetal position, whimpering with pain.

"Guards! Take him away, prepare him for trial on criminal incompetence charges! And once Wilhelm is back, prepare for a major ground offensive on Bajor.”

As the passengers boarded the waiting ships, the inhuman Kythons funneled them into sections. The sea of humanity was diverted and sectioned off into 20 person-holding tanks. The placement seemed to be totally random and completely disregarded gender or ranks. Women were imprisoned alongside men, Civilians alongside Officers, children alongside adults, humans alongside non-humans. Once twenty people were placed in a room, the wall flowed shut leaving behind a featureless black expanse of metal. A single replicator was located in each room to provide simple food and drink as well as ten bunks. Simple items were obtainable but nothing that would be used as a weapon, playing cards being the most dangerous.

The temperature was warm and the humidity was average, no freezing the prisoners. Light was emitted from the ceiling somehow and the air seemed to be fresh, slowly emitted from the Replicators when they were not in use. The rooms were not spacious but they also were not claustrophobic.

Throughout the whole ordeal, the ebon aliens uttered not a single word. Rumor was circulated they could not speak but then again, you don’t meet living metallic beings just every day. Perhaps this day was their lucky day… or perhaps it wasn’t.

That night, as people fell exhausted into their own sleep cycles, they dreamed. They relived their lives as if their shock, injuries, or just plain exhaustion made them experience a “remembering dream”. Unknown to them it was Shipmind causing them.

Accessing their minds through their subconscious, Shipmind was not only causing them to dream about their memories, it was making copies of their minds in the process. The copies were stored within the Kython awareness and marked as accessible through the Battlenet for the fun of their allies. The memories of the smallest insignificant child through to the Admiral in command of the starbase, all were laid bare for the allies to browse through as they pleased. Undoubtedly the Command Officers would be on the Best Sellers list but he was certain the others would get some action as well. A person’s lifetime can be entertaining in many ways.

After a full sleep cycle, the trio of prison barges had completed their interrogation and the crew would be thinking highly about their captors, not once did they even try to question or interrogate them. It probably made the Officers really wonder too.




OOC:

The info is available if anyone thinks of looking for it. I am waiting OOCly for other nations to enter before I can ICly contact them on this side of the wormhole to see where they wished to strike. If you wait too long I will take out that planet and it’s 30 ships, depriving you of the fun…


I am waiting ICly in T-Space near the terminus of the Mekantan wormhole.

OOC: I am striking at Deep Space 4 and westward from there.

IC: The Ascendant fleet shot out of the wormhole with incredible speed, traveling even faster than their own phase drives. Breanna recollected herself, and reestablished connections with her fleet. Using their combined mental network and sensors, they were able to determine that they had arrived in Federation space. She hoped the Mekantans hadn't begun their campaign yet. The peoples of this space were better off under their, the Balroggan, or even Allanean rule, than that of the Mekantans.

"Begin long-range scanning."

The powerful sensors of the Ascendant fleet began to wash out over space, looking to see the current situation and how the invasion was going, along with checking the ESUS Battlenet. So far, they had been doing well. The Allaneans had taken a "Deep Space Nine", along with Bajor, and the Balroggans had taken a Starbase 185 and were moving on another planet. Breanna decided to leave them some space, and zoomed in on a station that was similar to the one the Allaneans had taken. Transmissions coming from it detailed it as "Deep Space 4".

"Initiate phase drives; we head for Deep Space 4 and began our campaign there."

The fleet vanished and began tearing through space in the phase dimension, traveling at high speeds for their first strike at a lonely, sole space station. Now the Federation had three problems to worry about....

If a single Mekantan Darkship was cause for fear, and Coreship's appearance would be cause for outright panic, the Hegemony's Punishment Fleet's Coreship and six Darkships, and nearly three thousand Zircon warships of varying size would no doubt be enough to make billions collectively soil themselves.

The good news was that, thanks to the Arabella not reporting back, the Federation had no clue about the frightening power of a Darkship. The bad news was that the Punishment Fleet and its Zircon escorts were sitting between layers of spacetime, already within the Federation's galaxy, and would let the rest of the Federation know what they were up against shortly.

Worse still, they would have thier first encounter with the Goddess All-Consuming herself...


Deep within the Coreship Khii'ihzaal (Great Torment) ten figures stood within the massive warship's fleet briefing room, surrounding the largest source of light in the room: A holographic map of Federation space.

"Jes'myeh'ta Federation'ze hyeth'myeh." A female Mekantan began, stepping foreward. The voice belonged to Vaexa math Ixtal, Overlady of the Punishment Fleet and commander of the Great Torment.

Fifteen minutes passed as she briefed all present on the basic sociopolitical structure and holdings of the eight thousand lightyear territory before moving on to what everyone really wanted to hear: Destinations and combat assignments.

The Darkship Teieth'ta Eithys (Violent Gale) and three hundred Zircon would assault the world called Trill while the Ryazik'ta Kyruyan (Burning Blood) and the Sykara'ze Vaeryx (Ocean's Terror) would lead another five hundred Zircon to a world called Betazed. The Rehtrhaak'ze Karol (Goddess's Vengence) would remain in reserve along with all but a thousand remaining Zircon warships unless another opportunity presented itself, while the Khiinae'ezat and Khiinae'zatih (Omniscient and Omnipotent) prepared to help the Khii'ihzaal lead another five hundred Zircon in the assault in the second stage of the war on one of the Federation's primary worlds: Vulcan.

The Zircon presence to accompany the fleets was primarily claimed by the larger of the two Zircon Hivemasters who listened to the Briefing. Hivemaster Xaethrial of the Ghyagan Swarm was the mightiest of the Hivemasters, and his swarm was well suited to extended engagements, fierce combat, and of course ground combat.

The second, smaller Hivemaster was no small threat himself. Xerenth of the Solar Cluster Swarm was a master of stealth and treachery. He was the only Zircon who could reliably cloak his presence and shapeshift with such precision he could fool all but the most in-depth of scans, and as a Hivemaster he passed this ability on to his swarm. He had a distaste for direct combat, however, and opted to allow Xaethrial the direct action.

Between the seven Mekantans and two Zircon, there was only the tenth presence unaccounted for. She would accompany every attack group, of course, but her primary target was the Kalandra System, and when she was done, there wouldn't even be a star remaining. Minagoroshi, Rehnaematothraak, the Goddess All-Consuming, she was known by many names. She wondered what the Federation would call her as she swept across thier systems, devouring asteroids, planets, entire stars.


-Trill System

There was no warning before the fabric of spacetime itself started to scream and writhe, massive energy readings and gravitational distortions the calling card of Mekantan transpace jumps.

The Teieth'ta Eithys and its Zircon escort tore into Realspace in orbit around Trill, hanging in space a moment, daring any Federation or Trill defenders to do anything about its presence.

Whether to taunt the occupants of the system or threaten them into submission, a transmission was broadcast from the Violent Gale.


This is the Hegemony Darkship Violent Gale under the command of Yaxal'jah'keh Isos math Kiren of the Galactic Hegemony of Neo-Mekanta. Your system, your world, and your lives belong to the Hegemony.

If any among you wish to challenge Mekantan domination of this system, make yourselves known so we may crush you like the insects you are. No force challenges a Darkship with impunity.



-Betazed System

The Dominion War was not unknown to the Mekantans. There was more than enough tactical knowlage about the battles for the Betazoid homeworld in the heads of the Arabella's crew. They knew that despite the laughable engineering blunders of this Federation, they would at least have the sense to bolster the system's defenses after such a crushing defeat.

Thus the Ryazik'ta Kyruyan jumped into the system near the star, the Sykara'ze Vaeryx just outside the system. As the Zircon hung back between layers of spacetime, the front sections of the two Darkships flared violently. The "fire in the dragon's maw" appearance of the Darkships' bows earned its name the two massive juggernauts "targetted" the planet's orbital defenses with thier long-range weaponry, firing bolt after bolt of minimal strength.

The barrage was reletively weak and the general area of the stations were targetted. The Mekantans weren't aiming directly at the platforms, giving the impression they missed - If the planet was struck, who cared? The shots were weakened enough to only be on par with 20th century nuclear weapons, the planet and its population would be mostly unharmed. The threat would still, if this Federation was as predictable as all of the tactical information the Mekantans had suggested, draw the system's defenders to engage the Darkships, where they could be picked off little by little...


-Kalandra System

Minagoroshi's plan of taking the system wasn't extremely subtle, or complex. There was no deception, carefully directed display of force, or sudden threat. Just five dozen packets of the Goddess All-Consuming's cells jumping in near unshielded targets of opportunity and setting to thier usual task of consuming matter. The star was of particular concern. Five clusters jumped in near the burning ball of plasma, siphoning off huge amounts of plasma, cooling it, and consuming the matter.

No heed was payed to any defenders in the system, if they attacked they would be dealt with.


-OOC-

Simultaneous attacks taking place against Trill, Betazed, and Kalandra. Vulcan is secretly in Neo-Mekanta's sights, and if Bal would like a partner in the Zakdorn offensive, the Rehtrhaak'ze Karol and some Zircon would be more than happy to jump over and give a hand.

Deep Space 4

Unlike Deep Space 9, Deep Space 4 is much smaller. Perhaps five hundred meters wide, festooned with observation equipment, it is a scientific and intelligence base, tracking both potential Romulan movements and the movements of space phenomena. It is an easy target for the Telrosian advance.

Trill

The planet stands – not defenseless, as it is a major world. And who would surrender to a fleet of two starships? There are almost five hundred Galaxy-class starshps, Akira missile cruisers, Defiant escorts, and others vessels in-system. There are orbital weapons platforms, a stockpile of self-replicating mines, and other goodies with which the system can – nay, will be defended. This is not going to be a rollover. This is going to be an actual fight.

But Starfleet is Starfleet and the Federation does what the Federation does. Even as all forces in-system jump to yellow alert, a simple message is dispatched to the Mekantans.

We see no reason to immediately surrender our entire planet to you. Perhaps we can negotiate? If we understand what you require, we might be able to supply you with it without actually giving to you our system.

Betazed

For a second, points on the surface boil with megaton-yield nuclear explosions. Within the first second of combat, millions of Betazoids die, and many more are injured as window glass, stones, even sand are thrown out from the sites of the explosions as a hail of bullets. The very air seems to burn for miles, the very flesh of victims igniting.

Those telepathically sensitive – as indeed is the whole population – cringe in horror as the pain of millions of men is released all at once.

But a retaliation strike was coming, and it would surprise even the Mekantans.

Imagine, if you will, several hundred ships, their saucer-like forms already familiar to the Zirconians, formed in a battle-line formation so tight they remind one of nothing as much as 19th-century ships prepared to do battle. But what is not seen to the eye is the advantage this provides.

For the ships have pooled their deflector generators, and the shield that is even now extending to protect them from the Mekantans is more powerful, by orders of magnitude, than anything that a single Federation ship could expect.

Fighters – Peregrines and the more advanced Piranhans and A78-A Dragons, escorted by Runabouts, deploy in a semi-circle formation, converging on one Mekantan ship, while the big ships of the Federation rain torpedo and phaser fire on the other.

Messages were sent out to the rest of the Federation, to warn of the oncoming threat. No longer would the ESUS have the power of surprise.

Kalandra System

(OOC: I was looking for this on the map and couldn't find it.)

Here, the defenders did the obvious – fired their phasers at the oncoming, all-consiming mass, moving from the light hand phasers to the heavier ones. And if that failed, they utilized Transporter Code 14 (http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Transporter_Code_14) – simply try and beam the questionable matter into nothingess.

Starbase 621

Starbase 621 would be the first one to be destroyed. Such was Priscilla's mission. Not “capture” the giant shipyard, but, in fact, destroy it outright. She carried it out simply. The ships in her care were two destroyers and two missile cruisers. The destroyers were the first to come out of hyperdrive, in comparatively close range from the Federation's oversized shipyard – just outside the range of their visual sensor. The latter, of course, hailed them – and then the destroyers replied with two missile salvos aimed exactly on the coordinates of the hail signal. The station's phaser arrays decimated the missiles – literally, taking out about one-tenth of the onslaught – and then the station's communication array became an impact zone.

The station ceased to be within minutes, and Priscilla Conde, satisfied, proceeded to return her ships into hyperdrive and back to B'Hava'el system.

Starbase 319

The warp portals flared once, twice, thrice, as Allaneans began to appear in various points of the starbase. The Immaterium was dangerous, of course – but it was not inhibited by shields, and perfect for such an operation as what Kazansky has tasked the First Assault Battalion with: take the Starbase, and take it as intact as humanly possible.

The databases on Terok Nor, information sharing with the Mekantans, and data from destroyed ships has already told Allaneans about the average build-up of such stations – and so it was not a difficult task to teleport men to such a level from which access to the engine room would be swft and secure.

Ensign Oliver Notts was the first man to meet an Allanean. He was working on a broken replicator six levels up from Engineering, when suddenly into the room came a monster. It was almost like a man, but tall, gangly, with strange, long-fingered, clawed hands, and a long. Barbed tail. It's head was long and armored, and there were no discernible eyes. In short, it was a Valaquine.

Notts did not have time to scream. The Valaquine's internal jaw darted forth, breaking through his temple. Seconds later, the Allanean was already done swallowing the man's brain.

“Command, this is Sergeant Klllk-thqua, room is ssshekure, moving on.”

Lieutenant Fedor Norex was in a corridor a few yards away. His weapon – a TIW laser support gun – moved from side to size, the needle-thin beam slicing two Starfleet officers apart at hip level. A second later, another man fired from behind a corner, the phaser beam deflecting casually of Fedor's Gladius armor. “Affirmative, Sergeant, carry on.” - the Lieutenant watched energy shields hold off his access to the corridor – and a brave Starfleet cremwan peek at him around the corner. He increased the laser's power level to one-half maximum and fired through the shield. Watching the cremwan's body explode as his blood boiled to vapor instantly was highly satisfactory.

"Damn. I'm stuck here. Let me see...” - he poked aroud with the laser, melting supports and parts of the walls. Eventually, he found the small shield generators that made these force fields – or at least something that lead to them. The way was clear.

Commander Gacker, Officer T'Peel, and thrre ensigns died in a station turoblift when the doors opened on the wrong floor and an Allanean rolled in a single frag grenade. The doors never did close.

Some Allaneans were not lucky, either. Valaquine rarely wear powered armor, and two Valaquine troops were killed by phaser fire. A man in light powered armor was caught in a plasma conduit when the latter wast turned on, and he and his armor became a puddle of red-hot metal. But the Allaneans did advance.

They pointed three high-spread gamma-ray guns at the doors of the Engineering room – and just as they opened, swept the beams through the room, twice. Within less than thirty seconds, no officer in Engineering remained alive.

From there, it was simple. The Allaneans locked themselves in engineering, and systematically vented the station to space. Within several minutes, practically all station personnel were dead.

Major Wilhelm Stossel reactivated life support and walked to the bridge – God bless powered armor – even as air flowed back into this station. As he got there, he threw a glance at the vacuum-dessicated remains of the station crew and reached for his communicator.

"Destroyer USS-678-B, this is Nightingale. Transmit message to Central: Mission complete. Repeat, mission complete.”

Orbit of Bajor, aboard the SS Miriel nos Feanor

"Mr. President, we have word from Marshal Watanabe's Task Force. He says that they have entered the target system and begun surgical orbital bombardment. We also have confirmation from Marshal Al-Ghazi. They are past the orbital bombarment stage and are beginning preliminary athmospheric bombings.”

"Very well. We will begin our offensive now. Activate operation Vengeful Sunlight.”

A single starfighter, resting in low orbit of the Bajoran sun, changes it's course only very slightly. From the fighter, a small silvery box begins to drop, no bigger than a packing crate. It impacts B'hava'el – and nothing happens. Nothing.

And then, a solar flare is born, extending in the direction of Bajor. It is small – but it is somehow strangely focused. And born from the flare is the impossible – a laser beam of terryifing strength. It reaches out for the moon that the Bajorans use for power supply – and the effects are enormous.

The crust melts. The geothermal plants on its surface simply boil away and cease to be, and within seconds, large areas of the Bajoran surface go dark as the power fails to thousands and millions of homes.

The ventral banks of the Miriel' turbolasers swivel and fire, taking aim at a variety of military bases. Rows of armored vehicles, storage warehouses, military barracks melt and burn as the punishing wrath of Allanea is thus materialized – beams of terrible, all-destryoing green light.

And the other ships join in the carnage. For an excrutiatingly long fifteen minutes, Bajor's entire structure of government becomes the target for dozens of kinetic kill missiles, beam weapons, railguns and orbit-to-ground bombs.

When the Allaneans judge that enough damage has been done, the deployment of ground assets begins. From the poles, waves of fighters begin to advance – Durandale fighters moving in the troposphere, accompanied by Anger gunships, supported from low orbit by Hagen missile buses and dedicated Glaurung orbital fighters. Death reigns on every Bajoran military position.

Already, Allanean airborne infantry prepare for orbital insertion. Cargo ships descend into low orbit, prepare to spew forth Bolos, mechanized infantry, combat drones and tanks.

And then the Bajorans strike back.

The depths of the ocean part, and a hail of heavy anti-ship missiles rise. This is the planet's last, desperate line of defense – two Fast Attack Submarines, equipped with ground-to-orbit missiles. CIWS flares. Missiles fall or blow up, destroyed in mid-flight. But one ship is struck. It is a cargo ship, the USS Unerring. Five AM missiles hit it at once, and it breaks up within minutes. Of the 40,000 troops in its massive hull, only about a fourth remains alive.

Kazansky roars – not a Boy-President now, but an injured beast, as though he could feel the pain of the dying thousands with his very own body. “Hellbore fire authorized!” - he shouts, his face red withj angewr.

Previously, the Allaneans witheld the fire of their Hellbores from the Bajorans, wanting to spare them the horrors of collateral damage. Now, no longer. Five Porcupine class gunships reorient themselves slightly and fire, aiming at the locations from which the missiles were fired. And all hell breaks loose.

The deafening roar created by fifty five-megaton explosions every seconbd is impossible to describe. The ocean boils, kilotons of water turning into steam and plasma as the Allaneans strike their foe with unbelieveable fury. Within less than a second, the submarines are dead, and the Allaneans continue to pound the sea surface for one and a half seconds more.

The airborne deploy – thousands of gravchute-equipped troops, peppering the skies around the Bajoran capital. Anti-air phasers and AMS missiles are fired again and again – but for every Allanean soldier there are fifty decoys – simply speaking, cheap human-sized dolls. And yet, too many die. Fighters strafe the phaser carrying vehicles, dropping out tons of cluster bombs – veritable clouds of tiny submunitions, none bigger than a small coin, none weaker than at least a hand-grenade. The ground itself burns around the Bajoran vehicles as incendiary weapons rain down upon Allanea's enemies.

But it seems intel had some stuff wrong again. From underground shelters, from camouflaged positions, from village warehouses where they were hidden ahead of time, more vehicles emerge. Anti-matter warheads flash in the atmosphere again and again. The heat, the explosive shockwaves kill hundreds of troops on descent. Of course, the radiation affects the people obn the surface as well – but for now, that doesn't matter. What matters is holding off the Allaneans.

Those who land are shot at again with 133mm torpedoes from salvo launchers, MAPLIML rounds, and 155mm artillery. This is serious, now. Geiger counters in the Airborne Troopers' helmets display rising rad counts. Non-armored personnel would have serious health problems by now – as no doubt many Bajorans will. The Airnborne troops, in the meanwhile, observe their helmte visors lit up with green dots - locations of enemy infantry denoted by airpower and orbital scanner. They raise their rifles and fire them, full auto. Swarms of tiny, yet deadly guided misiles streak out to beyond the horizon. Seconds later, gunships and fighters boom overhead, the ground shaking as Bajoran positions are again pounded.

AMS fires again, the ground shaking as it impacts. And then the Federals fire their largest weapons – the mobile ATLs, Artillery Torpedo Launchers. Even though the Federation-Bajoran positions have been hit time and time again, it seems at least some ATLs remain intact. Those are the same torpedoes used by Starfleet vessels in space – but in athmosphere, their effect is truly devastating.

The mushroom clouds of explosions rise into the air, visible from the capital. Dozens of fighters and gunships simply disappear, as do hundreds and thousands of Airborne.

Aboard the Miriel nos Feanor, the Boy-President rises, his face now serene and calm. It seems the rage over the death of thousands of his troops has all but subsided. He puts on his famous white scarf, and puts his hand on the grip of his sword.

"All units are weapons clear. This is Hellbore time. If they don't care about irradiating their home plant by touching off so much anti-matter and anti-ship torps, I don't see why we should care either. Prepare to land mechanized forces with full-orbital support. Prepare to land Peaceful Engineering Units. And get me down to the surface.”

And the planet burns. A three-gigaton anti-ship missile strike on the far side of the planet, hitting bluewater shipyard. Nothing remains in one piece, not even the mountain cliffs into which the shipyard is built. For a few seconds, the ocean floor is bare, the water boiled away completely by the immense blast.

It is yet too early to say Allanea is angry, but she is clearly getting slightly annoyed.

* * *

Slowly, as the Airborne attack, they get into Phaser range. Obviously, ordinary hand phasers have practically no effect on Allanean light powered armor, much less the heavier Gladius suit – but they do distract the Allanean and cause him to shoot the attacker, or, in the case of Gladius wearers, to cause him to bitchslap said attacker to death. Flamethrowers have equally no effect. Then there's the fact the Federation troops have to fight in an area that's just been done over with multiple salvoes or radiation-producing weapons – and 99% of them don't wear full-body armor.

And yet they have still give an Allanean a run for their money. Most of the local troops are Bajorans, and Bajorans are nothing if not tenacious. Those lucky men who have AGL-19 automatic grenade launchers, heavy or squad support phasers can indeed injure or kill an Allanean, and so can the surviving vehicle crews. The Allaneans fight back – with their strange missile-firing rifles, their hyper-V missile launchers, and their squad support lasers that can easily cut through the hull of any APV-99 series gravitic vehicle. And then, the Allanean mechanized infantry comes in.

Two-kiloton tank shells impact the APVs, and bursts of light Hellbore fire echo from Allanean APCs as they advance into the Federation line – which falls back. There is now one last line of defense left between the Allaneans and the Bajoran capital – and it is extensive and well-built, merging itself with the capital's very suburbs.

The Allaneans, once again, ground to a halt. But Kazansky is now among them. He wears the white scarf he is famous for. The one the Queen of Allanea has bestowed upon him.

The Allaneans cheer.

"Freemen! One last dash! Follow me and the planet is ours!” - he shouts. Not a speech. Not even a coherent sentence, really. But the people hear his voice. And they see him walk, calmly and resolutely, towards the last Federation fortications protecting the capital. And the mechanized infantry and the airborne follow.

Allanean ships in orbit, aircraft in the atmosphere, and artillery on the ground provide them fire support – militarese for “vaporise anything that looks suspicious”. The city in th path of the Allanean troops is an ocean of flame, Federation troops firing from rooftops, kamikazes equipped with explosive belts leaping from windows onto the roofs of passing Allanean vehicles, mines buried in the streets.

And north of the city, one more Federation force moves in in a desperate rescue attempt. And between the capital and the Federation armoured vehicles, there is Susie.

I am a Peaceful Engineering Platform. My gravitics can be used to move mountains, and my Hellbores are great for peacetime demolitions or post-war minefield clearance. I posess 134.3 petabytes of engineering, medical, and agricultural data, useful in all sorts of engineering, development, and rescue work.

I am a military-grade Gaming Server. Even now, some military clerks are using some parts of my bandwidth and calculating capacity to play a multiplayer game called Communist Hunter Extreme. And it appears there are several Threat Vehicles distracting me from my main mission.

I identify 10 WM-257 Artillery Torpedo Launchers. They fire at something -likely the Fieldmarshal and his retinue, - and I track the torpedoes in-flight and destroy them. Too easy. And now to fire back.

My high-angle mortars belch fire and smoke, a hail of octocellulose rounds coming down on the Enemy as I accelerate rapidly towards their position. Most of them, naturally, are shot down, but I note with satisfaction that three of the ATLs are now on fire. The survivors fire again, at me this time. I shoot down all warheads except one, as warning. I let it explode harmlessly against my hull, the fire of the explosion felling trees and burning grass all the way out to the horizon. And then I am upon them.

There are many vehicles. “Caisson” support vehicles, WM-207B MRLS systems, tanks – if you can call those pitiful vehicles that - APCs, and so on. There are even infantry dismounts. I focus my active sensors on them, and they die.

And then it is killing time. I locate three Enemy command vehicles of the 'T'var' type, and aim my main Hellbores and Hellrails on them, separately. There are three megaton-yield explosions occuring at once at ranges from 1.592 to 3.401 kilometers away from me as the vehicles cease to exists. Others are thrown, overturned, or simply jarred by the massive explosions – and then I am the subject of the entire unit's fire. And of course, none of them can even remotely harm me.

I fire my main and secondary Hellbore batteries, my total output reaching a miniature yield of five megatons per second. All around me is a rendition ofr hell, with superheated plasma, boiling sand and liquified metal swirling abot my hull in a storm of destruction.

They do not retreat. They fight nobly for the entire battle.

All 5.306 seconds of it.

I dertect no survivors. But my information feed informs me that our forces in the city are still being held up. This is the mission from which I have been distracted. I turn towards the city and turn my gravitics on. I am airborne.

Below me, locals scream in panic. They have seen anti-grav tanks before – but a Bolo, never. For that is what I am, a Bolo.

I land squarely on the building of the Bajoran planetary government offices, the roof giving easily under my tracks, and begin to work my way out towards the Allanean offensive.

I sense this will soon be over.

* * *

Kazansky stood atop Susie's glacis plate and surveyed his troops. He was injured several times, but regenerated his wounds in minutes – to the amazement and enthusiasm of the Allaneans and the utter shock of the enemy. Still, the wounds did cause him suffering and pain, and the troops knew that, too.

He was no longer wearing his scarf. It burned to ashes two hours ago – Kazansky's cloak and scarf were both set on fire when he pried open the hatch of a burning IFV to rescue an injured sergeant. He was never going to get another scarf like that – but at least the man lived.

He spoke simply, leaning on his bloodied sword.

"Troops! I have received word from Marshals Al-Ghazi and Watanabe. They have captured their objectives, and, unlike us, they've kept their casualties to below one thousand men total, in similar fighting. They also had secured vast amounts of POWs. Here, though, we have very few prisoners, and we have lost 50,000 men dead and over 300,000 wounded. We even lost a ship.”

Kazansky sighed. “Further, over half a million local Starfleet personnel were killed, most of them in the orbital bombardment. We estimate three million civilians at least killed in the direct weapons exhange, and the deaths of six million more to be impending from starvation and radiation poisoning.”

"To a degree, this is our own fault – the fault of mistaken military intelligence. Had we known when we arrived that obvious fact Bajor was a Federation planet, we would have attacked immediately. The officers responsible are facing trial even now, and will likely be executed or imprisoned for this failure.”

"But to a degree, it's nobody's fault. We have been fighting a foe more formidable than the average Federation soldier or crewman. We've been fighting Bajorans. They are the bravest, most tenacious race of the Alpha Quadrant. They fought the Cardassians for one hundred years without any faster-than-light weapons, and then they won. The Bajorans are, quite possibly, the only race in the Federation with any kind of spine.”

"That's why they fought like this, though we had all the cards and they knew they would lose. That's why we have less POWs.”

"Within the next 48 hours, as the wounded are cared for, I will finalize the surrender treaty for the planet and make arrangement for counterinsurgency safety proceedings. There will be no off-duty vacations on the surface, nor any travel of troops save in formations of at least company strength on the ground. All of you must treat the Bajorans with the utmost respect, for they are, quite possibly, one of the few local cultures worthy of respect, and they're easily driven to guerilla violence if they sense we are oppressing them – part of why the Bajorans are actually worthy of respect.” - the Allaneans nodded at this.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to remind you all that this is still a victory. We have inflicted enormous casualties on the enemy – a 10-1 ratio, even if civilian casualties are excluded. We captured several habitable worlds. We did it because our economy, our technology, our society is superior to that of the Federation. We did it because property is superior to communism; because liberty is superior to slavery; because life is superior to death.”

"The Allaneans are brave – like the Bajorans – and wise – like the Vulcans, and warlike – like the Klingons. But the Allaneans have something none of these races has. The Allaneans are free. And this is why, in this fight, we will prevail. We will capture Denobula, and we will capture Mizar. And eventually, total and complete victory will be ours.

"That is all.”

"May God bless Allanea.”

Breanna sent the signal and the entire Telrosian fleet eased out of the phase dimension and were about fifty kilometers away from the station. The Telrosians wasted no time in moving at their target. The thirteen frigates moved quickly, in tandem with the gunships and corvettes of the support ships, to surrounded the station, while the destroyers and cruisers formed a second circle around it. The six carriers took up positions that formed a star around it, and the two battle ships stayed where they were, along with the seven dreadnoughts teeming with Xel'athi troops.

Archlord-class and Manthis-class Interceptors were deployed from all the ships and filled the space around the station with glittering darts that flitted this way and that. The power levels coming from the ships would be off the charts and the ships weapons could be detected locking onto the station.

"Attention Deep Space 4, this is Breanna, Matriarch of the Telrosian Ascendancy. We have come due to your vain and undue attack on our ally. We do not wish hostilities, and recommend surrender. However, we will use force if we must."

The space station's crew notice, of course, the size and unbelievable power of the enemy ships. They send out a variety of distress signals via the Starfleet subspace networks, and deliver a message to the Telrosians too:

We are not aware of any attack on your allies, nor do we know who 'your allies' are. Please explain.

The Telrosians jammed the messages, but some still managed to get through. Breanna was slightly annoyed, but unless the Federation sent an ungodly number of ships at them and left much of their nation undefended, they wouldn't be budged. "Do try not to test my patience by calling for help and think to try and distract me by sending me a message. Now, one of your ships came to our ally's space and then proceeded to attack it. This was unwarranted and our ally had seen fit to declare war. As a loyal ally, I have responded. I must also warn you, this ally is very brutal. Acceding to our rule means you won't be enslaved or worse by them.

Now I suggest you surrender and allow my forces to board you, or I will have to use force. And when I use force, entire planets become barren, so do not take me lightly."

The Federation officers are aware of many supercivilizations. The Q. The Iconians. The First Federation. They realize that this must be one of them and that they have no chance of survival. They surrender the station.

The orbit of Bajor was now populated with warships. Kazansky's Red Fleet and the government First and Second Force Projection Fleet were preparing for additional strikes, their targets even now being scouted out by stealthy hyperdrive-equipped fighters. Now, two thousand ships – 400 Naval vessels and 1600 ships of the Red Fleet – were massed in orbit. A single ground base was built near the capital – and through it, tons and tons of humanitarian aid flowed richly to the Bajorans. The Allaneans established no colonial government, and made it clear that they didn't care what the Bajorans did, as long as they didn't try to aid the Federation in the conflict.

Naturally, some would engage the Allaneans in guerilla warfare. Such was the spirit of the place, and the Allaneans accepted this – and they were prepared to retaliate. In fact, they were prepared to enter contact with the various resistance groups that were bound to soon spring up on Bajoran territory.

But the key operation was humanitarian aid. The fighting in orbit and on the ground left millions of Bajorans injured or without a roof to their heads or at least basic power to their homes. And the Army would work to change that.

Thousands of nurses, doctors, and simple volunteers were brought in, under the auspices of the Army, the Marine Corps, and various private organization, to care for these who needed caring for. They were not enough.

Giant field hospitals were formed in the emergency, their beds filled with victims of frostbite, radiation burns, and other, more horrific injuries. The conditions before the Allanean invasion weren't stellar either, and so many who were already ill when the first Allanean ship crossed into the system made way for the enormous hospital tents.

* * *

Xenia Reynes leaves her mother's house in the early morning. But she's not off to school or college. Her Swifter-6 gravbike takes her to the Liberty-City International Spaceport. There, she takes a passenger ship to the location of her first real journalistic assignment.

Naturally, no newspaper has actually hired her – she's just off on her own – because she knows that no newspaper will refuse her articles once they're sent in from the very front – and because there's a truth to be told about the Federation War, and Xenia will be the one to tell it. Even if she's still very young.

And, just in case, she's mailed in yet another editorial. They will publish that one, too.

