Imperial Defense Force's Story

Morgan La Fay appears in a shimmering sphere of light once more. "Follow me."

The Revenge, sitting in the docking bay, had docked itself to the left of the Asylian ship when it recieved the message to all waiting ships that 'Space Station Z was closed to the public'. The captain, AAD-199, briefly wonders (if that's what a quick flash of information processing across the robots' AI circuitry) if there is any danger on board Space Station Z. So he dispatches a small group of three scout androids, armed with disrupter weaponry and fully able to think for themselves, but also able to combine their consciousnesses to transmit thoughts to each other. STA-579, 566, and 429 all walk down the ships ramp, not sure what to expect. They quickly take in the Asylian ship near them and send a message to the captain, who felt something resembling the human emotion of anticipation. The androids then continue to where the Aschen soldiers had literally just been let in, and, uncapable of feeling fear, just stand there, as the lights flash overhead. 566 even waves to NC7-Alpha. Then 429 relays the message to the other two, "Should we continue?" through verbal communication. 579 responds with, "I suppose so." So they advance up to Peter Rovontea.

As the Aschen fleet prepared for the operation, several dozen additional contacts began to filter in through the blackness of space. Roughly a dozen additional Aschen warships flickered into high orbit above Sky's Edge, the Reverence II 'Esteem' was among them. Once in position roughly one hundred and fifty thousand kilometers above Admiral Clegg's fleet, the Esteem began to initiate tactical maneuvers.

The arriving fleet showed up as shimmering green icons on the holographic display, and Admiral Clegg offered a scowl as EVE chirped to life.

"Admiral, I'm receiving revised objectives from the Esteem."

"Keeper of Abbasid, this is Esteem Actual, disregard all black file protocols disseminated by Intelligence, and revert to standard protocol, you've done your part, now let us do ours."

Admiral Hanley's voice echoed through the Keeper's CIC, and Admiral Clegg simply shook his head.

"Acknowledged, Esteem Actual, taking position now." The Admiral replied as he keyed the comms.

The Esteem, and her escort fleet took position, moving into an elongated delta formation as several hyperspace windows began to open up, and roughly a dozen starships that were uniquely not Aschen. Each of the new type of vessels were much smaller, more streamlined, and vaguely resembled bluewater ships, those who frequented the trade circles would recognize them as warships of the Taiyou Empire. Each one of the Taiyou ships bore a blue stripe along their hull, and their radio identifiers showed them as peacekeepers operating under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Defense Force.

With their movements coordinated, the Esteem, and the small floatilla of Taiyou ships began to move towards the planet below.

Hanley had already began the planning phase, they would first seize control of major population centers, as well as major infrastructure points, from there they would move out into the jungle. With strong beachheads established, the Admiral knew it would only be a matter of time before the rebels had been routed.

Slowly, Hanley grabbed the railing of the Command Console as the Esteem shook slightly, slipping into the transition point between vacuum, and atmosphere.

Droplets of moisture streaked against the cockpit glass of the Annihilator Mk VI as the airjet raced through dark, swirling clouds. In the armored seat of the Annihilator, the rushing wind and screaming engines were a muffled drone along with the occasional breath. With recycled air leaving a plain taste on his lips, Commander Frank Lyndon wiggled his fingers through a thin flight glove and then gripped tighter as he maneuvered the Annihilator through a bank of churning thunder clouds. Steadying himself against the hull of the cockpit with one hand, he slowly started to crane the throttle left, and watch as clouds streaked by.

Glancing down to his display, he keyed the atmospheric map onto his HUD and widened the focus on his readout. The flight through the storm was a sudden opportunity Commander Lyndon utilized after the strike package of eight Annihilators and two support airjets had descended to the sparsely populated planet from the carrier CNS Exylion.

Up ahead in about twenty miles the storm finally seemed to break, the temperate waters of the warm sea driving the weather that allowed the strike package to finish their transit and into an approach obscured from observation - hopefully. After hastily transferring from retrofits some lightyears from the Red Line, the Annihilators of the 89th Tactical Strike Squadron, had been armed and sent with the contingent onboard the Exylion. Themselves hastily cobbled together; a task force known only as Neulysses, was composed of merely a pair of ships.

Bringing him from those curious thoughts about developments from the past five days, a chime sounded in his ear. The communications bank opened on his display, while forward in the cockpit before him sat Lieutenant Rickey Stanford, the stations operator and co-pilot. Unencumbered with navigating the Annihilator through the storm, Stanford was quick on the comms and sensors.

Lyndon cautiously looked up from his navigation and studied the dark clouds around him. Off in the distance, he may have spotted the signalling red blip of another Annihilator’s beacon lights on its fuselage and tail. The eight Annihilators were pushing through the storm, and then sortieing on to their target in a loose horseshoe, with distance between one strikejet and the next varying in regards to getting through the storm.

“Looks like 2-2 and 2-3 are approaching the breakline,” Stanford began, adjusting a piece of his helmet with one quick hand. Lyndon’s ears were filled with a staticy crunch, and then a myriad of voices jumbling out as the comms stream connected.

“This is 2-3, Moishe’s gonna’ try and cut us through the next bank and - wait fuck, what … “ As the pilot trailed off Lyndon bit a scoff in his throat while pressing the Annihilator slowly to the left still. There, up ahead, he saw a glimpse of shimmering blue sky and tranquil water below it. Even farther off in the distance, a thin needle of land reached up from the waters.

“On approach through the band.” Lyndon reported, which earned a momentary glance backwards from his gunner. Slowly rolling the throttle upward by his leg, Lyndon listened to the muffled hum off two engines screaming.

“Come again, sir? We don’t know where the rest of the strike package is - those two ES jets haven’t been on comms since we hit the storm.” Stanford quickly returned as he put one hand up onto the interior cage of the cockpit above him.

“We’ve got about three miles of stormfront to use and still be on target, need a’ thread these all thin.” Was all Lyndon responded with before the Annihilator was buffeted against the clouds. As the grainy dark moisture boiled away the whole craft lurched once, then twice, bouncing free from the clouds and piercing into bright open sky.

Lieutenant Stanford was gripping at the handles as the Annihilator bucked and rolled, before dropping out from the clouds and leaving a swirling tail in it’s wake. “Fffhhh - this is Rampage 1, we’re through the storm bank.”

“Crack open a beer, Lieutenant. Welcome to 89-TacStrike.” Lyndon began, able to hide a smile through his oxygen mask. As the swirling dark of the storm was replaced with crystal blue and white, the windshield polarized just slightly to compensate for the new light. “This is Command Lyndon. Cycle out in pairs, one high and one low and regroup.” He ordered, dragging the Annihilator’s throttle to begin a long circle.

“Affirmative Rampage Actual, 2-3 fit to me.” And a myriad of other confirmations came from the other pilots of the strike package. Lyndon then peeled his hand away after throttling back, feeling the Annihilator loft in the air a few moments as the winds caught against the vehicle. As the Annihilator crested a turn and steered back towards the storm front, Lyndon made a quick double take out his left window, to the waves down below after noticing something odd down below.

Had they avoided a storm, he would not have been so concerned about seeing what appeared to be a pair of ships just beyond the edges of the weather. Following through the turn though, Lyndon’s suspicions were only confirmed. There below, two rusted looking trawlers bobbed atop the waves. “Lieutenant?” He began, but Stanford was already ahead of that ball it seemed.

“Got ‘em, C-O. Whoever’s fishing down there is pretty bad at it.” Stanford remarked dryly, while a chime sounded as he lowered his hands down to his own station. The gunner sat forward and lowered, positioned near the chin-mounted Tactical Airborne Weapons Kit (or TAWK), allowing the pilot a wider range of vision from his seat behind. “Wait, white-black is weird … “

Just as Lyndon steadied out the Annihilator, another appeared, breaching through the clouds. It was followed a few seconds later by a pair of others. Lyndon reached up to key his comms, adjusting the throat-bead while he spoke. “This is Rampage Actual, be aware: two small vessels spotted due northwest, spin up your drives and preheat.” He ordered quickly again, while flicking at a toggle on the stick with his thumb. In a corner of his central display, the weapons platform spun to life. While both Lyndon and Stanford shared control over the various missiles the Annihilator carried, the chin-mounted 37mm and 14.7mm weapons and hull-mounted 78mm stanchion cannon were under exclusive operation by Stanford.

