NationStates Jolt Archive

The ship was an immense battlecruiser, a warship of the Imperium. None could tell how long ago it had slid from the forging fires of Hydran and been consecrated in the eternal crucible of war and bloodshed. Like all things Chronosian it oozed with power, it scintillated with corruption, it wreathed itself in a miasma of death. To be Chronosian was to oppose, to oppress, to rend and to tear and to lay low the universe before the power of profane Gods. Yet this day that was not the purpose of the great vessel, the Will of the Scion. Instead it materialised, ripping into the Materium in the midst of a glorious warp-portal, in orbit of Terra Prime.

It's mission was one of peace.

The Command Sanctum of the great ship was dimply lit, barely aglow with the crimson and emerald of cogitator banks and hololithic displays, wreathed in voluminous shadows. It seemed as if the interior of the edifice choked down light, swallowing even the slight illumination offered by the whirring machinery, the pulse of lights from a variety of corridors. Turel stood upon the deck, First Captain of the Nelo Angelus, chief amongst Remiel's warrior-sons, he let a feral grin cross his features. He turned, letting his blue eyes flicker across the robed figure who stood to his right; Magos Uzkiel Mareditius, blessed of Hydran, favored of the Forge, one of the rising stars of the Dark Mechanicus and their workings within Chronosia. The Magos twitched lightly, a mechadendrite, cruel and barbed, rising from within his robes to snap idly at the air. He wheezed gently, turning his hooded visage to regard Turel with leering augmetic eyes, his head tilting mechanically.

“You believe this shall be a worthy endeavour, First Captain Turel; gene-son of the Scion, extrapolated genetic lineage...” He paused, his hissing flesh-voice stilled in a momentary mulling over of figures. “...Strigan Continental Hives, Chronosia Prime. Praised be the line De Drakan, blessed be the labours of Chronosia.”

“Most certainly.” There was iron in Turel's tone, the harsh warrior conviction that years of service and warfare had bred into him. He was no diplomat, true enough, but he had savvy and cunning; it was this he knew his master hoped to utilise, to turn to his advantage. “The Union has overcome a sub-human foe, laid low a nefarious breed of creatures...Now the false sons of Mars hold their vigil, and all is madness across the stars. In these days, more than any others, we need to rally our forces and secure our allegiances; the final battles draw ever closer...Destiny beckons.”

“Destiny; you believe that our triumph draws near?” The Magos paused, bowing his head now as he gurgled in a scrapcant <Hallowed are the truths, profane the mysteries>

“Every day draws us nearer to our goal...Raise the Union, I would address them”

“As you require, First Captain.”

Brothers in the Union, I am First Captain Turel; acting under the authority of the Emperor Remiel himself. I come to you with fortuitous tidings of renewed fellowship and aid. I come with offers of cooperation and advancement, with the prospect of glorious joint operations.

These things I offered in friendship and brotherhood, as of old, as has existed long now...I would ask that you accept myself and my companions amidst your ranks, that an arrangement might be come to.

There is much to be said in these trying times, when the beasts are at the doors.

New Earth or Tera Prime .. As it was called alternatively was a wonderful jewel in the dead and mundane darkness of space. Orbit was busy that new bulk matter transmitter firing off golden streams of light in to the distant darkness, shipyards holding war machines of massive magnitudes, their grey forms shadowing the thousands of smaller ships in the area. New Sol Command floated over the white capped north pole of the planet, its massive form silhouetted over the blue green crisp beauty of the planet. Space elevators were traveling to massive ring shaped and cylinder shaped stations.

"What is it now”

Logan said in an irritable tone placing his hand down upon the smooth glossy wooden desk in his ornately decorated office, the light of the sun peering through the large window behind him, bathing the office in soft yellow light.

A soft female voice came through the speaker on his desk in response.


“Sir we have a message from orbit , apparently a chronosian delegate has arrived and wants to speak to us”

Logan raised an eyebrow his rough hands folding on the desk and he spoke in response his voice much less irritable now.

“Oh really? Well put it through.”

A blip was heard and the message started to play, since this was the home world and he was the president he would have to deal with this, plus with the secretary of state and vice president out of town, it wasn’t like he could delegate any thing. He carefully paid attention to the message and a smile came across his pale some what toned face. It was an election year any way and he wanted some thing good to mark the end of his leadership. He quickly began to speak out, this time a holo monitor shimmered to life and established a comn link to the craft in orbit.