* * *

The Libertarian With the Hellbore

In itself, the logic of Allanea's foreign interventionism is supposedly solid. The average police state is an augmented and legalized act of violence against its subjects – robbery (fines, unfair taxes), kidnapping (prisons), and outright murder. By invading a given nation or violently overthrowing their government, you commit a large amount of violence all in one go, but prevent a greater degree of slow, creeping, daily violence – perhaps several millenia worth of robbery, kidnapping, and murder. Thus would your average Allanean interventionist have it.

Of course, there's holes in this large enough to drive a truck through. Consider Operation Vengeful
Sunlight. For comparison, the Cardassians killed 10 million Bajorans in the one hundred years of occupation. The Allaneans have butchered 2.5 million Bajorans throughout their operation, over two million of them in the blietzkrieg invasion of the main planet. And yet so far, no serious effort has been made to reform Bajoran society, and it appears there will not be any, at least until the war is over – the government does not want to offend the most tenacious guerillas in that Galaxy until the war is over.

Does anybody think the Bajorans will really like us better after we've slaughtered the hell out of their allies? After we've burned Paris – and mark my words, Paris will burn – sacked Vulcan, destroyed Denobula?

The principle of war is that it's utterly unpredictable. Once you've started fighting, you must be guided not by principles of ideas, but by your strategic and tactical sense. You cannot predict the outcome of a fight – you might shoot your attacker in the foot and still have him die from blood loss. Take Operation Vengeful Sunlight. We wanted to restrain ourselves to using beam weapons and kinetics and conventional explosives, and, when AM started going off, had to switch to Hellbores.

And yet the Allaneans do this time and time again. Again and again they go places and blow stuff up in the belief – often false – that they can make things better, that the casualties of the scuffle they're getting into will be justified by the lives they save – if they save any.

At least, in this particular conflict, it can be said that Allanean occupation and conquest will be better for the Federation citizens than a Mekantan conquest.

It is scant comfort.

OOC: Eh, how do we know in-depth stuff about Vulcans and Klingons etc? Perusing captured computers?

OOC:

I absorbed that starbase and the data is on the Battlenet if you looked for it.

As the onslaught continued, as the tentacles of Minagoroshi, the fingers of Alexander Kazansky, the claws of the Kythons reached closer and closer to the tender throat of the Federation, the men and women of Section 31 prepared their counterstrike.

They gathered a small fleet of the most advanced ships of the Federation – Steamrunner, Akira, Defiant-series warships, equipped with transwarp drive, interphasic and transwarp torpedoes, planetcracker bombs, and, of course, phase cloaking.

They went through the wormhole unnoticed by the Mekantans – thank you, phase cloaking – and one of the ships released a single Peregrine fighter. It passed over Gilgamesh, lobbing four Planet-killer bombs at it.

Even one of those would have been enough to tear the planet apart. As it was, Gilgamesh became a hail of planetary shreds that would have made Darth Vader look proud. And the phase-cloaked fleet went on their way.

They discovered, much to their chagrin, that ESUS military-grade systems were much harder to hack than their Confederation counterparts. But there were also civilian comm systems, and by hacking those they soon found out the existence of the ESUS – and the location of several ESUS worlds.

The five key systems of the Telrosian Ascendancy were struck at once – Sangheilios, Balaho, Te, Eayn, and Palamok. Five ships emerged from transwarp, and approached under cloak. They decloaked only near the system stars – and launched trilithium bombs at close range. Then, they returned to warp and ran for it – and minutes later, the five suns blew up like king-sized hand-grenades, sending faster-than-light waves of energy through the systems in question, followed by regular waves of plasma, radiation, and heat.

Now the stars were run-of-the-mill supernovae, engulfingthe worlds, colonies, factories – everything that was still intact after the initial energy blast and radiation hits – in pools of 100-billion Kelvin superheated plasma. Nothing could possibly survive.

And this was still not everything.

Two Defiants, running in formation, hit the worlds of the Traileric Sarmatian system with Genesis devices. Within seconds, the surfaces turned into boiling lava and the atmospheres – into layers of sulphuric acid.

Allanean worlds were killed too – Lucas Prima and Lucas Secunda were key manufacturing worlds, and the Allanean warmachine was expected to need them. They struck by Genesis devices, delivered by ordinary torpedo from passing cloaked fighters. Within seconds, 500,000 Allanean Arms employees would die in horrible suffering as their air became unbreathable and the very soil under their feet melted away.

Clearly, these ESUSians were madmen. They colonized far more world than they could humanly expect to defend. Now, they would pay a price, a price in lives, in suffering, in worlds defiled and destroyed.

The Hand of the Federation was upon them, and Section 31 would not show mercy for those who attacked the Federation.

Victory would be theirs, they knew.

They would crush the ESUS, as they had crushed the Borg, beaten the Dominion, subdued so many others. Their blue flag would wave triumphant again, and this would all soon be over.

Soon, they knew, there would be peace.

Thunder rolled ominously through the sky, followed by the steady roar of a heavy rain. The Traileric capital city of The Met was all but silent, citizens crowded the streets, huddled together before the goliath viewscreens that displayed their Emperor. Many miles distant, in the grasslands that his people called Pan on the outskirts of the Silver City, Hadriel stood at his imperial podium, head bowed, powered armor slumped, the metal ceremonial mask postured in it's macabre smile..

(Traileric Hoplitai ceremonial helm
http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x295/trailers_images/general1xa5.jpg
http://i186.photobucket.com/albums/x295/trailers_images/macemb4.jpg)

..Here at the edge of th capital, he had assembled an army. For as far as the eye could see stretched square after square of phalanxes, masks identical to his own, millions of spears foresting eight meters into the air. These were his children, a people stricken in grief.

As the rain washed over his faceplate, the lenses of the helm adjusting to focus around the waters visual distortion, he lifted his head, and spoke.

"My people, sons and daughters of Hercules. On this day we mourn the unprovoked and unprecedented death of half a billion of our countrymen. Even as they recovered from other recent struggles and the loss of their garrison, they pressed on, only to see their hopes die in fire. They have not died for nothing! For the animals that have dared to intrude on our holy lands have sorely underestimated the Trailarii, they expect us to cow to them, accept this insult and loss, turn over arms and become as slaves to their false gods and false emperors. We will not tolerate such...such INSOLENCE!"

A single powered gauntlet clenched amongst the cheers and roars of the masses, his mighty voice sweeping across the far reaches of the inner systems, to viewscreens in the farthest helot state.

"I have gathered here but a fraction of the punitive army I shall levy against them! The Tome of the Fallen is closed in Sarmatia, but I swear unto you my people, the river Styx will choke with the souls of our enemies, Chernobyl's ferry will grow heavy and sink beneath their weight! Hades himself will turn ill at the rage and power of our vengeful wrath! With these insects we shall make an example of what happens to those who cross the Trailarii. The rumors and stories of our ferocity will sow terror in friend and foe! I promise you not a war of subjugation, my people, but a war of extinction. This is our birthright, we are indomitable, unbreakable, unstoppable.

We are Trailica!"

The Emperor hoisted his shield above his head, upon which the flag of Trailica was impressed as his crest, the silver and green fields surrounding the ancient silhouette of a Corinthian helm. At this signal, the skyships were released from their docks. Above the awed masses the rarely seen military might of the three Legica gathered on the capital planet was proudly displayed. Hundreds upon hundreds of Cloudfire flying fortresses thrummed through the air, each one clutching a dozen or so Worldshaker tanks or folded up Clibanarii Immortal mechanized armor. As the Cloudfires exited the atmosphere, so rose a wave of frigates, followed by progressively larger ships. Such were their numbers and the heat of their furnaces that they had by now burned away the rain and the clouds.

At long last, every citizen could feel in their breast the tidal forces of the mightiest ships in the Traileric arsenal. Three thirty kilometer long Colossi cast their shadows over the city of Met, the earth having split where their hangars did surface. As they climbed, they were swarmed by nearly a hundred thousand tiny transports, moving the literal millions of infantry of the three gathered Legica, and this was but the tip of the iceberg.

Rapax, Ar'Repeta Mavroi, Attica, Syfri Asteri, Amoni Asteri, Ithaca, Katadioxi, Kylo Bronto, Nostroma, Athrafstos, Mave Legeonacas, Gyfr Pyrapoli, Ares, Thyma Para Ourona, Europa, Proto Xyfos, and Legica I Trailica.

From every corner of the Traileric empire, every Legica that could be spared was pulled from its watch, along with countless lesser Helot Concourse auxilliary legica. Only the most skeleton of defenses were left, and even those Legica left behind sent a Configuration or two as ceremonial representatives. They would fight in their ceremonial armor, their enemies would know terror, and none would live to tell the tale of the faceless immortal gods clad in metal whose faces were as one, with a smiles even as they slaughtered.

-Trill

Deep within the Violent Gale, the Darkship's commander smiled. Isos math Kiren ran a hand through his short blue hair, his streaks glowing softly as he issued several telepathic orders to his warship.

Like most Mekantans, Isos had a primal love of combat, an almost sexual desire for fighting. Isos, however, also liked taking the path of least resistance. If he could get this Federation system to surrender reletively peacefully, not only would his job be much easier, he'd be able to take more of the system intact.


Clearly amused by the forces the Federation brought to bear against it, the Darkship sent a simple message, broadcast to all Federation assets in the system.


This Darkship and the three hundred Zircon battleships present are under orders from the Galactic Hegemony of Neo-Mekanta to take this system in response to an unprovoked attack by the United Federation of Planets. There will be no negotiation.

It is preferrable to take this territory as intact as possible. We are fully aware of the defensive capabilities of this system, and while your defenses will provide a very entertaining and enjoyable skirmish, it shall be a very short one as even the mightiest warships you possess are no match for the might of a Hegemony or the Zircon Swarm, and the planet below would sustain undesired damage.

It is your decision, Federation insects. Surrender... or face oblivion. Here is your "warning" shot. Begin your attack any time you wish if you will not surrender.


The ebon-hulled juggernaut normally didn't make a show of its weapon systems. There was never any sign its weapons were charging, and its lack of external systems didn't even allow a ship to SEE that it was being targetted until the Darkship opened fire.

That was fine, because as a cohesive, six hundred gigaton bolt of energy and raw kinetic force lanced forth from the Teieth'ta Eithys's hull, it generated a fine enough visual display on its own as it streaked mere meters past one of Trill's defensive platforms.


-Betazed

As the Federation forces moved to engage the Darkships at the core and edge of the system, the Zircon sprung thier trap. Five hundred Zircon warships jumped in around the planet Betazed, a full bombardment of the planet's orbital defense platforms following almost instantly. Thousands of lances of azure light illuminated the planet, as the Zircon began sending ships through the atmosphere to impact with the planet itself to overrun surface defenses.

The Mekantans were almost overjoyed as the Federation began thier attack. The barriers of the two juggernauts flashed into being to intercept what they could, but the weapons of the Federation barely marred the metareinforced ebon hulls.

The Darkships' retort was swift and almost excessively brutal. The scaled back long-range fire changed into a full scale barrage with the Darkships' thousands of primary weapons. The single blast of the Violent Gale's warning shot in Trill was nothing compared to thousands of such weapons firing shot after shot. The psychokinetic abilities of the Darkships were also put to use, not in slow, agonizing effect like the initial contact with the Arabella, but with swift, ferocious intent to kill. Ships would be ripped asunder, crushed, or simply thrown into one another.

The Hegemony would make sure the Federation knew exactly how outmatched they were.


-Kalandra

The Federation would find their transporters entirely useless against Minagoroshi, the structure of her cells simply refused to cooperate.

The phaser fire was more annoying, but that's all it was: an annoyance. If such simple defenses could stop Minagoroshi she never would have grown to her present power. Those who resisted were targetted for priority consumption. If they tried to resist further, she removed their ability to resist with her psychokinetic abilities.

Minagoroshi was called the Goddess All-Consuming for a reason. She refused to let the Federation stop her.


-OOC-
I'll respond to Gilgamesh's destruction in my reintro thread.

Just as a reminder: One K in Mekanta/Mekantan, and no -ian attached to Zircon.

Kalandria

The people could not resist. So they began to flee the planet, moving out en masse to other, 'safer' places. Massive, chaotic evacuation began.

Trill

The Trill have seen super-races before. There were the Organians, the Q, and dozens of others. They knew when they were outmatched when they saw it – but they didn't know who the Mekantans were, and they didn't know surrender was worse than death.

So surrender it was.

Betazed

Hundreds of ships were wiped out in minutes, thousands of Federation personnel and their soldiers dying all at once as teratons upon teratons of firepower raged against their hulls, evaporating personnel saucers, separating nacelles, shearing off warp core shielding.

But the Federation forces did not yet give in. For the large, saucer-shaped ships were a mere distraction. It was the fighters that were the true threat.

As they approached the Mekantan ships, they unleashed a hail of several hundred bombs – each individually capable of destroying an M-class-planet – on the Zircon ships.

Today, at least some of the Zircons would die.

"Even as our forces secure the surrender of Mizar's near-pacifist population – with only three Hellbore shots fired – news filter in of inhumanly-cruel attacks on our Outer Rim colonies... dozens of thousands of civilians dead... emergency call-out of all reserves announced...”

Liberty-City was in a state of shock. Gun stores sold lasgun magazines at triple the going rate, people withdrew into ortillery shelters or fled the city altogether. The few city-owned schools became and most private schools were turned into emergency Boy Scout muster points, where every Boy Scout older than 16 would receive a lasgun and a pack of emergency rations. The Second and Third Force Projection Fleet was prepared for transport into the Federation's Galaxy.

The Army has paid millions for recruitment ads to be played on every possible online TV and music medium. Radio stations played patriotic songs, sometimes at their own decisions, sometimes at listener request, often paid by some charity.

Now the war has begun,
And the people rise up
From Axackal to far away Lucas,
Our people rise up
With the sword and the gun
And we'll crush our foes withouth mercy!

The semi-pacifist Mizarians had, indeed surrendered easily. Twenty thousand Federation officers of various description were captured with the world, and sent immediately to POW camps at Laumer System. Now, the reasoning behind the Army's no-access world there became clear. It was a facility for a giant amount of POWs.


The Allanean rule on Mizar would be a system of contrast. On one hand, private citizens would be allowed to criticize the Allaneans, to protest against them, even to violate their laws – though, of course, there were precious few laws to violate. On the other hand, people connected with the previous, Federation, government, would find themselves in dire straits – or indeed, at least some of them.

Three million Mizarians were killed in the original assault, before the planet's surrender was accomplished. When the Allaneans took over, however, a new process began. The Allanean secret police – if you called CREST that – looked over the files of social workers, psychiatrists, policemen, and teachers on the planet, as well as those of local politicians.

Denobula Triaxa, orbit.

Denobula Triaxa. A Federation founding world, with a population of over fourteen billion, armed with massive shipyards, and a variety of defenses. As Marshal Al-Ghazi's forces swept through the system, they lost five Red Fleet ships – outdated drone vessels, perhaps, but it was still a pity to see them destroyed by self-replicating mines and enemy torpedoes.

On the bridge of the USS Pocket Ragnarok stood Marshal Abdullah Hassan Al-Ghazi in all his splendor, leaning on a mighty broadsword as he received the last updates on the battlefield situations – of surrendering enemy troops, of captured Runabouts and escape pods. Even now the ships' holds would fill up with prisoners. A Federation captain surrendered one of the ships intact because his children were on board – yet one more reason why you shouldn't have your kids on a warship, thought Al-Ghazi.

"Ensign, give me a line to the Denobulans.”

"Very well, Marshal.”

The Denobulan must have found the Marshal utterly repulsive – a bearded Arab, his face peppered with horrible scars, a terrible glitter of fury in his eyes.

"Greetings. I am Marshal Al-Ghazi. As you might now, the Federation has recently destroyed several Extra-Solar Union worlds, inlcuding two Allanean worlds. I now am informing you that your world has been chosen for retaliation. The Federation has now opened itself to attacks of world-shattering magnitude – and if your people die now, it will be their fault. But you have a choice now. Allaneans are not like some other ESUS nations – we'll actually let you live if you surrender.”

It wasn't really the most eloquent speech ever delivered, especially by Allanean standards, but Al-Ghazi hoped that the sheer size and scale of his fleet would cause the Denobulan to consider surrender.

He was wrong. He realized that as he saw the man's facial sacs inflate with anger. “Surrender? Why, preposterous! There's a Starfleet tactical wing coming here! You are not even in orbital attack range!”

It was clear that the man thought he was bluffing, and decided to counterbluff. And Al-Ghazi's mission was never to conquer Denobula. He cut the connection.

"All crews to battlestations. At Presidential and Congressional Authorization, Lucas Prima and Secunda Act 2007, Paragraph Five-B, Denobula Triaxa is now Delta Zeta Four clear. I repeat, this world is now Delta Zeta Four clear. On my mark, Porcupine Cannon prepare to fire.”

The gun cruisers reoriented themselves in space.

It would be a simple operation to simply use a Star Destroyer or an Allanean battleship to simply cleanse the planet of life, but that was not the objective. Al-Ghazi knew that the planet still had subspace communications, that its final hours would be observed by the Federation entire at some point or another. And he planned to make an example of it.

"On my mark, fire!”

There was a howl to be heard all over Denobula as twenty 300mm Hellbores began to work at once, aimed at the planet's most densely-populated areas. 12 gigatons per second of combined thermonuclear firepower shook the continents of Denobula. The air in the cities became scorching hot. Miles away from the aim points of the Deforestator cannon, men rolled on the ground in pain, their clothes and their very skin enveloped in flame. The overpressure waves toppled the enormous skyscrapers of Denobula, sending them screeching down to the ground, dozens of thousands of occupants screaming in despair.

And the barrage continued.

"Commence second-stage bombardment. Teenage Rebellion, prepare for broadside!”

The missile broadside of the Teenage Rebellion was not designed to wipe out all life on the planet in one blast – although the ship could have done that in a pinch, too. Instead, it was loaded with regular cobalt-salted themonuclear warheads, designed primarily to make the planet uninhabitable in the long-term.

"Bring Denobula on screen. I want to see it.” - now the face of Kazansky's Apprentice broke into a grin.

And indeed, Denobula was beautiful. At this range, where none of the misery and suffering of the locals was obvious, it had likely been never as beautiful as it was now and never would be again. The surface flickered with brilliant lights of different kinds, a cross between a firework display and a pearl necklace – and the Allaneans continued to pound it with ever-increasing firepower – megatons, gigatons, teratons.

"At my personal command, prepare for Miriel Missile deployment from all battleships. At my comand! Fire Miriel Missiles!”

They were truly majestic. They saled out of dozens of missile tubes – ten ships and one hundred massive missiles the size of a small freighter, painted in deep grey. They weere slow as they approached the planet – and then they broke up.

1,500 submunitions, each carrying a high-power Niling D-sink, impacted the planet all at once.

For a moment, Denobula Triaxa was completely enveloped in flames. Truly now, the planet has reached the peak of it's beauty, and the Allanean crewmen cheered as billions of Denobulans breathed their last breath.

All that remained now was to leave – leaving an automated ISD behind to melt the crust, destroying those few who remained alive in shelders, in underground mines, on the ocean floor.

Then, a new ship broke out of Hyperdrive. Al-Ghazi recognized it immediately.

"All crew prepare to receive the Fieldmarshal and President of Allanea!”

The thermonuclear firework munitions looked insignificant compared to what the Allaneans have done two minutes ago.

* * *

Kazansky stepped aboard the Teenage Rebellion, smiling. “Why, why Abdullah! You've done a decent work indeed!”

"But... why are you beaming like that?” - Al-Ghazi's voice fell to a whisper.

"What do you mean?” - Kazansky raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you in the least concerned what people abroad will think?”

"Not in the slightest. Our allies were attacked. We were attacked with worldkillers. We retaliated. Assured destruction is a bitch like that.”

"Yes... but aren't you concerned... about what the Queen will think?”

"Ah. No.”

There was silence as Al-Ghazi searched for something to say.

"Regardless, it seems you've not done a perfect job. “ - the Fieldmarshal of Allanea continued. - “My ship's sensors detected a lifesign on the surface. There appears to be a lifeform still alive on the very surface – it somehow didn't get blown up by all the shit you threw at the planet.”

"What?” - Al-Ghazi stared in disbelief.

"Come, young apprentice.” - Kazansky said. “Let's go to the surface.”

* * *

They walked through the wreckage – Kazansky did not wear the helmet for his Command Armor, but his retinue members had every inch of skin concealed under powered armor suits. Radiation was too heavy, and in some places, the very ground was still partially-melted, soft from the hundreds of nuclear explosions.. In other places, charred skeletons of Denobulans lay were they fell, or mere mutilated bodies, with hands still outstretched, as if begging for mercy that never came.

"So where is that lifesign of yours?” - Al-Ghazi's voice showed signs of sarcasm – they have been walking for about fifteen minutes now.

"Over there” - Kazansky's smile seemed glued to his face as he raised a hand, pointing before him.

It seemed like the hulk of a Runabout, jammed into the ground at an acute angle – probably shot down at the very beginning of the carnage.

"It's inside. Let's cut it open.”

"This could be dangerous...”

"Shut up. You have the Athan anyway. Now let's cut it open.”

There were two men in the Runabout – dead, one with a broken neck, the other, with a Captain's uniform, dead with his face thrown onto a blown-up control panel. And in one corner, a single, tiny, black shape. It looked at the President and said:

"Meow!”

And so it was that the defining photograph from that day, reproduced in Army Magazine and in other media, later, was the image of Kazansky standing upon the charred landscape of Denobula Triaxa, cradling a tiny, big-eyed black kitten in his arms.

The headline in the Army's recruitment periodical said, simply:

KAZANSKY SAVES KITTEN

The surrender was accepted gracefully, and the Xel'athi dreadnoughts began to move towards the station, to enter the garrison of troops, and began to initiation of the station into Ascendant control. However, before they could even reach the station, the effects of the attacks on the five Reclaimed Systems was felt, along with the losses of Xel'athi life on all the planets, and the forced retreat of the Ascendants into their dimension, which they could not send psionic signals into. No matter how many times they sent calls, they were not replied.

There was only one conclusion; somehow, through some technology they had not considered, the Ascendants had been destroyed both in their home dimension and in their five systems. The Ascendant ships shuddered, and waves of psionic energy pulsed outward. Those in the station would feel tidalwaves of pain as the raw psionic energy, pulsing with pain and rage, would slam into their minds. After several waves, it was over.

The anger, however, was not.

"YOU....YOU....MONSTERS! WE OFFER YOU PEACE AND YOU RESPOND BY KILLING MILLIONS! WHATEVER PEACE WE OFFERED IS NOW WITHDRAWN AND THE BLADE OF WAR WILL NOW BE STABBED DEEP INTO YOUR TREACHEROUS AND COWARDLY GUT. NO ONE WILL BE SPARED; YOU HAVE MADE YOUR CHOICE."

The message would probably be heard all over the Federation galaxy, but the Ascendants didn't care. They would show the Federation the penalty for such an injustice, for such genocide. With that in mind, they began their first step in following the codes of nations like Neo-Mekanta and the former government of the Facehuggerians. They opened up with everything they had, pounding the station until only vapor and debris remained.

Then, they stretched out their minds, searching for the next inhabited world. They found not a planet but a Starbase, and it was quite populated. They grinned grimly; they would enjoy showing these Federation fools what price they would pay. The fleet used their phase drives and began to head for Starbase 718.

THe starbase was your average Federation reconnaissance base. It's warp observation equipment did not notice the signatures of the incoming Telrosian ships – and indeed, had no equipment to detect the particular kind of FTL transport used by the Telrosians.

They heard of the horrors of war –the destruction of Denobula, the fall of Mizar, the skirmishes at Betazed, the destruction of Kalandria, the conquest of Bajor. They knew, thus, that the ships that appeared in range from them were going to attack them.

The station's only defense was two phaser arrays, which fired at once at multiple targets – naturally, doing the Telrosians no harm.

Allanean Naval Installation Terok Nor

She was beautiful. Tall, slender, and yet strong as steel, a spring in her step as if in the step of a panther, her heavy boots somehow managing to step quietly on the floor of the promenade as she found her way towards the Ferengi Embassy – also known to laymen as the bar.

Her name was Victoria Sheshet, and she was on vacation. She was one of the few people in the universe that would willingly take a vacation in a war zone.

Kazansky was sitting in the bar, Shiunji Watanabe and Wilhelm Stossel flanking him as he poured them – and then himself – another glass of Cardassian spirits. “The only thing good about this galaxy is the alcohol. At least when you have such a good barkeep as Quark, that is.”

"Is it so?” - Sheshet inquired, cutting into the conversation. A second later, she was swept up in a friendly hug. “Vicky! Why I thought you would never come back! Come here, come here, there's a place for you at this table! Proprietor! More of this swill! A box!”

Victoria looked at Alex, even her very ears blushing. “I thought...”

"You thought I would never forgive you about what happened.”* - Kazansky nodded - “That's correct. I'll never forgive you, because it's not your fault. You cared for me, and you let yourself be deceived by a man who claimed he wanted to help. It's over. Besides. The thing you wanted to cure in me... I'm cured, now.”

Victoria stared.

"He doesn't pine after the elf-chick anymore.” - Shiunji piped up. - “I was just trying to persuade him to let me try my way, now...”

"Shut up.” - Kazansky nodded. - “You see, I've got the white scarf burned to ashes at the Battle of Bajor. Utterly fried.”

"Ow. Is it the one she gave you?”

"Yeah... so... wait, I need more of this Cardassian stuff. It's jolly good, I tell you.” - Kazansky poure himself more of the hard Cardassian drink and continued. - “So yeah. At first I was pretty cut up about it. But then I realized...”

A dramatic pause, here, as he surveilled the reaction of his friends. Shiunji had heard it once before, so he was just nodding, waiting for Kazansky to continue. Wilhelm and Victoria leaned forward intentrly.

"I realized I don't really know her all that well – apart from reading her speeches and stuff. Somewhere along the way my feeling transmuted, you could say, from being in love with her to being in love with an ideal – and likely non-existent image I had of her.”

"I was telling you that all along.” - Vicky commented.

"Yeah, yeah, you were always right, hatred leads to suffering, let me tell my story. As I was saying, my feeling began to progress – and at that point, after we were done trashing the Bajorans, I realzied I was in love with being in love, you could say, more than anything else.”

Stossel raised an eyebrow. - “I don't get it.”

"But I do.” - Sheshet interrupted. - “You kept this all up, after a certain point, because you started to self-identify as 'the guy who loves Miriel' and couldn't just quit being that guy, because it'd be ridiculous after all that time you spent worshipping her, or the image you had of her, doesn't matter.”

"Yeah.” - Kazansky smiled sadly - “But once I realized it, going on like that became even more ridiculous. So yeah, uh... my heart is free now, you could say.”

"Ha!” - Vicky chuckled - “I bet you'll fall for some other lass within the next three days.”

"Maybe. But in the next three days, I will be commanding another retaliation raid, this time myself.”

"Why? Haven't you avenged everything avengeable already?”

"You'll see.”

"Okay... so what are your plans now, since your 'heart is free' and all that?”

"I need... a plan? What are you, a Knootian or something?”

Bajor's surface, Camp Sigma

It was only now that Xenia began to acquire the extent of her powers – she always knew she was very powerful, that she could not be killed, that she could change form almost at will. She never knew that she could feel camp fever by laying hands on a sick man and just wishing him to be healthy.

It just happened one day. She was pacing through the camp, her camera snapping pictures for yet another feature article for Liberty Times – this time, investigatory. She saw the black KHI vans roll through the camp, delivering medical supplies of various kinds. And someone – a Bajoran monk, perhaps, or an Allanean nurse – asked her to sit for a moment with a dying child.

And she sat there, holding a girl's hand, wishing for her not to die, not to suffer anymore, to be healthy. She imagined for some reason some strange force flowing from her fingers into the girl's palm, into her body – and then she realized the force was not her imagination, it was real.

A few minutes later, the child got up on her own, to everyone's amazement – including Xenia's, of course.

And so she had to divert more and more time to sitting at people's beds and holding their hands – and watching them get up, thank her, and go away.

The other Allaneans paid it no heed. So she was a person with strange powers. So what. Stuff like that happens. The full extent of her identity was only known to two people on B'hava'el system, and she was one of them. And since her healing sessions included no spectacular light shows, no glowing 'special effects', no sparks of lightning running from her fingers, nobody really cared much – except for the doctors, who simply rejoiced that their work is being made easier, and the Bajorans, of course.

OOC:

* Backstory moment. At one point, a fascist plotter had persuaded Vicky to commit Kazansky to psychiatric care. Naturally, the 'hospital' was in fact a specialized torture facility, with devices to prevent Kazansky from using his powers implanted to avoid his escape. Eventually, Kazansky escaped and killed his torturers gruesomely.

The Telrosian shields were impacted by the phasers, but they did little damage. The weapons powered up, and targeted the base. They didn't even bother to launch fighters, there was no need to. They unleashed a hell upon on the base, firing beams and bolts of dimensional energy that destroyed all matter it came into contact with, missiles that had the power of the asteroid which killed the dinosaurs, and the railguns, energy weapons, and missiles of the Xel'athi ships. Like the DS station before it, they kept firing until it was no more, and then searched for another target.

They soon found one in the planet Bolaros, which was near another Starbase, Starbase 10 to be exact. Again, with grim precision, they activated their FTL and headed for Bolaros. They would keep driving all the way to Earth, and show the Federation the all-consuming beast they had made.

The Ta’Nar fleet held position near the wormhole while the survivors of the attack on Starbase 185 were being “processed”. After everything had been secretly gained from the luckless crew, the information was carefully examined. It seems the computer had some interesting bits on the planet that lay nearby.


Most of the crew knew little about Zakdorn, apart from the Admiral and some of the senior officers. They knew a few very interesting details – that the planet was home of the Federation's best strategists, and that it was relatively heavily defended, sporting some Federation Armor forces, local militia, and over three hundred ships for defense against a possible Romulan incursion.

Further, there would be arrays of phaser-bases planetary defenses, but nothing otherwise of interest to the Balroggans.



After reviewing the details from the Starbase computer and the memories of the captives, it was determined the system could be easily enough taken with minimal trouble. R’Lah dispatched a single Battlegroup to assault the system, as well as the three Prison barges. Epsilon Battlegroup left formation and escorted the personal to the Zakdorn system.



-----



Sometime later, after lying in T-Space to gain accurate sensor readings, a single ship faded into existence as it transverse into Real Space. The ship moved forward until it was at long range of the weapons. It remained still and allowed the sensors of the federation sweep across the ship. It was without a doubt they would detect the vessel had the mass of a small star and the power output that would make them raise an eyebrow or three. After some time, the ship opened up communications and broadcast a single message.

Greetings Zakdorn.

I am giving you a choice.

After studying the computers aboard Starbase 185, it was determined you are expert strategist. We wish to give you the option of joining us. I do not need to tell you what would happen if you decide to work against the Ta’Nar, we both don’t have the time to play those games.

We also have survivors from Starbase 185 to return to you.

The channel was closed and the single ship sat there, waiting.

Liberty-City

Even despite the attacks on Lucas Prima and Secunda, not all Allaneans were in favor of the new war that the country was waging. Trek-Town – the little of it that remained after the Civil War – was rife with protests, and the Trekkie Mechanized Infantry division had mutinied. Even as more and more warships were headed towards the stargate, the Army was cutting off supplies and support to the division's base, preparing to charge in and deal with the mutineers in the same way one usually deals with traitors in wartime.

The Stargate, being Army property, was blocked to access to non-military craft. Only vessels operating an Allanean or ESUS military IFF signal were allowed through.

Allanean Naval Installation Terok Nor

Marshal Watanabe and Marshal Al-Ghazi stood at the sides of the captain's staircase at the station's operations room. And on the captain's bridge, leaning upon the unsheathed Sword of Allanea, stood the President himself, Alexander Kazansky. Command Armor he wore, and the black Cloak of Justice flowed from his shoulders and down to the ground as he spoke his words.

"The world is a disgusting place sometimes. It is a world in which the enemies of our liberty use Genesis Devices, world- and system-killing weapons against not merely the Mekantans – but every ESUS member indiscriminately, even those – like the Telrosians – that have yet to do them any harm, and that had only the best of intentions for them”

"Two Allanean worlds have been struck – Lucas Prima and Lucas Secunda, and 500,000 civilians are dead. The destruction of Denobula avenges Lucas Prima. But Lucas Secunda remains unavenged. Still there are men in the Federation who sleep snug in their beds, even though thousands of Allaneans sleep now in the eternal quiet of the graveyards. This will not be long the case.”

"Each of the original signatories of the Articles of the Federation shares the moral responsibility for the horrors of its rule – the slavery of sapient entities, the settlements and compromises with the Federation's enemies at the expense of the liberties of its citizens, the labor camps and the New World Economu.”