Lyndon left the Lieutenant to prepare his own weaponry, he used the haptic feedback of his HUD to slave a pair of TGM-99 Streak guided missiles on the farthest pylons of the Annihilator’s stubby wings. Next, he filtered through the sensors, quickly locking both of the vessel’s positions. “Rampage 1 is weapons spooling.” Stanford said, then looking out the window and down to the vessels below.

“Intel said the fishing season was on the close and most ships would be berthing right? Why the fuck’re skimmers out on the edge of a stor - “ Before Stanford or Lyndon could discuss, the Commander noticed an odd shudder in the Annihilator. It was so insignificant that a lesser pilot might have missed it, but Lyndon had been piloting airjets for decades, and understood them like an extension of his body.

From somewhere back along the fuselage a thrumming tunk followed. Perhaps it was turbulence, or a capacitor shifting or any number of other things that occur during a routine flight, or something else. “Rack up an AP in the 78, and incendiary in everything else. I’ve got two Streaks slaved.” Lyndon said, then following the bank of clouds with his eyes as another pair of Annihilators broke free.

“White-hot’s way too heavy for a fishing ship, there’s something up with those ships down the - “ This time, louder now, both Lyndon and Stanford heard them clearly. One, two, three heavy impacts shook the Annihilator, and the stick shook in Lyndon’s hands. He fought the Annihilator through her shudders, pouring into the engines with the throttle.

“Rampage Actual is fire-hot, engaging. The rest of you, form the strike package and proceed to the target - Rampage Eight, you’re on my six.” Lyndon barked, cranking the stick to the side as he watched the final Annihilator come blazing through the storm clouds. His ears were filled with a flood of confirmations and the impact alarm.

“We just got hit with somethin’ bad! Those aren’t small calibers, I think they’ve got a fucking 30 down there or something!” Stanford barked out, quickly sliding his hand into the station control as he took control of the chin-mounted cannons. A moment later the Annihilator returned the volley sent to them. There were four dull barks as the 37mm revolver cannon cycled in the incendiary rounds fed to it.

Down below, the 37mm rounds crossed their distance with a clap of thunder, the magnetically accelerated shells punching through the hull of one vessel just above the waterline, two others snaking their way up towards the deck as the last one impacted uselessly into the water short of the target. “I’ve got hits, nothing critical yet. You wanna’ hit that one with the Streak?” Stanford inquired, riding along in his seat as the Annihilator shifted to approach the pair of vessels from behind.

“Spot on, Lieutenant. Rampage Actual is Fox-1.” Lyndon stated, his voice blunt and cold as he shifted a finger onto the trigger of his stick. As he crammed onto the throttle, he rode the charging engines while the sensors locked the Streak missile to the vessel.

“We’re booming the first vessel, Rampage Eight clean up that second one!” Stanford barked out again as the Annihilator streaked forward, nearly skimming along the waves as well. Descending so rapidly, the Lyndon planned to build speed as much as possible to regroup with the strike package after taking care of these vessels. Lyndon fixed his face forward, waiting patiently for the red box surrounding the targeted vessel to turn green.

When it did, there was a streak from somewhere beside the Annihilator, the guided missile jumping from it’s carriage and blast towards the target. Just as Lyndon was preparing to break the Annihilator away into a climb, the Streak raced up ahead, soon descending at an abrupt angle to then impact just behind the bridge. Lyndon’s visor polarized from a frothing, white hot explosion that spewed metal and smoke into the air, and he stamped on the yaw.

Cranking the stick the Annihilator peeled away, leaving the smoldering vessel in its wake as the airjet zoomed onward. Lynd felt 38 odd tons of metal and avionics yield to his hand, and punched the throttle to put as much distance between the surviving vessel and him as Rampage Eight made its run. The comms squawked as Eight lined up for their run, but Lyndon was confident the pilot, Ensign Symu, would keep the vessel from shooting his commander in the back. “This is Eight, cycling the long-arm.”


“Splash on the first target, she’s scuttled. There were secondaries in that strike though, they had ammo on that rust bucket!” The Lieutenant snarled as he pulled the visor of his HUD up, fitting them against the forehead of his helmet. “If they’ve got pickets on the water they’ll know there’s something coming out of this storm.”

Lyndon nodded along with Stanford, but kept his answer silent. Watching his speed climb, the Commander steered the Annihilator ahead to the rest of the strike package, six other Annihilators that had taken up their strike positions in a wide horseshoe. Finally, Lyndon responded, settling back into his seat as he spotted the approaching dots lining the in a line across the sky. “We just jumped out of the bushes on ‘em, Lieutenant.”

....Grid Two-1, Activity detected, Sector thirteen, Subsector Two, Provincia Isiria_...

Routing Datalog, relays seven, nine, three, green. Subspace link strong..._

Watchtower Confirms - relay 12-2 - IPCOM, IDF CODE Alpha..._

"All Available assets respond to possible incursion with all due haste."

"This is not a drill."

---

"Action Stations! Action Stations! Set condition one throughout the ship! This is not a drill!"

Aboard the Far Sight Lost, in the outskirts of the Arastel System, alarms were blaring through the entirety of the Reverence II Far Sight Lost, with whispers in some uncharted fringe system potentially identified as possible Asylian activity, the Aschen would spare no expense to gearing up, and intercepting the automated beacon reports of unidentified aircraft operating on a previously sparsely controlled world on the fringes of civilized space.

"We have not confirmed the patterns, or the designs of the unknown ships operating in this sector, however automated beacons have begun sending distress signals as of 0330, local time." EVE reported, as she began filtering the data coming in from several automated early warning beacons strewn across the vastness of the Isirian provincial territories.

"My recommendation is that we take a small contingent of ships to investigate."

EVE's tone was resolute, sure in her carefully plotted recommendations, compiled from whatever data she could muster, while Admiral Genna, a fairly experienced field officer watched the readouts carefully.

"I'm not familiar with these pattern-designs." Admiral Genna remarked, manipulating a blurry hologram amidst a dark backdrop.

EVE offered a brief nod. "These patterns bear a vague match to outdated records pertaining to a 'United Coalition' but these designs have not been updated, and information on them is limited. They do not match any known Asylian designs." EVE confirmed, looking up to Admiral Genna from where she stood on the console, manipulating the tactical display to highlight whatever sparse data she could filter through.

"Right." Genna replied. "EVE, coordinate the Hour of Need, the Bum Rush, and the Undying storm to tactical formation Beta, coordinate the Javelin, and the Pellas to form up on our rear flank, while we move the Hercules, and the Ixion to form on our bow." The Admiral replied, eliciting an enthusiastic nod from EVE. "I'll calibrate FTL for a low-atmo jump, from there we can launch alert fighters." EVE said, her voice offering a soothing sound to the Admiral's ears, while the Command-Sync system began to disseminate orders to the Far Sight Lost's escorts.

The Hour of Need, the Bum Rush, and the Undying Storm were all capable Hastati class cruisers, each capable of mid, to long range sustained close in engagements, as well as providing an effective escort to the Reverence II. The Athena class missile cruisers Javelin, and Pellas formed the rear, while the duet of Aegis cruisers, the Hercules, and the Ixion moved to the front, each of the ship commanders synchronizing their coordinate data, and their FTL Drives to the Reverence II's command line system.

With everything synchronized, Admiral Genna watched the display light up, and she adjusted it slightly.

"EVE, Execute the jump."

