Rebekah Issane's Story

A time later Avantia was concluding talks with Vrail, and she had been successful in ascertaining that the source of the missiles were indeed Cybran in origin, and that the TNG had not decided to open fire on her lands.

"Alright, your strike packages are cleared," Avantia informed Rebekah.

She had also gotten her own troops cleared to send aid to Gonthar, under the agreement that the TNG would be calling the military movements and that her own people were only there in an assisting capacity.

She hung up the line to Vrail and turned her attentions back to the maps briefly, seemingly in thought.

Rebekah smiled, then stepped back from the table, bringing up communications to the Apophis and hailing the Devastator. This time, she didn't bother to use subvocalization. "New orders, load A.I.M. strike package Ceti, launch on new hostile target. Remainder of original package, deploy to Volaria to cover. Freedom to engage at will, collateral damage nill operations. Abyss use locked down on ground targets for time being."

The woman turned to study Avantia, confident for the time being in that the situation was not as out of control as most appearances gave.

On fast approach, four contacts moved as one towards the Cybran beachead. They skimmed over the ground, two breaking off to continue their inbound vector, kicking up spray as they circled into the waters. In their wake, a distant contact was deploying, readying for its part in the assault. Dark Rain was with the Avorian response, and they had decided to send top of the line units as their response.

Armored Intelligent Mechs (A.I.M.s), all, the two approaching on direct vectors were Wildcat and Dragon Furor. Wildcat, a Rifle-class A.I.M., carried a long, menacing rifle in its hands, slit optics glowering as it began to paint targets, readying to fire. Dragon, Claymore-class, was its larger cohort, a quad mech, thus far relying on its thrusters to move the heavy, intimidating bulk of the mech, stylized after its namesake. Wildcat began to lag behind Dragon, the latter beginning to extend the heavy barrels of its cannons. The Rifle turned its head slightly, catching sight of the other pair. With both, munitions prepared to cut the air downrange.

Sparrow was a mass of blades, sharp edges gleaming the light reflected off the spray in its wake. Wakizashi design, it was almost skeletal in size, weaving circles around its partner, Fisher Hawk. Moderately armored, the aptly named Saber A.I.M. held in one fist a gunblade, keeping focused on the target. Missiles slid to ready position, almost as if eager to begin the killing.

And in the distance behind them all, hydraulic rams slammed into the earth to anchor the bulky, boxy form of Wizel. From its blocky body, very long barrels extended in mass, like a small stand of tree rising to nearly 40ft in the air. Smaller, hovering nodes detached, floating off on counter-grav drives to move to locations around the target zone with startling speed. These fed data right back to the Lancer, its multitude of very long range howitzers adjusting for windage, range, and targets. Siloes began to open.

All five seemed to be waiting for something, holding their fire and their fury.

And then eight beams lanced the air like a second sun, throwing a blinding glare into the sky. At their origin in the Astral Sea, steam plumed hundreds of feet in the air, vacuums caused by the passing of the titanic bolts were rapidly filled by water, hiding once more the lurking behemoth of the Apophis. The octad of shots pierced the air and the distance between the surface of Terra and the ships in orbit in all but a second, delivering crushing blows of 50 gigatons/second into the vessels launched from the Cybran base. Designed to simply shatter shields and pummel through armor like paper, the mighty bolt of the Abyss cannon was a force to be reckoned with.

And as one, the thunder began. Wizel began its long range bombardment, slamming shell after shell of hyperkinetic fury downrange to deliver heavy, 50mm tungsten slugs slamming into the larger structures and vehicles of the Cybrans. In their wake, dozens of missiles began to rise, splitting into smaller and smaller micromissiles until dozens became hundreds, all targeting points of congestion of troops and materials. Wildcat, Dragon, and Saber began to fire off, the former pairs heavy rounds simply aimed at concentrations of targets, screaming sonic booms as they hurtled from railcannons at Mach 8 speeds, each adding more to the payload of missiles as they launched splitter torpedoes from their internal magazines. Sparrow rammed its thrusters up several notches, sprinting inwards and weaving a dextrous dance of evasion, sparks flying from its bladed form as is sought to enter the fray with flashing blades, roaring short range guns, and sprays of blood and bodies.

However, the rounds fired missed the lone figure by substantial margins, striking for vital targets with uncanny precision. For each of the pilots were engaged in a simultaneous neural link with each A.I.M.s onboard AI, forming a union of man and machine that communicated instantly between each unit, and possessed the reaction times of the AIs involved in the attack. The only limiting factor was each A.I.M.s own functional capabilities, and they were designed to be the most mobile, agile, and armed mechanized strike unit in deployment.