"And every one of the Federation's signatory worlds will pay the price – for these, and for the Lucas Worlds.”

As he spoke, a strange ring shape appeared upon the station's visual demonstration screen – the interstellar gate installed by the Allaneans. Through it was crawling a new shape, terrible in its size – a full 16 miles from prow to stern. And Kazansky carried on.

"Yes, many Allanean Arms employees had the Athan. But four out of the every five on those plants did not. For their deaths, the Federation will pay. There on that screen you can see the Scepter of Allanea – one of the most powerful weapons in our service, deployed with Strategic Weapons Command. This weapon will be the new instrument of our justice.”

A lieutenant ran up the stairs, saluting Kazansky. “Fieldmarshal! The Galaxy Gun is safely in its orbit.”

"Very well. Keep it ready and await further instructions.”

Arcturus IV

The Allanean warships enter real space all at once – a frightening array of high-power warships. Here, again, the self-replicating mines take their toll – five Red Fleet starships and the USS Fire in the Sky are destroyed utterly. Bellos Internecinum has a damaged drive train.

And here they come already, prepared to take a losing fight if they need to – five hundred Federation starships.

The USS Teenage Rebellion is the very tip of the Allanean spear. It even looks like a spearhead - a dagger-like shape a full 2500 meters long. On its deck stands Marshal Erin Navajo,, smiling placidly as a full spread of quantum torpedoes impacts the Rebellion without damage. “All vessels, fire at will!”

On the forefront of the Allanean strike, the Dagor Dagorat and the End of Your Times light up, hundreds of guns brought to bear at once. Any Federation vessel caught outside the shield-merging continuum of the Federation Armada is destroyed at once – Runabouts, Peregrines, and Piranhas, torn immediately apart by anti-ship-grade cannon.

And the giant spinal energy cannon of the Teenage Rebellion fires.

The joint shield system gives way as if it were made of wet paper, the energy beam driving straight through the shields and into the array of ships.

And the slaughter begins. Thousands of Allanean plasma cannon, turbolaser arrays, and Hellbores focus on each and every Federation ship. They are not merely damaged or destroyed – their very armour burns away, only a cloud of rapidly-expanding gas remaining where the Federation ships used to be.

There is no attempt to land ground forces on Arcturus – the population is known to be extremely militant and exceptionally loyal to the 'ideals' of the Federation. Besides, the attacks on Lucas Secunda go unpunished.

There is no need to do something exceptional in this case. A Coredian-made Imperial Star Destroyer descends into high orbit of Arcturus IV, and directs its beam weapons below. Other similar warships – none belonging to the navy itself, all donated by a single private citizen for the purpose of war against the Federation – enter orbit with lesser Arcturian worlds. Anti-ship missiles stream upwards, destroyed in flight by the CIWS systems of the Star Destroyers, or impacting uselessly on their armour.

This is your last chance. Surrender before we begin ortillery bombardment.

More weapons are fired. This time, an ancient Telrosian-built vessel is hit and destroyed.

The Allaneans begin to be annoyed. And so, with the beam weapons of their oldest, weakest ships, they cleanse the planets clear of life. Fifteen billion Federation civilians are dead.

And six hours later, the first shell of the Scepter of Allanea impact Arcturus IV. The planet simply blows up like an oversized hand-grenade. Within 72 hours it is followed by every planet in the system and their moons, until there is nothing in orbit of Arcturus except a useless, uninhabitable, rock soup.

Simultaneously, the Federation Government and every planet in the Sector, begins to receive announcements from the Allaneans – across the Federation's own networks.

Attention all citizens. According to our sources, approximately 28.4 billion Federation citizens and military personnel have been killed by Allanean forces alone, mostly in retaliation for the planet killing weapons deployed by the Federation against our civilians.

We have so far killed 71,000 Federation civilians for every Allanean civilian dead. We will cease our vengeance here, for we believe our men properly avenged. Should your government recommence anti-planetary weapons deployment, we will kill every Federation founding world and fight you relentlessly, without stopping, without mercy, and without compromise.

We are also transmitting information about how civilians have been treated in those areas where Allanean forces have secured victory or surrender – Mizar and Bajor. As you see, not only do we not generally exterminate civilians and treat them fairly well, but we even provide assistance to refugees.

We give better treatment than the Mekantans, the Balroggans, and the Telrosians will. And we do accept refugees. Just saying.

Bolaros:

Bolaros is a tiny, out of the way system, but its world has a population of over two billion men. It is very lightly defended, these days. They tried to contact Starbase 10 for help, but found out that the anti-Romulan espionage base was under attack just at that time.

But the Section 31 operatives in Bolaros had a plan of their own.

Zackdorn:

The Zackdornians evaluated the situation, and promptly issued their message of surrender.

General Federation reaction:

Naturally, nobody believed the Allanean messages. People expected these strange, militaristic aliens to do the worst they possibly could. But when messages from actual, authentic Mizarians and Bajorans began to filter back – Allaneans actually let them access the civilian FTL network of the Federation – some people – a small percentage – decided it was best to flee towards Allanea and away from the Mekantans and the Balroggans. They were very, very few – perhaps a few thousand from Trill, a few thousand from other planets – not more than 50,000 in total so far, a small trickle in compared to the Federation's multi-billion Federation.

The key words of the Federation were being rapidly fortified – ships were pulled back to the founding worlds, and the shipyards in Sol were being beefed up to full production. Warp ships were being retrofitted with transwarp and with phase cloaking capability, and the Klingon Empire and Gorn Alliance have already consented to send help. Thousands of warships were already crosssing the borders, headed for Federation facilities.

Only the Romulans so far tarried. Perhaps the Tal'Shiar had a plan of their own.

After the surprisingly quick surrender, one of the destroyers appeared as it faded into Real Space. The ship quickly disassembled into the Kython swarm composing the vessel. Over 350 Kythons flew out, one to each vessel. Upon arriving, it gently touched the outer hull, transferring Infection to the ship before moving onto the next ship. Within an hour, every ship, transport, shuttle, fighter, trader, installation, and runabout in the system had been Infected. After dealing with the active ships, the Kythons swarmed into the planet itself looking for any ships or weapons to infect. After quickly scouting around they returned to the destroyer’s original position and reassembled the ship, none the worse for wear.

All infected ships allowed their crew to evacuate before they also disassembled into a massive liquid blob, reforming themselves into more attack vessels. The newly created Kython ships then reorganized into their own fleets and Uplifted as they went to their own destinations. One fleet went to the Romulans and the other went to the Klingons. The federation would never be able to stand against the combined might of their two enemies. Now that several “super races” had taken interest in their little corner, they would quickly fall.

Even greater blow to the military was the fact that any Zakdorn who cooperated with the Federation would be certain to doom their families back home. Several war strategies were suspiciously becoming unsound and battles would be doomed from the start, having flaws built into them in an attempt to appease the Overlords holding their homeland hostage.

Allanean Naval Installation Terok Nor

"I still don't understand,” - Xenia wonders sadly, as Quark moves another synthale in front of her. About half a yard away, she takes over from telekinesis. The drink hovers straight into her hand. - “He doesn't seem all that mean.”

"Who's he? Kazansky?” - Quark inquires.

"Oh yeah. I mean... you look at him, you can forget he's a centuries-old immortal entity. He looks as if he were a normal human person, you know?

"Mmm.” - Quark poured another synthale.

"And yet he's just... blown up two goddamn systems!” - Xenia shrugged - “I didn't know a person could do that... just murder people in cold blood...”

Quark shook his head. - “Actually, I think your people have been reasonable... compared to the fact the Federation killed seven worlds so far... of course, the Ferengi would never have done any of it... but look, it's not my place to comment on these things. So far, though, I'm fond of your leader...”

"And that has nothing at all to do with the contract I've given you, of course.”

Xenia spilled her synthale.

And indeed, there was Kazansky. He was – as far as Allaneans understand beauty – downright dazzling. His skin was of that virginal pale hue Allaneans find most attractive, and his fingers were long and slender, like those of a pianist – an elven pianist at that. His brown eyes looked at Xenia as if they could pierce her right through. His hair was all messed up, going up in strange spikes of all kinds, and he was dressed in the crisp, black-and-silver uniform of the Allanean Armed forces, his Fieldmarshal's stars glowing on his shoulderboards. The famous Presidential pistols glinted in gold at his sides, and the grip of the Sword of Allanea showed behind his right shoulder as he stood in the entrance, flanked by his apprentices.

And then he noticed Xenia.

Something strange seemed to happen. For just a fraction of a second, his face seemed to break from his self-assured grin as he looked at her. Suddenly, it was as if his famous eloquence – the eloquence of a man that had commanded legions into furious battle, and persuaded millions to throw their lives onto the altar of war – had failed him.

"Hello.” - he said.

"Hello,” - said Xenia, as she pushed a loaded credchip to Quark and hopped off her barstool - “I'm sorry, I have... an editorial to finish.” - she blushed, and darted for the door.

"Who is she?” - Alexander inquired as Xenia left.

"Xenia Reynes. Antalia Reynes' daughter. She writes for the Liberty Times – doesn't like our foreign policy one bit.” - Wilhelm explained.

"She's pretty.” - Kazansky replied quizzicaly, as the trio proceeded to their table and Quark served up their glasses of Chech'tluth.

The galaxy was burning.

Federation worlds fell with little real opposition, alien invaders strode between stars unchecked, and each day saw billions more dead.



And so the crew of the randomly selected Galaxy-class starship could be forgiven a little panic as they were pulled, without warning or ceremony, from warp and discovered two kilometers of alien starship looking back at them across a scant million kilometer gap - the warp field inhibitor that had stranded them in the interstellar void, hours from anywhere of interest, clear enough on sensors to know it extended for nearly a light minute.


That alien ship, surrounded by shields of humbling power and shells of drones, was rather different, however. For a start, it's IFF claimed it to be an independent civilian foundry ship, a merchantman. And it's hail, when it came, brought instant thoughts of profiteering Ferengi.


The SS Insurance Salesman was here to make a deal, and tho the costs were steep, the military-grade hardware it offered in trade - weapons and shields approaching, if not quite on par with the invaders - was something more.


It was hope.



------------------



Allanea's forces holding Bajor, meanwhile, would be seeing something rather different, as a small flotilla of Kanuckistani vessels arrived at the system's edge.

The half dozen vessels were not High Guard, however, not here for the war. Civilian, or, rather, paramilitary - five modest KAG capital ships escorting a behemoth wonder of modern medical technology, the KCV Kevorkian Nemesis was five miles of landing-capable disaster response and emergency medical care, with a patient treatment rate well into the millions per day(it also mounted planetary siege-shields and a countermeasure drone system that was exceedingly lethal in the kinetic-kill role, while still leaving the hospital ship technically unarmed).

And that is what it wished to do, provided the Allaneans would grant it's broadcast request, or better yet, coordinate.



Tho oddly, no Kanuckistani vessel had been seen going through the Mekantan wormhole.

[b]Aboard the USS Denobula[b]]

The galaxy was burning.

And if there was anything the crew of the USS Denobula needed now more than anything, it would be hope. And so, they responded to the message of the Kanuckistani with, perhaps, excessive enthusiasm. Their message was simple:

While our authority to negotiate is very limited, we will put you in contact with the relevant authorities. Power down yor weapons, and we will power down our shields so you can beam a man aboard to negotiate further.

As the Balroggans, Allaneans, Telrosians, and the Mekantans exponentially increased the ESUS beachhead in that strange and doomed galaxy, the second wave was assembling a few light seconds from the wormhole.

It had been a week since Hadriel had declared a crusade of extermination, and now, well over half the Traileric navy had gathered at the edge of Mekantan space. The capital ships, all 7,852 of them, ranged from the infamous Traileric dreadnoughts to a great host of destroyers, recon vessels, support and point defense capital vessels, medical and salvage barges, warwagons, and a seemingly numberless teething swarm of orbital assault specialized frigates. The frigates and sloops simply dwarfed the masses of capital vessels. It appeared they were in the millions though this was hardly true. They were manned by non-Traileric helots and conquered levies, drafted from the client states and technically not culled from the citizenry. The numberless crew transports, dropships, drones and strikecraft lay in the holds of the carriers and Hiveships. It had taken a week to assemble the mighty host, and would still take days to move them all through the wormhole, and then gather them where the ESUS had set up shop so to speak. Hadriel's Colossus had already entered slipspace and was now on the other side of the wormhole, followed closely by the Goldshield Guards and Legica I Trailica. CLosely following these were Pletorus, heir to the throne, and his Proto Xyfri. Thus they continued down the line, in order of valour rank and prestige until every ship was through.

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

Hadriel sat upon his throne, these tactics were his to personally undertake. His first task was to peruse the Battlenet for captured information, starcharts, and tactical data. A plan was starting to formulate in his ancient, wizened brain. He had, after all, commanded a Legica before his ascent to the imperial throne. The Balroggans had donated the most information to the battlenet regarding the layout and factions of this galaxy. For this reason, Hadriel personally opened a line to the nearest Ta'Nar command asset.


Brothers-in-Arms, we have been dealt a cowardly blow by these insects, and have sallied forth in the name of punitive vengeance. Our attention has been drawn to a faction galactic south by southeast of the wormhole. Captured data labels this space as "Romulan"..We desire to overtake these "Romulans" and from their territory, open up a second front with this..Federation of Planets. We will, however, require more extensive data on the nearest system, and perhaps, a joint offensive would be prudent..Any assistance you wish to provide would be welcomed, but is not necessary. These animals have shown pitiful military prowess thus far..

OOC: I don't like how this bit of writing turned out, but it'll do.

Once the Ta’Nar had determined the particular “frequency” of the Zakdorn mind, they entered into a Gestalt and sent a message out only upon that particular frequency. Across Federation space, all Zakdorn minds would receive a single message heard as a subdued whisper that was unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

Greetings

By now you would have heard about the fall of your homeland. I am pleased to inform you the planet surrendered without a single causality, which means your families are safe and alive. I cannot guarantee their continued safety if you do not follow along with what I am telling you.

You will cease assisting all actions against ESUS members. You will assist us by sabotaging the efforts of the Federation. You will not inform a single being of this message and you will undertake your actions without informing anyone of why. You will not tip off any you are acting against your former masters.

Failure to follow these ideals will result in the deaths of your families and the extinction of your homeworld. If a single Zakdorn acts against our wishes, they will be known as the person who caused the extinction of their race. There will be no concessions upon this. If I can send you this message I can monitor your actions. Think carefully and weigh your actions against the fate of your world.

While it may be tempting to carry out your work against us, it is strategically unsound to risk the deaths of all those you value the most.

We will be in touch…

The voice in the back of their mind faded away, letting them be alone to carefully weigh the lives of their families and loved ones over the taskmasters and overlords of their employers.





Romulus:



A show of strength is what Romulans respect, according to the files captured from Starbase 185. The fleet would materialize within the system defenses and take them out. Instead of destroying the Romulan homeworld, they would then force their hand to command the Romulans to attack the Feds with Ta’Nar support. The Ta’Nar would infect the massive green battleships of their subjects, making them exponentially more powerful than the Federation counterparts. If they did not go along with the plan, the infected ships would instead be used to remove Romulus from existence.

The same plan was to be used against the Klingons at Qo’Nos. The Ta’Nar fleet would Emerge and Infect anything they could to take command of the ships. The new ships would then turn on their old comrades and in the long run the entire Klingon forces would end up being Kythonized just like their neighbors. The Emperor would be “persuaded” to send his forces into Federation space joining the Romulans on a separate front against the Federation. Both nations would be offered to keep the worlds they savagely rip from the clutches of the Federation. They would be allowed to keep their spoils of war as their payment for assisting the Ta’nar.

If the plan doesn’t work, the two fleets would then continue destroying the two empires from within until they surrendered to the Ta’Nar and become tools to employ against the Feds. Either way, the same result would be achieved but one will be to the advantage of the Federation enemies.

Xenia was in one of the refugee camps as the Kanuckistani ship arrived. She saw operatives of the Navy begin setting up landing facilities for Kanuckistani shuttles almost immediately, and the Allaneans begin to make rapid preparations for support of the Kanuckistani initiative.

What she could not see, of course, was the Navy's broadcasts to the Kanuckistani, agreeing to the offer. The Allaneans offered coordination as well, offering a variety of support, as well as detailed maps of their medical camps and the locations of both old Bajoran refugee camps and the newer camps where relocated Federation civilians were based.

Access to the POW camps on Laumer was denied, however.

Qo'nos

The answer of the Klingon Emperor was clear:

"For long we have not been enemies, but allies of the Federation. If you seek to make us enemies in this conflict, you are mistaken. This will not happen. We do not backstab our allies, and certainly not out of fear. We are Klingons, not bunnies. We will fight you, and we will fight with honor."

The capital was well-defended.

Hundreds upon hundreds of Kvort cruisers descended upon the enemy, a veritable hail of photon and quantum torpedoes raining down upon the lightest ships – those that used, at one point, to be Zackdorn ships.

Heavier Chuq'Beh class warships focused their fire upon the bigger Kython ships. They were not as powerful as the ESUS warships, and of course their beam weapons and torpedoes packed more punch, but with this amount of weapons, something would have to give at some point.

But the Klingons – unlike the Federation – actually had decent warships that could actually challenge a Kython vessel. These were the Mobile Battle Bases of the Klingons . They packed dozens of double-barreled heavy phaser banks, and they carried small Birds of Prey as if they were smallcraft. There were six of those in orbit near Qo'nos, and they fought well.

Romulus

Here, too, the reaction was negative – for the defenses of Romulus would not be that easy to overwhelm.

One does not simply walk into Romulus.

Dozens and dozens of warbirds emerged from Pirek and Elvreng bases, smaller bird-of-prey vessels converging like clouds upon the ESUS ships. What they lacked in quality the Romulans compensated for in quantity – and more.

The Kaur'el Tennahex defense platform was damaged, but that did not stop the Romulans from firing with the weapons it had left.

Fifty of the warbirds were equipped with the deadly Thalaron radiation cannon – the ultimate anti-kython weapon, perhaps. They chose fifty of the smallest enemy ships, and fired their giant cannon all at once.

And that was not even everything. The Veldras Orbital Power Facility – usually designed to feed giga- and petawatts of power into the power networks below, on the surface, turned around and fired it's power beam, using it as a weapon this time. What is enough to power entire continents at the technology levels of Romulus is also more than enough to kill a ship.

The Federation in general

The Balroggan message caused untold havoc in a variety of locations across the Federation. Some men committed suicide. Others refused to go along, hoping the whole thing was a bluff – you can never get the cooperation of all members of a sentient race, there will always be some who will not.

But the majority cooperated. Within the next few days, three Federation ships with Zackdornian captaisn surrendered to Allanean troops, and two to Telrosians. Two starbases were sabotaged. The plans of fifty-five military installations were transferred to the Balroggans.

Regardless, the Federation reacted swiftly. One after the other, Zackdornian officers ranking beyond captain were suspended from duty until further notice. Many remained still, but it was clear their rope was running out. Whatever the Zackdornians did they would now be regarded with suspicion.

It was game, set, match, Balrogga.

The message sent over the Battlenet to the Ta’Nar forces was routed directly to Grand Admiral R’Lah.

Originally Posted by Hadriel
Brothers-in-Arms, we have been dealt a cowardly blow by these insects, and have sallied forth in the name of punitive vengeance. Our attention has been drawn to a faction galactic south by southeast of the wormhole. Captured data labels this space as "Romulan"..We desire to overtake these "Romulans" and from their territory, open up a second front with this..Federation of Planets. We will, however, require more extensive data on the nearest system, and perhaps, a joint offensive would be prudent..Any assistance you wish to provide would be welcomed, but is not necessary. These animals have shown pitiful military prowess thus far..

The reply was send back over the ESUS Battlenet.

We have already begun subjugating both the Romulans and the Klingons. You are welcome to send forces to Romulus if you wish. Just beware any black ships you might see, they are under my control.

My plan is to hit the feds with a double prong attack from both the Romulan and Klingon puppets. That will make their defenses crumble. I already have the Feds doubting their own men. An attack from both their ally and their enemy would make things worse for them.

See you on the front lines.

After the message was sent, R’Lah picked up some reports from the two objectives and scanned them. It seemed both races acted exactly as he had predicted. They were afraid of the Feds for some ungodly reason and the appearance of a mere 150 ships in their capital system made them thing the Ta’Nar were easy to destroy. That would be a fatal assumption because they were fighting more than a single fleet of 150 ships. Hell, Starbase 185 fell to a single frigate and a single destroyer caused Zakdorn to surrender. Their assumptions of outnumbering the Acquisition Fleets were pure illusion. R’Lah already knew about the defenses the two empires had from the Intel reports taken from the Feds themselves. He knew about the Thalaron radiation cannons, he had actually planned on them using the things. It would be their own undoing.

The redirecting of the power arrays was not planned but the movements of their positions would be easily detected by the Cruisers sensor packets. The massive beam would be turned back upon the Romulans or just absorbed. It was doubtful the beam would be more powerful than the energies manipulated to transverse Dimensions.





Romulus:




“You are wrong, we go where we wish. You cannot stop us, only join us.”

With that response, Admiral De’Ath would begin his assault and acquisition of the Romulan Empire.

As hundreds of Bird of Prey ships phased in or arrived from the various positions, the Acquisition fleet remained where it was, providing an easy target for the Romulans. While it seemed to be a tactical blunder, it was done for a reason. They would soon discover why.

As the Thalaron cannons lined up on the fifty frigates, they went into action. The ships crumbled and fell into ten thousand Kythons and scattered, allowing the shots to pass through empty space only striking a few individual Kythons that were unlucky enough to still be in their paths. The swarm closed in on the massive cannon toting ships and began their Death Scream.

The Death Scream was a psychic attack where it caused the minds within a thousand meters to experience the death screams of all their loved ones, at one time. The Death Scream would cause the afflicted to try to clasp their ears in vain to keep the deaths of their loved ones from being heard. Unfortunately it was not possible to keep it out since it was delivered directly to the minds of the victims. While some Psionic individuals would be able to partially block the effects, it would not be totally successful and only allow them to react sluggishly as they concentrated mainly on their mental defenses.

While the crew would be lying on the deck trying to keep the phantoms of their minds contained, the Swarm would be busy infecting the ship around them. As systems were infected, they would come under the control of the developing Shipmind and they would fall silent. Once a ship was controlled, it would only defend itself if it was attacked by the ships still under Romulan control or from the trapped crews inside. The use of energy weapons only powered the Infection and caused it to accelerate so the attempts would be mostly futile.

“Admiral, Sensors shows the power array at Romulus is realigning. It appears it will attempt to use its energy beam as a weapon.”

“Well, that will most certainly be exciting to watch. Power up the SGE and place it in the path of the beam. That would make it become out own weapon.”

“I understand, the energy absorbed by the singularity would be released when we dissipate it in massive gamma ray emissions. That would sterilize any ships near the terminus.”

“Yep, total conversion of their makeshift weapon. They are lucky we don’t just Mobius the damn thing and remove the array from existence as well as part of the planet from the blow-through.”

“I agree. It seems we have lost about a dozen ships so far from concentrated attacks. Their Thalaron cannons sure can pack a whollop if they manage to hit, I am certain they will become useful in our takeover of the Federation. Their torpedoes are slow and easily to dodge by our ships provided there is a place to dodge to or if the PD can take care of them. This is taking too long, isn’t there a way we can hurry up the takeover?”

“I agree. If we were able to fight a Battle of Destruction instead of taking them over, it would have been over with after the first volley of Grav Torps. Ten thousand singularities launched in waves at an enemy would do that. It is too bad we have to use the side of our swords instead of the edge. We need their ships to use against the Feds. Open a channel to the Romulans.”

“Channel open Sir.”

Attention Romulus. When do you wish to stop this game, we are only playing with you so far. If we unsheathe our blades you will cease to exist. We can command your population without Romulus itself existing. Think about that while I take care of your little power array without destroying it. Your people might need lights or power to eat after we are done here so you can thank us for being so generous.

As the massive array lined up on what they considered to be the command ship, a point of light began to form in the area in between the array and its target. The light grew until it was as bright as a star and then it collapsed into a black angry maw of unrelenting hunger. The energy-based singularity was actually guidable by the SGE array on the ship so it was placed in a position of intervention and kept there no matter where they tried to realign it, after all, with a singularity you only had to be close because the event horizon made it an area effect.

As the singularity absorbed all the energy tossed at it, the thing grew stronger. When the Ta’Nar released it, all that energy would be released as pure gamma radiation, or Hawking radiation but it would be used as a weapon against the Romulans if they did not succeed in realizing they were better off working with the Ta’Nar. Admiral De’Ath was correct, the elimination of Romulus would not hinder their plans one but and it was certainly within the options he still had to subjugate these Vulcan offshoots.





Qu’nos:



The expected message was broadcast after the Klingons overcame the shock that someone would actually take an invasion fleet directly to their capital and demand they betray their allies. It took a few minutes for them to drink their ale and to have a quick duel to see who would be given the honor of replying to the invaders. The bloody representative appeared on the screen holding a spiked mug of Klingon Blood wine sloshing down the side.

"For long we have not been enemies, but allies of the Federation. If you seek to make us enemies in this conflict, you are mistaken. This will not happen. We do not backstab our allies, and certainly not out of fear. We are Klingons, not bunnies. We will fight you, and we will fight with honor."


The Admiral was quick to condemn them for making the wrong choice.


“You have Honor? Your pale shadow you call Honor is tossed out the airlock by the use of your pitiful cloaks. Only a true coward would hide behind a Cloak. Come out you coward and fight like a true warrior. We will utterly destroy you and your pitiful tinker-toy ships if we did not need them to strike your allies. That is the only reason we stay our hands from your utter executions.”

“You will become tools for us to wield. You will become mere puppets to dance at our whim. You have decided to work against our wishes and now you will pay the consequences for your actions. You will watch your precious world of Qu’nos become nothing. You will watch as we rip the planet out of this universe and turn it into pure energy to power ort weapons. You will die as the bodies of your loved ones become our ammunition. You will be sent to your pitiful afterlife knowing you decided to turn away from a mighty battle when it was presented to you, instead deciding to commit suicide by opposing our will. You would have died with Honor on the battlefield fighting the Federation. You will now die like swine, butchered like the animals you are.”

“You are beneath our consideration so now you will die. We can get what we need from the wreckage of your civilization. When you surrender, let us know. We might not notice when you stop fighting.”

With that, Admiral P’Ain severed the signal and ordered a full scale attack against the cowards.

“I want all sensors scanning for signs of their cloak use. They will be easily seen by their increased gravitational signatures. Target those defense platforms with our railguns and infect them. If any hit the planet, who cares. They would have lost it by the time we are done anyways.”

“Are we declaring G’Than’Dehr against them?”

“No, they do not deserve that honor; they are savages with lobsters on their skulls that will be treated like the animals they are. Just destroy them. I want nothing left of their forces.”

As the Klingon forces opened fire, the Ta’Nar also did. Ten thousand Singularities winked into existence as a full fleet volley was launched toward the defenders. Granted the volley was not a single wall but carefully aimed Grav Torps (weapon details here) (http://z3.invisionfree.com/ThePlanetMars/index.php?showtopic=5&st=0#entry715995).

The Ta’Nar fleet began their Dance of the Dead. They basically divided into three groups and took turns alternating between the three phases of Uplifting to T-Space and moving to their desired position, Emerging and locking onto targets, and finally firing everything they had at their surprised foes. The net result was seemingly random jumping about with full weapons use, mainly those damn nasty Grav Torps that could not be shot down from the front. The Dance was an old tactic of the Ta’Nar, one they have been using for centuries so it was well known among their allies. It was also effective because you can’t fire at what you can’t get a lock upon.

The Ta’Nar ships fired more than just Grav Torps, they also used their Cutters to slice enemy ships to pieces, Ion weapons to disable shields and electronic equipment, and every other weapon at their disposal. They were not holding back like they were at Romulus, they really considered the Klingons animals and this was a butchery they were attending.

Ships undergoing Infection were not targeted; they were spared of utter destruction only to become food for Kythons. The Kythons utterly tore apart any vessel they came across, utilizing their Death Scream to stun the defenders and then slice holes through doors, windows, hulls, or any other point of entry that existed or they made. Once the ship was exposed to vacuum, they would pour inside and spread infection inside as well as outside. The black swarms would engulf a ship, enter it, kill and infect any biological defending, and then move onto the next ship.

The Klingon Disruptors did have some effect upon the Kythons, being a means to disintegrate instead of typical laser or phaser effects. Unfortunately for the Klingons, the effect was outweighed by the massive numbers of Kythons and their seemingly odd way of knowing exactly where every swing or shot was. It only took a single Kython to know and the rest would through their Battlemind and accelerated Combat Reflexes. While a single unit could be hit, the others would benefit from the misfortune of that single Kython and dodge away. None the less there were a large number of Kython injuries. The injured simply latched upon the power grid of the ship and used the electricity to regenerate lost parts. More Kythons were emerging from the infected metal, taking on their own form and rising to the attack. The numbers of Kythons grew as the Klingon ships fell. This was only Stage One of the Kython attack modes, hopefully Stage Two or above would not have to be utilized before the Klingons either surrendered or died in shame.

A hail of Infection Slugs fell upon the six defense station and the planet. While most of the slugs burnt up in re-entry, a few did make it through the thick atmosphere to crash into the ground, buildings, or in one case, a flying atmospheric craft. The airship was in deep trouble because it took a massive hit and the slug lodged within the structure began to turn the areas touched by it black. Soon, the entire craft would be ebon as it fell to the ground, its crew becoming infected as well. When the Thur’Tahg struck the planet, it left streaks of black in the ground that slowly began to spread downward and horizontally. Once a planet was infected it was worse than anything else because you had to get every subatomic particle off world or contained immediately. There were several strikes as well as the crater left by the crashed shuttle that had to be contained and dealt with. Hopefully none were near any city…




Zakdorn:



Grand Admiral R’Lah was reading through the updated reports and felt pleased.

The Thalaron cannons had been formable but they were easily dealt with by not providing them with any ship targets to aim at. The Power grid would be taken care of too but the battle there was vastly different from the pawning at Qu’nos. The Klingons had decided their fate by declaring their allegiance to the Feds and would soon become extinct because of it.

He decided to send pictures of the battle of Qu’nos to Romulus so they could see what a battle against the Ta’Nar would look like, a mere 150 ships taking on the Klingon empire and decimating them in the process. It would show the Romulans their fate was truly their own choice. They can either subdue and join the Ta’Nar conquest or become like the Klingons. The number of Kythons at Qu’nos had tripled since the beginning of the attack so there would be significant fleet resources gained from the action. In their defiance of their fate, the Klingons had already benefited the Ta’Nar forces.

One curious thing to note, the Ta’Nar themselves have yet to enter the attack, letting their Kythons carry out the offensives so far. What would happen if those deadly forces of the Mind decided to get their hands dirty?

From Terok Nor and Mizar came completely peculiar things. The targets of these peculiar things were Remus primarily, but multiple Federation worlds as well.

In Remus' system, fifty FTL-capable destroyers dropped out of hyperdrive and passed low, low over the planetary athmosphere. Their cargo holds opened, and a hail of air-to-ground bomb packages opened, seeding the civilian areas again and again – but not with weapons. The Remans, long held by the Romulans as slaves, would receive fifty million 19-megajoule Dornalian lasguns.

Kazansky's automated Red Fleet warships executed similar strikes upon Federation prison colonies and discontented worlds – everywhere where any rumour of unrest was heard. In total, 650 million lasguns were distributed in this fashion – along with propaganda – insidious, disgusting, nearly-racist.

The Allanean Department of Defense Board of Explanation decried the 'racism' of the Federation, the disproportionate overrepresentation of Homo sapiens in its offices of government, it's opposition to a variety of personal freedoms, the loss of sovereignty to individual member planets. It spoke in exaggerated tones of slavery at the labor camps of the Federation, the betrayal of Maquis worlds, the enslavement of sentient EMHs. Of course, not all of it was true – it was propaganda, what do you expect? - but it would soon begin to work.

And in the Deneb Kaitos system, the offensive continued.

Aldebaran III

"I have it! I have it!” - the Allanean fighter-bomber chases the Piranha as it tries feebly to escape, the last of it's squadron. Then, suddenly, from under the wings of the Durandale emerge three anti-fighter-missiles – large, high-yield, conventional explosives, seemingly useless in the vast expanses of open space.