All at once, the Aschen ships winked out of existence from their original position.

----

Some could say that perhaps the storm got darker, as the transition point between the vacuum of space, and the atmosphere of the planet, somewhere in the thermosphere, a powerful spatial shockwave rocked immediate area, and cast a long shadow enough to darken the storm even further below. Brief flashes of lightning illuminated the underside of the massive, bulbous Aschen supercarrier, and illuminated the armored hulls of each of the escort ships that jumped in with it.

Aboard the CIC, the displays shifted to a more tactical locale, bringing up a wide 3000x3000 mile map of the ocean, and landmasses below, the clouds highlighted in muted greens, oranges, and reds, with indicators for wind speed, and other meteorological data. Genna watched a series of icons as they made their way through the storm, and a series of Icons below. It seemed they were fighting.

"We weren't aware of this kind of ordinance way out here, heavy ordinance." Genna said aloud, spreading her fingers to zoom in on the display. Genna watched quietly as one bluewater vessel after another disappeared from the display. She thumbed her chin, surrounded by the dull hum of twenty trillion tons of Supercarrier. She leaned forward and keyed up the other vessels. "Fishing boats aren't supposed to be armed." She surveyed additional icons up and down the coast, and made a face.

"I have positive locks on all targets in the area." EVE reported, her voice cutting the silence. "Identification confirmed for Scatterran designs, using dated data." EVE Pondered for a moment. "Recommendation, neutralize remaining targets, it is likely- I have incoming." EVE Added, a ballistic rocket fired from one of the remaining pickets, a crudely made missile silo fashioned from a shipping container, and some concrete reinforcement. The rocket arced upwards in a wide arc, detonating it's payload immediately before striking the Reverence II in a brilliant, blinding flash of radiological ordinance that splashed across a milky white barrier, energy washing across the entire superstructure of the vessel.

Inside the CIC, it was felt as a slight tremor, and a dull boom.

Genna grit her teeth.

"Shields are holding." EVE reported.

Grasping the console, Genna drew red targeting lines to each large vessel closer to the landmass, including the cargo ship that fired at them. "Full charge, return fire."

Almost immediately as the command was issued, a single dual-barreled weapon battery the size of a large house swiveled to life on the ventral side of the Reverence II, emerging from it's armored recess, and adjusting it's massive weapon barrels to the planet below. It was a single discharge of vivid green that streaked downwards like an errant meteor, splitting the clouds asunder in a brilliant flash of green light in the measurement of roughly ninety million roentgens that split the horizon in two.

In an instant, the cargo ship was engulfed in green light, and a plume of steam that mushroomed high into the sky, metal, and water both vaporized in a flash.

"Target neutralized." EVE reported.

Genna smirked. "Now that we've introduced ourselves, let's find out who our new friends are."

As the pair of Annihilators rejoined the rest of the strike package and reached the port, they descended towards the sprawling mainland at a low altitude and high speed, having broken a hole in the net of disguised pickets. To the west, a second group of airjets soared at a similar altitude, though these were heavier and slower M/AVT-88 and V/AV-82 AvHawk and Vulture transport craft. The ground component of the operation, a platoon of marine infantry landed at the target after Rampage’s landfall.

Reaching the coast, the airjets dropped their speed and hugged the tree tops. Up ahead in the distance, gunfire and smoke rose - Rampage had just descended on the port, letting their heavy weapon chew into the landing site. Looking up from a handheld, Commander Leon Solomon then handed it off to a Sergeant beside him. He settled into the jumpseat, and looked down the cargo hold to the marines before him.

“Rampage used the storm, who had the turn-around?” Solomon quipped, while the men and women before him all erupted into animation.

“Sonuvabitch - the one time aerocav does their fucking job!” A man snapped, while one marine pulled a pack of cigarettes from his vest. With a grunt, he bent to offer them to another marine across from him.

“Good call on that, I would’ve had them a turn-around for sure. You see one of those weirdos back on the ship? Swear to God, one of them looks like he eats his fingernails.” The marine poked as he pulled a cigarette for himself.

“Well fuck, Pasters wouldn’t stop fucking talking to them when we were uploading,” Another marine snapped, flapping a gloved hand to Pasters, sitting with a SAW-429 between his legs. Pasters tucked his nose up, and then drew a finger to adjust the glasses he wore.

“I studied aeroavionic engineering at West Biko, fault me for having a degree before the military,“ He began, shrugging at the taunt from his comrade. “Are you aware how complex these machines actually are? I’ll break this grate right here and let you try and find the sub-system bus that keeps these belts from auto-opening from power gyration.”

A few of the marines nearby gave a cautious glance at that, first looking down at their boots and then to the straps binding them onto the jumpseats. “You a fuckin’ slam dunk at the parties, aren’t you Pastie?” A Lance Corporal sniped, calmly adjusting the strap on his rig before turning his attention back to the drone of the engines.

“Listen the fuck up, we’re on hot dirt in twenty!” Commander Solomon barked as he unbuckled the rigs, promptly standing up to hold the ceiling of the AvHawk as it began its final descent. “Annihilators are smashing the port up but it’ll still be wild on the ground - we’re out in the middle of nowhere, the Aschen are probably wondering what the fuck a Star Fleet carrier’s doing this far into the Local Region and why there’s a Terran freighting mover out here with a distributing port,”


Policing the many sparsely populated worlds of the Aschen and Terran borders for the Exogarden had become a daunting task, no more importantly in the stretch of space that had become a special department of the Exogarden entirely. Officially the Aschen/Local International Regional Bureau and Apparatus Division, or ALIRBAD, was a policing and peacekeeping force monitoring the borders. With the breakdown in communications with the Garden, the Exogarden’s difficult task was made even more complicated by nearby rebellions and the inevitable growth of smuggling it brought to the sparsely populated worlds.

While contraband was a small concern to the Bureau, weapons were however. Exogarden security forces had stumbled upon a smuggling ring elsewhere in the Local Region some months ago, and had initiated this distant strike. Determining that whatever was travelling along this pipeline was going into Aschen space, the Exogarden had authorized marines of the AlIRBAD to make a deep-strike at the estimated last ‘acceptable’ stop on the pipeline before it was too far into Aschen to be effectively raided.

“Some plastic looking import/export has been stockpiling his way to the Aschen border - and we’vn’t a fucking clue what they’re lugging. Whatever it is though, it needs power, water and air. Day and night. This isn’t some auto exchange for collectors in Langara or Wing City.” Commander Solomon said, signalling for the troop doors on either side of the AvHawk to open without breaking his eyes to the marines before him.

“Whatever’s down there is for something in Aschen space and this is the last point on the journey before the Exogarden will let us invade the Aschen Empire again.” He continued, gripping at a handle overhead with one hand as the other waved. Before him, a hologram spewed into life and threw a blue haze across the marines before him.

A topographical map of the continent came into focus, particularly the small cape of her southern plains where the marines were raiding the port. A small outpost of civilization pressed against the continent’s wild interior, the port was likely used as staging for colonists in the previous years. As time went on of course most places with infrastructure like this, water, power or air, and especially comfortable living, had come to change hands with colonists and armed groups frequently. So much a strike package had been dropped on the place.

“We’re inserting in expected heat, right after the last missile strikes. They’ll all be shook, but not all dead, so don’t catch a slug checking a street shop. Now there are three primary locations we’re expecting the cargo to be at: Bravo and Charlie will be on these,” He gestured to the two sites, a pair of orange markers fixing the location. The third sat nestled away from the coast, up the snaking roads into small hills looking over the beaches. “But we’re landing here, on Alpha. Bravo and Charlie are secondary targets, anything from weapons to materiel in there supporting whatever’s moving into Aschen space. We want all of it.”