“Greetings This is President Mike Logan, its glad to see you have come to talk with us. I would like to here your proposal. The Union seems to be on the target list of various nations for its justified response against those.. Animorphs ... as I would say with the politically correct term. At any rate I am more then honored to invite you down to my estate please come, I will greet you my self . You can set down a shuttle just out back”

Logan gave a friendly smile and comn link cut. He stood up from his hovering chair and started to adjust his black suit he was a tall man his hair was slightly greyed from the years of stress in the job. He stepped out of the oval office his black polished shoes shuffling slightly over the blue carpeted floor the twin doors opening to a long winding hall way plastered with pictures of former presidents and ornately decorated soft yellow lights, large windows and doors where ahead, letting the bright yellow sun light in.

As he went out side he saw the well groomed rich green lawn with a winding path towards the large star port. Hedges lined the path , marines guarded the door and two secret service agents joined him as he started to tap along the winding path, the wind picked up the trees on the distant side of the large yard swaying gently as the warm wind picked up a bit.

The sky was bright and blue, in the distance semblances of the federations economic power lunging towards the crisp blue sky, thousand of hundreds of thousands of meter high variously shaped and styled metal super structures glinting in the soft yellow sun light. The horizon behind the white house was filled with them. A chrome colored obelisk could also be seen reaching over a two hundred and fifty five meters sky, the top pulsating with light representing the beacon of freedom.

You ask what you can give to the Imperium? Above all others things; give your lives, your hearts, your souls...Then shall salvation be attained, with hands stained red with blood and raised in glorious praise
-Remiel De Drakan, Epistles.

The Stormbird tore through the atmosphere of Terra Prime like a comet, like a portent. It carried few passengers, and yet their progress was more monumental than the march of armies. Their slow descent was more important to this world than the ships and contrivances that took its people upwards to the stars, than the means that had first borne them beyond the confines of their birth rock. Turel and his coterie rode with the wings of destiny, touched by the very hand of fate. The Changer, it seemed, had anointed this very moment, had taken their lives and made them instruments, chosen tools of the Architect. The First Captain let his eyes close, his breathing steady and precise. His fingers closed into balled fists, his ceremonial armour glinting in the internal light. He had forsaken his usual Terminator armour, instead choosing to rely upon this ceremonial suit. Like all the armour of the First Company, it was black.

It was said that long ago, when Marcus De Drakan still held the throne of Chronosia, he had condemned Turel and his Company to a penitent Crusade; their punishment for failing to protect the Scion himself from death. Following his glorious rebirth and the reordering of Chronosia, Remiel had made their mourning garb a mark of honour, and lifted the restriction on their excesses. Turel and his kin could feast and indulge once more, but they were denied finery...A mark of their unfailing devotion to their sire.

The Stormbird, also jet black, touched down with a hydraulic hiss, a whirr and a whine of servos echoing about the landing pad. The hatches swung open, ramps unfolding, and the warriors strode forth. A half dozen of them fanned out in a semi-circle around the bottom of the ramp, assuming a defensive perimeter, weapons still at their sides, before going down on one knee, arm folded across it. Turel strode forth, the Magos at his side, glancing about the world. He took in the towering super-structures that seemed so abundant, breathed in the alternate freshness and industrial tang of the air...He went without helmet, and now strode forth, his black hair tousled by the subtle breeze.

“I am Turel; First Captain of the Emperor's very sons. I have come to have parley with your people and your leaders. Who among you has the authority to speak with me?” He stood proud and tall, his armour shimmering in the sunlight, aglow with reflected brilliance.

“I am Magos Uzkiel Mareditius of the Mechanicum.” The techpriest spoke again in his fleshvoice, that hissing whisper from within the darkness of his hooded robes, a flicker of red augmetic eyes visible before he lowered his head, speaking in the debased binaric of scrapcode cant. <Blessed are those who embrace the aberrance of innovation, the Chaos of creation. Blessed are those who revere the blasphemous machine and the strength of steel.>

Logan walked up towards the delegation, the agents flanked him. Logan Bowed and spoke out.



“Greetings, I am President Logan, you wish to speak with me, come I open my hospitality to you we have not received any delegations for quiet some time. ”


A smile came over his toned face, the wind still gently caressed their bodies. The inside of the white house was well decorated, its walls where soft white and the carpets where red with blue lines running through them.