But only seemingly. The missiles impact the hull of the Peregrine directly, hitting it two out of three times – and the Allanean fighter-bomber changes course rapidly to avoid entering the expanding cloud of shrapnel and impact plasma.

"Yeee-haw! Twenty-six, one encounter!” - Priscilla Conde yelps in joy as her craft begins to climb. She now turns her attention to her main target – a Galaxy class starship. This one is easy.

"Wing Alpha, Beta, Delta, form on my wing!”

Phaser beams erupt from the starship, three of the Allanean fighters broken apart by their impact. But from Priscilla's fighter two anti-ship missiles already erupt, smacking the craft's warp nacelle mounting. Her nose cannon chatters as the nacelles crash, breaking through the ship's shield and impacting bridge mountings again and again. She can almost hear the crew, screaming in pain in their last moments as their bridge vents to space. Behind her, her wingmates strike the struggling cruiser again and again with heavy anti-ship missiles.

As she passes the rapidly-disintegrating vessels, she sees the Allanean warships – dozens of them, plowing through a self-replicating minefield, surrounded by Federation and Klingon warships.

Two birds-of-prey attempt kamikaze runs – one is destroyed in flight, the other's wreckage impacts at a fractional-C velocity – and the Uastyrdzhi is now on fire. Another ship impacts multiple mines at once, it's enormous hulk now entering the atmosphere and burning as it hits the ground.

"We've lost the Vergadain, repeat, Vergadain is lost...”

Strangely, the ships Priscilla names next are named after Federation officers of all things – the USS Captain Timothy Watters and Commander Karen Farris are now in engagement range. Hellbores and kinetic-kill missile launchers burn like lights on a Christmas tree – and all the good girls and boys get their toys.

The Federation ships burn in the sky. “Get some! Get some! Get some!” - Priscilla shouts in excitement as she sees Steamrunners, Defiants, and Galileos go off, a dozen ships at once.

And here it is, Kazansky's supposed private yacht, the SS Sleeping Beauty. It captures a bird-of-prey in it's gravitic field, and breaks it in half, throwing the broken parts into space. The turbolasers flare all at once, targeting about fifty ships.

The Navy crews, the Marines in their assault vessels, the Bolo AIs erupt in cheers as they see the Beauty take aim again, obliterating fifty more ships. The battle is over, and the President has won it for them.

"God bless the President! Go Alex! Hit them!”

And the ship plows through the minefield, it's gravitic field diverting the mines into the planet's gravity well, where they crash and burn in the athmosphere.

And now Kazansky speaks.

"Greetings, my fellow Freemen.

Today, we begin our operation on Aldebaran III. Below awaits us a lush, fruitful world with a population of only one million people, shielded by only 70,000 Starfleet troops – including a Klingon ground force and 20,000 naval personnel who barely know which end of a phaser to point at us. We, conversely, have 400,000 ground troops, ten Bolos, and a Battlegroup-strength formation to use in this fight. Want to bet on the results, anyone?”

More cheering.

"I would note that there are some AMS launchers on the surface.”

The turbolasers flare twice.

"Sorry. There were AMS launchers on the surface.”

Laughter, more cheering.”

"As I speak, ten Allanean Bolos are landing on the planet. They are being supported by naval destroyers and my own Red Fleet. Soon, we will land too. I will personally lead you into battle.”

The cheering grows to a crescendo.

"Tonight, we free a million people from the confines of the New World Economy. Tonight, we cleanse another world from the Communist menace. Tonight, each of you will conquer a piece of land for himself and his children to live on in prosperity. Tonight, we win.”

"May God bless Allanea.”

And so the assault begins. It is simple. Freighters, assault shuttles, and a rain of troops comes down a full five hundred kilometers from the enemy positions, assisted by enormous amounts of decoys, while the Navy pounds any artillery positions that may yet endanger the Allanean offensive.

Kazansky awaits them on the surface, his apprentices flanking him. Warp teleportation is awesome like that.

Now he wears his Command Armour, his trusty Speeder-6 grabike at his side, his sword drawn, the gold of his pistols glinting.

"Follow me, troops!”

And they strike, the Bolo tracks roaring, the IFVs and tanks in perfect, exercise-like, wedge formations, the ground ahead shaking with impacts as the Navy meticulously disassembles 133mm torpedo launchers, heavy systems, entrenched artillery and MAPLIML launchers.

This is Peaceful Engineering Unit 4567-RFS “Rufus”. We are at 400 kilometers from the Enemy. Should the Enemy not change position, I predict encounter will occur within 48 minutes. As we proceed, I receive a message from the Naval Coordination Unit.

"Klingon cruisers and multiple transports inbound at coordinates XX-24-F, inbound for your location. Engaging them now.”

As we proceed towards the Enemy, the Kaela Mensha Khaine crosses through the Klingon warships, and is encased in fire, as it's missile launchers fire once and once only. Now, there are no Klingon warships, only the transports continue to advance, unharmed, towards the planet. The Navy takes no action at all.

I hear Fieldmarshal Kazansky's voice over the comm system, calm, reasoned, assured.

"Rufus, Susie, you have Klingon transports inbound. You are clear to fire.”

I understand now. The Fieldmarshal wanted me, my brothers and sisters, to have this honor. I will not fail him. I capture the Klingon transport in the sights of my Hellrails, and fire twice. I note with satisfaction that my sister has acquired the target as well. Every Peaceful Engineering Unit has two Klingon transports to deal with. Within 1.74 seconds, there is no longer an Enemy in the skies.

"Good work, everybody. And now, ENEMY CONTACT IMMINENT! Forward! For Mother Liberty!”

* * *

As the Allaneans approach within five kilometers of the enemy lines, they raise their rifles in the air, firing them at the full rate of 10 rounds per second. For every two rounds there is a separate target plotted by orbital command, uploaded and fed automatically to the Allanean troops – they need only to choose the targets, and the guidance systems will do the work for them.

Within the first 10 seconds, the Allanean troops have already fired 20,000,000 rounds of ammunition. The air around the Federation troops becomes thick with explosions as the guided, high explosive, rifle rounds impact again and again. But eloflage, portable energy shields, even physical armor protect many from the scything impact of the Allanean weapons.

And then the Allaneans are fully upon them, now using the rifles as conventional weapons. Their body armor protects them from the shots of regular phasers, and their IFVs cut through Federation trench lines with gruesomely devastating Hellbore fire.

"Cleanse, purge, kill!” - shouts Wilhelm Stossel, jumping right into a Federation trench, his heavy Gladius suit shrugging off multiple heavy phaser shots. With his right hand, he grabs the shooter and throws him, the Federation soldier screaming and flailing as he sails through the aqir. The assault guns on the suit chatter madly, and within two seconds, not a man in the trench is alive except, strangely, the MAPLIML operator, who is still tries to turn the light missile launcher at Wilhelm's suit.

“That won't do.” - Wilhelm notes, hitting the man with his own MAPLIML. There is a distinct crack as the 120-kilogram setup crushes the man's skull and breaks his neck and right clavicle all in one go.

Next to him, he sees Shiunji Watanabe jump into an enemy position, wielding a vibroblade in one hand, a pistol in the other. A Klingon tries feebly to resist, but the Mortician cannot be stopped.

And the Allaneans are everywhere. Their monstrous 350-ton IFVs jump over the trench line at 100 kilometers per hours, crushing Federal vehicles under their tracks.

And here comes Kazansky. His Command Armour shrugs off phaser fire, and he wields his weapons with tremendous efficiency. He walks, and reaps a harvest of death from the ground before him. There is nothing but the endless clatter of the Godwyn-Phyraz bolter he holds, and the howling of these few who are injured and not yet dead.

Another Klingon attacks him as he reloads his weapon, and Kazansky reacts swiftly – so swiftly the Klingon does not even have time to realize what went wrong before he is impaled upon his own bath'leth, the perversely misshapen blade poking out through the uniform on the Klingon's broad back.

Kazansky's laughter is altered by the suit's sound system – it is terrible now, as if the laughter of a lich or another such creature. “Surrender or die!” - he roars, and his enemies flee afore him in fear.

* * *

The light Allanean shuttles set up for landing now, and the last surviving Starfleet personnel file into them, their hands raised above their heads in a universal gesture of surrender, for the triumphant Army Magazine cameras. The blue Federation flag totters on the flagpole and descends, replaced now by the Allanean stars and stripes.

And of course, Kazansky is there, standing on the burned-out hulk of a Runabout. His voice sounding somber through the suit's sound altering system, he actually is pretty cheerful about outcome – as is everybody.

"So what are their casualties?”

"Seventy-five percent estimated dead, ten more injured, we've got the rest.”

"Excellent. When can we begin moving in settlers?”

"As soon as the war is over. Don't want to start when we're still shooting at each other, especially as how the Feddies are into planetkillers.”

"That's true. Well, send the injured men to Bajor and the healthy prisoners to Laumer.” - Kazansky pauses, looking over the charred, scorched battlefield, littered with the bodies of Klingon and Federation personnel as far as the eye could see.”

"Very well. Shiunji, take care of the dead.”

'What weapons?' is the first thought of the Insurance Salesman's captain upon hearing the Federation reply, for tho he was certainly well armed, those systems weren't active - there was simply no need, with arming cycles of less than a second.

And so he dialed down the more potent of his active sensors - massive arrays capable of focusing thousands of terawatts - in favor of more benign systems, no less vigilant.


And as the Denobula lowered it's shields, this is where a Kanuckistani vessel might have issues. But the Insurance Salesman was not a Kanuckistani vessel, despite utilising many of their technologies, and so the foot high mechanical spider, apparently constructed entirely out of uniform metal blocks, had no issues in appearing on ceiling of the starship's bridge with little more than the muted pop of displaced air

Fluttering short, blocky pseudo-wings, the thing hung there for a moment, looking over bridge crew, as they no doubt stared back, shifting with an odd metalic noise, before dropping to the deck, the words "Ambassador Kcops" floating over head.

"Meow!" it proclaimed, greeting the crew in Cat, before a momentary warbling, not unlike a radio tuner, ended with the bold, computerised proclamation, "YOU ARE NOW SPEAKING ENGLISH!!"


"*Ahem* - sorry about that," in mumbled in the Captain's own voice, shifting again with that odd metallic noise, "Greetings and Salutations from our Mysterious Benefactors! I believe we have business to discuss?"


(OOC: yes, it is a mock SG-1 legobug replicator)
-----------------------


Meanwhile, halfway across the Federation, the KCV Kevorkian Nemesis was pulling into low orbit around Bajor as another, smaller hospital ship arrived with escort at the system's edge. And then another. And another. Like before they would hail, offering their aid where ever it was needed, locally or at other worlds, while relaying requests from several other groups to use the Allanean stargate to transit here - environmental clean up specialists amongst them, in the wake of the antimatter fallout from the invasion.

The Federation officers were surprised a bit, but otherwise reacted in a normal fashion to the new – and obviously alien – being in front of them. They asked it a variety of questions, but the sum of their contention was best summarized by their Captain, one Fred O'Neill:

"We understand you want to sell us weapons. What weapons, and what may we pay you in? It's unlikely you accept Federation credits.”

OOC: Sorry about the shortness.

OOC:
Short is fast, and we gotta sell all those weapons of mass destruction befor the market collapses, afterall. :D


IC:

"Anti-proton/fullerene matrix with flash transformer, direct matter-energy conversion reactors and dual-purpose beam/bomb warheads, particle beam pulse cannons, point-lasers, entanglement communication and control datalinks, advanced tactical warship and missile AI, advanced sensor and countermeasure systems, high-gain shield systems, advanced armour and strategic materials - the list is quite extensive, I assure you. Everything you need to build a modern military-industrial complex, optimised for rapid implementation."

The metallic spider - "Ambassador Kcops," the holographic text said - shifted then, again with the metallic noise and the fluttering of pseudo-wings, "Payment, however, if a trickier matter. Federation credits may in fact be acceptable, later, if you manage to stabilise the front - the value of your currency is somewhat... unstable, if you will, on interstellar markets," continuing, still, in the Captain's voice, matching his tone, his inflections perfectly, "I have a list - silver, latinum, artifacts, possibly Bio-mimetic gel, even certain forms of hydrogen - more or less anything salable whose size and transport requirement don't outweigh their value, although obviously some of these items would provide you with <i>very</i> little trade value in exchange. I shall transmit my lists, but must insist for security reasons that you purge all traces of this encounter from your computers upon it's conclusion."

Very well. - the message is sent via subspace relays to Starfleet command, who instantly agree to the deal. Weapons are needed, shield technologies are needed, and intel is needed. They'll pay in anything you need. Even worlds.

Meanwhile, the Trailarii had plans for the Romulans.

The prime difference between the dominant form of FTL of the UFP and other nations of that galaxy, and the FTL of the ESUS was the fact that most ESUS FTL drives did not require the ship to physically move in our universe. This was no different for the FTL of the Traileric peoples.

In this fashion, a small detachment of 200 or so vessels broke from the horde and targeted a distant sector of space. Far the the galactic south of the wormhole and indeed any claim of the UFP, they exited before splitting evenly into two configurations, V and IVXX Europa. The Europan legicas fifth configuration exited slipspace in Alpha Volantis, it's companions in the 19th doing the same in Beta Volantis, bypassing the outer territories, and hopefully any early warning systems completely.

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

Lesser Concoursian Janoneis Thyrocleneias of the 19th Europan Configuration watched his commanding officer survey the distant star system before him. Deep in the configuration's standard bearer, Uktocemetas he patiently awaited the Concoursian Holder to complete his message to the Romulan governors of yonder planets. It was Traileric custom to offer an enemy at least one chance to surrender before the bloodletting began, and the Lethicreis was doing just that.


People who refer unto themselves as Romulan, hear this. We are bound by our laws to offer you this one chance at mercy: surrender this illusion of independence unto us, and become an helot state. We hold no quarter, be it civilian or militeria. If you do not surrender, you will surely die. This is the only time the mantle of our protection will be offered. You have until we come within firing range to stand down defenses and surrender your governing officials.

The message was broadcast in the Traileric native tongue alone, a variation of Greek, and across all possible frequencies. Even as the battlegroup accelerated forward, the Lethricreis turned to the nearest officer with an order.

"In the event that they do not comply, begin targeting populated areas. We will make of these an example."

Romulus

The attacks of the Kythons were beyond effective. Within minutes, 20 of the Thalaron cannon-ships would cease to exist as Romulan entities. From now on, the multiverse would know them only as Kython weapons.

Other warshps were lucky so far – dodging, or outrunning, the Kythons at impulse drive was still an option at least temporarily – and soon, the Romulans began firing torpedoes of the strongest types they had at the enemy vessels. But the most powerful attack of the Kythons had yet to come.

There was a flash of gamma radiation where the energy beam was intercepted and then diverted, and almost a hundred Warbirds were left dead in its wake.

But the Romulans saw now what worked and what didn't. They did not fire their phasers anymore, and instead concentrated their torpedo fire on a relatively small amount of targets – every ten or fifteen Romulan ships firing on a single enemy vessel, hoping to overwhelm their defenses and defeat them by sheer numbers.

Qu'nos

The battle raged on. The losses of the Klingons were enormous – ten, twenty, fifty for every Kython that fell, and of course, to surrender now would mean nothing more than even greater dishonor. The only way to capture a Klingon alive would be to stun him with some form of nonlethal weapon, and so far the Kython Armies did not appear to use them, at least not in this fight.

And yet the Klingons were still fighting. Disruptor cannon flared again and againm picking off smaller ships first, and a hail of torpedoes flowed almost ceaselessly towards the enemy ships. On the ground, AM rounds were deployed against the spreading black plague, evaporating spots of black along with hundreds of yards of countryside.

What would happen when the black entity spread to the First City, or any other well-populated part of Qu'nos was anybody's guess.

Remus

Here, the news of the battle at Romulus, and the Allanean 'gifts' were already making themselves felt among the Remans. They were arming themselves with the weapons injected by the Allaneans, and Romulans on the planet were now often shot.

And the threat of the Trailarii still loomed overhead…

Zackdorn

A small force – of about 50 Federation ships of intermediate size, a hundred escort vessels, and dozens of fighters – emerged from warp-space on the outskirts of the system. Yes, it was a counterattack.

The ships proceeded inwards at full impulse speed, engaging phase cloaking as they did so.

It was interesting the ships used transwarp transportation, not regular warp drive, as a standard Federation ship would.

Zakdorn:


R’Lah was studying the reports when he was suddenly taken by a Vision. His Precognition kicked in taking him Elsewhere.

He was floating in space with no other vessel in sight, the planet Zakdorn shining brightly in the distance like a jewel in the sunlight. Nearby, bright flashes sparked into existence as several score ships arrived. One by one they all faded away into nothingness but R’Lah knew they were still there, only phased and invisible. They rushed into the system, seemingly dodging some opponent the Ta’Nar could not see. Their fighting was half-hearted as if their main goal was not the fight, but the planet itself. The alien ships converged upon the jewel and suddenly a bright light filled the heavens. When the flash faded, the planet was gone.

R’Lah realized he was again staring at the holographic display of the system. He shook his head and tried to clear the cobwebs. If it was a True Vision, he had about ten minutes to get ready.

Commander, get the fleet into T-Space and generate some drone defenders. Place them between these coordinates and the planet. Program them to act defensive and order the Cruisers to ring the system in T-Space. I want full sensor scans and record everything. All Ta’Nar, establish a Gestalt and broadcast what we see to the Federation. We will show them how the Federation Government rewards their citizens for years of service. Simultaneously broadcast across the Battlenet. I am sure the spin doctors can use this in their propaganda war.

When the Counterstrike Force from Section 31 arrives, the invaders would have seemed to left with only a cloud of drones guarding their conquest.




OOC:

We arranged this over MSN. I will post the rest later, I have a bad headache.

Very well. - the message is sent via subspace relays to Starfleet command, who instantly agree to the deal. Weapons are needed, shield technologies are needed, and intel is needed. They'll pay in anything you need. Even worlds.


Planets, unfortunately, suffered the same problem as Federation Credits - especially with the expansion of hostilities into then-neutral Romulan Star Empire, it was unlikely that the invaders would leave worlds seeded to an arms dealer unmolested. Later, perhaps, if they could stabilise the front, but for now more portable wealth would have to do.

But the Federation would have all it asked for - munitions, armour, shields, sensors, ground and air - whole weapons systems designed to federation specification delivered within days, enormous vessels delivering hope, maybe even salvation, leaving port with the wealth of the Federation. Intel, too, but this was more limited - the 'Mysterious Benefactors' either not having access to much in the way of classified information, or withholding it. Nothing a decent intelligence service and alot of time couldn't discover, but it did include a chilling, honest analysis of the probable fate of captured populations.


Nearby powers, meanwhile, would encounter similar offers - a mysterious trader offering the wealth of worlds for the chance to defend home and hearth, if - when - the invaders gaze fell upon them.

OOC: Canon, scroll up, I'm attacking the outer Romulan territories.

Volantis, Romulus, elsewhere where there is fighting.

At Volantis – both Volantis worlds – the Trailarii find their targets far from defenseless. The Shrike – class ships are the – light cruisers and destroyers, equipped with cloaking, disruptors, and so forth, they attack the enemy time and time again. They try distruptors and torpedoes, and target the bigger ships with planetcracker bombs. Even one of those can destroy a planet – what a dozen will do to a warship is bound to be spectacular, and hundreds, literally, are used, with the expectation most of them will be destroyed in flight.

The mighty D'deridex battleships, armed with disruptors and photon torpedo banks, were actually about the size of a decent ESUS-grade battleship, and they fought well and with tenacity, their Romulan crews keeping up the fight even after numerous and grievous injuries to their ships.

Against the Kythons and the Trailarii, the battle rages on.

Zackdorn

Zackdorn is now an enemy asset. It will be treated as one would treat an asset of the Space Nazis, so to speak – evil entities coming to devour all that is alive. The Federation ships bypass the defenses – although some of them are destroyed by drone fire, and toss several trilithium bombs into the planet's sun.

The results are more than spectacular.

First, the sun dims momentarily, as the enemy ships disappear from real space.

Minutes later, a faster-than-light wave of energy tears through the drones, the planets, the system entire. Nothing living is capable of surviving it.

And then, the supernova effect.

For years and years afterward, the entire system and its Kuiper belt are bathed in a death glow of hundreds of billions of degrees Kelvin, evaporating – no, turning into plasma – anything that somehow survives intact after the initial energy blast.

The Zackdornian civilization is dead.

Elsewhere

The Federation accepts the weapons and technologies gleefully, and deploys them first at it's key worlds, trying to fortify them against the ESUS onslaught.

But other groups – the Gorn, the Dominion, the Ferengi – now lust for the weaponry as well.

Alpha Volantis

"Apparently, we will have no negotiation."

Defenses were more entrenched than was expected by the lone configuration. A good 70% of the vessels deployed were tagged as sub-capital or frigate class. Long before the Shrike light cruisers or D'deridex vessels could acquire a firing solution, the Toxopolis (Archer) class frigates had already unleashed a salvo of kinetic shield puncher munitions, while still light minutes away. Once closed however, the fighting began in earnest. Outlying frigates had been cut off from the main body of the fleet, and were dropping like flies; their generic shielding overwhelmed by torpedo and disruptor fire.

There were eleven Trireme destroyers attached to each fleet, these were the main mailed fist so to speak. These were centered loosely around the Hiveship carrier and her Quireme class dreadnought flagship. These two super-capital vessels had not yet lowered their space-compression fields, into which verily a lightshow of disruptors, torpedos, planetbusters and varying other munitions were disappearing. The destroyers were not as lucky. They were only equipped with standard shields, albeit shields exponentially more powerful than any frigate, they could not survive a hit from a planetbuster. The Barnstormer PD and flak frigate line were cutting dozens of tagged worldkillers and torpedoes out of the sky, but some still slipped past. The Isolation went down first, a planetcracker that had been tagged as neutralized had drifted close and went off, wiping away the shields, stripping armor and causing considerable structural damage, including significant losses to the PD turret system mounted along either side of the destroyers spine. A flurry of a dozen or so torpedoes caught up to the vessel as it tried to limp away from the main fight, and more to the center of what had now become a defensive circle centered around the two super-capital vessels. Torpedoes impacted among the aft engines and starboard particle acceleration cannon. The resulting explosions reached the main reactor, and that was all she wrote. Other destroyers were limping away, some surviving, some not, and parts of the frigate line were being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of what could be called enemy capital class vessels. Forward elements were wavering. Time to bolster the line.

The fleets four Hippo-Toxotai medium cruisers split into two hunter/killer pairs and moved past the flailing destroyers, proceeding to opened fire on any of the D'deridex they could find. In the holds of the Hiveship, Campher strikcraft were being armed and fueled, along with their Hydra drone counterparts. The Romulans were in for a nasty surprise.
====================================================================
Beta Volantis

Different fleet, different tactics. Information from Alpha Volantis and enemy tactics had been shared by the other configuration, and the 19th Configuration arranging itself into a tight, defensive wedge/phalanx with it's massive 3km Quireme dreadnought flagship at the lead. Destroyers and cruisers were heavily defended by clusters of Barnstormers and strikecraft were already exiting the Hiveship and zipping around the outer edges of the fleet. The objective of the 19th was to punch straight through to the planet, clearing the way for a second battlegroup and a compliment of landers. This was a world to be taken, not burned. Romulan vessels were approaching the maximum range of the heavier guns, it would begin soon..

Meanwhile, near the wormhole, the Kanuckistani High Guard was moving - unwilling to participate in an unjust slaughter, they weren't about to stand around and do nothing in light of the Federation's desperation tactic of world killers; atleast, not when their allies, bent on revenge, left the front door wide open.


And so it was four automated High Guard freighters arrived at the wormhole in the wake of forerunner drones, two deploying shells of sensor, countermeasure and defence drones, force-field emitters, automated fighters, and pre-launched missiles - multikilometer holds packed with billions in compact Kanuckistani hardware, flooding near by sensors with hundreds of thousands on contacts.

As the second pair crossed to do likewise in the other galaxy, weak force field walls were established around the portal, multi-stage traffic control locks designed to regulate traffic and prevent sneakers more than stop attack, while smaller, stronger cells protected free floating missiles from splash damage and point-defence.

The drones, as Kanuckistani drones were want to do, were meanwhile racing outward, forming sparse, widely dispersed defensive shells every lightsecond for eighteen million kilometers, as fighters - their conversion reactors granting a patrol endurance measured in decades - flew pickets with sensor and ECM pods, laden with missiles of their own.


In less than an hour, those two ships had turned the area into a small fortress - a check point, choke point, denying the Federation's stealth assets a way in or out unmolested, cutting off unsupplied. A process soon repeated on the other side.

Still, if not for GRIDAR, and the hasty reactivation of Shivan War-era bomb-pumped gravvy gun warheads now seeded amongst the weapon hordes, phase cloaked ships might have been able to slip through...

...Until, that is, Kanuckistani FTLi came online, ASPEW-based, inhibiting temporal and spatial phasing as a matter of course, expanding outward from each freighter at half the speed of light for five lightminutes in all directions.

A bet, that the Federation, if watching from cloak, and secure in their technological prowess, would see the preparation as futile until the FTLi went up, not reveal themselves or waste munitions striking a non-target, and thus give the defences time to deploy, dispersed to minimise the effect of their planet-killers.


That was the plan, atleast... which is why a trio of frigates sat near by under heavy stealth in the interstellar void, the hundred or so lightyear distance within easy reach of readied displacer drives - the Federation strike force would either be cut off... or walk into a trap.

Alpha Volantis

The Romulan fleet lost about three dozen ships in the assault, but it was clear that they weren't having the desired effect. While they still outnumbered the enemy – about 450 Romulan ships were still 'afloat', it was clear that the tactic was not working – and so, they prepared for assault via a different method.

The planetcracker fire was now focused on the lighter ships alone, ships that were nearer the Romulan line, and easier to attack.

Beta Volantis

The Romulan ships formed a semi-sphere here, advancing towards their enemies – and when they entered range, they rained a hail of planetcrackers, torpedoes, and disruptor fire upon the lead enemy ship.

Federation Worlds

In all major Federation shipyards, all hands had work to do. They installed Kanuckistani-made beam weapons instead of phaser arrays, clamped CIWS weapons onto ancient hulls, replaced reactors and power conduits on their ships, even introduced better drives. And through the major trade routes moved ships carrying the materials the Kanuckistani had asked for.

In the first wave, about 500 ships would be renovated. A similar effort was already being undertaken by the Gorn.

OOC: Allanea/UFP, as I pointed out in query, there's problems with that. But more than you know; UFP hull materials aren't up to such energies either: to even stay together under all but the most gentle accelleration they need something called a Structural Integrity Field. It's most convincing to either just use new torpedos, or build entirely new ships. Nothing in between is really viable given the extremely volatile (exploding EPS system consoles for the lose) tech-base used in Star Trek.

Also, if you'd actually seen Nemesis (not that anyone should have to watch that bilge - I counted, thirty people were in the cinema when I did, six brave souls including myself, stuck it to the end - Consider this if you want a summary of its main points (http://www.stardestroyer.net/Nemesis/Pictorial-1.html)) you'd note that there is no Reman system, and that air-dropping lasguns on them will achieve nothing; The trolls toil underground on a tidally locked (and given that it is apparently further out than Romulus, that's a stupidity in and of itself) planet within the Romulan home system; the surface of this black rock, such as it is, is controlled by the Romulans. Remans never see the sky, save when they're on some other planet (they're not missing much by being Morlocks. Remus is literally uninhabitable on the surface. One wonders if it's even breathable). Of course, as the Remans are already free enough to mount an armed takeover of the Empire, one questions whether they actually need a few million flashlights.

Incidentally, Trailers they don't reffer to themselves as Romulans (there's a couple of takes on what they do call themselves, but that's not relavant here) the nickname 'Romulan' is a human term that they tolerate, from the Romulan Wars. As for becoming Helots... Yeah. Right. A very very basic comprehension of the local enviroment should make it obvious how laughable that idea is - these people happily decided to get on generation ships and leave (mostly dying) rather than embracing a philosophy invented by their own race they didn't agree with. Accepting unspeakably brutal foreign domination is... incredibly unlikely.

OOC: I am aware of these things.This will all begin to make more sense soon enough. Please restrain further discussion of OOC matters to MSN, private messages, and the ESUS forums, where you, too, have posting access, or had last I checked. Thank you for your cooperation. I would like to ask the other posters in this thread ot also avoid making OOC posts here in the future, and promise to endeavour to do so myself.

Alpha Volantis

The Configuration was approaching 12% casualties, Hippo-Toxotai battlewagons appeared unscathed, virtually ignored save for the D'deridex heavy cruisers they were hunting, and the frigate PD line was holding nicely. Then, the Romulans switched targets. The Hippo-Toxotai suddenly found themselves deep in the enemies formations, floundering and without support. The Traileric destroyers were suddenly left alone, the frigate line coming under heavy fire. In under fifteen seconds, casualties jumped to 24%, frigates were practically evaporating under the planetcrackers, and those agile enough to outmaneuver such things were being cut down by flurries of torpedoes. The line began to pull back, the destroyers moving to the front again to draw fire from the smaller frigates, and the Hippo-Toxotai were in a fighting withdrawl.

Then the Hiveship gave birth.

Two hundred and fifteen hangars is standard amongst a full grown Hiveship, and the Eurydice was no exception. Hydra flowed like a river from her holding cells in the thousands. The contrails of the minuscule craft nearly obscuring the Hiveship from sight. The Campher manned strikecraft launched next, all well behind the protection of the Hiveship's compressed space barrier, which was even then cycling down and preparing to drop. The drones surged forward, the orange/green compression field fading to nothing as they reached it. Nearly twenty five hundred strikecraft swarmed around the frigates and sub-capital vessels before them. Each drone was armed with a single Ceres IV multi-role torpedo, and a small rotary mounted anti-strikecraft chingun. They were a small breed, even for fighters, thirty eight meters from exhaust port to guntip, but they were fast and numerous. They would be the Romulan's first taste of Traileric strikecraft, and likely a bitter taste at that.
===================================================================
Beta Volantis

The tight wedge was driving toward the semi-sphere of enemy vessels. The main concentration of fire was on the Quireme dreadnought, whose compression field was still active, meaning that those deadly munitions simply fell into the eight dimensional knot and simply disappeared, leaving the rest of the fleet to deal with very light, sporadic fire. The Hiveship and her brood of strikecraft hung back as a rearguard, their plan being to keep the Romulans from closing their sphere around the rest of the configuration. They were driving hard for Beta Volantis, the rest of the invasion fleet was even now entering slipspace. Wouldn't be long now..

Across the fleet, guns are run out, from every available flank the mass drivers fling their gravimetricly accelerated balls of tungsten composites into any target of opportunity, with the focus being on larger vessels that could pose a threat to the coming invasion fleet. Missiles from the destroyers fill the air, and even Barnstormer frigates are flinging tight spread shots of small munitions toward any visible Romulan vessels that could be considered frigate class.

Space superiority was essential for the Trailarii to take this system intact..

Alpha Volantis

For a moment, fate seemed to favor the Romulans. They were killing Traileric vessels, and suffering merely comparable casualties, and in fact, the enemy began to retreat.

And then – just as it seemed that victory, perhaps, would be theirs – the Traileric strike craft came. Thousands upon thousands of craft – the Romulan vessels did not even have enough guns to target them all – swarming down upon the Romulans. Surely, many would become mere targets for the Romulan disruptors – but with the sheer amount of fighters, many of them would get into torped range.

The effects were spectacular. Suddenly, burning warbirds were everywhere, the Trailerians advancing through the mutilated remains of the fleet.

The last fragments of the fleet – perhaps a fifth of it's original power – still fought, though. Desperately, insanely, perhaps, but they fought.

Beta Volantis:

The Romulan tactic had failed to work. Within seconds, the Romulan semi-sphere was decimated by mass-driver rounds – and it became clear they had to try something new.

The disruptors and torpedo launchers shifted their targets to the lighter ships.

Alpha Volantis

It was time to break the last of the resistance, and rout them.

The two super-capital vessels of the configuration lowered their compression fields, and engaged. Tidal forces surged in the Hiveship. Deep within her main reactor, the switch was being made from the compression field power grid to the offensive grid.