As the AvHawk soared above the outskirts of the port, Commander Solomon looked out through the open bay door to see an Annihilator loom by, her chin-mounted cannons rattling as a gassing station down below exploded into a swirling ball of fire and heat. “Rampage is tearing the place up, so watch your debris. Don’t assume the Aschen will take this standing down, this raid is going to spook them and whoever is smuggling into this stretch of the Aschen border. Now I know I shouldn’t have to say this, so watch your fucking targets.” The vehicle then began to descend, and Solomon reached over to his seat to grab his G4KS rifle from his jumpseat.

One of the crewmembers stood beside the bay door of the AvHawk, watching the ground approach. As he drew a hand up, a green light snapped to life beside the door. “Touch down in thirty! Ready!”

With that, the other marines stood up and checked their weaponry, the sound of rifles and machineguns charging filled the troop bay. “Who’re the Aschen gonna’ bitch to after this now that we’ve gone black on comms into the Garden?” One marine asked curiously, punching the 30 round magazine into the well of his G4K1 rifle.

“Same as the Terrans and everyone else now - fuckin’ no one, hah!” A Lance Corporal barked, smacking the charging handle of his own G4 and then shouldering it up into his chest as the two lines began to move. Solomon was the first one out, boots crunching against the ground after he jumped from the open bay.

The other marines filtered out the two bays on either side of the transport, quickly moving away from it to allow those heavy engines to fire off and bring the beast back into the air. “Form your squads!” Solomon yelled, waving a fireteam of four marines over to him. A Staff Sergeant joined as well, carrying a ruggedized set on his hip. Staff Sergeant Ferdinand Duncan had a typical appearance of a Tranebian: thin hair, a thin moustache and rough features from a life spent in the sun.

“We’ve got hits on a structure up ahead, Rampage hit the port and it looks like a group pulled back to the offices up ahead. Probably used to be civil utilities.” Duncan began, hefting the ruggedized off from his waist and showing it to the Commander. On the screen, a cluster of buildings up the road into the hills was marked red, blue and green. Red, targets found but yet unneutralized by Rampage, blue for structures that had already been hit by the strike package and verified (from above) ‘clear’ and green for targets that had been observed and found empty, so were thus not engaged. While the Exogarden doubted there were no civilians in the port, they took extra precautions to minimize the possibility of collateral damage.

Even with the best efforts though, the timetable of the operation had not allowed the Exogarden as thorough of a Pre-Strike Observation as they wanted to be. Down the road near the muddy parking lot for a structure, Solomon could make out the burning hulk of a civilian vehicle. What looked to be a sedan had borne the brunt of a direct strike from a barrage of 14.7mm shells. As it burned, Solomon focused his gaze, in the hopes he might learn if it were occupied or not when it was fired on.

Before he got his answer there was the crisp bark of a rifle, and Solomon ducked down into cover when the bullet went skittering off the rockwall he was behind. “Second story, window on the right!” A marine shouted, before him and another planted themselves on the lip of the wall and opened fire. Corporal Nixon Young steadied his G4K1 beside Pasters, who was also set up with his SAW. The two opened fire in a deafening fusillade, which allowed Sergeant Duncan to take Privates Loren and Corey on an advance under fire, and taking cover beside another parked sedan in the parking lot.

“This is Alpha 2-1, we’re engaged at the utilities stations! Watch your upper stories for snipers!”



Elsewhere, a Vulture and AvHawk were descending into the port to attack one of the two targeted buildings found there, Objective Bravo. The Vulture descended to land straight on the roadway, near an empty stretch of docks. Eight marines jumped free as the Vulture was barely feet from the ground, Sergeant First Class Conway Parsons being the first.

“Out and green, marines!” He hollowed out, leading from the front as he disembarked and then began to sprint to the roadway barrier. From the nearby offices the sharp barks of rifle fire grew again, even as an Annihilator overhead bathed the roof of the structure with cannon fire. While the marines rallied under fire, the last man sprinting from the Vulture looked up, out to the waves.

“Hey there’s something coming out of the storm!” He yelled, soon ducking down behind cover. Even with the gunfire and explosions though, Parsons heard something else, something distant. Out there off the coast, the swirling clouds had broken apart and shattered, revealing parts of a sleek ship.

“Who dropped a fucking ship into orbit?!” Another marine shouted, occasionally peeking over the road barrier as rounds chewed into the concrete. Cursing under his breath, Parsons hefted his G4KS into his shoulder and pressed it up over the lip of the barrier. “That’s not the fucking Star Fleet!”

“Sonuvabitch, the Imperials dropped a fucking Reveverence II!” Duncan hollered. Being a Private in the Terran Conflict, and a squad-leader in the following Galactic War, he had seen the Aschen Reverence IIs up close and personal. Seeing one of those massive, sleek ships in person again after all these years drew a scowl to his face. “It’s gonna’ fire, everyone down!”

When that green lance struck the vessel just a few kilometers off the coast, there was a roiling explosion of steam and water, debris cartwheeling into the air as well. The shock wave sent papers fluttering from the windows as they were knocked out from the thundering blast.

One marine was blown onto his back, cursing out through a split lip as he spat blod onto the asphalt. “They found more of those pickets, they’ll glass the whole damn continent!”

As the dust settled from the impact, Duncan lifted himself up from cover just slightly, eyes scanning the sky before him. “If they hit anything within a click of our position we’re in the fallout zon - fuck, back in cover!” He screamed, as a chunk of the vessel’s rudder went careening into the roof of the office ahead of them, breaking clean through one corner and then sending a shower of concrete debris and rebar onto the parking lot and highway below.


With the Aschen supership settled into her loft, any hopes of quick answers would have evaporated. Pickets still lined the coast, in some fifty mile line, and three units had been infiltrated in a triangle around the port. Onboard the Far Sight Lost, they may have brought themselves in close enough to pick up communications from the marines on the ground, though considering all three were engaged in fights practically as soon as they disembarked conversation was brief and sporadic.

“This is Alpha 2 Actual to the Aschen vessel - we are engaged by indigenous combatants at three objectives around the port … “

“This is 2-3, that strike was too fucking close! If something goes off in this port the whole fucking place could go up!”

“Oscar-Mike, 2-3, just secure your objective and watch your timetable!”

"They've got some medium AA around the port sectors, we just spiked a 20mm quad!"

Another transmission had arrived though - this one from somewhere deep outside the system even, it appeared. Unencumbered with distant communications like the Exogarden was with their short range packs, something else was able to speak with the Far Sight Lost much easier.

[Attention command and crew of the Reverence II Far Sight Lost, I am a custodial Expert OS of the Exogarden’s Aschen/Local Regional International Bureau and Apparatus Division, or ALIRBAD.

Three days ago the two ships of Task Force Neulysses began a counter-smuggling operation tracking a shipment that I've determined is bound for Aschen space: further, I determined that this planet was one of the last stops before successful interdiction would become problematic. Currently I am working with the commander of the CNS Elyxion to facilitate communications between the vessels. Please stand by.]

The Admiral watched intently on the display as the results from her strike poured into the display. The target had been neutralized, and the remaining picket began to scatter. This much was obvious as none of them had the capability, or the equipment to strike a Reverence II, no matter how ballsy these filth were.

"The fact that these Scatterran Remnants are striking this deep into our border territories is not only an embarrassment, but a national security blunder the likes of which I don't care to repeat." The Admiral said, turning to her command officer, a middle aged Commander by the name of Kalfas. "We're going to strike swiftly, and with a show of force that will send a strong message to all those involved, that this Empire governs these worlds, and that we will not tolerate those who defy our rule."

The Holographic display adjusted slightly, and Genna checked the altimeter, as the Reverence II slid through the transition zone into the stratosphere. The ship shook, and bucked slightly, tremors echoing through the superstructure while air currents, and wind eddies blew against the vessel, condensing white puffy clouds off the sleek starboard hull that served to slightly mask the visual approach, while white hot plasma boiled across the bow sections from the ship's size, and velocity, dissipated by the fluctuating energy shields that while rapidly losing efficiency due to atmospheric disturbances, were still quite strong.