On one of the gonthar highways an SEC convoy was suppose to be delivering standard security droids when the attack came. The lead truck was destroyed and the soldiers providing security fanned out. "We are under attack!" One of the men frantically shouted as the soldiers formed up. These men weren't trained for this type of combat and only fired back modestly.

A few minutes into the fight though something changed when the radio officer chirped up to the squad commander. "Sir your'e not going to believe this but I have general Williams on the line for you." He said as the squad leader opened his comm.

"General what a surprise."

"Cut the pleasantries, I have good news you're getting support the TNG has authorized full support procedures on the ground. I have an orbital drop company that's going to come down right on your position to set up an LZ, but I need coordinates of the nearest base that you can see so we can get some suppressive bombardment onto that thing." He said.

The talk continued for a moment and a few minutes later 4 large ships could be seen high in orbit. Two Ori Class Destroyers came a bit lower than the transports to unleash 6 missiles aimed toward the ground and a salvo of smaller guided missiles ahead of the six.
The larger missiles were short range emp burst effective up to a few 200 Meters they were aimed right for the base they would cover an area up of 1.2km. The smaller missiles that were ahead were unarmed but they wouldn't read that way on scanners these missiles would provide an AA screen for the larger missiles increasing the chances for more successive EMP hits on the cybran base.

As missiles rained down on the base many drop pods from the main transport ships launched. Over all 30 drop pods were launched toward the ground in groups of five. They came in fast each drop pod carried 10 man squad giving a total of 300 SEC Marines imbound. The numbers might have sounded small compared to that of the cybrans but it was all that could be spared at this point. The SEC couldn't risk a large landing nor did they want to the AA was still too strong.

Hopefully they would make it down alive given the EMP and Anodyne's efforts against the SAM's and AA.

The Cybran warships on the flat ocean started to open fire on the new targets while the smaller starships that were rising from the ocean engaged the Armored Intelligent Mechs. Their lasers hitting at them as hard as they could, aimed to destroy the Mechs, while a vast number of the Cybrans on the land were already getting ready to back into the seas. Godheart and the Old Order members had decided there had been enough killing.

With the arrival of the two Ori Class Destroyers, most of the Cybrans were away, but with the EMP blasts, the robots that were left had stopped working; their circuits totally destroyed. The warships in the ocean started firing at the Destroyers, sending new waves of missiles and lasers towards their targets.

Shields flared around the A.I.M.s as laser impacts hit, and instantly their responses were known, powerful boosters thrusting them in complex evasive maneuvers. Their returning fire was witheringly accurate, attention shifting from the inert drones to active firing units, hammering hyperkinetic slug after hyperkinetic slug to their targets, trailing thundering sonic booms the whole way. Sparrow quickly readjusted its inbound vector, darting back and forth over the waves, advancing ahead of its squad on thrusters tuned for speed.

Fisher Hawk followed in its wake, trading the headlong blitz of Sparrow for a angled route to flank its partner. With the Cybran force having cleared out of civilian threatened areas, drew forth a second gun-blade, unleashing searing balls of plasma bolts from the plasma cannon built into its twinned blade. These secondary weapons traded speed for power, erupting in gouts of solar-hot plasma on contact, while an overhead rail extended and settled into place, hurling rapid fire penetrating shells, each shell containing air-ignition fuel-bombs to scatter, should they penetrate the armored hulls of the Cybran Vessels.

Wildcat and Dragon veered course, the bulky Claymore unit accelerating massively with twin tails of prolonged boosters, kicking up a wall of water to either side as it raced after its support pair, side mounted tomahawk launchers opening and loosing torrents of fast, "lock and blitz" rockets, even as it changed ammunitions from impact to HVAP DU rounds, the thunder of its cannons growing ever louder. The Rifle wafted airborne, bringing to bear multiple long rifle barrels to add more weight to its precision firepower from hull mounted heavy rifles and cannons. Additionally, it opened its more basic artillery ports, launching on skybound trajectories lighter explosive shells to rain down on the Cybran vessels.

Wizel, for its part, was mainly just adjusting its long range bombardment, but was also extending from its frame inner box-like protrusions, each one opening at least half a dozen silo ports. The only unit cleared to carry heavy missile armament, the Wizel carried several hundred Jericho reaction-warhead missiles, which it now loaded en masse, carefully targeted with imaging and signature guides, and let loose.