"All friendlies, clear firing vector"

The skin of the Hiveship glowed a brilliant green as the SAFD (sub-atomic force disruptor) powered up, Aristolclean particles were gathering at a single focal point, the weapon systems eerie light bleeding from the vessels skin to a single point. She then unleased her fury, a yellow torrent of sub-quark particles housed in a magnetic field, and directed toward a knot of resistance. Traileric frigates and destroyers hurridly fled the path the liquidly transleucent beam, so that they would not be caught up in the hell to come. Once it struck the pack of survivors, the negation of the strong nuclear force in any mass it encountered would cause that mass to be broken down into sub atomic elements, effectively killing anything in the ship. Of course, the quarks would readily find charged partners and form literally random chains of atoms, butthose random chains would never reform as the ship and people they once were, if they amounted to a visible mass at all. The aftermath of the SAFD was mnore often than not a wide path of small grey pellets of iron and other heavy elements.

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

Beta Volantis

The wedge pressed on, taking casualities as they will. Unlike Alpha Volantis, they were not here to engage and utterly destroy opposition, mop up would come later. The wedge was spreading out so the enemy could not take out multiple ships with one planetcracker. Individual ships were ordered only to return fire when fired upon, no heroics, no slaughter. They were still several light-minutes out from the principle world of the system, and the invasion forces had not yet exited slipspace. The Quireme dropped her compression field, and began engaging anything in range with it's longguns, and of course the Atlas Sling mounted on her spine.

The Ascendant fleet exited phase space a good distance away from Bolaros. Breanna, still in the battle rage from when she had detected what had happened to her worlds, was now in a full blown storm. She would not stop, unless perhaps one of her fellow allies intervened, until every single Federation world burned, and all of its citizens were dead. However, she still knew she couldn't take them lightly, as the actions of their destruction of the Five Reclaimed Systems had shown them. So, they remained at long range, scanning the planet and the surrounding system to see what they currently had in the area, and make a plan on that. Their shields were up and weapons primed, so as to not to get caught off-guard by any Federation surprise attacks or booby traps.

They had their fighters raring to go, with the Xel'athi waiting for the possible situation where their mass of fighters would be needed in battle. Like Breanna, the other Ascendants were coldly angry and went about their preparations with an attention to detail that would drive a staff sergeant mad. If anyone saw them right now, they'd know that unless the Federation can somehow stop them here, they will continue to rampage down into the Core Systems. Down to Sol....to Earth.

Meanwhile, as all this was going on, several patrols of Ascendant ships began to scour the other galaxy for where the Federation ships who had destroyed their systems had gone to. If they were discovered, they were to immediately engage and destroy, to leave no survivors. It was time to send a message, a very loud one that dripped with the blood of their dead.

Zakdorn:



The Ta’Nar forces watched the Federation who were clearly exhibiting what was identified through the absorbed starbase records as Borg drive technology. An interesting point to use in the propaganda that would follow the suspected events to come.

As the invader force appeared in the system, the drones that were left as a token resistance came to life. While it was unforgivable to just hand over captured planets, the fate of Zakdorn was not theirs to dictate. It had already outlived it’s usefulness after it caused paranoia and distrust in the Federation forces. The Ta’Nar did not want the chunk of rock anymore and would have been a drag on military resources. When the option of letting the Federation waste their own in retaking the system, the Ta’Nar decided to allow their attack to come hindered only with a token force. The damage had already been done and it did not make sense to hold onto the asset any longer. The presence of a task force to retake the planet meant that force was not anywhere else defending other targets.

Also, if the premonitions were correct, there would be one hell of a source for propaganda real soon. Timing was everything now.

As the invasion force was just about to enter, another gestalt was formed with the Zakdorn people being the main target but sever bleed-overs were “accidentally” allowed so several other races might (and most likely) happen.

Greetings, this is Grand Admiral R’Lah of the Ta’Nar forces that have occupied the Zakdorn system. It has served our purposes and we are releasing it back to the Federation with only a light drone force guarding against any piracy. We regretfully apologize for any inconv… hold on.

A mental real-time image was added to the message. It showed the arrival of a sizable force of Federation ships dropping out of Transwarp. The ships lurched forward only taking a couple shots at the waiting defenders who were going to hand the system over to them anyways. Most of the ships were hiding behind obviously illegal (according to popular belief and the Starbase records) cloaking devices. The immaterial ships, which could easily be traced using their gravimetric signatures, tried to bypass the dormant drones and went straight into the system.

Well, that was certainly fast. The federation is already here to take back possession of the system. We hope this goes without any prob…
The voice in the transmission again hesitated as the ships made attack runs against the planet and the star itself. After a minute the star suddenly went nova, killing all the natives of the system as well as the token drone guards who were handing the system back to the Federation.


…what the hell? They are murdering their own people. Who would do that to their own people? What monsters do you have running your government? We have harmed nobody here; we will not take the blame for the Federation’s barbaric actions. They must answer to this crime of Genocide against their own people. Do not let the people of Zakdorn die and allow their murderers go free. This is horrible…

The Gestalt was suddenly closed as a wave of sympathy was transmitted across it.


R’Lah closed the Gestalt making it seem to those who received it the Ta’Nar was shocked, surprised and outraged by the barbaric attack. Well, when you know about it in advance, it is easy to set up the false empathic reactions and broadcast them out. This was perfect because it allowed the Federation to take the fall for eliminating the planet instead of the Ta’Nar. That means the response would be justified.

R’Lah reached out and contacted the admirals at both Romulus and Qu’nos, sending orders directly to them over the Link.




Qu’nos:



A grin was seen to creep across the face of Admiral P’Ain as he received the order. Usually when that happened, things are about to get interesting.


“Issue the order to all ships. Establish Power Taps. Authorization to use non-conventional weaponry has been cleared. I repeat, you are cleared to use non-conventional weapons. Also, broadcast the order simultaneously so the enemy can hear it. Let them know we are about to take the gloves off and begin slaughtering them.”

“Yes Sir, orders being transmitted.”

“Establish firing patterns upon the capital planet. Set the Uplift Beam to quarter power. Move the fleet forward to acquire a proper firing resolution.”

Across the fleet, all the ships were engaging their Space Minus Power Taps and suddenly the sensor readings the enemy was taking increased exponentially by several orders of magnitude. The ebon ships literally glowed with energy as they linked to the 6th dimension and siphoned immense amounts of energy from that dimension. Space Minus, or the 6th dimension was a “place” that only energy could exist. Due to that fact, it acted as a natural barrier for any nation who would attempt to take the mantle upon them to study Dimensional Technology. Any matter that entered Space Minus would be instantly converted to energy and absorbed into the dimension itself. For millennia, the Fallen Empire has used this to power their more energetic weapons, taking the strain off their normal reactors. That was good because the effects they were achieving with their non-conventional weaponry would not be unobtainable with ship born power alone.

As an added result, the conventional weapons were more powerful with additional energy being available to increase the output of the weapons. Point defense was suddenly able to operate much more freely, as an example the anti-torpedo PD Lasernets actually exceeding the output of several of the enemy weapons. The adaptive armor kicked in massively blocking incoming attacks by generating additional armor to absorb attacks that made it through the multiple layers of shields that was now available to the ships. The cloud of fragmented armor creating a flack nightmare for the enemy to target through with much of their attacks being blocked or otherwise made ineffective by the expanding cloud of metal fragments.

Admiral P’Ain stood there with that grin displayed across his otherwise featureless face. He watched the display as the readouts showed the ships successful connections and the subsequent outputs of the vessels. This was more like it.

“Open a channel to the lobsterheads.”

“Channel open Sir.”

Attention all Klingon vessels. Due to recent events at Zakdorn, it has been determined that the Federation and all those who serve it are guilty for the crimes of Genocide either by direct action for by association. If you still wish to be considered their ally, then you have sealed your own fate.

We are no longer playing here and will do a simple demonstration of our intent. If your allies are perfectly willing to destroy whole systems in cowardly sneak attacks then we shall return the favor since your allies have already let that genie out of the bottle. Qu’nos will become out first example and there will me many to follow.

“Sir, we have reached the optimal firing position.”

“Warn all vessels of our intent and then fire.”

Power surged in the Diety Carrier and a massive bolt of violet energy shot from the huge ship, The purple tinted beam hurled itself toward Qu’nos and a couple ships, realizing the target was their capital planet tried to use their own ships to intervene with the massive bolt. The energy just passed through the enemy ship leaving nothing behind of the vessels. The bolt of dimensional energy struck the planet and for a moment nothing seemed to happen. On the far side of Qu’nos the surface heaved upwards as the energy bolt emerged from the surface. The edges of the massive hole continued to glow and it quickly spread outwards from the impact site as the planet wase aten from inside. The purple energy expanded auntil it covered the entire planet. After a few moments, the Klingon capital world becam incandescent and the energy was shunted away to Space Minus as the mass was devoured and converted to energy itself. After everything was said and done, nothing remained of Qu’nos except for the stunned and now homeless Klingons.

Deathblow to Qu'nos (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/deathblowtoQunos.jpg)

Admiral P’Ain watched as the now extinct capital faded from the universe, now forever gone. He knew the energy generated by the mass conversion might even be flowing through the weapons systems at this very moment. It would be fitting that they used it to finish destroying those who were foolish to fight against the Ta’Nar. The Klingon Empire will fall to the Ta’Nar even in they had to remove it in its entirety. The allies of the Federation will not be suffered to survive.

“Take them all. Either Infect them or destroy them. I want everything Klingon purged from existence. They had their chance.”

The fleet turned their newly revealed weapons upon the remains of the Klingon capital system. They would only finish when the star was alone stripped of everything that orbited it. After that the star would be “removed”, eliminating all trace of the Klingon capital as if it never existed.





Romulus:




Admiral De’Ath received his commands and also smiled.

“All ships, Uplift. Cease Fire and open a channel to the Romulans. Broadcast the footage from Qu’nos.”

“Yes Sir, the data is being broadcast through frequencies the enemy are using.”

For a few minutes, the battlefield was silent as the Romulans witnessed the destruction at the Klingon capital system. After the example was shown, De’Ath again sent a message to the Romulans.

“You cannot oppose us. We are taking on both yours and their capital system with the same number of ships, 150. If we can do THAT with this same size force, what can we do here? The choice is simple, either fight the Federation alongside us or we will tear apart your little Empire and use whatever we wish to do the job our own way. Are you Federation Allies or their opponent? Think carefully before you open Pandora’s Box and let out things you really don’t want."

The signal being broadcast from T-Space detected as coming from everywhere yet nowhere.

This is Joseph to all passengers. FTL in three. Please think quietly. Two. One. FTL is go.

Captain Heikman groaned inwardly. The resounding emptiness of the Mobius Continuum always made his head hurt, his constantly racing thoughts making it virtually impossible for his trips to be made in comfort. Head pounding with the sudden weight of his contemplation, he winced, waiting for the agony to stop.

And then it did.

Shaking his skin's head, the Captain shrugged off his pains, and turned to survey his own platoon. All in their heavy skins, all armed to the teeth, all exuding an air of quiet invulnerability as they went through their final checklists. Heikman's grimace shifted into a grin. This was going to be fun.

Accessing Joseph's sensor feeds, Heikman moved to a viewport hololith and activated his reality overlay. Space seemed to rush forward in front of him as his brain integrated the massive dreadnought's telemetry, revealing the battlefield in all it's glory. Packs of green-glowing torpedoes and attack drones swarmed across the void, while the redshifted lines of railfire moved blindingly towards the planet- the briefing hadn't included the name of their target- and it's defenses.

Heikman knew standard procedure for an attack of this sort. The fleet had emerged from the Continuum at close range and immediately opened fire will all weapons. No warnings had been given, no threats made. Just a precision bombardment of almost obscene proportions within picoseconds of emergence. Any military structures would be eliminated with almost zero collateral damage within an hour, and then the landing would begin.

And with it, the fun.

Qu'onos

The planet did not even explode. It simply – to the perception of those Klingons in realspace – ceased to exist outright. Over five billion Klingons died in a single flash of searing light.

Seconds later, the surviving Klingons attacked the Balroggan ships – torpedoes, weapons, the works – even suicide attacks, when that failed. They no longer had their home, but they still had their honor.

And that could not be taken – no matter what.

Alpha Volantis

The final strike has come and gone, and only a tiny handful of Romulan ships now remained as space worthy vessels. Within minutes, they would likely be exterminated by Traileric cruisers.

Beta Volantis

The Quireme tore a hole through the Romulan fleet large enough to fly a small navy through. Cruiser defensive weapons slowly picked the Romulan ships off, one after once.

In a few minutes, the fleet was down to half its initial strength, and began to retreat to the planet – with the hopes of luring the enemy into the range of planetary defense.

Bolaros:

This was a world minor in population, with only perhaps 2 billion people on it. Correspondingly, its defenses have been light, and many have been drawn back to Sol for its defense, and for the renovation of weaponry.

Only a tiny handful of ships were left here.

Earth was more important.

Earth was always more important.

Romulus:

The Romulans are wise, and in some ways sneaky opponents. They understand the value of propaganda, and of lies, too. As such, they issue a simple request – that temporary ceasefire be declared, in order for the Romulans to verify the broadcast's veracity, namely by sending a ship to the Quo'nos system – or it's former location.

Cestus III

A thriving colony world, perhaps too near the Gorn border – but with a population of nearly ten billion people, most of them humans. Other Federation species formed a minority – not very sizeable, but, as often happens, very distinct and memorable.

There were around 200 ships in the system.

General Federation:

The Federation distributed a variety of announcements – claiming, of course, that Zackdorn was destroyed by the Balroggans themselves, and that the whole thing was just enemy propaganda – of course, the term "Balroggan" was not used.

And slowly, ships crawled out of docks. Six ships died in testing as the Federation realized the need of insane reinforcement of all systems, decrease in crew, and other modifications to carry the heavier Kanuckistani systems.

Eventually, the strike would come.

Romulus:


After a moment, a return message was sent in reply to the Romulan request.

We agree to a cease fire. The terms are as follows:

No ships other than the scout vessel may enter or leave the ten-light year radii.

You may begin shipborn repairs while the time is halted.

You may shuttle wounded to proper medical attention.

No other ship movements are allowed on either side.


This applies to all sides of the battle.



Do you agree?





OOC:

Go ahead if you do.

Eritas

Eritas, the desert planet, would be the next target of the Allaneans. It had little significance for the Federation, and a tiny population – made up of Masai emigrants that have adopted it for their use. A population of no more than 200 million estimated inhabitants in a mostly pre-spaceflight arrangements was perfect for what the Allaneans had in mind.

There wasn't even a fight – a single Red Fleet warship exterminated every starship in orbit with casual ease (mostly freighters and other utility craft), and then hordes of red-painted droids swarmed over the planet. The local defense forces were outnumbered 10,000 to 1, and there was no serious struggle.

To anybody but the Allaneans, the planet had practically no value.

To the Allaneans, it was a treasure.

+++Alpha Quadrant, mid-distance orbit of Vega inside UFP territory+++

The first action in the UFP War on the part of Zerstorendar would be bloody, and brief. Ten frigates led by a destroyer escorted a thousand Hellbringer boarding troops, the small detachment designed specifically to crush the orbital defences of Vega with minimal application of force. Emerging from foldspace, the Zerstorendarian Sternsieg ships came into full view of Vega and immediately assumed attack formation.

The destroyer captain and overall commander of the strike force was an impetuous individual, who planned meticulously prior to operations and was rather gung-ho in the execution. He made a quick scan of Vega’s orbital defences, saw that his intelligence was correct, and ordered the attack without hesitation.

A thousand Hellbringers, each a formidable, heavily enhanced killer and expert marine, gritted their teeth and furrowed their brows in anticipation of the following action. This attack against Vega was the first military operation of Zerstorendar as a member and ally of ESUS and their first operation against this new and powerful foe, the United Federation of Planets. Their mission was to annihilate the defences of Vega and allow a planetary attack, and with a thousand Hellbringers as a boarding force, a massacre was guaranteed.

There were two orbital stations that centralized the defence of Vega, and each of them was heavily crewed and protected by Federation marines. Not expecting an attack from this quadrant, the Starfleet assets were minimal, only several ships in the way of the Destroyer SVD Fulcrum and her escorts. As they came to within only a few thousand kilometres of the orbital stations, the Fulcrum and her escorts engaged at optimal effective range, powerful shields and armour plating absorbing initial volleys from the Starfleet ships. As the two groups engaged, the Hellbringer attack ships and pods launched into boarding approaches, forcing the Starfleet to either split their fire or make sacrifices.

They chose to split their fire. Wrong choice, thought the Fulcrum’s captain.

The Hellbringers took minimal casualties, the speed at which they were moving and design of their small craft nullifying much of the potential damage. In the meantime, the Fulcrum opened fire with all of its weapons as its frigate escorts used the opening to further close the gap and engage at an even more potent range. Before long, the Sternsieg ships were in the ideal positions for maximum compression of firepower, and the Starfleet ship’s shields began to fail. One of their ships lost hull integrity under a powerful lance barrage from the Fulcrum and split apart, pouring fire, debris and uniformed corpses into the dark of space. The battle well in hand, the Fulcrum’s captain began monitoring the boarding actions.

The Hellbringers’ boarding craft were split into two smaller forces, one for each orbital station. The smaller craft made their way through the massive hulls of their targets using incredibly-potent cutting lasers, while the larger ships drilled straight through thinner parts of the station to land with an ear-shattering crash inside a hangar or loading bay. Emerging from their designated boarding points all over both stations, the Hellbringers moved through the ships towards the generator rooms and bridges from numerous directions. The Federation marines resisted, but normal men armed with phasers and neat uniforms were no match for inhumanly agile and powerful men wearing power armour, firing railpistols while running along walls with unimpaired accuracy. Before long, the marine defenders were scattered, the bridges of both stations were under Zerstorendarian control, and the generator rooms were slowly filling up with powerful ship-breaching explosives.

As the Hellbringers wrapped up their lightning attacks, the SVD Fulcrum annihilated the final Starfleet ship with a volley of anti-matter torpedoes as it reeled from a number of broadsides, dispensed by the attack frigates surrounding it. The space battle and boarding operations over, the Hellbringers activated their explosives, boarded their transports and headed back to the strike fleet. The Fulcrum and its escorts moved out of the range of the explosive radius, and the orbital stations illuminated the darkness of space with a beautiful display of explosive colour and heated debris.

The Fulcrum’s captain smiled in satisfaction at a job well done. Now for their secondary objective: wiping out any other orbital defences in the vicinity and doing whatever it took to make the Federation buzz like angry bees. He thought for a moment, and came up with an idea so potentially destructive and absolutely outrageous it had him grinning. He maneuvered his fleet to use the massive debris cloud as cover, and had his ships empty their stockpiles of mines. He then gave the Hellbringers their new orders. If everything went to plan, they could be a real thorn in the side of the Federation in this area of space.

Alpha Volantis

It was over. The firefight couldn't have lasted longer than fifteen minutes. Casualties weren't heavy, but their noses had certainly been bloodied. The last handful of craft were being torn apart, and the fleet at large was on the move, leaving any remaining vessels to the Destroyers.

They were thirteen light minutes away from Alpha Volantis..The true bloodletting had only begun.

Beta Volantis

The wedge had pulled to a halt. The initial formation of enemy vessels had been broken, and they had established a foothold in the system. Romulans were fleeing back to the planet, likely to regroup and rally their scattered elements. The Trailarii would use this lull in the fighting for their own ends. Ships were re-armed and given light repairs, and a perimeter was established.

Two more configurations exited slipspace, over three hundred vessels of the line, largely carrier vessels, and some nine Hiveships. As far as ship killers go, there was nothing larger than a frigate amongst them. This was no assault fleet.

This was an invasion.

OOC: Apologies for the brevity.

Romulus

There was practically nothing left to do but to agree to the new ceasefire offer. And so the Romulans began to fold their formations, to shuttle and beam their wounded along for medical care, and a Romulan ship – under due Balroggan escort, where possible – would make its way for Qu'onos.

Once the Romulans found out that the planet and its entire system have, in fact, ceased to be, they would begin formalizing their surrender. There was no point, they would think, in resisting what appeared to be a supercivilisation – beings that were capable in turning entire stars into their pure energy components certainly qualified.

Beta Volantis:

The Romulans, here, were still fighting. They had to – their very homes were under threat, and the enemy had seemed to make a false move. The enemy had paused while on the offensive – and the Romulans began to reorganize.

They drew their ships almost to the very planet, and into the protection of the planetary defense disruptor arrays, drawing into formation – just in that manner in which an injured man raises his fist, clenching it for that last haymaker strike, in which an infantryman, bleeding to death, aims his rifle for one last shot at the oncoming waves of enemy troops.

Vega

At first, the SVD ships had almost unlimited success. They came, and the Starfleet defenses fell before them. Aboard those ships that met with the boarding teams, the SVD troops cleaned out all opposition with casual ease – and yet, there were some set-backs.

These set-backs would have names – such as Ensign Joseph Silvermann.

Trapped in the engineering room boarded Galaxy-class spacecraft, Ensign Silvermann initiated a warp-core breach – and turned the ship, and all the men aboard, into a cloud of rapidly-expanding gas and debris.

There were other men – such as Commander Anatol Johnson. When the enemy troops burst into his bridge, he used modified transporter protocols to beam the attackers into space, and then snipe at them with the onboard phasers.

But the main mishap was called Captain Zimmerman, First Class.

Captain Zimmerman commanded a Tactical Wing from Earth – 35 transwarp-equiupped warships that appeared just minutes after the triumph of the SVD ships seemed complete.

'Seemed', of course, was the operative word.

Vega

Captain Fendal of the SVD Fulcrum reacted quickly, having expected a Federation counterattack, just not in such force. He executed damage control protocols: his own ship contained useful prisoners that could not be risked in an upcoming engagement, and the loss of a Sternsieg Destroyer class vessel would be negligent in what was supposed to be a small-scale engagement. He ordered his frigates into a scattered attack position behind the debris/minefield. As attractive as the proposition of a noble death was, the Sternsieg prided themselves on professionalism.
“Sir, we detect 35 Federation ship signatures and they are moving on our position.”
“We can’t fight them head on, but they will be unable to detect the mines amidst the debris and particles. Keep using them as a shield, and keep out of weapons range. Now tell me the status of the Hellbringer teams”
“Eight hundred are battle ready.”
“Have them on standby, they could be our only chance if things go wrong.”

Another man came running onto the bridge:
“Sir, four of the prisoners have escaped and barricaded themselves in communications room 4. Apparently there was a power failure in our restraining cells, though several were killed by one of our men during their escape.”
What had seemed like a good idea did now not seem as clever. Fendal had retained only a group of twenty Hellbringers as ship security in order to allow most of the boarding troops to participate in the attack.
“Tell the Hellbringer Lich to keep them barricaded in the room. Are they trying to use the communications?”
“We believe so sir.”
“I have an idea. Get the Lich on a direct link”.

The Zerstorendarian ships waited to see how things panned out. Hopefully there would be some sort of opening, though Captain Fendal’s confidence seemed optimistic at best.

De’Ath just sighed as he heard the Romulan surrender.

“If only they had done that right away we wouldn’t have wasted time convincing them we were telling the truth. What is it with the people here; they seem to be unaware that a race can be that powerful. Open a channel to the Romulans.”

“Channel seven open Sir.”

Greetings Romulus,

While we certainly appreciate the unconditional surrender you offered us, we do not want you as slaves. We want you as allies and we tried to tell you that many times. The original offer still stands. If you keep attacking the Feds, you can keep anything you take for we are not interested in the landscape, only that it does not remain in federation possession. Set fire to the Neutral Zone and burn the entire frontier. Make your ancestors proud as you vanquish your old enemies. Take Vulcan and recondition them. Make the Federation pay for every ship they have destroyed of your over the past centuries. Make their lapdogs pay for their transgressions too. You have permissions to strike any federation ally that stands between you and their worlds.

We will rebuild the ships you lost so your forces are not depleted, you only need to crew them. We will assemble several shipyards and pump out production as quickly as we can. Before long you will be back as good as new, perhaps with a few new gifts to boot.

What is your choice?

The Admiral signaled to close the channel and send the message. Soon things might become a little too warm for the Feds along the Neutral Zone. The distraction will serve the Ta’Nar well.

Vega-3

"Sir, we are detecting enemy warships at bearing…"

"Preparing to strike at six… five… four… three… two… fire pulsed-singularity torpedoes!"

The entire area of space around the Zerstorendar ships shook now – each ship was targeted with the horrendously overgunned Kanuckistani weapons, at least ten torpedoes were aimed at each ship. Further, additional torpedoes were used to clear away debris – a temporary mini-blackhole tends to do that to you.

And then the ships began to accelerate, closing the range to the enemy vessels much more rapidly than a Federation ship could be expected to do.

Romulus

As of now, we do not require your production facilities. This is not an attempt to spite you, however we are already negotiating with several separate arms suppliers. Allow us time to rearm, and we will sweep the enemy before us.

Vega

Captain Fendal was surprised the UFP warships bothered to fire at such a distance. Even using their most far-reaching weapons, they were at the very edge of their effective range. With plenty of time to calculate trajectories and respond accordingly, the frigates of the Sternsieg had very little trouble avoiding any serious damage from the enemy volleys. Fendal was more concerned with what would happen once the minefield was cleared.

Fendal had a choice to make. He needed time to calculate his escape vector, but with how things were currently progressing, he didn’t have it. Elements of his command would, unfortunately, have to be sacrificed. He would leave the Konata class frigates here to make the most of their heavy firepower. There was only six of them, but with a few hundred Hellbringers as boarding support, they would be fully capable of taking at least a couple of Starfleet vessels with them.

“SVF Konata assets manoeuvre into attack-response positions behind the minefield cover. You have Hellbringer detachment two as support. You will halt the Starfleet advance at any cost. Carry out your duties with pride”. Fendal’s orders were concise, and his subordinates knew what he expected of him. They were trained and lived as such: death was the eventual end of all things. It was their duty to make something of it.
“Now tell me how those escapees are doing”, Fendal inquired of his First Officer.
“Quite well, I believe. They are currently hailing the Starfleet ships, requesting that they hold off on their assault so that they can send vital information about our fleet strength and deployment.”
“Brilliant”.

General Zimmmermann's plan was set back – plans have that tendency – as he began to receive signals from the 'escaped' POWs – but he was going to make the best of this. He deployed fighters – about six dozens of Peregrines and ten Runabouts – and ordered them to attack those Zerstoran ships from which broadcasts were not being received with pulsed-singularity torpedoes. But the real mission was not that, but instead to beam the POWs aboard the Runabouts if possible. If not, the sailors were to divert the Runabouts to the same mission of attacking everything else but the ships on which the men where still stranded as de-facto hostages.

Alpha Volantis

Things did not look good for the populace of Alpha Volantis. The fleet was less than 3 light minutes out, and across the hulls of the largest vessels in the fleet, the longguns were spewing their silent fire.

Elsewhere, the fleet was preparing for counterattack. Gravitational distortion FTLi, a concept rather novel to this galaxy and likely entirely unfamiliar to the Romulans, was being established in a field roughly one light hour around the fleet; enveloping Alpha Volantis and most of the surounding space. Hopefully this would suppress any FTL based planetside weaponry that could be directed at the Trailarii from this distance, as well as keep the Romulans from practicing the same worldkilling "territory denial" tactic the UFP had displayed on the western front.

After the first battery of triple-densened tungsten shells landed in literally random spots on Alpha Volantis, the FTL projected from the Hiveship would be slaved to the other warships slipstream drives, and blink long enough for them to make the short jump to near-Volantian atmosphere.
====================================================================
Beta Volantis

The wedge re-formed and once more became on the move, driving for the planet. Eight of the eleven Hiveships had arranged themselves in a delta around the front of the wedge, their space-compression fields seeking to soak up as many munitions as possible. The invasion fleet lagged a safe distance behind, not wanting to close until the assault fleet had wrestled a small section of the Beta Volantian atmosphere from the Romulans. It wouldn't be long now..but a few scant hours..

Romulan Front

The Romulans have been methodical. Before their invasion, they re-opened connections with Tal Shiar operatives in the Federation. Information about trade routes, protective installations, and weaponry was being re-evaluated for that war that the Romulan Star Navy had always trained for, has always wanted.

But the Romulans did not forget their other interests. They sent out messages to the Balroggans, asking them to act as mediators between them and the other aliens that were, even now, attacking their worlds. They were smart enough to realize the different species even now laying waste to the Galaxy were connected.

For Alpha Volantis was ravaged – the reports stated that over 100,000 people were killed in the first salvos alone, and nobody knew exactly how many more the Trailarii had killed later. Alpha Volantis was, in fact if not yet in law, lost to the Star Empire.

On Beta Volantis, too, the Trailarii plowed easily through the last remnants of the fleet, their spatial distortion field almost a perfect protection. Soon, the ground landing would likely begin…

Vega

“Sir, enemy fighters incoming”
“How many?”
“82, several of which are larger than the rest”
Fendal smirked. He wasn’t going to allow the UFP to take advantage of one of his weaknesses more than once.
“After this, I’m going to be talking to the Sternsieglich about having anti-teleporter defences placed on smaller vessels. I’m sure the Sternkrigerlich would also like to hear my suggestions for keeping his troops safer, as well”.
“Your orders, sir?”
“Have the four Helgarr class frigates target the larger fighters. How many interceptors do we have?”
“We have quite a few bombers and attack fighters, but we only have about ninety Hellsinger interceptors”
“Launch eight 3-ship wings. We won’t be here much longer and intelligent reports suggest that their fighters are rather lacking compared to ours. Just have them fly cover for our group, they won’t be fool enough to split their forces”.
“Yes sir”.
“Oh, and have the Konata frigates initate stealth and attack. Hellbringers too.”

The Starfleet fighters had a serious issue to contend with: they were quite few in number to attack a Destroyer and Frigate hunter killer group, and they had to split their force in order to engage the Zerstorendarian ships moving to attack. The six Konata class frigates engaged stealth and completely disappeared from the small sensors on the fighters, leaving only a ripple in space for a non-existent visual profile. The fighters decided to focus on the SVD Fulcum and its four frigate escorts.

The four Hellgarr frigates were designed for versatility, and among their varied armaments were flak batteries, anti-fighter beams, point defence guns, and missile launch bays. The missile tubes could be fired with two types of missiles, and while the anti-capital missile stockpiles were larger, there were still more than enough anti-fighter/corvette missiles to handle under a hundred enemy fighters. The Hellsinger interceptors, built for speed and equipped with reliable shields as well as a variety of energy, kinetic and explosive weaponry, were also in defensive formations in preparation for the UFP fighters.

The SVD Fulcrum, a Claymore class combat Destroyer, was simply armed with more of everything the frigates had. It easily had the firepower of the four frigates combined and was the epicenter of the Zerstorendarian defences. There was almost no chance of the fighters causing any meaningful damage, and Fendal had something special in mind in regards to UFP teleportation technology.

Just before the UFP fighters engaged the Fulcrum and its escort, the Konata attack frigates and accompanying Hellbringer teams opened fire on the UFP warships. The UFP, possessing adequate but not state-of-the-art sensory equipment, had their defences thrown off by the long-ranged attacks of the frigates. By the time the Konata frigates were revealed completely, they had already begun their attack.

Konata class frigates were capital ship killers, designed to do exactly what they were doing: strike hard and fast with everything they had. Numerous lances of energy reached out toward the UFP ships, the majority of them hitting hard as the Starfleet ships maneuvered to respond. Powerful missiles were launched toward the UFP ship from a long but practical distance, the slight surprise of the attack also working in the Sternsieg’s favour. As the UFP Warships moved to initiate damage control, protect their casualties, and fire back, the Hellbringer boarding teams burned toward the closest UFP ships.

“The enemy fighters will reach the combat zone in forty seconds. Reports from the attack force also report some damage on the UFP fleet, which has yet to respond meaningfully. The boarding teams are also in the final phase of their approach. Enemy confusion is at moderate levels, but we should have the time we need.” The First Officer’s report was quickly delivered, as was Fendal’s reply:
“Excellent. Assure them they will not be forgotten by Zerstorendar. Now is there any word from engineering?”
“They re-“ Another deck officer approached, saluted, and began talking over the First Officer, receiving a stiff glare of annoyance from both listeners:
“My apologies, but the escapee’s have begun attempting to transmit to their fleet.”
“Scramble it and let them send. They’ll probably try it again”.
“Yessir”. The Officer sprinted to his station to begin executing the Captain’s orders.
“As you were saying?”, Fendal asked his First Officer.
“Engineering reports that they have successfully reverse-engineered the enemy teleportation technology and combined it with our own teleporters.”
“So can we do what the Chief Engineer suggested? Pluck their pilots out of their own fighters?”
“If they come within range, yes.”
“After this is over, tell that grimy bastard he’s just been promoted”.