"Ninetynine thousand and falling." EVE reported, while a yellow line gently curved down from present position. A three-dimensional representation of the port city below them appeared, while several likely landing zones were identified.

EVE's report rolled in as Genna quietly listened to the message from deep within the system, cutting out bridge chatter while she focused on the task at hand.

Pulling up another display, Genna keyed up the frequency of the transmission, and dragged an icon to instruct EVE to facilitate two-way communications as soon as possible, with the task of coordinating the strike up ahead, Genna had to quickly envelope the city, and cut off any avenues of retreat.

"With our descent in altitude, long range bombardment of offshore targets will require coordination with escort." EVE reported.

Genna nodded, and dismissed the notion for a moment.

"We need to identify friendlies from foe, gods damnit we need IFF Signals now!" Genna barked, directing her ire towards the tactical officer.

"Sort the gods damned nonsense, and clean up the noise!" Genna shouted, her voice carrying all through the CIC of the Reverence II.



As it settled into it's position, roughly fourty thousand feet directly above the city's dockyards, the Reverence II cast a long shadow over the entirety of the city, and out into the water, it was so low now, the deep bass note of it's massive engines reverberated through the entire city as a low, thunderous rumble over the din of machinegun fire.

Veterans of the Terran Conflict, and those who had seen a Reverence II up close knew what was about to happen next, as a loud pop echoed through shattered buildings, causing some of the rowdy natives to pause in their cover, and look up. Immediately over the dockyards, a brilliant shaft of purple light extended up into the belly of the beast, casting a haunting, iridescent purple glow across broken glass, and shattered concrete.

Amid the chaos of a wide, and flat dockyard lined with shipping containers, between exchanges of fire between ALIRBAD, and Insurgents, the first Aschen boots made their way to the ground, amidst the brief, and occasional white flash of light from above, as AA fire pelted the shields of the Aschen supercarrier as an act of futile defiance.

They came with a plume of dust, towering twelve foot tall behemoths in power armor, sealed from the elements, and each wielding the heavy Type 60, the heavy Magnetron rifle. The Adept Sergeant sported a wicked grin, while he formed up his squad, shifting his weight as he felt several small caliber rounds ping against his back, ricocheting off of the armor in a shower of sparks.

"Secure the port! We gotta suppress the resistance so we can establish a beachhead! Command wants to lock down the whole city!" The Adept called out, while a second Adept shouted.

"Hell, they can glass this trash bin for all I care!" He retorted, as he lifted up his weapon, and sent several slugs into, and through the concrete of a small guard shack, sending chunks careening into all directions, while a third adept kicked an overturned yard dog off to the side, sending it sliding into a burned out shipping container.

"Fan out in all directions! If it shoots at you, brain the sumbitch!"

Heavy mechanical footsteps signaled the adepts as they moved out, carefully in all directions, the warzone was hot, and they were about to make it hotter.

---

"The first Adept deployment is on station." EVE reported. "I'm still awaiting further communications from this ALIRBAD."

Genna rubbed her forehead, and nodded.

"Disseminate an IFF Package to all friendlies on station, I don't want them shooting my Adepts." Genna instructed.

"By your command." EVE replied.

In orbit of the planet, onboard CNS Elyxion

Deep within the central bridge of the Elyxion, the bridge team watched in mute silence as imagery filtered back from the planet’s surface. Across the main airscreen the enormous Reverence loomed above the battlefield, obscuring some parts of the port as the operation rushed onward even with the newest addition. There were a few hushed voices, or the clack of machinery as a technician ran their equipment. The battle unfolding down below while the carrier hung in orbit near one of the planet’s small moons was quite distant in a concern, though with the Aschen arrival the Starfleet vessel made no intentions of moving suddenly.

From bow to stern nearly two and a half kilometers with a beam of almost eight hundred meters, the Arbaleks class Expeditionary Carrier was one of the smaller interplanetary carrier ships in use throughout the Exogarden’s squadron. It was also, more importantly, a long-distance strike and reconnaissance vessel, ill-armed in terms of cannons and missiles. Strikecraft, marines and transport vehicles is what the Elyxion specialized in. Her commander, Captain Jakob Aatos stood with his hands on the railing while he studied the Reverence on the airscreen ahead. Beside him was the image of a fair woman, soft green eyes and thin hair spilling over bare shoulders.

“I am sensing an elevated heart-beat Captain, was the High Commodore wrong for selecting the Elyxion for this mission?” Amritha inquired, her fabricated view betraying the odd shimmer in her visage as the woman turned to face the silent Captain.

“No ma’am - Systems, prepare the ex-fil package for the mission return.” Jakob began, barking an order down to the decks below when the bridge stepped into activity a moment later. Looking back over to Amritha, he studied the intelligence standing before him. “I take it you’ll be informing the Commodore.” The Captain inquired through a hushed tone, watching the intelligence then glance over to the main airscreen.

“Personally. The Task Force’s secondary phase is beginning smoothly, you don’t have to worry so much about that.” She placated the nervous Captain with a soft nod, chilly eyes almost soft for a moment. “The Elyxion is to return-sortie with the Trafalga upon mission completion.” Amritha began, then turning away from the Captain. “What’s left can be for the Aschen, you only had one objective. Let them have any prisoners as well, sate their palate for the flare of execution.”

As she spoke, the Captain stood away from the railing, a comms display winking to life in front of him. Nearby hails from the Reverence II were being processed. He steadied himself as the link between the two vessels opened, but in a second a question crossed his mind. The Captain turned for Amritha one last time, glancing over his shoulder to then see nothing behind him. With a sigh, he turned back to the display screen.

“This is Captain Jakob Aatos of the CNS Elyxion to the Reverence Far Sight Lost, an Exogarden Task Force has interdicted a possibly dangerous shipment bound for Aschen space, marine and aviation assets on planetside as we speak and we are engaged by possible insurgents.

We have a marine platoon groundside and accompanying strike package that has sortied on the target prior. We’re processing battlefield damage assessment now, while ground forces mop up the rest of the resistance - uh, how copy Far Sight Lost?”


“This is Alpha 2-3 calling site green at the port, designating targets for ground engagement now.”

Atop the roof of the port’s main office building, the marine squad in the southernmost dock of the port were taking up defensive positions with objective Charlie and the town out ahead of them. Asphalt crunched under boots as Sergeant Parsons aimed a finger down to the far end of the roof.

“Let’s slap the 14.7 over there, and we’ll put a slug through anything these Aschen are going to kick up.” He barked, turning towards a Private as he approached carrying a backpack comms drive. The marine held a wireless receiver, while the other draped across his battle rifle strung to his chest.

“We’re patched in with comms from the carrier.” The Private reported, and then Parsons quickly took the receiver. As a pair of marines broke open the drop container and began assembling an anti-material rifle, Parsons stepped besides a conditioning unit plugged into the roof and pressed the receiver to his cheek.

“This is marine infantry squad Alpha 2-3 to Aschen ground forces, we have one objective secured on this location - Alpha 2-4 is at the north end of the port with objective Charlie. Be advised multiple fire contacts on approach into the town. 2-3 is preparing for long range suppressing fire now.”

Between his eight marines they had the 14.7mm anti-material rifle and an MG-40B GPMG, not to mention a contingent of launchers and grenades. Defending the objective, and projecting fire onto the port and into town below was Alpha 2-3s secondary task next to supporting Alpha 2-4 at objective Charlie.

At a distant end of the roof, Lance Corporal Daniel Barislav and PFC Otto Franer were setting up the MG-40B onto a tripod. Yanking open the receiver, Barislav cleared the weapon for a fresh strip of 7.9x59mm rounds that Franer was pulling from a box. “We got eyes on 2-4? They haven’t gibbered over platoon comms yet.”