Each missile raced across the ground for nearly a kilometer before curving towards the heavens, reaching a height of 6kms before pausing to turn, holding position on the counter-grav drive that had brought them thus far. Carefully, they aligned to their targets, the primary Cybran warships firing on the A.I.M.s and cruisers, before unfurling racks of smaller missiles, the prow of each missile extending as the inner warhead prepped for launch. Seven to each launch, each targeting its own point on the enemy fleet. What was initially hundreds became thousands, as powerful thrusters ignited and sent them racing across the sky, brilliant stars with a deadly mission.

Each warhead created a reaction, splitting apart the atomic structure of the target by generating a specific magnetic field that drew away the molecular bonds. Their explosive power was nonexistent, and individually, the damage they wrought was minimal, opening fair sized holes in a target. But stacked in the numbers they were, and with the precision of the targeting queue delivered into their computers from the Wizel, there was a margin of surviving impacts to allow for advanced degradation of the enemy hulls to initiate complete structural collapse, and a secondary margin to generate substantial enough collapse to generate casualties in the Cybran fleet's numbers.

The courses of the four assaulting A.I.M.s adjusted accordingly, not overtly holding back from close range engagment, but there was the hint of a stall in their attack. The timing between events was superb, however, the wide-band, instantaneously communication between the mechs operating on the lower frequencies, the bursts of binary communication virtually ghosts amidst the static.

Strolling through Volary as she got to know its people and places, Rebekah happened to be in eye's sight with alteration, and barely needed to flex her mind to hear the message as it traveled the energy waves. Closing her eyes for a moment, she felt out the location of the shadow wielding Vladamir by the unique signature of his molecular structure, locked on to it, and promptly tapped her powers.

She manifested an electokinetic ability known as the plasma field, hyper-energizing the air to literally turn it into a dense wall of plasma that would form a dome over Vladamir as he moved in shadow form, large enough to encompass his discorporated form without slamming a wall through him. The field was a cage, its walls dense enough to burn to tiny grains of ash separated molecules, and shone on the interior with the brightness of a star, illuminating the inside with enough light to banish any shadows that might be lurking within. Smiling as she opened her eyes, she then manifested glow-balls, ionized pockets of air that radiated further like, waiting until Vladamir reappeared to chain them to his motions, preventing him from forming a large enough shadow to manipulate in any way than to make a fingernail disappear.

The level of her psionic ability was simply superior than a mere shadow skulker should be able to handle, and almost certainly would the man be trapped, helpless.

Vladamir instantly regained his form in the light. He cursed out of irritation. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. He threw a powerful explosive at the floor to crack the stone. At the same time he threw another behind him. The detonation of the explosive behind him threw him to the ground at amazing speeds. Hile pushed his arms forward, the sleeves keeping them out of light to keep his shadow arms intact. He dived into the ground and smashed straight into it. Allowing him to travel underground.

Vladamir broke free in the sewers, he disintegrated into shadows again and head off towards Kyle's signal. Looking for a manhole to seep out of.

Given that Vladamir was inside of a spaceport it would take a substantial amount of explosives to blast his way through the reinforced floor of the building, the foundation beneath, and several hundred feet of solid rock and earth to actually reach anything nearby. It also seemed unlikely he simply conveniently had explosives in his pockets that somehow got past all of the spaceport security, and that packed enough power to do that much damage without blowing himself into little bits as well, and that would also redirect his downward momentum into veering off to the side in an abrupt ninety degree angle to travel several hundred yards to maybe find a sewer tunnel large enough to accommodate a person somewhere out under one of the main roads.

While Vladamir might assume differently, large sewer tunnels weren't typically run beneath buildings as it was safer to build them under roads and to direct sewage to larger tunnels via smaller sewer pipes leading from the sources to avoid damaging the foundation of buildings or risking collapsing a building into the sewers, or that would prevent the pipes from being dug up for maintenance in the event that they needed to be replaced.

Given that there were no water sources beneath the spaceport floor, the nearest would likely be bathrooms with small sewer lines which unlike in the movies were hardly designed to accommodate the size of a person as it would be much like trying to flush yourself down a toilet.