And then the Federation made its move. It was unprecedented. Never before in this war had Federation ships unleashed this much firepower with such little vessels. Just as the fighters got within range, they began to fire their torpedoes. Each of these vessels had eight pulsed singularity torpedo mounts.

Some of the vessels were chewed up by enemy beam weapons. Enemies tried to beam pilots off the fighters, but discovered Federation shielding did not allow teleportation. And then, the remaining craft – those not aimed at the hostage-carrying ship – launched full spreads of torpedoes.

480 torpedoes were launched in total, aimed at the enemy frigates and cruisers. It was of course understood that it wouldn't kill the entire enemy fleet – but if the Captain was right, it would damage it most seriously.

Not all Bajorans were thankful to the Kanuckistani charity workers for their deeds – and surely few of them liked the Allaneans.

The results were ominous, and soon began spectacular.

A man rolled a gravitic grenade into a tent where several Kanuckistani nurses were helping Bajoran injured.

A day after, an Allanean charity worker was shot and killed by a sniper with a phaser rifle.

Two days afterwards, a mine was planted on a road where an Allanean convoy was passing.

On and on it went, dozens of small groups born almost on a weekly basis, Cardassian-era resistance cells reborn and new ones founded.

Bajor's civilization was not going down without a fight.

While no one honestly expected Bajorian insurgents to attack civilian medics from neutral nation, they weren't stupid; war zones such as Bajor so recently was - was apparently becoming once more - were not safe places no matter who you were.

Most staff were already teleoperating avatars - a practice common enough even in safe day jobs, the ultimate in telepresence, and incredibly useful in the Land of FTLi; it's application to hazardous occupations was obvious.

And so it was relatively easy to phase out 'live' personnel for avatars, impacting operations only slightly - most were still willing to take the risk, of course, but in most cases they weren't permitted to work in the more exposed areas without teleoperating from somewhere safe, in the hope that, with Kanuckistani lives removed, their Bajorian patients wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

Security, however, was left in the hands of Allanea dirtside; they were here to save and improve lives, and although there was some discontent, they weren't about to take sides in an occupation if it could be avoided.

Vega

The Federation fighters launched a volley of missiles a few magnitudes more formidable than Captain Fendal had expected. Before the thought that the UFP had vastly upgraded their technology recently had fully formed, he was busy initiating damage control and scrambling further fighter wings to defend against the heavily armed enemy fighters.

480 singularity torpedoes were targeted by wide-spreads of flak cannons as Anti-fighter beams and kinetic weapons blasted the now unarmed Federation fighters into far smaller components. Prompted by the neural flight combat AI implants, the Interceptors immediately targeted the torpedoes that were a threat to their escorts. Targeted by dozens of AI-calcuated flask screens, hundreds of pointed defence systems, and over a score veteran fighter pilots with fast engines and even faster weapons, the torpedoes did not have the impact they might have had against a less well-equipped naval force.

Still, not all of them could be stopped. The shields of the SVD Fulcrum nullified the few impacts on it, but the shielding systems on the smaller frigates were not as powerful and quite a few missiles impacted on their hulls. One frigate was destroyed outright, vital systems impacted upon heavily by the torpedoes. Another frigate narrowly avoided destruction by ingeniously manoeuvring out of the most dangerous impact vectors. The entire bridge, as a result, was destroyed, and the ship was immediately evacuated as the survivors made their way on escape pods to the Fulcrum, protected by further scrambled Sternsieg fighters.

Both remaining frigates suffered heavy impacts, and it was only by the blessing of Tereza that the crews of both of the frigates was able to keep the foldspace engines active for FTL travel. Casualties were heavy, but the Federation fighters had missed their chance: they would not be able to rescue their captured brethren, and the Zerstorendarian ships would not allow any to escape.

Having exhausted their payloads in a powerful and effective, though not successful, attack on Fendal’s escort, there was little the Federation pilots could do as the Fulcrum and her sister ships responded in kind.

Fendal’s orders were succinct: “Destroy them, and scavenge what you can. We’re not going to be here much longer. Oh, and make sure our prisoners are comfortable”
“Konata attack frigates and Hellbringer attack teams report that the Starfleet is recovering from their casualties and is about to respond”.
“Tell them they will be remembered.”

Vega

Now, the Federation fighters were subjected to a hellish attack. Within minutes, over half of them ceased to exist, turned into vapor, debris, and plasma as the Fulcrum and its sister ships opened their personal cans of whoopass. Enemy fighter wings began to enter range, quite likely expecting to deliver killing blows on an absolutely defenseless target.

But it turned out not to be so – for once they entered beam weapon range, it turned out the Federation fighters, too, were equipped with Kanuckistani-made ESUS-grade fighter-combat beam weapons -and now, they were using them, as a last resort. As previously planned, most of the fighters were only a diversion anyway – and the rescue team homed in on the POW-holding ship. Within seconds they'd be in range for transporter lock – or so they hoped.

And in the meanwhile, the UFP ships kept closing in on the enemy frigates.

“Captain, we are in range for another torpedo salvo.”

“Very well. Four hundred torpedoes, divide between the survivors, exclude the one with our men on it. On my mark... fire!”

Vega

The Hellbringer boarding craft approached close enough to the UFP ships to be fired upon accurately, and the Hellbringers themselves grimly accepted that none of them would survive this mission, and many would not even make it to the enemy ships. The UFP ships launched formidable amounts of firepower against the forty boarding craft, precisely aimed beams and point defence systems destroying the majority of the boarding craft. About ten made it alive to two of the UFP ships, unleashing roughly 100 supersoldiers onto the ships. The Hellbringers were angry: they would cause a lot of carnage.

They stalked through the UFP ships as quickly as their powersuits allowed them to (which was very quickly), killing and destroying everything they encountered. In such hostile conditions many things did not go to plan, but the Hellbringers slew remarkable numbers of UFP men and women and made quite a mess of the ships they were on.

Vega

Rapidly, the Hellbringer crews spread through the Federation ships, bringing havoc and destructino wherever they went. Their weapons plowed straight through internal energy fields, harvesting dozens of lives. The intermediate phaser weapons and TR-116 rifles of Federation troops could do them little harm, and so, at first, it seemed success would be on their side. But that was not to be.

On all decks where intruders have been spotted, replicators kicked in, simply producing small automated phaser turrets in the shelves where food is normally expected to be deposited – and these turrets fired a much more powerful blast than an ordinary phaser rifle. Elsewhere, troops with heavy phasers were deployed – these were actually able of punching through powered armor. And finally, the real weapon kicked in.

The starships' computers started scanning for intruders, locking onto their coordinates, and transporting them. Seemingly, they were being beamed out – but they weren't being beamed in anywhere. Transporter Code 14 was utilized – simply dematerializing the men during transport.

Grossly outnumbered, unsupported, with no plan of attack and having no advantage of surprise, as well as being under attack from literally everywhere at once, the Hellbringers began to take casualties and found that they were mostly stalled in their advance. Basic suit defences minimized the casualties from Federation teleporters and extremely formidable suit shielding allowed many men to survive the storms of heavy weapons fire lashing against them, while the inhuman reflexes granted by the combat AI of the armour suits allowed them to avoid more of the enemy fire with seemingly impossible speed. Even the enemy infantry with heavy weapons, as normal men, were still not nearly prepared to fight the elite Zerstorendarian marines. Accurate railpistol fire obliterated the Federation Marines, and many of enemy soldiers could not even react fast enough to stop the Hellbringers from shearing limbs and heads off with energy blades.

Markedly superior as they were to Federation soldiers, however, the Hellbringers were nonetheless thwarted by the teleportation technology of the Federation. Their suits' AI's attempted to compensate, but the Hellbringers one by one began to disappear, while more fell to the weapons of their foes. In a last ditch effort at distraction for the main fleet, the Hellbringers planted explosives in every remotely strategic section of the enemy ships, from armouries to sleeping quarters to power generators, and detonated them. The Hellbringers had done their duty.

OOC: *Shocks RP with defibrillater* Breathe damn you! Balrogga, I need a post regarding your guys telling my guys to not slaughter the Romulans wholesale.

A short message was sent to the Trailarii forces through the Battlenet, being the fastest way to contact another ESUS member. The message was short but intriguing.

Romulans wish to parley, will set up meeting over Battlenet in 4 hours.

The Ta’Nar knew that would be the right amount of time to allow their ally time to gather all the info they needed so they could make the best deal with the Romulans as was possible. The Ta’Nar would step out of the negotiations once contact was made; they were only the facilitators here, not the enforcers. If the Trailarii government wasn’t able to make a deal with the Romulans, it was not any business of the Ta’Nar. They were both adults and could be expected to play nicely together.

When the appointed time approached, the chief Romulan diplomat was relayed through the transmitter into the secure connection the Battlenet provided. We only watched while the others talked.

Even as the Trailarii negotiated with the Romulans, the Allaneans sent out a single message – to all ESUS forces in the new Galaxy, and the Romulan Star Empire as well. It was encrypted six ways from Sunday, and it was short.

"We have discovered a fatal weakness in the Federation's defenses. There is a certain start near the Sol system, and that star is orbited by a habitable planet that is key to the Federation's resupply network. One blow against it, and they're all going to hell in a handbasket. Upon your confirmation of this message, we will distribute the location of this system."

“What the hell?”

“Yes, they encrypted it to high hell and then broadcast it to everyone.”

“Why the hell didn’t they use the Battlenet. It can’t get more secure than that.”

“We never claimed they were even close to being Class D minds, who knows how those think that don’t even fit in our scale.”

“Reply to them using the Battlenet. If it is a trap and they are disguising regular signals as Allenean then repling back using the secure Battlenet will provoke several WTFs from the real Alleneans. That would expose any fraudulent attempts on the federation to draw us to a single kill zone. It is best to not make anything easy for them. Also begin plans for Divine Retribution. I want it ready to go off at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes Sir, I will begin immediately. How large of a response do you wish?”

“Something small, about a hundred.”

“I understand. I will draw up plans using the data from the captured starbase computers.”

“Make contingency plans for larger responses in case we need them.”

“Right away.”

After the Allaneans received the Balroggan response, they shrugged, and then sent out an apology for not using Battlenet resources.

There is a system called Alpha Centauri. Most Federation military-industrial supplies flow through it. The Dominion believed it's destruction would cripple Starfleet. We go there, we then go to Sol. With our transport, we can strike with ease.

Vega

The explosions ripped through several Federation ships, causing severe damage. Eight ships were destroyed outright, and two more critically disabled. But the Federation pushed back, hard.

Their ships charged towards the Zerstorendari ships at full acceleration power, launching full torpedo spreads at anything that remained alive.

They did not know that, far away, the Romulans were even now signing the deal to turn two worlds over to the Trailarii in return for alliance – and that their fate was almost sealed already.

Vega

Having caused serious damage to the UFP fleet, the six Zerstorendarian frigates and the surviving Hellbringers died knowing they had done everything that could have been expected of them. Against the massed firepower of so many upgraded-UFP ships, the six frigates could not last long and though they held on for as long as they could, their fate was assured. Every man of the attack force perished, very few of them with anything but satisfaction in their minds. Tereza would smile upon them.

Captain Fendel, knowing his own ships were damaged,that he had lost the six frigates of the distraction force, and that there was no longer any reason for him to stay in UFP space, gave two orders. The first was to activate the foldspace engines and get the hell out of there, hoping that the UFP ships would not follow with their own FTL systems. The second was to order the Hellbringer Lich to do what he had been waiting to do since the UFP prisoners had first ‘escaped’.

Before the UFP ships could close to firing range, they received a transmission from the comms room where their Starfleet comrades had been in contact with them since their ‘escape’.

A Zerstorendarian Hellbringer fully armoured, slightly bulkier than a normal human and far more physically capable, could be seen holding one of the Starfleet officers up by the throat. He spoke:
“Your officers will now pay for our losses today. And you will watch”.
The Hellbringer crushed the man’s throat until blood spilled from where the superhuman’s metallic fingers pierced the skin, and the Starfleet officer’s eyes rolled back into his head as his entire body began to seize up. A sharp twist, and the man’s neck was broken. The Hellbringer turned to the screen:
“You have lost the war, you just don’t know it yet. The ESUS is powerful and believe it or not, there are more unpleasant members than we.”
The Hellbringer beckoned to somebody off-screen, and another terrified looking Starfleet officer was thrown into view. The man was sweating profusely, his lips were quivering and his whole body was shaking. He averted his eyes from the corpse on the ground, but was mute with terror. The Hellbringer grabbed the man’s arm and spoke once more:
“In Zerstorendar, one of the marks of a man’s worth is his pride in his achievements.” The Hellbringer pulled the smaller human off the ground to stare him in the eye:
“Are you proud of your achievements?” The Starfleet officer was completely incapable of speaking.
“Disappointing”.
The Hellbringer threw the man to the ground, and tore his arms off. The screaming man died as the Sternkrieger warrior crushed his skull into a thousand pieces under his powered boot. He then looked back toward the transmission screen:
“The stars belong to the strong. Ponder on that in the last days of your civilisation’s existence.”
The Hellbringer kicked the two corpses and arms out of view, leaving a huge amount of blood and debris:
“You fought well, but not well enough. You will regret letting us escape.”

Before the sickened UFP Commander could react, Captain Fendel had already engaged the foldspace engines and disappeared from sight. They could be followed, but he doubted the Federation would have the will to do so. That was their weakness.
The stars did indeed belong to the strong.

R’Lah was in his quarters when he received a message from one of his Commanders. It seems something was discovered that needed his attention. He put aside the star charts of the Federation showing several targets and stepped next door to the War Room he had created to handle all the aspects of the operation.

As he arrived, the door chirped letting him know his expected Tactical Officer was waiting outside. With a thought, he commanded the door to open and in stepped the Ta’Nar. Grand Admiral R’Lah could see immediately that something was wrong. Hell, he could feel it through the door.

“What is the problem? Come and sit down. Tell me what is so important it makes you tremble.”

The officer was so enraged; his projected form was actually flickering a bit. His commanding officer’s soothing tone and broadcast of calm slowly won through and allowed him to sit, his hands shaking a bit as R’Lah took the seat next to him.

“Please, speak so I can find out was the problem is. I cannot help unless you do.”

The emotions rolling through Officer By’Ake startled the Ta’Nar and as he felt anger, hate, and just about every negative emotion possible encompass the poor officer.

“They did it Sir, They are the ones that did it.”

“Did what?”

“They destroyed the ship. They are the ones that killed him. They are the ones we have been looking for.”

“You are not making any sense. Start over from the beginning.”

By’Ake trembled with rage as he fought the emotional dirge aside. He tried a couple times before finally succeeding.

“Sorry Sir, I was going through the captured data files from the starbase we absorbed. I found something in there, something horrible. They are the ones that did it.”

“Did what? What did you find?”

“I was going through the old archived ship logs and outdated ship models. I found something that appeared to look familiar. I did some additional searching and I found this.”

The officer touched a control and the holo-projector showed a ship, archaic in accordance with the ones the fleets used but it still retained the saucer shape with the engines reaching behind the ship. The saucer section appeared to be the main body and only struts for the engine nacelles reached away from it trailing behind. The projection slowly rotated to the right showing the ship from all angles.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“That class was mothballed a long time ago and few of the logs remain but there are a couple in the archives. Here is the one.”

By’Ake manipulated the counsel and words began to scroll next to the model. It appeared to be an old log detailing the interaction with an alien vessel. It stated the ship was on a covert mission and it was to “take all precautions to remain unseen” while exploring a temporary wormhole. They fired upon the alien vessel and then left the area while the explosion was still erupting.

“What about it? They destroyed some alien ship. That doesn’t explain why you are acting this way.”

“Look at this.”

By’Ake stopped the ship from rotating so it faced R’Lah. From this angle he could only see the saucer section and the engines were completely hidden. The Officer applied some filters that blurred the projection until it resembled an old grainy photograph. It did look somewhat familiar this way, he just couldn’t place where he has seen it.

http://img78.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/ufo.jpg

“Sir, compare it to this entry from when we first left the Sol System.”

By’Ake called up an old report from over thirteen hundred years in the Ta’Nar past. The data scrolled along the opposite side of the now blurry model than the log was displayed. It was a report about the death of The Divination and the loss of Bryce Galladu, the Warlord’s nephew. The official story was the ship was blown up in a freak accident. The real facts were discovered after a datacore of the ship was discovered after it was ejected. Within the battered device some sensor logs (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=6566523&postcount=14) were recovered, along with a single blurry and grainy photograph of the object that attacked and destroyed Captain Bryce’s ship.



R’Lah felt the life drain from his very being as he stared at two identical images. There was no mistaking them; it was the same ship that had destroyed The Divination. He felt absolutely empty as he stared dumbfounded at the pair of images. Slowly a burning fire began to rage within him as he realized what this meant, the vast implications.

“Return to your post and speak of this to nobody,” said R’Lah in a dead voice, “I must contact the Warlord.”

After the tormented officer left his quarters, the Ta’Nar remained staring at the display. A flood of thoughts erupted within his mind as he tried in vain to sort out what he saw. Still stunned by the news, he regained enough composure to be able to reach out and contact Nhur-Galladu.

My Warlord?

After a couple seconds, a familiar voice spoke warmly within his mind.

I am here. What news of the battle do you report?

T-t-the battle is perfect. They cannot resist our forces.

What is the problem?

I have dire news. Information has been located that bears your immediate attention.

R’Lah replayed his memory of the conversation he just had with By’Ake. He made sure every bit was relayed to the Warlord through the Ta’Nar Link.

Silence.

The bastards. They will pay…

Suddenly within the mind of every Ta’Nar, every Childer, and every Kython the voice of Nhur-Galladu spoke.

I have just been informed of a horrendous Truth, one that has been kept from us for over thirteen hundred years. I have just been shown information showing what happened to The Divination. I have just viewed proof of the identity of the Murderous nation. I know now who killed my nephew.

For their part in the murder of Bryce, I hereby pronounce a G’Than’Dehr is in effect upon the Federation. I evoke the right to eliminate them from existence. It is the duty of every being in Balrogga to bend their will to the utter destruction of this cowardly nation. They do not deserve clean deaths; hunt them down like the dogs they are. Destroy every last one of them or die trying. The G’Than’Dehr is now enforced. Restore the Honor of everyone who dies on The Divination. Kill them all.

Across known space, it seemed every sign of Balrogga disappeared. Ship after ship began to pour out of wormhole after wormhole. Within an hour, every Ta’Nar ship had arrived.

The Federation is about to perish.

Vega

The Zerstorendan ships retreated from the field, but the Federation made no attempt to pursue. As far as they were concerned, victory was already theirs. Why engage in meaningless homicidal bloodlust? Besides, they now had a new ace up their sleeve.

For Earth had received communications from the Federation's most recent allies, the Gorn. A fleet was being prepared. Soon, soon, the UFP would receive reinforcements – plenty of ships, armed with the newest weapons sold by the Kanuckistani (though the name 'Kanuckistani' was not known yet), and prepared to fight. There were rumors, of course, of skirmishes with Romulan forces breaking out along the border, but that was minor compared to the big threat of these strange aliens that kept attacking everywhere. And either way – the new technology, combined with Gorn assistance, would help deal with it all.

“Contact Allenea.”

“Yes Sir”

“Send them the message I am forwarding to your station.”

“Sending Sir. Message sent over the Battlenet.”

“Good, prepare a thousand targets. Eliminate any claims based upon the movements of our allies and draw up plans for attacks. I want them done yesterday.”

Several Ta’Nar hurrying off to do their jobs.

Allanea

We will be providing a massive diversionary tactic. We will meet you at the target you specified with the more powerful ships of our fleet. Please give us a couple days to get into position covertly.

In Orbit above Bajor

Alexander Kazansky paced back and forth upon the deck of the Presidential Yacht. Officially, he was still on his vacation – and if vacation included helping DREAD test some new and perverse weapon systems upon the Bajoran insurgents, why, so much the better.

The new and perverse weapon, in this case, involved three tall, green-painted robots, looking vaguely like a man in round-helmeted armor. They were powered by chlorofusion reactors, and partly inspired by the technologies of other ESUS nations. They packed giant rifles not at all unlike those used by infantry, and firing a selection of 120mm shells the way a regular rifle fires bullets. They were set to deploy via orbital drop at Kazansky's orders.

But, of course, as always with these things, there was a small snag.

“What do you mean he does not want to pilot it?” - Kazansky barked at his assistant. - “What the fuck is this shit? What is this, Knootoss or something?”

“I don't know.” - the Junior Lieutenant shrank back from the Fieldmarshal of Allanea - “He said he could not bear to make himself shoot at other sapients.”

For a few seconds, Kazansky stared in disbelief. “Explain.”

“He is a DREAD operative. He has never fired a shot in anger. When the time came, it seems...”

“Enough. Take me to him.”

* * *

The DREAD operative was sitting on the floor near Unit Beta, his knees pulled up to his face, his hands around his knees, weeping, as if hiding his head would stave off reality somehow. He wore no uniform – rather, a white shirt and light-blue pants, as fitting a DREAD working. He did not notice – or chose not to react – when Kazansky stood over him.

“Is it true that you don't want to fight?” - Kazansky's smile was almost unbelievably kind.

The young man just nodded.

“Why? Are you afraid?”

Headshake.

“So? Why not?”

“I don't want to kill anyone... I don't think I have that right... to take a human life like that...”

“You are... serious?” - the President asked, his tone becoming more hostile.

The pilot nodded, still sobbing.

Kazansky stared at the curled-up pilot , finally genuinely shocked. His eyebrows started climbing, his pupils dilating, his breath becoming deeper as he allowed rage to slowly overcome him.

“You do realize it's not only your life we're talking about here? Your friends are going to be dying out there if you don't protect them.”

“I don't care... it's not the same as me killing... and I can't kill.”

At this stage, Kazansky could barely restrain himself. “You... do fucking realize that as the President, I can function as my own court-martial in war zones? I can kill you for being such a cocksucking traitor, and it would be legal? Yes?”

The pilot nodded. “I don't care. I'm not doing it.”

Perhaps, in his last moments, he still believed that the President would simply nod and say “Okay, you don't have to.” Or maybe he genuinely didn't care.

Nobody would ever find out.

Kazansky kicked the young pilot in the shin, once, causing him to yelp in pain.

“As the Fieldmarshal of Allanea, Sword of the Queen, I am empowered by law to bring forth Allanea's Justice on the Battlefield wherever I see it lacking.”

He grabbed the pilot by his ears and kneed him in the face.

“I am empowered to punish cowardice.”

Two fast, powerful jabs impacted the DREAD official's face, breaking his nose and bruising his lips.

“I am granted the gift of total authority to judge, in the name of the Motherland, on the field of combat.“

Kazansky kicked the former mecha pilot in his chest, and heard a rib break.

“See? Now I make your stupid head explode.”

It was almost fascinating to watch the wreck of a human being curl up in the same pose he has stood in again, his knees again in front of his face, weeping even more forcefully now.

Kazansky leveled an ancient Browning Hi-Power at the youngster's head, pointing just above his eyebrows. “I hope I don't get any of you on me.”

He pulled the trigger. And again. And again. Within less than two seconds, the magazine has been empty.

The pilot's head had almost literally exploded – most of the brain case and upper half of the face were simply no longer there, and Kazansky still reloaded, pumping 13 more bullets into the body, which jerked as if it were alive as the jacketed hollow-points tore through it.

“We need another pilot.”

* * *

The three mecha – for this is indeed what they were – began to descend. Just like with orbital drop infantry, gravchutes slowed their descent to avoid overheating or downright crashes – but the ground still shook when they hit it, only half a mile outside a Bajoran guerilla encampment. They were escorted by actual orbital drop infantry, and of course, Kazansky himself led the forces.

Above him, he heard the roar of the giant 'assault rifles', and he saw the Bajorans fire beam weapons back – but without any effect. Several rebels tried to charge him – he took them down with that same ancient weapon with which he executed the traitor.

This, he decided, was just the way to spend the vacation. The anger he had felt from meeting that miserable excuse of a human had begun to evaporate.

And then, the headphones on the Command Armor came alive.

“What? The Balroggans? Very well. I approve of their plan. Tell them we are fine with them doing what they think is right to destroy the enemy. The Federation must fall.”

He turned to the orbital troops that were escorting him and shouted, pointing his Hi-Power at the Bajorans. “Forward! No Compromise, No Mercy, No Surrrender!”

And his secretaries in orbit heard that, too, and recorded it as part of his message to the Balroggans.

As, in fact, he intended.

My People. Sons and Daughters of Olympus. As of this moment, we are in a state of total war. We now fight for our survival, our homes, and our children whom we left in our own galaxy. Here, now, we are embroiled in a conflict from which we cannot with honor withdraw, and thus desecrate the sacrifices of Free Greeks who have given their lives to establish our foothold here. The story of this conflict is in its final chapters. Let us drive the spear to the enemies heart. It is imperative that we do this with all haste.

Our ancient and hated enemies, the Shivan swarms, gather now to invade our soil. We cannot allow this to come to pass. Our allies have located the enemies foundries and shipyards, the black beating heart of this godless Federation. We know where they are. We know they have entrenched. They are hiding.

Cowards.

Gather to me, my Children, and in the name of Zeus let us be done with this accursed galaxy and its infidelity. Withdraw the Legica from their scattered engagements, and gather here at Volantikos, for now we end this. We shall destroy this Federation and its false emperor. We shall cast down their idols and burn their worlds with holy fire! Already, I have dispatched what I can to guard our Homeworld. The Shivans have flanked us; let us strike down these meaningless swine here so that we may turn our shields against the coming Shivan tide, so that they may break against our spears like water against rocks.

Every Hoplite hoist your shield and spear. Every vessel to Alpha Centauri.

Make haste. Greeks are dying.

The voice of the Emperor boomed epically across every vessel and base in this brave new galaxy, an inspiration to every true Greek. Nearly five thousand capital vessels of the line were gathering in Volantikos, their slipstream drives destined for the UFP industrial system.

Lets finish this.

Bajoran Orbit, Fifteen minutes after the Trailaric announcement

In orbit, there was motion. Upon the hulls of the giant, wedge-shaped assault carriers, titanic launch bays began to open, disgorging vast amounts of fighters and ground attack vessels - from the Vigilante orbital air support craft to the aerospace Durandale fighter and the Anger class gunships.

They made their descent, the atmosphere screaming against their massive hulls as they arced out towards their targets. No doubt, many Bajoran children would take these for shooting stars, and perhaps make a wish.

"This is Beast-6, I have targets in my scope, permission to fire."

"This is Annie-One. Identification code Alpha, Alpha, Ultima."

There was silence, suddenly. This was the President's personal callsign.

"Gentlemen, this is President Kazansky speaking. I want you to take the utmost care to kill as little civilians as possible - but I want the insurgents dead. I want you to go to those spots on the map where there is insurgent activity, and I want you to do your level best to kill the ugly commie bastards - and try not to kill their loved ones and families doing it. Other than that limitation - go out, and kill. We must weaken the insurgents as much as possible before we begin our assault on Alpha Centauri, the transportation and industrial hub of the Federation. Let the Gods you believe in be your aid. Beast Six - and everybody else - you are clear to fire."

On the very outskirts of Jo'kala, in the south of the Janiza Province, in Kendra Province, the gunships struck all at once. The insurgents fought - bravely, it must be said, and sometimes effectively. Sometimes, an unhappy gunship would wander into the range of Kanuckistani ground-to-air missiles, or a fighter would be taken down by a heavy ground-to-orbit rocket.

But below, there was utter violence. Insurgent camps, caves, entire forests would be overtaken at once by sheets of roaring, flames as Composition F was put into action. A sort of experimental napalm spawn-off out of the deepest recesses of DREAD, it burned at temperatures hot enough to melt through vehicle armor if you used enough of it - and preciously little was required. Most of those exposed to it were turned to ashes within seconds.

Where napalm could not reach, five-ton octo-cellulose bunker busters would do the job. The Allaneans could not reach those hidden in the deepest mountain caves, but they wouldn't try, either. The plan was not to completely defeat the insurgency, but to weaken it enough to free up forces for the great offensive.

In the cities, bombs were not used, so as to limit civilian casualties. There would be another method.

Special operations teams, camouflaged, in some places, as local workers, in others, as peaceful aid volunteers, in yet others, simply protected by ultra-heavy powered armor, burst into the houses of rebel leaders, or attacked them in bars and restaurants were they were known to dine, or at their places of work. Sniper rifles, grenades, and heavy bolters were the chosen methods of execution.

And Kazansky watched, and smiled as he prepared his new strike. But first, the final assault had to come.

At a pre-chosen second, the missile cruisers Saint Cuthbert, Kaela Mensha Khaine and St. George positioned themselves at three points in orbit of Bajor, selected for maximum coverage, and fired their missile payloads all at once.

These were mostly kinetic kill missiles, limited deliberately in payload, but extremely numerous. In remote areas, where one could strike an insurgent without killing a civilian, Kazansky escalated to clear thermonuclear weapons.

In general, if an insurgent outpost, camp, or even moving team was detectable from orbit, it would be targeted in the raids.

And then, when the final missiles were fired, the ships began to enter hyperspace once more.

A token garrison would be left of course, but right now, Allanea needed to reach for another location.

The ships were ordered to enter realspace again in the outmost reaches of the Alpha Centauri system.

Soon, the fight would begin in earnest.

What the ESUS soldiers and sailors do not realize - what nobody yet realizes - is that the system is, actually, rather well defended.

For the Gorn are now here. Ten thousand ships - and further, Federation and Klingon vessels, most of them already updated by the Kanuckistani - the combined fleet is almost twenty thousand ships strong.

This going to be an actual fight - and the Federation is on the defensive, and it is literally fighting for it's life.

There will be no dirty trick unused, no weapon untried, no shot unfired.

Twenty four hours later

Speak did the Traileric battle-plan AI, codenamed Merlin

"All Legica, disengage slipstream drives."

Approximately 34 AU from Alpha Centauri, what seemed to be a numberless wall of brilliant points of light flared into existence. Half the navy of the Traileric nation had made the jump.

"We have arrived at our destination. Initial area scans indicate that no allied forces have arrived. We are alone in the water. I am still assembling an area map. Raise shields and assume formations."

As one, the mighty fleet began its long, arduous march. Smaller vessels slid easily amongst the super-caps, arranging themselves in a parade formation, smallest in the front, largest to the rear. Weapons were thus far powered down, and missiles locked in their bays.

At the rear of the formation, the broad, sickeningly green compressed-space shields raised, extended to max parameters to envelope even the lesser sloops at the very lead of the formation.

The battleline had drawn itself into something that resembled a gigantic delta, now pinwheeling toward the last known location of Federation emplacements. They knew They were out there, somewhere, hiding in the blackness. What remained to be seen was where they were and in what numbers.

..Lets entice them.

From the bridge of the Emperor's own Colossus Hadriel, around which the rest of the fleet formed, the Emperor himself spoke the first words to be broadcasted from the Trailarii to the UFP. It was a short message first in the Trailers Greek dialect then in Basic, but laden with doom.


Emeis eroto och'triminia. Emeis erokrates och'triminia.

We ask no quarter. We hold no quarter.

In an unidentified corner of the Federation, a telepathic conversation was being held over The Link between Nhur-Galladu and his Admirals.

Are all the ships in position?

Yes, we have sent them secretly through T-Space to their targets and waited for the signal.

Are the ships properly prepared for the attack?

Yes, we have followed your orders to the letter, even mounting the temporary single use launchers on the ships. The initial volley will number nearly a hundred singularities even with the Frigates.

Is Stage Two set in motion?

Yes, the ships will rendezvous with the ESUS vessels for the secondary attack.

How about Stage Three?

The Dreadnaughts are ready.

Then lets get this started. Send the signal for Stage One of Divine Retribution.


Across the Federation over a thousand different worlds, mostly ones heavily populated or ones containing military targets a single ship faded into view as it Emerged into Real Space from T-Space. The Ta’Nar vessels were mostly single Infernal Frigates with the remainder being Interceptor Destroyers. Within moments of their appearance, local sensors were blinded by the sudden appearance of a stellar mass at the upper envelope of the planet. Alarms went off and the technicians tried to recalibrate their sensors. What they saw when the sensors came back on made them wish the things were still broken. Over a hundred singularities were popping into existence, each zeroing onto individual targets as the invader continued to launch volley after volley at any moving targets and the planet itself.

This was happening at every main system of the Federation and within thirty seconds, the first singularities had eaten their way through the atmosphere and slammed into the surface. The atmospheric disruptions were monstrous as a hundred singularities devoured the precious oxygen mixture during their passage. Air currents were disrupted by the displacement and the weather went absolutely chaotic.