Barislav was already ahead of Franer, leaving him to load the weapon as he pressed a set of binoculars to his eyes and looked down into the port below. Along the main thoroughfare to the northern warehouses, the Lance Corporal spotted the familiar, splotchy coastal camouflage of the ALIRBAD’s marine infantry stacking up to a nearby warehouse. Tapping at a key on his comm bead, Barislav kept the binoculars fixed onto 2-4.

“This is Bari, advise the Aschen to form up and support 2-4, they’re stacking on objective Charlie.”

A few hundred meters across the port, a squad of eight marines peered over the road barrier, beginning to crawl over it and filter their way towards the first warehouse. The marine at the front, a Sergeant, cradled the M-8 submachinegun in his hand and drew a hand into the air. As he keyed his comms, the marines lazily stacked up against the door. “This is Alpha 2-4, stacking on Objective Charlie.”

Aboard the Far Sight Lost.

"Admiral, we've established two-way communications with the Exogarden Carrier Elyxion." EVE chimed in, while the Admiral remained focused on the large holographic table before her.

A shimmering audio icon flashed in the upper right hand corner, and the Admiral slowly reached up to touch it. Keying the communications, she was about to factor response until another contact appeared on the far side of the system.

"Additional ships detected, authenticating identification codes now, It's the Psalm Everyday." EVE reported, the second Reverence II roughly half an AU away pinging on the Far Sight Lost's command grid. This caused Admiral Genna to frown. "This is Provincial Garrison's Command, why is Fleet here?" Genna asked herself quietly.

"Ad Victoriam, Far Sight Lost, this is Psalm Actual, I'll be taking command of this operation as of this moment, I require a full sitrep, and a link up with the Starfleet Carrier in high orbit over the planet." Admiral Nagala's voice carried loud and crisp over the CIC's speaker system, linking the second Reverence II into the Aschen Datalink. It took roughly two minutes for Nagala to go over the identifiers, before she instructed EVE to broadcast to the CNS Elyxion.

"Attention Elyxion Actual, this is Fleet Admiral Nagala, supreme commander of the Imperial Navy, be advised I'll be taking full operational command of all Imperial Assets in system as of now, and I am requesting a full briefing on this package your forces have intercepted."

Pushing some stray black hair from her face, Nagala keyed up her own display, a wide-field display of the entire star system, with Aschen and Exogarden assets highlighted in green, and soft blue respectively. Something this dangerous would no doubt get Intelligence's attention, so she had to act swiftly. She adjusted the peaked cap that rested on her head, and manipulated the controls slightly, to reposition her own Reverence II into a lagrangian point inside the star system, far removed from everything that had been transpiring below.

Below, aboard the Far Sight Lost, Admiral Genna had already recieved new orders from Nagala to begin securing the entire port city immediately for termination, with the Empire's zero-tolerance policy concerning insurgents, the fact had disturbed Admiral Genna greatly.

"Admiral.." One of the Tactical Officers called out. "Fleet's just disseminated revised objectives, they want us to glass the continent?"

Reading the text associated with the order file, Genna nodded. "It's part of the Empire's Zero Tolerance policy when it comes to insurgencies. They don't want to differentiate between friend, and foe, so they want to kill them all. Fortunately, the order stipulates that we're to assist the Exogarden with whatever their objective is, and then raze this city to the ground once all ground assets have withdrawn."

Focusing on the display in front of her, she listened intently to the Marine chatter below.

"We have Scatteran forces moving against the north side of the port, I've identified this warehouse here." EVE reported, highlighting a warehouse where Alpha 2-4 had begun stacking for insertion.

"Our Adepts are closest to this position, we have enemy RPG positions in these offices here." EVE reported, highlighting a red office building, roughly four storeys tall.

Genna nodded slightly, tapping the building.

"One-two, quarter charge, make it so." Genna ordered.

"By your command." EVE reported.

Roughly two blocks from the northern warehouse, inside an office building, a group of insurgents were forming up with a heavy RPG as the line of Aschen war Adepts moved along the side street to the north, unfortunately for them, something big was about to happen.

Those on the ground would hear a deafening, shrill whine, followed by a strange staticky buzz, and a forty thousand roentgen spike in energy, and then there was two blinding green flashes of light, followed by a deafening, thunderous boom-boom, as one of the bow-turrets on the underside of the Reverence II opened fire, engulfing the office building in a flash of neon-green plasma, and sending a shockwave that shattered windows, and set off car alarms.

Amidst the chaos, eight war adepts in blue armor emerged from a nearby overturned eighteen-wheeler, calling out to the Marines stacking at the warehouse.

"Hey! I heard you guys needed a hand, you want us to go in first!" The Adept sergeant called out, his armor bearing the insignia of the Aschen Navy, and the stripes for sergeant. He chambered a twenty-millimeter Magnetron bolt, before he kicked down the jersey barrier that separated the roadway.

The system they had happened into, somehow, some way, was bustling with activity, with a proverbial millions of individual starships formed in orderly starlanes that stretched across the vastness of space like a spider's web, providing shimmering tendrils that stretched out among the stars.

One planet, became two, as their orbital paths revealed another verdant, continental world behind the first planet, this second planet was teeming with activity, with hundreds of thousands of starships coming, and going from various points onto the planet.

But, the unidentified vessel was being tracked from the moment it entered the Pan'chek system so danger close to the Langara-Pangar Exclusionary Zone.

A single watchtower crew kept their systems hyper-focused on the alien vessel, an entire team of technicians, and engineers pinging it's arrival on a large holographic interface.



"Command this is Watchtower, I have positive weapons lock on the approaching vessel, request permission to engage, all orbital defenses show green." A Control officer said in a calm voice, while she reached up and manipulated a vast point-and-click interface that was sprawled across a gleaming white control center.


"Command, this is Commander Papadopoulos, of the Adriatic, I'm CBDR to the unidentified vessel, requesting weapons free!" Hailed the Adriatic, a singular Hastati class cruiser, roughly 1.5 kilometers in length, bearing from a far flung region of the star system.

"Acknowledged, Adriatic Actual, this is the Harbinger of Piety, I'll be providing support, while coordinating fire from the Magna Thraecia ODPs, steer clear of flying singularities, we're evacuating the region now!" Admiral Elisha Whitcomb called out over the comms, as she manipulated the interface of her Reverence II, the Harbinger of Piety, flanked on one side by the RII Commitment and Patience, and the Imperious Class Command Carrier Sakala, commanded by Commander Mashad Sidiim, a rugged native of the savannahs of Leonis, hailing from the city of Hedon.

"ETA to contact, one Millicenton." EVE reported from her position near Admiral Whitcomb's station. "Unidentified vessel matches no known designs." The Admiral offered a curt nod, and then turned to her tactical officer.

"Get a Marine strike team in their Condors and prepare for boarding action." Admiral Whitcomb ordered.

"Send hostile challenge, and order them to surrender." The Admiral added, casting a gaze to EVE. The AI Nodded, and began transmitting a simple binary message that could be easily translated into whatever languages these aliens spoke.

"Attention Unidentified Vessel, you are ordered to power down your shields, weapons, engines, and any defensive countermeasures, prepare for boarding action, and immediate seizure. Any resistance will be met with force, you have thirty [SMALL TIME UNITS] to comply, or we will prosecute your vessel with all haste."

The message was transmitted on multiple radio frequencies, and it repeated.

Quietly, the Admiral watched the interface, as her battle group began to close on the singular vessel.

The Discovery VII caught the signal, to slight panic of the helmsman that was quickly suppressed. The translated words washed over the intercom of the ship, then the beckoning of Paul to the other Oberon Astronaut. It was quite obvious they had been detected. They weren't quite sure what to do, but quickly decided on cooperation, as they weren't sure of the level of reception they were recieving, but any untranslated communication from here on out would be defaulted as hostility. Making no attempt to move forward any farther or even to send a response to the senders of the signal, they froze all movement. For the first time, Paul noticed a thin line of metallic-seeming objects, but there was no time to observe now. They wanted to show a specific lack of hostile intent, so they only good choice they could make was absolute cooperation. Paul quickly uses his BrainPal interface to put in a quick log of what had just happened. By now, three of the four crewmates were waking up and slowly beginning to regain their senses.