Most of the lights where dimmed they shined dully through their well decorated glass coverings. Servants had set up a rather large table in the middle of what was the west wing to the mansion, the windows and doors open letting the warm wind tunnel gently thorough the house.
The table contained decadent selections of old earth food, ham, turkey, mutton. A wide selection of fruits, and whine. The color of the fruits where stunning, greens yellows, a cornucopia of other colors filling various bowls. Fresh bread and baked goods filled other tables.

Various people walked around placing things on tables, using hover carts the smell of food wafted through the white house.

Logan smiled and then sighed gently to him self, he was missing his daughters reception for this but he would be there for the wedding, he knew it. President Odessa’s picture hung over several plants on a wooden table it was life like and realistic, with a few bottons on the golden frame to turn it in to a 3D projection.


Several other paintings displaying old earth, and other scenes filled the room where they would be dining, out side the federation flag flapped in the gentle win gracefully, the stars and the dark blue on the flag striking to the eye.

Turel took a seat at one end of the table, while the Magos chose to remain standing behind him, as the warriors of his entourage spread out about the room, fanning out to defensible positions to the sides and back of Turel. He chuckled lightly, the chair only barely supporting his weight, and allowed his eyes to roam the room, along with the feast they had presented. These were weak people, fleshy and untried in the fires. He was a wolf amongst a flock of lambs, a predator in the midst of sweetest prey. With a gesture he could have taken any number of heads from shoulders; snapped vertebrae with the most delicate of movements, ended lives a hundred different ways...And these bureaucrats and politicians would have been able to offer no defence.

Turel loathed such company, he hated to be in the continued presence of weaker men, men who talked and bickered and did not dedicate themselves utterly to Gods or the thrill of warfare. How he longed for the simplicity of Chronosian life, of war and worship and glory...

He coughed lightly, his eyes moving back to the leader, his hands folded across the table, not touching their offerings. He let his lips coil into a mask of benign indifference, uncaring and unphased.

"Let us be to the point, shall we? I come with good tidings and fondest words of brotherhood from my Liege-Lord, Remiel De Drakan, the very Scion of Chaos and Master of Mankind; praised be his name." At that utterance all the warriors of his company, himself included, slammed their gauntleted fists against their breastplates.

"He has been impressed by your recent efforts against races which can only be described as..." He paused, gathering his thoughts and words, before speaking once more. "...Abhorrences, subhuman filth-waste...Mockeries of the sacred human condition. The Gods have placed their holy task in the hands of men, humanity itself, and it is their will that all who are unclean be purged and all who reject them be cast down. Ignorance plagues these mongrel races, ignorance of their place and of the dominance of Mankind Ascendance that the Empire and the Imperium have ever espoused." He sighed lightly, leaning back, his gaze never leaving Logan's face.

"My Liege-Lord would have closer relations between our peoples; a strengthening of the old guard in the face of new hostilities. We would look to defending and expanding our borders and to laying low the filth that awaits us in such endeavors...There are rewards to be reaped from your cooperation, and progress to be earned through your..." He rolled his hand in the air idly, as though trying to pluck the correct turn of phrase from the aethyr. "...Your service."

A smile came over Logans toned face, his eyes looking up at the other as he responded.

“It is true, alien influences have been trying to corrupt us, and as humans we cannot allow this. They continue to unjustly betray and earn our ire. For this I welcome renewed friendship. It is time to claim this galaxy as our own. And it is time to let those scum know that humanity will not yield to their abnormal society. As for expanding our borders, I have a few.. Targets in mind. Xiscapia for one, seems rather mobile. And Intelligence reports they have been helping the remnants of enemy fleets that attacked us..a more immediate threat to any human stability in the region though is the steppe empire. At this point my government is willing to order a code 31 against them, elimination of all life on their worlds. Peace Through Brotherhood, Peace through Strength and Peace through unity my friend. ”

Logan kept his smile, the wind continued to warmly blow through the open doors and open windows. The soft yellow light of the ornately decorated accenting the various blue, whites, reds and gold colors in the large room. Holo TV’s displayed various newscast several meters down the hall.

Logan sat back on his chair folding his hands on his lap as he awaited the response of what he hope would be a new ally, he thought what a wonderful opportunity this would be to show opposites in morality and in government could work together towards one goal.

"We have similar aspirations, of course. This galaxy is rife with xenos taint, heresy...It overflows with the filth-nations who will not bend knee to Chaos nor accept mankind as the true masters of the Galaxy. We have not fought this long nor this hard to see our endeavours brought to ruin by the touch of subhuman filth races." Turel smiled gently, his fingers drumming against the table, his mind whirring, his voice coming forth as a harsh rasp. There were few things he despised more than the faithless and the inhuman, those who would not see the great light of Remiel and the power of Chronosia...Such abominations...