Then they hit the surface.

The very planet trembled as a hundred singularities hit at separate intervals, carving holes through anything they touched. They continued downward until they hit the core, then the reactors fueling the singularities imploded, causing the power feeding the energy based singularities to fail and the singularity to rupture, spilling all the mass it devoured in the form of massive explosions of hard radiation..

The attacker ships just faded away, going back where they had come from while massive explosions caused huge craters to be ejected into the atmosphere accompanied by hard radiation. The molten mantle was given over a hundred escape routes to expand and it took advantage of these. Magma poured out into the newly evacuated craters and spewed onto the surface.

This happened on a thousand different worlds of the Federation, each flooding Starfleet with emergency demands.

"Holy…"

A wave of fear and destruction swept through the Federation as the Balroggans hit multiple worlds at once. But it was nothing like what the Balroggans expected. For the Federation worlds maintained a variety of defenses – tractor beams to deflect the singularities away, and on some major planets – shields to protect the surface.

Sure, some would make it to the surface, and millions would die in the carnage. Eventually – the Federation would fall, sooner rather than later. For the Admirals have made an error, exposing most of their worlds to attack to protect Sol and Alpha Centauri – no doubt, they would pay for this error. But for now, the damage would be very limited, as compared to what the Balroggans wanted.

For now, now Starfleet still stood, and with Starfleet, the Federation lived.

Even now, thousands of ships – Federation ships, Klingon ships, and most importantly, Gorn ships, prepared to close ranks. They were not willing to go out to the Trailarii and engage them in battle – for they would remain by Alpha Centauri and fight.

It was their duty, above all else, to protect the shipyards. Let the surface be struck, let the planet burn, but the shipyards must remain intact. Thus were their orders.

The very conscience of Starfleet officers, dedicated to the protection of sapient life seemed to rebel against this – but the officers did not. For they knew that much more than the mere lives of the citizens of Alpha Centauri was at stake.

The very existence of the entire Federation, the lives of all its citizens – that was what was at stake here, and they could not afford to give that up – not even for the price of the lives of all men, women, and children of Alpha Centauri.

No.

They would wait for the enemy to come to the shipyards, and they would fight them there.

Only a single strike was launched at the enemy- one that did not require them to move.

At one of the research stations in-system, a powerful soliton wave was generated and fired, aiming at the Trailarii vessels.

As it traveled, it accelerated in subspace, reaching speeds far greater than mere lightspeed, and building up more and more force…

OOC:


As requested, continuing my attack description including things asked for by the OP.





IC:


The singularities fall like Messengers of Death, devouring anything in their path they began to spin. As the doomed civilians tried to shoot tractor beams or missiles, the energies were simply absorbed by the 5 meter event horizon leading the body of the torpedo through the atmosphere. As they hit shielding, the singularity would absorb as much energy that would come into contact with it, possibly punching a hole right through before the trailing torpedo body would have a chance to contact the energy barrier.

Any that reached the ground would fall through the crust leaving a smooth 5 meter hole straight down. When it dropped through into the molten core, the magma would finally reach the torpedo body.

While this seems like a good thing, it really wasn’t.

As matter falls past the Schwarzschild radius, it is drawn through the singularity and compressed while simultaneously being ripped apart the shredding of matter would eventually reach a point it was tearing apart the atomic structure to pass through the point of singularity itself, this effectively turning matter into energy to be contained within the maw. The problem is when you remove the artificial device holding the thing together; there is nothing to hold in all that energy.

All that energy and matter converted to energy would be released as hard gamma radiation.

Now, the energy released in a nuclear device is only from a couple kilograms of material. Imagine if it was tons of matter instead. One of the most powerful explosions in the universe is marked by Gamma Ray Bursts (GRB). The emissions from the core of a black hole collapsing in upon itself can be seen several galaxies away and leave entire worlds sterilized in their path. While these are not a true spinning collapsar, the short blurts GRB is remarkably similar and although short lived and highly destructive.

In years, the night sky would light up with hundreds to thousands of short GRB emissions. They would all curiously be located in one single area of the cosmos, an area of planets that nobody would travel to being there was still too much radiation sterilizing the ravaged surfaces. Nobody would remember why it had happened or how it was caused. They would only know something horrible had happened there and marred the Blight afterwards. Perhaps the Gods themselves were the ones responsible.

The Infernal Frigates and the Interceptor Destroyers did not stick around to see the damage; they had Uplifted and fled knowing the energy burst were going to happen. They did not want to be around when they hit, the ships had a better place to be.

All across the Federation, thousands – nay, millions and billions of men – screamed in final anguish as Balroggan weapons did their nefarious work. Here was a single blow, satanic in its power, such that the very Klingon warriors of old would stand in awe in its might, a blow that would surely cripple the Federation's worlds for centuries to come – if their very civilization survived the blow – and there were yet many enemies to contend with.

The barbaric Allaneans, the unfeeling Mekkantans, the vengeful Telrosians, the militaristic Trailarii, all were now here, and their swords were all stretched out towards the very heart of the Federation.

Even as over ten billion Federation citizens breathed their last breath, even as billinos more were crippled or left without homes, even as hundreds of worlds were stripped free of all life, the Fleet fought still, and the Federation's allies were still fighting.

They felt – they believed – they hoped – they knew. They would prevail.

Because the Federation always prevails.

Unfortunately for the Federation, this time the histories would be written by a different victor.

In Alpha Centauri, the Federation was making its final stand.

Thirty or forty picket ships had been posted several light minutes ahead of the combined Legica, and by the time they realized what was going on, it was too late to run or take evasive actions. One by one, they were swept into the particlestorm and reduced to their base elements. There were no screams, there was no time.

Aboard the Colossus Hadriel

"Pull back, pull back! Recalibrate the compression fields for shield wall, get the frigates behind us! Dial fields to full compression matrix! On the double Greeks! I will not die here!"

The Emperor was roaring orders to the fleet from his Throneroom, and was obeyed instantly. The green hazy fields of light ballooned outward, encompassing the many smaller craft that had clustered near the supercapitals.

Then, the unstoppable force met the immovable object. The churning quantum broth of the soliton wave broke like water against the compression fields, appearing to enter a movie quality slow motion effect. The soliton field roared in all its fury on either side of the fleet, but that which would have been their doom slowed to a crawl before them. After a few minutes, the wave on either side had passed, leaving only that which had been trapped in compressed space.

"All vessels, set a bearing of one-six-eight-one-five-niner-eight-three-M and apply max thrust!" boomed the voice of the Hellenic Imperator.

In questionless obedience, the fleet slowly streamed over the trapped soliton wave, and once everyone had safely evaded its might. Then, the fields blinked, releasing the trapped energy to flow on harmlessly behind them.

"My lord I have reconfigured our FTL sensors to give us some advanced warning, in case they try something foolhardy like that again.", so spoke a cybernetic control Holder, stationed somewhere behind the Emperor's throne.

"Very good, Ecleaus, give me an engagement estimate.", the Emperor responded, stroking with one hand the part of his helm where his chin would otherwise be.

"Aye my lord, long range scanning array has acquired EM signatures matching known Federation starships. We are in range for a Skipper volley, but little else. I respectfully suggest a microjump." came the gravelly, metallic response.

"First, give them a volley. Show them that their gambit has failed."

"Aye sir, Skippers in the water."

Across the gathered fleet, thousands upon thousands of minuscule flashes of light could be seen as every vessel destroyer and up let fly a missile volley. The missiles raced foreward, as if toward a target, before jumping subtly into the slipstream. Within moments, they would cross the vast, 10 AU to the UFP vessels before dropping into realspace a few dozen kilometers from the closest Federation ship. Shortly after this retaliation strike, the fleet followed the example of the missiles and made the jump into the slipstream.

The bridge of the Miriel nos Feanor was never really big. It doubled as the bedroom and study of the ship's bedroom and sole crewmember, Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky. And now he was talking to the ship's computer.

"Forward towards enemy, full accel, all missile tubes fire!"

The nineteen-kilometer ship burst alive as 250 giant kinetic-kill missiles streaked out towards the Proxima Maintenance Yards.

"Uplink!" – the ship's communications reacted instantly, linking the President's very mind with BattleNet. His mind sent out the last commands, the last adjustments, the last codewords – and it began a second later.

The USS Teenage Rebellion and Pocket Ragnarok flushed their missile launch tubes simultaneously, focusing their fire on the Klingon vessels. Simultaneously, the Swift Retribution missile cruisers fired their weapons all at once, the space around them filling with Horizon Mk.XXVI hypervelocity missiles, the most excellent ZMI product. The vision was simple – target as many Federation vessels as possible, trying to destroy them before coming in close and finishing off the shipyards.

"This is Archangel Gabriel, the birds are away."

"This is Clanggedin Silverbeard, birds away."

"Pap-nigin-gara, birds away."

The Trailaric missiles hit first. The Kanuckistani-manufactured CIWS took some down, and perhaps some were destroyed by hitting shielding, but generally, the effects were devastating. Within seconds, all across the system explosions sounded as ships were taken down by close-up missile blasts.

The long-range Allanean missiles were less effective due to the range. Of the missiles targeted at the shipyards, only two hit their target, causing severe damage – the shipyards burned now – but the rest were plucked out of the 'sky' with CIWS. The kinetic kill missiles did somewhat more damage – about two hundred ships were now out of commission, and five hundred more damaged to various extent.

But now was payback time. At close range, the Federation started targeting the Trailarii with the Kanuckistani anti-matter rockets and singularity torpedoes. Because of their numeric superiority, they were now able to concentrate their fire.

At this close range, Kanuckistani-produced beam cannon would become far more effective, too, as a dozen ships would sometimes concentrate their fire on a single target.

* * *

And now it was the time for the Gorn to come into play.

Their ships had always been larger and more powerful than Federation vessels, and far more smartly designed. They were always an advanced civilization, capable of full-scale planetary shields and other interesting stuff – and now, with the new technology at hand, they were able of doing some serious damage.

Their ships were often quite as big as comparative Trailarii designs – and now they too, began to close in, about to engage in close combat.

Their formations were dense, enough to merge shjields and protect each other, and their firepower would make even the Facehuggerians shudder.

And then the entire ten-thousand-ship Gorn Armada fired at once.

The President of Allanea let forth a singe, brief curse as he saw that the Allanean weaponry was not even near as destructive as it was supposed to have been. He had expected the Federation's fleet to have been damaged, if not completely crippled – and the Federation continued to fight. And now there were the Gorn, too. A decision had to be made, now if the battle was to be won.

And he saw it – his decision, burning bright against the blackness that were the Gorn as a start against the blackness of space itself.

“Computer!” - he ordered. - “Plot a course directly to the shipyards! All crews, ready! We're going for a ride!”

There were some who doubted, of course. The enemy navy still fought on, and perhaps it would be still premature to charge for the shipyards when almost all of the Federation battleships were still here. But the officers of the fleet, it's captains and commanders and lieutenants, realized the same truth that Kazansky had realized – that should they destroy the Alpha Centauri Shipyards, the battle would be won – no matter what else happened. No matter how many of them died.

And so the navy burst forth like a gigantic sper, with the Presidential Yacht as the spearhead, bright-red, as if already dipped in the blood of Allanea's enemy. The spear burst forth, firing back at Federation ships but not engaging them in battle, charging forward towards the shipyards. The principle was now visible – and soon, the Federation troops would see it too.

“All heavy missile bays, fire at my command, target the shipyards! Fire!”

The entire Allanean Armada fired their arrays of heavy anti-ship and planetary bombardment missiles. It was as if a thousand new suns were born in the system, all at once, as the empty black sky lit up with the shining trails of thousands of missiles. And at once, the lighter – medium and lower – rockets were fired at the Federation's armada. That was, however, not the goal.

“Forward! No distraction, sailors! No retreat! Destroy the shipyards! Destroy the shipyards! Forward! Victory to the Union!”:

As the battle raged around the planet and the shipyards, a singular event would cause all to pause. As if on an unheard signal, multiple wormholes began opening simultaneously. There was not a couple dozen or nearly a hundred. There were literally over a thousand of them opening in a grand sphere formation around the entire battle.

Sensors and tracking computers were exposed to an immense wash of gravimetric energy hit from every direction as the ruptures in the space-time field tore themselves open. Ripples of sensor distortions spread inward concentrating upon the defender’s position, the planet, and the shipyards. Races used to the effects of multiple wormhole interferences would be amazed at the complexity needed to set up such an entrance. They also would be able to be some of the first to overcome any negative reactions caused in their sensors by the extraordinary display of exotic energies.

Those that knew them would realize the Ta’Nar had arrived.

From each wormhole a single ship emerged. Over a thousand frigates and destroyers in total arrived from their mission deep within the Federation itself. They were the cause of uncountable distress signals flooding the communications arrays of the Federation, causing them to fail when the military needed them the most. Messages for military maneuvers were lost among hundreds of official requests for immediate assistance from most of the Federation. It seemed like the entire place was hit at once, which it was. The bad thing is during the ten minutes it took to transverse their wormholes, the ships had rearmed and readied for combat.

Back where the main forces of the Invasion and Retribution had gathered, several more vessels had appeared and the remainder of the Ta’Nar ships exited T-Space where they were waiting while the battle started. These contained the Cruisers, Battleships, Carriers, and Dreadnaughts. The Fist and The Heart were also present, their immense size providing a backdrop for the other command vessels.

This is Warlord Nhur-Galladu of the Fallen Empire of Balrogga. We have come here to satisfy the conditions of G’Than’Dehr. Surrender to our enemies is definitely preferable to what we will do with you.

The message was abruptly cut off and the channel went dead. No further transmission was detected from any of the Ta’Nar ships by the defenders.

“Admirals, instruct the fleet to engage Space Minus Power taps and prepare to engage the enemy.”

“Yes Warlord. There are allied ships in the way for most of our area effect weapons.”

“Dammit, they were supposed to wait for the “distraction” and our arrival. We could have taken out most of the opposition with a Lockdown or even a Dimensional Rupture. Fuckin’ Meatbags ruined everything.”

“If the Fedies dwindle their numbers down we could wipe the whole battlefield clear.”

“Did you forget about the Battlenet? Someone might get some message off or an erroneous sensor transmission that could raise questions later. No K’Ing, we have to dirty our hands and go in. I want complete Infection Protocols released. Use everything to cripple those ships and then board any that survives. I want each life aboard extinguished by hand. The only ones that are to be spared are the ones that surrender to the other ESUS members. Set the Grav Torps failsafes to properly shut down so we don’t expose our allies down there, we don’t want a GRB to irradiate anyone important.”

For the sensors that were restored, they would be able to detect the Ta’Nar ships as having the mass shadow of a small sun and the power readings which would place even the small 60 meter frigate in a class of it’s own. Then the Power Taps were locked in. Each ebon vessel literally began to glow with energy as raw power from Space Minus flowed through its form. Energy arc jumped and leapt from the spines and spikes that adorned each vessel. A thousand small suns lit up the sky surrounding the battle and energy weapons began to charge.

The Allaneans intermediate-grade missiles had only grazed the fleet – but many ships were more than grazed. Two hundred more Federation warships, in fact, have become nothing but hulks of burning wreckage, drifting in space as the ejection pods sped away towards Alpha Centauri. But that was not the main blow that the Allaneans had landed.

The Shipyards simply ceased, hit with firepower of sufficient yield to end any sort of life in the entire system, yet concentrated on their exquisite, gossamer-like construction. There would not barely be enough parts left to identify as the former industrial base of the Federation – only glowing, radioactive gas, spreading rapidly in space. Parts of the shipyards remained solid – and they rained out on the planet below as a hot duranium-steel rain.

And then there were the Balroggan craft. Federation scanning equipment was clear on the situation – the enemy posessed firepower of unbelievable extent. There was nothing, the Federation crews have begun to realize, that could stop these new enemies.

The reaction of the Federation captains to this new revelation, however, was not necessarily as the Balroggans would have had it. Some, of course, would surrender their craft. Within minutes, the ledgers of Allanean and Trailaric ships would begin to shine with the names of surrendering vessels.

At first there were merely dozens of such vessels – but then, as the reality began to sink in, their numbers increased.

But not everybody acted like that. The Gorn Armada continued their assault on the Trailarii. The Klingons, and several hundred Federation ships, began to assault the Balroggans. Other Federation crews scuttled their ships and proceeded to the surface, in the attempt to disperse among the population.

Most of the Federation ships, however, respondes simply: they began to enter warp, fleeing towards the only place where a fight could be staged now. Sol.

Some, however, had a different solution.

For there were ten ships – seemingly elderly crusiers, but accelerating at a prodigious rate – speeding towards one of the system's stars.

The Trailarii had performed their work well. They had rammed the enemy fleet head on and successfully kept them too occupied to protect their forges. The Allanean Navy had won this battle for the ESUS, now all that was left to do was finish what they had started here. Casualties amongst all sub super-capital vessels was appalling, nearly 37%. The shattered hulls of anything smaller than a Hiveship could be seen floating in the darkness, illuminated only by the remains of their escaping atmospheres as the burning oxygen escaped through ruptures in the structures.

The bulk of the large vessels were safe, however, as they remained hidden behind compression fields. They had not fired upon the UFP vessels, as the compression fields were just as impermeable from the inside as they were from the outside.

"Holy Majesty, the enemy is fleeing the field like rabbits," said the Chief Speaker of Hadriel's Colossus, "Only the Klingon Birds of Prey, a handful of Federation ships, and the majority of the Gornese have the honor to face us still. Our smaller capitals are decimated, Lord, Greeks are dying. Please allow us to bring our warhorses to bear!"

Hadriel looked down from his throne into the bubbling cauldron interface at his feet, "What are those vessels doing?", the Emperor of Hellenica illuminated a small contingent of vessels that were aligning to Alpha Centauri and preparing to enter warp. He thought back to previous 'territory denial' tactics the Federation had used; destroying their own planets and people to deny the ESUS of them, "They're planning to blow that star! Speaker, your words are wise! Drop compression fields, subfield scramble manifolds to maximum distance and power, jam their sensors, scramble their FTL, and take them out before they reach that star! All fleet command vessels, drop compression fields and engage! They MUST not reach that star!"

The last he spoke directly to the cauldron, his voice booming across the bridges of his Armada.

The knot of massive vessels, dreadnoughts, heavy cruisers, Hiveships, warbarges and motherships, and even the three mighty Colossii all parted their energy curtains and plunged forward into the fray. Each one was many times the magnitude and firepower of the largest Gorn vessels, with the smallest over a kilometer in length. The hundreds of Hiveships seemed to disappear behind a veritable cloud of strikecraft given birth from their myriad of hangars. Thousands upon thousands of single pilot vessels screamed through the blackness into the Klingon flank, their afterburners pushing them to nearly 4 kilometers a second, inertial dampeners buzzing loudly to keep the pilots already cyberneticly enhanced bodies from being crushed by nearly 14 gs of pressure. Behind the strikecraft, an even more menacing cloud of drones, far smaller but four times as numerous, gave chase, hunting down smaller vessels and pelting them with small caliber fire. It was a swarm even a Tyranid would admire.

The Trailarii had drawn themselves into a defensive sphere before this point, attempting to compensate for enemy numbers with coverage. With most of the enemy destroyed or fleeing; this was no longer necessary, and the mighty dreadnoughts carved fiery paths through the enemy as they broke formation. The elegant, curving hulls of Traileric craftsmanship shining in the death fires of all who opposed them. Guns that were each the size of the average UFP vessel fired slug after condensed tungsten slug into any nearby Gornese ship, wreaking their vengeance. Surrendering vessels were not targeted by direct assault, but they were certainly influenced by one of the most powerful weapons in the Traileric arsenal.

Any navy worth its salt knows that you cant see what you cant hit. Powerful electronic warfare arrays cycled to full power aboard the motherships and ECM cruisers. Graviton bombardment arrays targeted the enemy with wide swaths of subatomic sensor interference, followed by more specific jamming like phase inversion arrays and LIDAR sweep interruption broadcasters. As if this wasn't enough, the cybernauts were busy isolating the flailing UFP and Klingon ships wireless communication nodes and attempting to disrupt them in any way possible.

With the electronic attack under way, it was time to prevent any more great escapes. Adaptive warp scramblers, slipstream interdiction bubbles, and a powerful shifting phase FTLi emitter based aboard the Hadriel itself went to work keeping the enemy that ahd not already made the jump locked where they were. The far reaching arm of FTLi extended to the far reaches of the system. Hopefully, they would stop the suicide run of those ten old warhorses heading for Alpha Centauri itself. If not, marauder vessels the size of light cruisers were already in hot pursuit. Marauders were a devilish type of assault cruiser with a knack for ECM and ECCM warfare, as well as being heavily armed.

The Trailarii were the anvil to the Balroggan hammer, now all that remained was the final blow.

The halo of stars surrounding the battlefield continued to charge while in the rear the command ships assessed the situation.

“Warlord. It appears they are trying to flee.”

“That is not acceptable. Continue charging weapons in the Sphere. Prepare to attack them.”

“Sir, a majority of the ships have began to surrender to our allies or are just trying to flee.”

“A majority? What do you mean?”

“It seems there is ten ships, by their condition it appears they need extensive restorative procedures and upgrading.”

“I see, they are doing what?”

“They have plotted a course for the local star.”

“They are Fireships. They probably have themselves loaded full of explosives and are trying to blow the sun.”

“What are your orders Sire?”

“Let them flee, we will allow them to hit stars other than the one they want. Establish a wormhole in front of the ships. Target the other end near their own sun. If they wish to destroy a star, it should be the one they are trying to save.”

“Yes Sire, arranging for the…”

“Hold that order, I would rather witness the destruction of their Earth myself. Take the ships out using more conventional means. Use the SGEs to place a large singularity immediately in front of each vessel. They will hit it and be absorbed. Any implosion weapons will be harmlessly destroyed and we can go after the survivors of the other ships which are fleeing.”

“Yes Sire.”

In front of each of the fleeing ships, a single spark of light appeared. The tiny spark grew in size until the violet light faded into a black abyss that absorbed light. Ten full singularities were formed within the flight paths of ten fleeing fireships. Their momentum would carry them into the hungry maws waiting to eat within their paths.

And the Klingon fleet broke. Nothing could truly be done. Even though they inflicted major casualties on the Trailarii, they could not hold against them. Nothing could hold against firepower so superior and enormous. The Federation ships fared even worse as the Trailarii tore their hulls as if they were paper. Only the Gorn were able to put up serious resistance – their war technology was far more advanced, their reactors more powerful, and their ships bigger than anything the Federation ever made.

Still, they took casualties – over a third of the Gorn Armada was destroyed in a series of brilliant flashes of fire, as the Trailarii weapons concentrated their fire upon them. But the Gorn still fought.

It was otherwise with the Federation vessels – the fireships simply ceased to exist. Even as the Gorn deployed into their last formation, slinging AM torpedos by the thousands at the Trailarii, Federation crews on the ground began to surrender – they realized, now, that the Federation has tried to kill them.

But it was too late – for the secret services of the Federation had a back-up plan.

It involved a man with a large suitcase in the basement of the University of Alpha Centauri.

Even as the Trailarii pressed their final offensive, he opened the suitace. Inside it there was a large, dull-green device with a simple touchscreen.

Even as the Fireships were torn apart, he entered a security code on it.

Even as the ESUS nations saw their victory, the Genesis device turned the planet's oceans into pure hydrogen, oxygen, and salt. Seconds later, it touched off several chain reactions in the hydrogen itself.

And there was a bright light.

It seemed a fitting, cinematic end to the battle. As the Gornese and Klingon front broke and fled like the Federation had minutes before, the planet they were trying to defend glowed like a newborn sun before annihilating itself in a blaze of burning hydrogen and ozone. The Traileric fleet remained ceased it's pursuit and drew itself into a defensive sphere to watch the hundred thousand kilometer firework tick off. Some twenty standard minutes later, the sensor grid began to realign itself after having to have compensate for the electromagnetic firestorm of a world dying.

Hadriel sat back down upon his Imperial throne like a man utterly exhausted. Figures were flowing across his HUD: losses, foe losses, allied fleet status, and remaining foe elements. The jamming arrays were still at full strength scrambling Federation and Klingon warp navigation computers, as was the FTLi holding all else. Hadriel sighed in a fashion that was nearly weeping. Thirty seven percent casualties amongst sub-capital ships. Eigh hundred fifteen strikecraft lost. COuntless frigates, sloops, and smaller cruisers. The Super Dreadnought Hypenakos was being evacuated, and was mere hours from a slipstream core meltdown. Everything within three AU would have to clear out before that happened. Only a 1% casualty rating amongst super-capital vessels, but the Emperor of Hellenica felt every death like a weight upon his soul. Two hundred seventeen thousand Trailarii had given their lives in the this battle, and the figure was rapidly climbing as the salvage and rescue crews scrambled to gather escape pods and trapped pilots. Clearly, the Federation and its allies were no match for any Extra Solar Union nation. Nonetheless, the fighting had been hard.

After a few moments, Hadriel made the necessary manipulations in the cauldron to speak over the ESUS Battlenet.

"My brethren, the day is ours. Remaining elements not trapped by interdiction measures are fleeing to the Sol starsystem. I believe it is safe to say that Sol is our next destination. Balroggan Warlord, you may destroy any jammed or otherwise captured Federation vessels in our striking range if you so desire, our thirst for blood is slaked. Allanean Admirals, are you in need of salvage assistance?"

Nhur-Galladu replied immediately.

“I understand. I will dispose of any survivors or their ships.”

The Ta’Nar leader hesitated a moment.

“I cannot help but notice your large ship is emitting some rather random and barely controlled fluctuations that seem to be getting worse. It appears that the drive will most likely cascade into a total failure soon. What are you planning to do with it? The reason I ask is if we were to remove the drive and tow it to the center of their system, the explosion should wipe out most of their defenses, or at least soften them up for us to smash.”

“What do you think?

It would be foolish to think that the Mekantan attacks on Kalandra, Trill, and Betazed would be thier only operations in the galaxy. The nations of ESUS were long allies of the Hegemony, and some would know that quiet Mekantans are scheming Mekantans. The only problem was that these Mekantans weren't quiet.

They were simply being very loud, very far away, and the Hegemony's allies were too busy with the Federation to notice. Half the galaxy was quickly vanishing, with large pieces of what the Federation called the Gamma and Delta Quadrants already gone.

The Dominion was silenced. The Borg were fleeing an enemy they couldn't out-adapt. The Hirogen found themselves a greater foe's prey. The Kazon Order was a memory. The Krenim Imperium was history.

Had the members of ESUS noticed, the cause would be clear.

The Hegemony was intent on giving their allies reason to look, however, as once word of victory in Alpha Centauri hit the battlenet, the Hegemony forces took advantage of the likely blow to the Federation's morale.

Hundreds of millions of Zircon warships suddenly swarmed thousands of Federation systems, both major and minor. Minagoroshi lashed out at systems without warning or mercy, planets worth of her cells blinking into a system only to begin attacking quickly and mercilessly.

In an instant, large chunks of the Federation went from being overlooked in the war, to being assaulted with the same intensity that took several of the Borg's core worlds.

The Mekantans had returned to the Federation.

Numbers were fluttering through the cauldrons surface, Battlenet telemetry. Mekantan's fighting abroad as hard as the allied fleet was fighting here in the core systems. Minagaroshi was likely gorging herself on numberless quantities of mass, as well. Little matter to the Trailarii. Let Minagaroshi have the portions of the Federation that still did not understand how utterly they were beaten.

In response to the Balroggan, Hadriel spoke in turn, "We are evacuating the crew and clearing the area. We intend to capture all planets in the Sol star system, excluding their Homeworld, by force of arms. If you wish to dislodge and tow away the slipstream core, please let it detonate away from population centers, we want those intact for the most part. Allow us to rescue our pilots; there are only a few retrieval ships still docked on the Hypenakos and I am sure they will return soon. Once our efforts are made you may do with the core as you wish. Beware its instability, however, as it may not survive the trip to Sol. May not survive the dislodging, for that matter."

Earth, Federation Command

President Nanietta Bacco passed her hands through her greying hair. She saw it now. The War could not be won. Not anymore. On the Strategic Information Screens, dozens and hundreds of blips that used to represent Federation Military system shone red as attacks were reported. Everywhere, the Zircon, the Allaneans, the Balroggans were on the offensive – and it was, at least in part ,her own fault.

By ordering the withdrawal of troops to Earth, she had made the rest of Federation almost defenseless – and it was getting worse and worse every second. Some of the blips had already gone out altogether as contact ceased. And the enemy fleet was already closing in on Earth. It was time to give the last order, and prepare for the final battle.

“Captain Picard, you are now promoted to Admiral. Admiral Picard, Admiral Janeway, you are now in command of the fleet. Prepare ambushes. Ready the system. There is no retreat – there's nowhere to retreat to. We have no choice. This is where we stand.”

"Sons of Hellenia, form on me."

Over four thousand capital craft were in motion, making their slow, prodigious way to a parade formation centered on the three Colossii. Coordinates for the extreme edge of the Sol star system, just inside their "Kuiper" belt, were locked in. A few hundred thousand kilometers away, slipstream gates were activating as another hundred dozen Traileric warcraft poured into the system. These were vessels different in shape and power readings than the rest of the present Traileric armada. They were massive troop transports, the smallest at a third of a kilometer, and laden to the brim with hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of Hoplites, and the other gears that made the Army turn.

In a matter of hours, these other vessels will have aligned behind the fleet, and prepared to jump. This was it. The spear tip aimed for the Federation's throat.

Alexander Kazansky surveyed the battlefield – or rather, what remained on it. He was not very pleased. True, the Allaneans and their allies – or rather, 'the allies and Allanea' – have won the battle. But they have not managed to prevent the extinction of billions of civilian lives in this system and elsewhere. Even now, he knew, the Zircon spawned and bred all across this Galaxy. Soon, they would probably devour it whole.

But that would have to be dealt with later. The first priority was the utter and total defeat of the United Federation of Planets.

They had attacked the civilian population of Allanea – and Allanea was not yet sated with her vengeance.

“Freemen! First of all, I hereby announce the renaming of my ship. She is no longer the SS Miriel nos Feanor, but the SS Reckless Audacity, in memory of those who fought bravely – and indeed, with a lot of audacity – in this battle. Second, we have almost won. Only Earth remains. Only Sol. And then, there'll be only mopping up.”

“Battlegroup, form on me. Prepare for hyperdrive. Next station - San Francisco!"

OOC: Federation Post

IC:

As the Hellenic and Allanean spearheads streamed towards the Federation, the shipyards on Mars steamed up to full gear for one more time. They retrofitted hundreds of Federation ships with the new foreign gear, put out thousands of torpedoes and missiles.

In orbit of each the Solar system planet, armed weapons stations were being put up. Admirals Janeway, Picard, and others were summoned to duty, and even the most elderly ships were taking to space – even elderly 22nd-century patrol vessels were being taken out of musea.

This would be the Federation's last fight – but it would be a good fight.

Bumped.

Getting too late for a barbecue is never a very pleasant experience. Vat-grown meat loses its tenderness, becoming particularly of poor taste when cold, no matter how many self-heating nanites are employed, while drinking hot Cocaine-Cola while eating it is like poking an eye with a pen. Nonetheless, the tragedy has struck to all those who were not believing they were Jedis inside simulated realities they no longer could differentiate from the real multiverse. Such instead were nothing but cattle, MMO-addicts who were playing games for so much time that they forgot there was a real life beyond such virtual worlds.

For people who cared however, the burst of information about the tragic downfall of trillions of human beings because of the stupid mistake of one authority served as a reason to call off people from their sofas and laxity, to show that work was not finished yet, for tyranny seemed as eternal as idiocy, and thus, the decisions between trying to save what could yet be saved or not was at the hands of all of them who had personal or organization fleets, who were bold and daring enough to cross through the chaotic barrier that separated their relativistic universe from the expanses beyond.

The PFFSMQ was one of many spontaneously formed organizations, one that insisted upon keeping the meaning of its acronym undisclosed of all but their own members, and like every average Joe still in touch with reality who cared about their future, it had its own fleet ready to journey through space and chaos, and to fight, if necessary. The PFFSMQ Fleet was relatively small in numbers, but not in power. There was nothing besides battleships, spacecrafts designed to stand the stress of traveling at speeds near the speed of light, shaped like teardrops of the purest ice, with no impressive, looming factor, and with most never past a kilometer of length.