The Sakala, began it's approach towards the unidentified vessel, flanked on each side by it's escorts, a pair of Triarii class cruisers, the long, dagger shaped vessels flanked the Command Carrier, but one of the Triarii class ships began to accelerate, but not before the Adriatic began to spool it's FTL Drives.

It crossed from point A to point B in an instant, winking across vast distances in one single jump, this allowed the details of the Adriatic to be seen up close, it was sleek, appeared heavily armored, and quite large compared to the Discovery. It was bristling with what appeared to be weapons batteries, and they were all trained on the one lone ship. Unusual alien text, and a large phoenix shield crest were emblazoned on the side of the vessel.

The Commander watched the display closely, as the cruiser maintained it's weapons lock on the much smaller ship. They had come to the lion's den, and the Commander knew this. Two Condor's emerged from a hangar bay on the dorsal side of the cruiser, whipping around, they began their course towards the Discovery, each Condor was filled with a squad of about eight Imperial Marines, and two Adepts of War.

They would make contact in about thirty seconds.

For twenty of those seconds, the Discovery was a quick blur of activity. The second helmsman quickly threw himself through the zero gravity of the ship towards the CRYO room, and as he was doing so, the remaining crew were awakening. That was the first five seconds. In the next three, Paul, the helmsman, took three pictures of the large ship, and one of the crest upon it, which he quickly messaged back to Klendath. It would be an hour until they got it. While he was doing this, Will, the second helmsman, arrived in the CryoPod room. He quickly transmitted a stream of data into each of the crew's formerly dormant members detailing what was happening, which took about four seconds. One of them, different from the others by the fact he had green skin, a mark of the service in the Colonial Union, quickly reacted, getting out of the pod almost immediately. The others weren't as quick, but woke in about another two seconds.

And then they all stopped.
They had no idea what they should do.

The last six seconds was different for Paul, compared to the other crew. He was suppressing panic, and barely managed to do so. He grabbed up a wrench floating through the zero gravity, a heavy thing, and quickly moved to the airlock.

"Alert, I'm detecting signals originating from the vessel, triangulating destination patterns now." EVE reported, this caused Admiral Whitcomb to snarl from her position aboard the Harbinger of Piety.

She turned to her tactical officer, and then towards EVE.

"Jam all signals coming from that vessel, we cannot let them call for help, or compromise our positions here." Whitcomb ordered, as the Signals officers began working the Harbinger of Piety's massive ECW Suite, sending out a barrage of signal noise towards the alien vessel, and broadcasting a wideband EM jamming field that would attempt to inhibit further communications.

"Positive lock." One of the Condor's reported, as it maneuvered into position, extending a large docking seal that was designed to rest against the other ship's airlock, several dozen Marines stacked with weapons prepped and readied inside their troop compartment, with the Adept forming up the front, and charging his heavy Magnetron rifle.

The Condor attached with an audible thunk, that reverberated between both vessels.

Each Aschen Marine had on EVA equipment, consisting of a thin, but durable bodysuit that regulated life support functions, as well as provided an airtight seal, this was worn under the hermetically sealed CUIRASSE Powered exoskeleton, the Adept had their Type 86 power armor, and every one of them were prepped for vacuum.

The Adept began prepping a plasmite cutting torch, igniting the brilliant blue-green flame, he pressed it towards the airlock door to begin cutting through.

Amidst the chaos, Roland took a deep breath. He spoke clearly into the transmitter using a speech-to-text-to-speech conversion dictation device. The resulting voice was clear and monotoned although maintained the volume and emphasis with which he spoke. The signal appeared to originate from the Command Carrier’s transmitter, as well as every spaceport on Sky’s Edge.

“Hello, Admiral. I’m requesting that you cease this clumsy display of power. This is a planet of warlords. Like the land, they’ve grown into hostility long before your lot ever claimed dominion out here. They adapt to survive. So go ahead, burn this world. The people here will continue to rise from the ashes and their children will finally see who they should have been fighting all this time. End of transmission.”

Roland looked at Jack and smiled. The tension was as high as ever, but Roland could not help but feel a little pride in telling an Aschen authority what for. Behind the shallow gloating, he was genuinely unsure what was going to happen. He knew the planet was well armed, it was just up to those factions to set their sights on the common enemy.

~Elsewhere on Sky’s Edge~

In addition to their traditional armaments, the neverending arms race on Sky’s Edge had resulted in the procurement or development of many fascinating tools of destruction.

A large manned turret was embedded in a jungle settlement, with a 20ft lightning rod on top of a large open vacuum tube. A stray fighter was moving out to investigate the approaching Taiyou ships. The woman manning the turret followed it, aware of what it was doing. However this fighter was from an opposing faction.

She turned to her male superior with the telescopic-binoculars. He turned to her and nodded, smiling. Her eyes lit up, and a devilish smirk struck her hardened expression. She pulled a large lever to the left of the turret and a series of lights lit up all along the lightning-rod. In the turret’s line of sight, past the fighter it was aimed at, a series of dark cumulus clouds amassed together. A few moments later-
*CRACKOOM!!!*
A bolt of lightning came from the clouds and hit the fighter, frying its systems and blowing off of a wing sending it veering off course into the jungle canopy. The Cloud Cannon’s pilot cackled, swinging the gun around to the right and keeping its sights on the Taiyou ships as the distant clouds started to re-align themselves.

Her superior used a primitive comms unit to alert four other mortar crews to abandon camp and man their respective Cloud Cannons.


The fighter had emerged from underneath a lake in an underground hangar. Nine more shot out to locate the Cloud Cannon that took out their comrade, uncertain whether the Taiyou ships were worth worrying about. They were understanding, however, of the clouds amassing above them.

Each fighter was armed with what was known as a Colour Bomb, a remotely detonated smoke bomb that spreads an incredibly thick, bright multicolored smoke in a 10 mile radius. The smoke is thick enough to act as paint for anything that comes into contact with it. A technology appropriated from mass exterior painting tech, the Colour Bomb was used to blind spaces in atmosphere or on the ground, as well as paint its moving targets that otherwise would try to camouflage themselves in the jungle.

They were also equipped with simple Light Beams, essentially hyper powerful spotlights that fired a concentrated UV ray. They could burn through flesh, set standard foliage on fire, and a sustained beam could burn through steel. Ordinarily, the power on these would be toned down to act as standard spotlights.

As for their ballistic weapons, average 90mm cannons for tearing shit up.

One Colour Bomb was fired at the origin point of the thunderclouds (possibly in the path of the Taiyou ships), intended to blind the Cloud Cannon’s target whereas another fighter bombed the jungle in a rough estimation of where the pilot thought it was. They were not mathematical geniuses, and the Colour Bomb’s boundary was a couple miles off of the weather-manipulating artillery.


Chaos like this was consistent in most uninhabited spaces across Sky’s Edge. Civilisation and agriculture was frequently abandoned in these rapid skirmishes for land, only to be taken back when the enemy (or a new faction) showed up with armaments designed to counter what had resulted in their defeat. Bladder Mines for orbital bombardment, Weirdness Sludge for bio-confusion, and Evolution Rays to ruin degradable materials in inefficiently designed tech.

It was likely that EVE would know what the militias called their improvised and traded weaponry, and they only cared enough to hide themselves from whom they were fighting. The exact details of their latest tech, however, would have to be learnt through experience.