Fortune was further not on Vladamir's side as he forgot that if one explosion had the power to throw him down, the one he threw down would have the reverse affect. All of the force accumulated from the explosive he threw up into the air, was going to collide with the explosion of the one he threw at his feet. Vladamir had effectively sandwiched himself between two explosions which would greatly reduce his downward momentum and in fact probably blasted him in all directions. He would be fortunate to not have knocked himself sideways into the plasma field. Furthermore even if the blast managed to by chance throw him to the ground, he was standing upright and the blast would not pick him up by his feet and point him in a streamline form with his hands outstretched to the ground. It would simply blast him down against the floor where he stood.

In addition, unless he was packing nuclear weapons in his pockets, then the end result was scorched, damaged and cracked slabs of tile that made up the floor of the spaceport building, but the foundation and ground beneath was still very much intact with a likely very crispy Vladamir still trapped in the plasma field. Without a fault in the floor, or the stone beneath to have placed the explosive inside of to maximize damage to a specific point, most of the blast would have done structural damage to the interior of the building rather than the ground beneath, but in this instance it was largely dispersed against the plasma field and Vladamir was still very much bathed in its light - if not blasted into bits by his own explosives.

Another officer arrived onto the scene, one often mistaken for one of the many avorian citizens within La'ita Hara. He was a bit thicker and had less angelic, alluring features about him, which set him apart from most avorian, but the white wings and blonde hair really threw some people for a loop.

Tane was dressed in more than the standard police gear. Strapped to his back was a sword, though it was not a weapon he often used at all. In ninety percent of all cases, the nine millimeter or a tazer was enough. In this case, he believed it would be the same.

Port Astria was put on lock down. The exit points were closed, and the area secured. With his gun drawn, Tane was just able to keep up with Rebekah, who seemed to be leading the situation. Even so, he kept his stance, and didn't lower his weapon. After the two explosions, the ocell waited for everything to clear.

I expected this in Wing City... he thought, grumbling to himself, But Port Astria?

Vladamir smashed against the floor. He underestimated the amount of power he needed, all he did was smash some of the tiles.
But this crafty war veteran had already tricked the others, the person trapped in the dome was a physical hologram. A hologram capable of interacting with items, (hence throwing explosives). Vladamir set up the hologram when he first disintegrated into shadows, where the shadows which flew into the wind were the fake.

The real Vladamir already headed for the exit, although he was trapped by the lockdown. Nothing a shadow cant seep through. He swept across the floor until he found the connection of the large metal doors and the walls. The shadow simply squeezed through the gaps and escaped from the area, traveling in the shadows of the buildings.

"You guys do make a big fuss over something simple. But I shall do as you say, I would like to see you electrocute a Shadonian though." The hologram spoke back to the woman. It sat down with its legs crossed.

(It is true that the Shadonian race are known to be highly dangerous, they bring war everywhere just to give themselves blood to feed on. Their bodies are immune to immense heat and electrical pulses. The bodies are also amazing strong, and they do not breathe. Shooting a Shadonian would be useless, unless you have a mini-gun of course, Shadonians can heal at high speeds.)

It had been nearly two weeks since the Cybran attack on Volarian shores and things seemed to be returning to some measure of normalcy around the Palace. Security was still on high, but the fighting had shifted to Cybran space, and the immediate danger to Volaria was past. Unfortunately all of the war preparations and politics had kept Avantia woefully unable to otherwise entertain further discussions with Rebekah.

It was for this reason that when word of the incident at Port Astria had reached her, she had set about arranging some time to speak with the woman once more.

Rebekah would be escorted to the great hall by a pair of guards, but both left her at the door to enter alone while they kept guard from outside.

Inside the hall Rebekah would be met with much the same sight as she had on her initial arrival to Volaria. The table had been laid out with a wide assortment of foods, though this time Avantia was seated at one end of the table. She offered an open palmed gesture of her hand towards the seat opposite her - an invitation for Rebekah.

"Please, sit," she spoke in Volarian. "I understand you have been studying our language?" she inquired.

Rebekah's progress in learning their tongue in such a short period of time was impressive, and her efforts to integrate into local culture rather than sporting any expectations that they should cater to her with any sort of special treatment had been fast endearing her to the locals.

"Yes, Matriarch." Returning the words in Volarian, Rebekah bowed her head to the Volarian Monarch, making her way to the place offered her and seating. Her next words were punctuated by gestures, for her grasp of the language had only progressed so far. "Helping are these," she tapped her glasses, and a point behind her ear.

In common, for she didn't know the proper words, she added. "Technology to translate."

