
The Raptor Talons closed quickly on the Militia's fighters, technologically superior in every way to these local vessels, the Raptor Talons made short work of their foes, as small projectiles chewed through ship hulls and shields alike.
"This is Orthros leader, i've got... all fighters break!" The Squadron captain shouted into his comms as they picked up the energy surge from the impending psychic attack; an attack which washed over the fighter craft relatively harmlessly and without too much fanfare.
Aschen Technology was the culmination of years of research and understand, into both magical sciences, and of psychics, years of combat both tooth and nail against adversaries that were leagues ahead of even the mighty Militia; to the Aschen, this was a cancerous tumor that had been allowed to fester because of inaction, this was a mistake that Admiral Whitcomb intended to rectify.
She watched the readouts silently safely aboard the CIC of her ship, the three-dimensional holographic projections bobbing, and weaving about the battlefield.
She didn't say anything for a moment, a powerful surge of energy followed, and the small shuttle appeared to have been destroyed.
"Alpha team, capture any survivors and bring them aboard, have them prepped and readied for interrogation." Whitcomb ordered, before switching frequencies to address the Romans.
"Disengage your weapons, and your engines, and surrender." She ordered coldly.
"You will remain where you are until we can ascertain the intent of your people; if you are truly vagrants, then you will have little to offer us, but resist our demands at your own peril." Whitcomb replied.
Her lips pursed into a thin frown, before turning to her tactical officer.
"Sitrep.."
The young officer checked his readouts, before nodding and offering his report.
"Sir, it appears from our intelligence sources, that our lack of influence in this sector has lead to the rise of several independent entities on this world. This 'Militia... is but one of many factions on Blackrock.. the Chairman will not be pleased at this development..."
Whitcomb nodded in agreement. "The one that we captured... prepare a psychic inhibitor, and antimana containment cell... the survivor from the shuttle... transfer them to Holding cell B-3... place them in the Aurora Chair..." She said, nodding to her XO.
"Colonel Ronson; you have the Conn."
With that, Whitcomb turned to leave.
---
Captain Ashia would find herself, once apprehended placed in a small room, a metal collar of some kind affixed to her neck, and her armor stripped from her, leaving only a simple red colored prison jumpsuit, the metal collar was a peculiar device, and she would likely find herself unable to access her psychic abilities, nor any magical abilities that she may posses.
The holding door chimed with an odd crystalline sound, before opening to reveal a pair of Aschen soldiers, clad in a powered Cuirasse exoskeleton and armed with rather sleek looking MC-1 assault carbines. Standing with the pair was a woman, slender in build and wearing all black.
She took a step into the room and the door snapped shut behind her, then she tossed a small stack of files to the Militia captain's feet.
Her only words were. "Who are you people?"
---
The young woman, Sara wouldn't awaken on an operating table, and though it would seem she was in some kind of lab, she was in fact seated in a device the Aschen came to know as the Aurora Chair; she would be strapped in, hands and ankles restrained to the chair as Admiral Whitcomb stood over her.
A technician moved slowly to affix electrodes to the girl's head, the Aurora Chair was designed to forcibly and painfully map the victim's psyche, forcibly extracting memories and displaying them on a screen.
---
A squadron of Raptor Talons quickly reoriented themselves to the arrival of the small alien craft, along with a Condor transport, they moved quickly to intercept.