Rather unfortunately for the crew of the Discovery, their mental interfaces picked up the signal noise. This briefly incapacitated them as they hurried to shut it off. Their most recent log wasn't going to reach Klendath, Paul realized. The aliens had advanced technology they had trouble even comprehending. The Oberon had never used jamming technology, but they could recognize it when it happened naturally and would simply find a way around it. Unfortunately, it4was quite obvious that this wasn't natural. Paul grips the wrench tighter, then realizes it likely won't do anything against these people. He calls out to the rest of the crew, telling them that they should simply surrender peacefully before they are harmed. At first some of them don't agree, but he convinces them quickly. So they line up in the hallway adjacent to the airlock, and Paul nervously opens the outer door, simply allowing in the aliens. How strange, he thinks. I suppose we are the aliens here.

Once the Esteem slipped into the atmosphere, the roar of it's gargantuan engines reverberated far below, amidst the rugged jungle, and amidst the swamps, and the rugged mountainous terrain. Hanley was watching the display from her command console, some kind of energy weapon, it appeared these natives had been amassing quite an arsenal while the Empire's eye was turned. But they had a job to do, and Hanley turned to face another woman, this one wearing a dark, olive green jacket, with an unusual insignia pinned to the collar.

"We won't win this from orbit, and glassing the planet would embolden other insurgent groups." The woman said, clasping her hands behind her as she surveyed the holographic table in front of them.

"Let me handle these gritidiim." The Cosmoran woman remarked, keeping her hands clasped behind her, as she kept her eyes on the jungle below, represented on the three-dimensional hologram. Nabaal knew the place of Admirals, and it wasn't on the ground, it was among the stars. Lord General, the last vestige of an old military branch, finding new and reinvigorated use among insurgent groups, and rebellions within the Empire. She was the Empire's attack dog, the Butcher of Ruston, Lord General Nabaal, with wispy brown hair, and a tanned visage from life in the unforgiving deserts of the Cosmora Archipelago.

"Admiral, that Plateau there, deploy the prefabs there, and the Fiiskire." She instructed. "If you could, and then it would be wise to pull your fleet into high orbit." Nabaal smirked. "Oh, and we can't have the Taiyou fight all of our battles either, I'd prefer it if they stayed aboard their ships, this is Aschen problems, and they require Aschen solutions." Nabaal remarked, while she placed a hand on Admiral Hanley's shoulder, patting it twice, before turning to walk around her, and out of the CIC.

Hanley simply grit her teeth, she was too proud to admit it, but the filthy colonial was right, this was her domain, not the Admiralty's. So the Admiral looked down to the display, and highlighted a landing location.

Above the Jungle, with shields flaring to life with energetic eddies, the seemingly unnoticed Reverence II slipped through the clouds, and began to project a brilliant violet beam of light onto a large plateau overlooking a marshy valley that was riddled with a river that snaked through it.

Massive doors opened up underneath the Reverence II, echoing through the jungle below as metal snarled, groaned, and barked it's protest, these massive doors retracted, moving aside armored plates, and opening up wide, exposing a maw that was roughly a kilometer long, and five hundred meters wide, one could look up into the gaping hangar bays of this massive supercarrier, and see a handful of Aschen cruisers, suspended from trusses embedded in the ceiling of the bay, while a large vehicle, one that could be described as an aircraft carrier on treads began to descend through the gravity beam.

This carrier clocked in at one hundred and twenty five thousand long tons, and five hundred and sixty eight meters in length, it was a slow, lumbering beast that would serve as a base of operations for the Aschen ground forces.

With the Fiiskire deployed, crushing everything underneath it with a deafening 'crunch!' that echoed through the entire valley, the Reverence II ignited it's gargantuan engines, while the bay began to slide shut, shields flaring back to life. Slowly, the thirty kilometer long Planetary Assault Carrier began to gain altitude, while the crew of the Fiiskire was identifying travel paths for it to take, Lord General Nabaal at home aboard it's bridge, surrounded by instruments, steadying herself as massive engines caused the Carrier to lurch forward.

"Let's deploy Construction vehicles, clear this foliage and get the beachhead established. Keep your eyes on the scanner." Nabaal ordered, wincing as the sunlight began to shine through the windows, illuminating the Bridge.

Behind the Fiiskire, a massive ramp opened up, revealing a small army of bulldozers, and lumber harvesting trucks, slowly, they moved down the ramp, and started to work clearing the trees, and the undergrowth by cutting them down.

---

The small group of Taiyou ships moved through the Multicolored clouds with little hindrance, their advanced sensors meant they did not need to rely on visual cues, unimpeded, they touched down in a body of water south of the continent, with no further orders, they remained in position, while the Esteem began to ascend back into the atmosphere, any attacks against it would be rendered largely ineffective against the Reverence II's Gargantuan shields.

To say they were surprised was an understatement, as the outer airlock door came undone. The two Adepts in the front paused, they signalled for the Marines to stay behind them as the door unsealed, the two atmospheres of the ships intermingling, and mixing.

The Adept took stock, he didn't know if the other ship could accommodate their sheer size. He made one simple gesture, as two Marines moved in front, and ignited their personal aegis shields, shimmering blue-white hard light barriers that buzzed, and crackled. The Marines moved carefully through the threshold, their sleek disruptor PDW's at the ready, faces obscured by hermetically sealed visors that gave them a sinister look with their black uniforms. They pointed their weapons first at Paul, but there was a language barrier.

Two Marines came in behind the first, but they said nothing as they moved into the ship, transitioning from the artificial gravity of the Condor, to a Zero Gravity environment was fairly seamless, as the Marine's gravitic boots engaged.

"We have positive contact, Humanoid Xenos in appearance." The Marine Sergeant called into his radio, speaking a language that sounded ancient, a close relative of ancient Latin.

"Secure the ship for transport to the Harbinger of Piety." The radio replied. "Secure all valuable data, Intelligence will be on station for interrogation. We'll prep the chair." The Radio chirped. The Marine Sergeant pointed to the Oberon crew, and then pointed to his own rank insignia on his collar, gesturing as if he was asking for the leader.

The Oberon crew displays a sort of muted anxiety at these intruders on their ship, but present no hostile actions. When they entered the inner airlock, Paul reaches over and closes the outer airlock door, and then opens the inner door. Paul knows perfectly what the weapons they hold could be capable of. Hell, he'd seen high-velocity water guns capable of tearing through metal before. At the motion of the marine, seemingly asking for the one in charge, Paul raises his hand and then folds them back behind him. The Oberon are communicating with each other through their BrainPals, commenting and sharing observations about the intruders. One of them takes an audio recording of the statement of the marine. The Adepts are simply referred to as 'the heavy ones,' and present some alarm to the observational tactician, Robert, as to him, they are the heaviest armed and armored soldiers he'd seen, and he wondered what type of being could even carry that. He then supposed that these soldiers must only be used in space, as zero gravity surely helped them.

During this time, the Oberon don't say anything aloud, not sure if that would startle the intruders, as their language was much different from theirs. They instead communicate through their mental interfaces.

Soon, Henry is remembered, and one of the crew makes a move to go get him, before swiftly being stopped. Henry is still in cryosleep, and is unfortunately probably the only person on their crew, maybe even their race, that can communicate with these other beings.

Paul then tries to convey that there is another person on board the ship, gesturing towards the Cryo room, which is only a couple of yards away.

The Marine sergeant paused, and followed the Oberon's gesture to the cryo bay.

The Marine didn't say anything, but EVE had been informing them that the Harbinger if Piety was moving on station to dock with the ship and tow it to another location.

The Marine sergeant didn't say much, as the sounds of something hitting the hull reverberated through the smaller ship, the sound of clunking, and rattling, which echoed through the entire ship.

The thirty kilometer long Harbinger of Piety had just initiated docking procedures, opening a pair of massive armored doors to accommodate the Oberon vessel inside a massive pressurized drydock.

There was a hiss as the bay pressurized, and the slight tug of gravity that was fairly unnoticed by the Marines, and the Adepts as the control crew engaged the Reverence IIs artificial gravity.

The ship jerked, and vibrated until everything fell silent, the sound of a catwalk attaching to the airlock heard last.

The Marine pointed to the airlock, he wanted it open.