The bad news is they were too late to have saved trillions, as the ones who got too late into a barbecue. The good news were that there were still billions that could be saved, in the Earth of a parallel universe. The idea of saving an Earth had a very strong emotional impact for the Solarians who still cared, as they have waged thousands of years of total war for such goal in their recent past, in their now won Eternal War. There was just a feeling of duty to the human race, to the cause of freedom, for the very reason their civilization was born, the only goal for their existence was the liberation of humanity, the abolition of all forms of State and capitalist exploitation, and the promotion of the revolution through all corners of the multiverse. Should they stopped... their enemies would not. And sometimes, it was best to keep the enemies even closer.

Amidst the flagship of their fleet, the ACS Catalonia, in a large enough meeting room, forming its bridge, to put to shame the Congress halls of many past governments, the entire crew was reunited, a room with the concave walls that became closer to each other over the ceiling, like if built inside a massive cone. However, the room was cramped by devices which seemed to blend rather than extrude from the environment and which boundaries were far from well defined, having no comfort, no lights, no life support system and no displays or navigational screens or interfaces. Strangely however, what a woman amidst the crew saw, felt, smelled and heard was completely different from the large but ascetic bridge. It was a classical but simple room, seemingly from a sort of improvised headquarters, where twelve people were reunited, looking upon a star map laid into a round wooden table, with the concrete walls at their sight filled with old propaganda posters of anarchist revolutions that happened eons ago, and with a map of Earth itself. The woman, seeing eight men and three women around her on the seats around the table, with skin tones varying from tanned to brown, with their eyes staring attentiously at the map, and dressed into improvised "uniforms" reminiscent of past times and with kepis over their heads. Observing them, the woman then said:

"As you see... there is still one thing we might be able to do here. However, I am afraid that we do not have the necessary logistical capability and technological familiarity to protect an isolated solar system into another universe. However... planets are only chunks of rock with life to shape and allow for their evolution. Operation Dunkirk, which is an infamous but fitting name for this, will be our only chance to save billions of humanity from paying for the mistakes and foolishness of a few, to show them the true way beyond the futile pseudo-leftism that apparently runs over their fallen civilization. As we have formerly agreed... there is some chance involved as well... but I believe we have studied enough of the Shadow Universe to have a good enough chance of arriving where we intend to. If necessary, we shall fight against their decadent State to achieve our objective, for no government has the right to condemn its people to damnation."

One of them then looked at her, a bearded man with blond hair, brown eyes and tan skin, demonstrating his clear expression of worry about the sort of operation they were conducting. He asked:

"Annika Corrientes, can we ensure the safety of billions with this?"

"You know all measures that will be taken to secure their freedom comrade Hidal. There is no question, no doubt... we cannot let formalities and convenience deals with the scum and dreg deserving of extermination to stop us. We will arrive first... because we are willing to take major risks. Because we are Solarians, who go through the uncertainty of Chaos rather than through the certainty of a path paved by a government out of principle. Because they cannot know firsthand. The element of surprise is essential here comrades." she explained, pointing to several lines traced amidst a star map, lines which seemed to indicate a route of sorts.

"I know it Annika... but what if They decide to intervene?" Hidal then asked, still with clear looks of worry. The actions they were going to make could lead to a major leap for their people, but they were not devoid of risks.

"There is a reason why I have suggested the bringing of all of this comrades. We'll take whatever means become necessary to achieve our successful operation with no interference. First to come, first to be served." she then said, thinking on whether it would be necessary or not to use "all of this". Hopefully it would not, although that was not risked off all the possibilities.

Although less than a dozen of large torchships was all that the PFFSMQ had in their expeditionary force, sympathizers have brought support for the operation, as light hours behind, a large fleet of unmanned armed transport torchships, each large enough to ship dozens of thousands, stood, propelling at full speed towards the anomalous gateway. Such fleet seemed to be enough to evacuate an entire solar system at once, although it was also a burden to protect, even though it had its own capability of causing damage.

Days of space travel towards the anomaly have passed, as they at last were at its event horizon, expecting to face the Chaos beyond. Annika felt nothing, as usual, and most of the twelve were orderites, with only one tasked to journey through the realm of Chaos and find a way to that Sol. Billions of lives were at stake.

----------

There is no time in chaos, no hour, no coherence. For Annika, it has been enoughly eternal to force her to enter inside deeper and deeper simulated worlds. It was not much of a questionable act as it was for those who dedicated their lives over it, or who have chosen to dismiss completely their physical bodies, with their brains directly linked to servers of Massively Multiplayer Online Simulated Reality Games. She had dismissed her own for another reason... human bodies were a hindrance to any military spacecraft, forcing them to reduce their acceleration unless they were in cryonics. And it wasn't either a decision with no turning back. Perhaps it has been centuries, eons in the realm of chaos, for it never seemed to end, and from the number of simulated reality games she has enjoyed during the long journey, enough for a lifetime, she wondered how many centuries she has lost inside the Shadow Universe. Sometimes the crew... observing the demonic influences in the outside, disappointed, trying to breach through psychic barriers, wondered if they were not forever lost.

The price to pay was much greater... and thus they have drifted... lost in Chaos... alone and isolated, fearing what could have passed, fearing that they would never find an exit out of such universe, with the fears of one of them feeding the enemies that lurked into such realm, slowly but steadily weakening them. When nobody expected... in a moment that could not be separated from the chaos, the navigator then finally spoke with enthusiasm, amidst a pleasant thermal lake they were currently bathing in, feeling its comfort and relaxation in attempt to ignore the crackling, taunting and challenging of the evils outside their spacecraft, still followed by the transports, still waiting:

"I can feel it! We are getting close to our destiny... but... will it not be too late already? No! We did not withering for a century in this horrible universe to end with nothing! I can feel... I can sense, I have visions of a blue planet in despair. A planet which hope is withering. We can still save the humanity that is left from this Federation."

"Great! Our hundred-year simulated vacation is over! I was sick of this system stupid ideas for tourism!" Annika shouted as the lake she bathed into, the sensation of the water touching her body, everything was gone, and again they were in the first simulated reality... the meeting room with the round wooden table. There was no way to be sure whether an eternity in the Warp was a second in the rest of the multiverse, or greater eons. Now it was the time of realization, to see whether fighting mentally for an unsurmountable time against demons tormenting their simulated vacations to near exhaustion by disrupting their systems has been worth.

Suddenly, they exited, one by one, the realm of chaos. However, as soon as the outer space view replaced the former table, all of them looked worriedly at the position they just reached: the outskirts of Earth's orbit, the most heavily defended sectors of the Federation space. There were countless of weapon systems close enough to hit them with a shot, and rather than arriving at high enough speeds to have safety, they came at a very slow pace under the undesirable influence of Chaos over the law of inertia which has ceased to exist, coming in as a rift opened with a few crackles of Chaos escaping into the Federation home system. Into what was by extension their home system. Large teardrops of ice, perhaps teardrops for the loss of mankind, or perhaps the result of a cold people, leaving behind a trail of superheated plasma as they were propelled ahead.

Annika knew time was short, and she had to do something, to attempt to settle it diplomatically, before anything else could arrive. Almost in the same moment they arrived, she immediately sent a message to those, desperate and at imminent defeat, who were next to their fleet.

"This is the People's Freedom Force Seeking More Quests, an independent and free organization for the commitment of true democracy and freedom, commencing the humanitarian Operation Dunkirk. In our commitment to humanity, we request authorization to land into your planet and commence the relocation of all the Federation survivors to the space we have available for refugees and new allies. To our Earth, to our Mars and to our very planets. We cannot lose any time."

Eventually, multiple large teardrops of ice came light minutes behind the first arrival, with spaceplanes ready in its flight decks to reach into each orbit and rescue humanity from the impending annihilation. If the Federation refused to allow the people they were supposed to help to survive and be free, then difficult and risky measures would have to be taken.

There was no way to differentiate the battleships from the transports. Both had the same dimensions, the same shape, and neither of them had visible weapons. The Federation was posed to a dilemma as significant as that of the risky Operation the PFFSMQ was conducting. Evacuating everyone was necessary, should everything have to come as intended.

As the warships transverse the wormhole, towed behind them was a large sphere. Vague shapes inside indicated something was inside it but the dimensional bubble prevented direct viewing and broke the image into multiple fragments making it impossible to view the whole object. Inside was a wounded great beast, one with a critical countdown frozen by the bubble on the edge of rupture. As soon as the bubble was released, the seconds of Real Space would continue to the doom of the great object. All crew had been evacuated before the Slipstream Core was placed within its prison leaving an empty husk.

Sir, the bubble is fluctuating due to the effects of the wormhole but it is well within parameters.

Keep an eye on the readings. We don’t want to be within three AUs of that thing when it blows.

Yes Sir

Commodore Sla’Tehr aboard The Azrael watched the readings himself as the officer turned away from him and went back to his work. The Ta’Nar thought back on how carefully they had used their cutters to slice the Slipstream Core from the stricken Trailer vessel. It was pretty touch and go as there were both vertical and horizontal support systems that needed to be intact to allow for transport. There was a few close moments but they were successful in removal leaving as much of the empty hulk behind for refurbishing. They even sent the hulk back being towed by drones through a wormhole for their ally.

Extensive planning through the Battlenet between the Ta’Nar and their ESUS allies had formulated a timeline to allow for the maximum usage of the disruptive effects of the core detonation without any allied ship being within the range of effect, basically within 3 AU of Sol. That should cover just about the orbits of the first four planets and well past Ceres within the inner asteroid belt. Only Trailers would know the full impact of the core detonation but no Ta’Nar vessel will be within range of the blast and its expanding wave effect. The dimensional barriers will provide a sufficient barrier as the towing vessel retreated to its rally point.

Sir, the fluctuations are calming down. We are about to arrive.

Excellent, as soon as we do arrive, the escort vessels should jump to the prearranged points but remain within T-Space. We will leave at the last moment.

I understand Sir. Issuing orders.

Sla’Tehr watched through the ship’s sensors as it neared the end of the wormhole and a massive mouth formed in front of the ship. The Azreal exited the rupture towing the small sphere as her escorts engaged their Mirage Drives disappearing into T-Space as soon as they cleared the mouth. From appearances, only the single 3000 meter vessel would appear from the wormhole just outside the photosphere of Sol.

Commodore?

Yes Shipmind?

We have arrived. I am absorbing excessive solar radiation to recharge systems. It feels good.

Yes, it would. Have sensors detected any Feddie emplacements close enough to pose any problems?

I am checking…

And so there were, indeed, emplacements. Whether they could cause problems for the enemy remained to be seen.

The first line of defense consisted of self-replicating, cloaked mines by the thousand breeding actively in the Kuiper belt, in the path of the incoming ESUS ships. Hidden among them were non-replicating mines, armed with Kanuckistani AM warheads, and still hidden by cloaks. The self-replicating variety of mines, in the meanwhile, was armed with quantum explosives, powerful enough to destroy a Federation warship with a single blow. Further, these defenses, as they were triggered, would serve as a warning to Federation vessels – and they would then be able to respond, even if the other sensors completely failed to notice the ESUS warships – which so far they weren't.

Thousands of warships were taking off towards the outer rim of the system. There, somewhere near Pluto's orbit, the Federation would begin with the crucial business of making its last stand.

In the meanwhile, the evacuation of the system was being prepared. Children, the elderly, pregnant women were among the first to be gathered at various centers – on Mars, in San Francisco and in Paris. Naturally, of course, the children of Federation officials were moved upward in the line.

Of course, the Federation allowed the people in the People's Freedom Force Seeking More Quests to land. However, they were beginning to learn suspicion. Hundreds of warships floated in orbit around the landing sites, and Federation cadets with phaser rifles greeted the faces of the strange aliens.

Sir, they have neglected to guard their star. There are no emplacements within several light seconds.

They are foolish. Remove the center and the whole will fall apart. Prepare to detonate the Core.

Yes Sir.



OOC:

Trailers can post it blowing. He knows best what it can do.

"Operation Dunkirk", as it was called, seemed like a hastily done, desperate move. A sense of urgency was its primary factor. For there was not much time, and certainly, delays could mean more than the failure to save billions of lives. However, when an entire plan could be devised in a second, the definition of "hastily done" took a completely different approach. The same who have waited for the equivalent of centuries, if not more, to at last arrive at their destination through the streams and warped non-space of Chaos, now received the first fortunate new, as maybe thanks to the utter despair of the Federation which still free people they sought to save, their proposal was met with positive answer. And it did not take even a second for the reaction to come.

Annika simply had a blink of a thought, and the entire transport fleet began to accelerate at its maximum power, past the limits that an human body could sustain, in its goal of reaching the orbit of Earth in time. Massive bursts of superheated plasma were exhausted from their large aft engines, enough to make the idea of dogfighting them suicidal, while smaller bursts came from nearly seamless fissures around their conical shapes, adjusting their trajectories to designated fast-access points to cover most corners of Earth's Orbit, allowing for a quick extraction. ten of the spacecrafts however, took a completely different route, and began to move towards the depths of the space, in attempt of reaching an advantageous position. Among these, the spacecraft where Annika was with her friends stood, with hundreds of thousands of kilometers separating each battleship, where lines with completely different x, y and z angles could be traced between them and their complex formation, bent on taking total advantage of all spacial dimensions. Annika, with her simulated persona standing amidst a table in the middle of the space with her comrades, where several translucent displays indicated everything that wasn't coming straight to her thoughts, observed, with limitless magnification, all the events that were transpiring. The transport fleet had little more than five minutes to commence operations. Looking around, it, she then spoke, as everything seemed to be going as planned, but realized that things would get hot at any moment, as they came right in the very end of the barbecue:

"FSMQ, raise alertness to maximum level, I don't want to use the Battlenet to signal what we are trying to do. Those Xenu dregs and murderous fascists with no regard for the scarcity of the universe certainly aren't willing for an elegant solution to attack by the strata..." she interrupted suddenly, as her vision was shifted by the magnification of a single, massive spacecraft which would likely self-implode in a cascade reaction should it ever transverse to their universe from the number of their scientific laws it seemed to be breaking with its mere existence.

"Shit! At least they are not Mekantans! What the hell are they spitting on Newton for?" Annika then said with clear worry and emotional outburst, when, realizing that it was the best way to discover what were their intentions, she decided to finally access the Battlenet in passive mode. Nearly immediately the information burst came to her semi-organic mind, instantly processed with its dreadful nature, and she looked at the ominous sight of the spacecraft, in its heading towards the yellow star. She doubted that the so called Ta’Nar would be willing to change their plans, for she already expected them to be another of the we forgot our origins so we are better than everyone types from the information she had access to about them. Thus, in a offset thought, she realized the irony and the similarities with a smaller scale thing of their own

Perhaps once these bastards destroy nearly everything, like once we did in a smaller with our first planet, a bunch of hippies will come with the concept of "Ecology of the Universe" and call for the preservation of all solar systems able to harbor life.

"Comrade Annika! We can solve it before it blows!" Hidal hastily suggested in thought rather than voice, as Annika answered back with less than a second of delay:

"And risk to have this damn Federation Armada after us? Plus this shit will take weeks to hit the Sun, we are not at c-frac now!" Annika countered again, mentally, but Hidal seemed to not give up in his argument.

"Look! From all data we've gathered, they seem to have a piss poor strategic mindset, just like our friends have one regarding vital resources. These SIFs will be very vulnerable, and these SDs can be yet another Maginot line. If they oppose our scorched space policy, they'll be all dead. We cannot hold this system either... and the Scumbag Prime might come if we waste too much time."

"All right then Hidal, all right! I'm contacting the Battlenet Now! Sending in plans for Eraser. Let us hope they won't just spat it! I don't want a diplomatic disaster out of this!" Annika finally replied as their ten-second discussion ended, agreeing with him as a set of plans were sent specifically to the Ta’Nar. According to the plan, which detailed a complex, long range bombing over the sun, by "erasing" the sun with a controlled micro black hole, the Federation would be instantly crippled and unable to fight, while their planets, although eventually frost, would remain intact in their structure, genetic and mineral wealth and composition. The deliverance would occur from a battleship moving at near C speeds, although it was not specified how they would get one to reach such speed, and only happen once an evacuation of civilian personell and military deserters(fittingly tagged as "sane individuals") is complete, coupled with a sabotage of all Federation computer networks that would make their static defenses useless.

What wasn't mentioned was the other reason for vanishing with a star, which was something of their own interest in the situation at hand, or their plan B for the operation, depending on the outcomes. Hopefully their plan would not be refused, or otherwise, things could get very nasty and escalate into a diplomatic tragedy. Annika sighed, and looking at Hidal again, thought:

"It'll be our call now. Evacuation seems to be proceeding well. We'll be done in ten minutes with at least all innocent civilians. As for the military and politicians... considering their military and foreign relations ineptness, and what our reports have on their 'mastery' over ground warfare, let them have their Darwin Award, I suppose."

"Hopefully they'll not turn against us once they realize we will leave their damn government and bureaucrats to die because we don't want their government to survive in any form. Stay alert, I'm picking reports that some high bureau rats and crooks are already trying to get VIP treatment... things could turn nasty."

In orbit with Earth, massive blocks of ice were torn apart as the flight bays of the transport spacecrafts opened, revealing rows of spaceplanes ready for atmospheric entry. The truly humane part of their operation has begun.

In the blue planet, soon massive spaceplanes began to take their descent into atmosphere, supported by primary fusion turboramjets and magnetohydrodynamics atmospheric thrusters holding upon their immense mass as they descended towards major cities and evacuation areas. The skies soon were filled by their shadows, in what in other circumstances would configure an orbital assault or alien invasion, was instead a rescue mission. Minutes have taken during their descent, and slowly, they landed vertically on large flat areas as masses of people began to expectedly head towards them. With their bottom fuselages lowered, the people of the Federation moved to their safeties. However, it was only a matter of time, as the faceless humans, if they were really humans, protected by their powered armors and armed by gauss recoilless autorifles, seemed to observe cautiously, one by one, all those who headed through each of the spaceplanes that would soon get back to the transports in orbit, like if preparing to block the way for some. Everything was going well, although that their instructions were very clear on blocking the entrance of politicians and "highborn", and thus they would sooner or later order for the rats... probably the privileged first to flee while the poor and downtrodden would be left to die, to stop, for there was no place in the new world for those who wanted or were irreversibly used to be above others.

The flagship suddenly vanished alone, getting back into the realm of Chaos, as Annika realized their chances of getting there in time should they respect the laws of Newton. If lucky, the randomness would ensue them to immediately come at near-C speeds once they returned, and close enough to score a relatively fast hit against the star, but not too close to doom themselves. It was a risky, but calculated move which results were yet to come. The Battlenet contact was gone, although the pseudo-sentient AIs of the battleships that remained could handle communications, and again they drifted through Chaos. If lucky, they would re-emerge before the sense of time was gone, and at 0.99c. If unlucky, saving those billions would be the least of their concerns. Nine battleships were all they had to face the Federation, once they realize their government was not on the list of people to be evacuated.

(OOC: Cliffhanger as something might or might not hit the fan.)

OOC: There's very little for me to react to. So this is short.

IC:

Down below, arrangements for transport were made. Children and women were shuffled to the fore, though, of course, the children of Federation bureaucrats often ended up... more to the for.

Sol; Inner Mercurian orbit.

From the twisting madness of polydimensional space, a sleek, onyx black Ta'Nar warship materialized. Faintly, it's name was whispered to the Ether: Demagorgon. From it's stern, tendrils of energy floated invisibly in the blazing light of Sol. Attached to the other end of these tractor beams, the mighty Balroggan destroyer was pulling the massive slipstream core that had been wrenched from the dying Traileric dreadnought that now lay dormant in Alpha Centauri.

Hidden well in the EM white noise of Sol, the Demagorgon released it's freight, and quickly entered hyperspace. The energy fluctuations coming from the core had been growing progressively more erratic, and the exposure to the heat and radiation of close orbit to the Federation's birthstar had certainly accelerated the core's decay.

Only moments after the huge battered mass of metal was released from the bubble dimension the Ta'Nar vessel had used to transport it from far Alpha Centauri, it went into final collapse. Any optical sensors that had been brought to bear on the Balroggan vessels intrusion would see the titanic cylindrical slipstream core begin to violently decompress. It's metallic skin crinkled and collapsed inward, cracks formed in it's structure, and a sickly green light that seemed to make space bleed poured forth from it's imploding structure.

Inside the core, the three interlocked micro wormholes were spiraling out of their carefully maintained orbits, forming first two, then one largely unstable wormhole. As the structure that had contained them for centuries slowly was torn to shreds and pulled into their hungry maw, the effects of the gravwell could also be seen evident on Sol. Stellar gasses were drifting toward this foreign device, spiraling into it's center.

After perhaps thirty seconds, the last of the power was drained from the stabilizer's capacitors, and the entire core disappeared into the highly massive object at it's center. It wasn't long after the stabilizer's ceased to function that the artificial wormhole itself also began to break down, shedding waves of captured radiation and energy that had accumulated over nearly a millennium of life in the belly of a Traileric warship.

The annals and histories of the Traileric people record no known weapon that is capable of the same ferocity as a dying slipstream core. Distant primitive civilizations untouched by the intergalactic UTF/ESUS war will someday turn their telescopes to the skies and wonder why it seems that Sol seems to magically become a binary starsystem, defying all physical law, and exude the same characteristics one generally sees in a minor GRB.

The blast, if you can call it just a "blast", had sufficient magnitude to entirely interrupt stellar wind, and in fact briefly disrupt Sol's weather patterns. The magnetic and graviton backlash from the dying core was in fact sufficient in force to cause tidal waves in the Sun's plasma that would ripple for years. Distant Mercury received similar treatment. Great pieces of it's crust were dislodged and broken, overturned and yanked upwards by surging waves of the graviton storm. By the time the graviton shockwave reached Venus and Earth, it had dissipated enough that it's consequences were far less deadly. The thick band of gravitons released from the dying black hole would likely cause significant seismic disturbance all over the globe, as well as visibly disrupt the clouds or any ships in orbit. The intense gamma radiation and thermal imposed conditions on the Earth's atmosphere not felt since the Sun's violent youth, however, yet the exposure was brief. As the atmosphere heated, those who looked to the sky would see two stars: one a great yellow and white sphere, the other a green ichoric oval, slowly expanding outward and eclipsing the sun. The affects of the blast would be felt out to 3 AU, before the gamma and thermal radiant energy had disappated to harmless levels. The graviton disturbance would be felt farther still. Creating tidal waves on the Jovian planets, and someday on distant Uranus and Neptune.

It was a sign to the people of the Federation. A sign that science would not triumph this day. Perhaps people would pray to the old, forgotten Gods of their ancestors. Weep. Sacrifice. Beg for mercy.

It was all for naught, for there in the sky, their harbinger of destruction still burned like a great cancerous growth upon the familiar Sol.

OOC:

Wow

Great description Trailers, I like it very much.

With no human supervision, all that remained were pre-set routines, adaptable to new situations in what consisted of a pseudo-intelligent network of many systems, from the portable AIs of humanoid combat robots to the controls of remaining vessels. The evacuation proceeded as planned, with the children of the Federation being given a new hope regardless of who they were, for both privileged and unprivileged were now being sent for the rescue, to arrive at a new world without classes, without injustice, and without government. For now, the old bureau rats had at least a sense of dignity to not arrive at first, jeopardizing the lives of the young. It was fast, for some of the spaceplanes had wide enough platforms of embark to allow for fifty lines of people to be formed, and the space inside them had a very efficient layout to allow for fast transportation. However, the spaces were cramped, and many of them were actually featured by cryonics pods rather than passengers areas, for the Solarians have always resorted primarily to sub-light travel, and such was an extraordinary situation.

Everything seemed smooth so far, and hostilities with the Federation were unlikely. Yet no sign of the flagship, and there were signs that their presence was being ignored so far, and their more discrete plan dismissed by what seemed to be the equivalent apes playing with nuclear missiles launch commands. For a Solarian, the behavior, the unwavering pride, lack of value to life and irresponsibility were signs of primates whose technology advanced faster than their worth, no matter if they were corporeal or not. Xenos which evolved without any sense of moral were the most dangerous, and potentially, the first in the supposed black list of the Confederation, which supposedly listed prioritized species for termination.

With allies like these, there was no need of enemies. Ignoring completely the threat they posed to the Solarians, it was obvious they would proceed with their lousy overkill against the Federation, perhaps because they were cowards unwilling to face them in the fields, or perhaps because without such technologies, they were nothing. The artificial intelligences weren't exactly able to make abstract reasoning, but immediately, a quantum encrypted broadcast came towards the seemingly nowhere. The fact there were no humans in any of the Solarian vessels would be a lucky coincidence, should the consequences be catastrophic. The cold machines simply observed, watching with no fear or awe, only with the duty of informing of such irresponsibility to the scarcity of life, of such unnecessary demonstration. Children could be wiped off, and most disturbing of all, was that the perpetrators of such crime were not alien, but human.

The first spaceplanes, loaded with refugees began to take off, nearly melting the landing pads as their vertical thrusters were activated, and slowly they began to ascend out of the atmosphere in their single-stage-to-orbit process. Time was running out, and only magic could ensure that the departure from atmosphere would take less than a couple of minutes.

A diplomatic disaster has just begun, and as the Trailarii juggernaut was sent into the proximity of the sun, a cylindric mass, probably a star-killing artifact. There was nothing the artificial intelligences could do, and to simply warp would mean their total loss in the realm of Chaos, for without human guidance, there was no way for them to reach their destination. The reaction that succeeded was catastrophic. A shockwave began to sweep the entire Solar System, and luckily, Annika has not returned yet from the Immaterium. The Solarians certainly were glad to have never questioned the most logical principles of nature, for if fringe theories could be turned truth, their future would be dark, no matter how, even in their universe, entire worlds could be wiped off by the use of kinetic weapons of mass destruction.

One of the Solarian battleships, designed to avoid rather than passively block damage through shields of questionable practicality, was close enough to be shattered by the gravitic, Einstein grave-rolling "blast", and everything trembled inside it. Repair and damage control systems were at maximum alert, and the fusion torch was shut down to prevent a disaster, but suddenly an entire piece of its ice-covered hull was torn off. No air leaked off it however, as it had no life support system. There was no desperate man inside to witness however, as it was torn into shreds, but somehow managed to maintain the essence of its hull integrity, and still ended in one, albeit severely damaged, piece.

Such aggression would not be easily forgotten, no matter how no lives of them were lost. Of the transport torchships close to Earth's orbit, one percent were, although left in one piece, damaged beyond any repair, and a tenth severely damaged. In other circumstances, such could be considered a declaration of war, however, it was an action performed by civilizations which supposedly were allies, and which supposedly had to respect a non-aggression principle that was the essence of any mutual defense pact.

As the wave came to the planet, fifteen spaceplanes loaded with innocent children, many of who have lost their parents to a troop of scum, totaling seven thousand and five hundred innocents, lost their control and began to fall. The screams of despair of children, who saw in the unknown of a safer universe, the future of their people, were recorded, to never be forgotten. The Trailarii were now closer than ever from being perceived as the next Global State. It was unthinkable for the Solarians to simply conduct such unnecessary action, specially when victory was assured. In fact, this could be the official justification for their departure from the Extra-Solar Union of Systems, although nothing could be made certain.

The anti-radioactive shielding has been crucial to ensure that most of the massive transport would be unharmed by the gamma rays, and eventually, eventually everything would change. Another crossroad of history was about to be reached, for a decision had to be done.

Again, the sense of time was gone, they have already sacrificed much to reach, and Annika felt a duty to such downtrodden humanity. It was the only thing that have spared her from reaching insanity, as the void of the immaterial realm, no matter how she was completely impervious to its presences, attempted to do. Perhaps there have been the equivalent of half a year, or perhaps more. It has been a so long travel without the sense of time, disrupted by chaos, that when they least expected, the end was ahead.

The PFFSMQ would not put billions of human lives at risk to comply with the ravenous and lunatic egos of monsters, dregs, fascists and Nazis. Annika wondered if it has worked or not, as they were about to return. Suddenly the view of their vessel, and of something that was not there before. A green star, still far enough to not be a danger, but still, dangerously close to be a serious threat for a spacecraft, for all image and colors were distorted due to the doppler effect of travelling close to the speed of light. It was either the star or them... and thus, immediately Annika shouted, as a massive block of ever renewed ice was broken, and a large hatch opened in the middle of their vessel.

It was at least as large as a cruiser, a massive rocket that began to accelerate as the flagship decelerated from its impending doom, and suddenly left from its massive launch bay, heading towards the new, undesirable sun. The calculations had to be precise, or they would end sucked by their own fix. The growing green star was to meet its demise, and as the very realization of the treachery came, Annika shouted:

"Vector Northeast! Nobody messes with our Solar System!"

Parts of the ice cover were suddenly thinning as a risky maneuver, that could shatter the very vessel, was attempted, and although she could not feel the trembling due to her incorporeal presence, Annika knew that such could be the end of her existence. A necessary sacrifice, to save another solar system, the last remaints of a fallen humanity, the children, who in their innocence did not deserve death from the irresponsibility of a few.

When only a millimeter of ice separated the integrity of the hull from the threat of hitting small particles at relativistic speeds, when it seemed that their end was nigh as multiple warning signs appeared straight in the vision of the stars Annika had, finally the new vector of the inertial speed was far enough to avoid hitting the b, and alleviated, her fake sigh came to the others, as they finally allowed for a beach to come at their view.

All of such facts happened in fractions of seconds, as the massive vessel flew close to the speed of light, with lags given to all attempts to detect it... the missile continued towards its destiny, a bold but necessary move to secure the evacuation of those who were still alive, for such star was a threat to the stability of the system, and they cared not about the pride of giants stomping rats, of cowards who only faced enemies that had no chance against them. The work of such would be undone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e7t7CWZcZuc

Extending by hundreds of kilometers, with more loops and turns than anything, a massive set of conducting tubes lied inside the relativistic rocket. Particles inside it began to accelerate, as a massive quantities of heat was emanated from its exhaust, which doubled as its radiator. An entire fusion reactor began to power the reaction, as Hadrons, propelled by Exajoules, began to accelerate towards speeds which difference from the speed of light was almost completely insignificant. A massive heat began to slowly melt the icy cover over the rocket's hull as it approached the new star in its velocity, and suddenly, as particles clashed between themselves, forming what could be the very miniaturized version of a big bang, their reaction suddenly became nothing, as the very particles vanished, and at nearly the exact moment the rocket would be consumed by the countless degrees of the new star, it became nothing but a massive whirlwind, consuming everything around it, and empowered by further reactions.

The people of the Federation would now witness the bold move of people who saw in their despair, the reenactment of their tragic past, people who have swore to fight for freedom, to stand against all odds, and to defend humanity. Science and humanity would in the end prevail against the insanity of inferiors with superior technologies, of monsters and savages which deserved nothing but their extermination. Perhaps the primitives would barely witness, as one of the shortest-lasting stars of the galaxy would come and vanish.

There was no majestic, absurd phenomena, no fireworks or anything, just the undoing of what was considered atrocious. A black hole simply formed very close to the core of the new star, while it eclipsed the sun, but distant enough to preserve the natural star, which was battered but had many millions of years yet. Annika then, in a vessel that could easily destroy anything at its speeds, knew what had to be said, to be stated about what they have done. As the new star slowly died, she contacted the Battlenet, and aware of the reports of thousands of innocents who have died, she simply directed towards the Trailarii, and with honest words, said with disappointment:

"Why have you done this? Like I informed, we were about to convince their surrender. Why is it necessary to damage, to destroy one of the black diamonds of the universe, a replica of our very origins? I could have died, and then? Thousands of children, who had no blame in this, have perished. How can exist honor in the slaughter of the defenseless? How can exist honor in sending an armed army against a single unarmed warrior instead of challenging him for a duel? Now, just allow for them to leave, we are taking them away, those you have not killed, for we were supposed to be allies. And we shall convince them to surrender. Now wait, or if you wish, continue this aggression against an ally which have a more energy, time and resources-efficient solution to end this conflict. Once our people discover this, they might choose to abandon this alliance, and I'd rather that, should this happen, this departure to be friendly or at least neutral and with apologies given, rather than hostile and opening precedent for more unnecessary violence."

The evacuation was nearly complete, as spaceplanes began to maneuver towards the massive flight decks of the transport torchships. Millions of lives could yet be saved, but a greater loss came. Solar Communes has now lost any glint of respect they had for the ESUS, and should they ever continue as members of the alliance, it would be for pure convenience, and with uneasy, stranded relations with many, who now were seen as potential enemies in the far future. Perhaps, it was like a certain philosopher said, that it is best to keep the enemies close, and the "friends" even closer.


(OOC: If you have any problems with this, just tg me, and I'll contact through MSN)