Faintly amused, the woman's mouth quirked upwards at the edges, lowering her hands onto her lap as she continued on her royal host. "Your people are friendly, and have much to talk about. Happy, they seem."

"The years have been good to Volaria," Avantia replied with a smile. "Though I fear those days will soon be a thing of the past," she added.

Between the Cybran attacks, tensions with the TNG, and their recent alliance with the AXIS cooperation forces, the future of Volaria remained uncertain.

"Our way is one of tolerance and non-violence," she offered by way of explanation to Rebekah's observations. "Though, we do what we must to protect those we are responsible for," she amended.

Her decision to declare war and to send military forces to Cybran space likely didn't sit well with Volarian karmic views when it came to violence, but it had hopefully ensured the continued future of her people.

"As I understand it, you too have extended a hand in the protection of the Volarian people," she continued. "Your assistance at Port Astria is well received."

She inclined her head slightly in brief thanks.

"The situation as I have been told, could well have gotten out of hand had you not offered aid."

The woman shrugged slightly, raising and waving a hand. "Thank you, Matriach Avantia, but such aid is something almost born and bred in our people. Laws are there for a reason, and to stand aside to let one be broken would've been no better that breaking one yourself."

The woman's speech was slower and more basic, the wry twist of her face betraying her own frustration at lacking the particular diction. Though she'd missed some of Avantia's words, she'd heard enough to parse together the meanings and amend her overall dictionary.

As she mulled over the previous statements the monarch had mad, she tilted her head slightly. "I see the problem in separating the need to protect against beliefs though. And so I do accept the welcome for the aid, all the more."

"I feel we got off on the wrong foot when you first arrived," Avantia admitted. "And with the Cybran invasion, I am afraid we have not had ample time to mend that," she added.

She retrieved a piece of fruit from one of the tables and picked at it lightly, but she didn't eat it. Instead she set it back down and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

"I'm leaving the city tomorrow," she said abruptly. "It's a personal matter though, and one of which I would prefer to not have the entirety of my Royal Guard in tow for. Unfortunately I imagine there would be no end of an uproar from my advisers if I went alone. I would invite you to accompany me."

There would no doubt still be uproars, but after the display of Rebekah's psionic prowess at Port Astria, it was clear enough to Avantia that if the woman was any threat to her then the two guards outside the entrance would pose little deterrent. No, if the woman had any machinations for the Volarian people, assassination was not among them.

Curious now, the Agent nodded. "I'll accept the invitation, Matriarch. It would be an honor."

Honestly, and the woman was guilty of checking on her Comglass for anything that might be a clue, Rebekah was more than a little curious about this request. And so, in that curiosity, fully did she intend to find out.

"I am pleased to hear it," Avantia replied. "Please, eat," she offered with a gesture towards the table. "And dress for the cold," she warned as she rose from her seat.

Given the altitude of the city, it could get pretty cold in Volary as it was, and Avantia's remark left perhaps a hint of where they might be headed. The mountain peaks that Volary was built atop were only the trailing edges of a mountain range that stretched nearly the full length of Shintenchi, and this time of year many of their heights were snow capped.

Save for Avantia's words to suggest their potential destination, Rebekah would find little information from her Comglass as to what this foray of Avantia's entailed.

"For now, I must see to some matters and make arrangements for my absence."

From a overlooking window, she'd watched the proceedings. Saw the volarian woman sent forward, grimacing as she recognized the overall tone of the situation. Worse yet, she knew those uniforms all to well, enough to guess the identity of the man in the middle.

Rebekah was incensed to see the state of Shanthi, her time spent in Volary lending enough familiarity to recognize the depth of the maiming and its significance. Furious as she was, there was a time and place to exact equal exchange, and this was neither, nor she the person to carry that vengeance out. Turning away, the Agent resolved to learn more about the events witnessed, but later.

In the meantime, she needed to look over what she could find on Tech Con.

Rebekah had been wandering the halls of the east tower, reading up on the latest news back home. The execution had intrigued her, however, and the rumors leading to the riot were of but passing interest. Rare was the execution of one back in the Umbral Sector, but such an execution was pending, it seemed. Breathing under her breath, she shook her head at that news yet again. "You bloody fool, Killigan."

Glancing up at the sound of footsteps, she noticed Avantia walking her way. Bowing her head, she smiled somberly, speaking in her growing command of Volarian. "Greetings, Matriarch."

Flicking her eyes, she dismissed the various data feeds on her glasses, the motes of light marking the surface vanishing.