"In these trying times you must make no mistake; we are not here to fight your battles for you, we are not here to jump at whatever infidel nation has caught your eye this week. The Chronosians do not stand as the personal army of the Union. We shall decide upon worthy targets together, and deal with them accordingly." He clasped his hands, placing them upon the desk, gaze still intent upon the President.

"We will take your suggestions under advisement, of course, and see what can be learned of these apparently looming threats. The Imperium is not blind, nor is it reckless. The Gods themselves are at our back, the very hands of fate...We can afford the opportunity to be thorough." He chuckled darkly.

Logan Swiftly responded as he sat back on his own chair taking some whine and sipping it, the sun started to go down, the soft orange light glinting upon the massive sky scrapers that dotted the horizon, the light shown through the window gently accenting the various objects in to troom with its soft orange hue.


“We don’t presume to say we need you to fight our wars for us, we simply suggested it might be of mutual benefit to establish examples to the non human nations that have recently taken up arms against us that it would not be in their best interest to attack the union nor Chronosian imperuim”

Logan put down the crystal glass filled with its odd dark crimson liquid, a smile came over his face. As a suited man came up behind him with a large metal box in hand. Logan spoke once more as he folded one leg over the other.

“Here I present you with a gift, it is called a claymore it was found amongst old earth ruins on an island nation. Its still in peak condition. I do not wish to waste your time with gifts a warrior or commander would not appreciate , I used to be an officer in my own nations military.”

The box was put down on a clearing on the table, its lock was sealed with a simple turn mechanism. The flag flew gloriously near the obelisk in-front of the white house. The sun gently glinting and accenting the mansion and obelisk.


Lights began to shine from the top, blue white on the top and red lines leading down to the base of the monument.

"At this time with the tide of non-human aggression turning against you I would think it wise not to add to your list of enemies in random attacks. We won't be aiding you with the Xiscapian Problem at this juncture." Turel paused, drumming one hand against the desk, seemingly unconcerned by the effect his words would have. "We have launched a pacification action against the Warsaw system, and even now draw near to our defeat of the hated Coredians...This cannot be jeopardised for your pride. Not quite yet." He smiled, his hand moving to drum on the case of the sword; a beautiful example of weaponry...

"My terms, and so the terms offered by my gene-sire, are these...We shall have a non-aggression pact and a defense pact between us; that each of us shall forswear attacking the other and aid the other in their own defense, not in random attacks of aggression. Not quite yet..." He chuckled darkly, smirking all the while. "You shall also agree to the Chronosian annexation of both the neutral zone between us and the neutral zone between ourselves and the Steppe Empire; Union starbases and Chronosian Star Forts shall be emplaced along the Hyberborian border, to pen in and to educate the filth at our very doorsteps.

If any, they shall be your example."

Logan sat back and thought for a moment his smooth hand planted on his chin he responded after a few seconds of thought.

“The natural zone between us is mostly dead space, so we agree, the steppe-Federation neutral zone is a tense area of space and we could use extra hands keeping those aggressive nations out. By and by I accept all your proposals. We can start moving assets in to position right away if it Is at your connivance. I also wish to give your emperor some thing.”

A smile came across Logans face as another box materialized in a flash of white and blue light, it was in the shape of a panting, a rectangle. The box flung open, if one looked down at the image, they would notice it was earth. Logan spoke out as he saw the planet, he tapped a small button on the golden frame of the thing, and it started to time lapse showing Precambrian earth to Jurassic age earth to modern day earth.

“One of our.. Temporal probes recorded this though time, it is terra earth, as it was before humanity was birthed and after we had built our civilizations, the glory of our history as well as perhaps yours and many others began in its tender womb. I offer this as a show of friend-ship and commonality”
He bowed gently, these gifts were not patronizing they where more symbolic he hoped it would come across that way.

"Beautiful. I'm sure the Emperor will appreciate this token, this symbol of the world that has gone before; our shared distant homeland." There was a curt smile gracing his lips as he leant back, watching the president keenly.

"I am certain that our greater union shall open many doors, and formalising our brotherhood shall set an example for many who would otherwise oppose us. I am certain that there is much our powers might accomplish together in the coming years.

Much that you can do to aid us in our coming tumults."