"We came for a new start, a new beginning for my family, I'm sure it was the same for others. Live a much better life then back home, and leave behind the bullshit, but like all good things, they don't last. The bullshit followed us, pirates, raiders, Grubby Megacorporations, pissed off natives and fellow colonists whom weren't exactly in the sharing mood.... now our homeworlds are sending in the troops. It's all the same as before....Everyone just wants to rule the world for themselves..."-Anonymous Colonial Farmer.

---

Dacyira
CANTON/ASM TERRITORY, DEEP INTERIOR

---

The rain had been beating down for hours and its monotonous drumming had a way of sending men to sleep. Still, John thought the weight of sleep that bore down on him was just as well be attributed to the fact the sun had been down for nearly an hour now. The one thing nobody ever told John when he took this job was how dark it would be. Having grown up on a farm on Varos 3 John thought that he knew dark, but it seemed that there in the shadow of those cities and the comfort of his house it was a mere lack of light, but here, here it was different. The dark on this planet was wild, untamed and untouched, an animal that seemed to wait until you were looking away to come and gnaw on your mind. The convoy had been silent for some time; John looked out into the vast silent forest and decided he would get them to pull over onto the shoulder for the night, he felt uneasy. He pulled the radio from its stand toward his mouth and simply stated, “Time for a break guys, get some sleep.” At that all the vast trucks that towered over the trees pulled over onto the roads shoulder, one by one their lights flicked off as John waited, the rain beating on in a way that seemed distant from inside the trucks cabin. John thought again of the dark, he turned off the headlights but decided to keep his cabin lit. Tired, but still awake, a smell from outside caught Johns nose and he moved to the door of the cabin, pulling a raincoat off an adjacent hook. He looked back at his brightly lit room before he stepped outside.

The security guards had stepped outside; it seemed they had started a fire, John took yet another look back, but the static lights of his cabin seemed less attractive than the living and flickering fire, protected from the rain by the huge forest canopy far above it, the flames beckoned from afar. The steps down were long and by the time John had reached the ground it felt he had walked a mile, though that may have just been the fatigue that had been eating at him. A walk to the fire was short enough and the sitting security guard greeted him, “Sir, you can’t sleep?”

John noticed the man had his helmet off, both of them did. Too tired for protocol John sat himself against a rock and responded, “Yeah, you ever just get creeped out by this place?”

The security guard adjusted the way he was sitting and responded, “Yeah, sure as hell isn't home.”

John looked up and asked, “Where’s that?” John thought he knew though, the guard had the distinct accent of someone from Scandinavia back on Earth, and not a lot of them ever went to the colonies. The guards face and blonde hair gave it away.

As expected the guard replied, “Sweden, on Earth. Family was one of the few that wanted to go so we left when I was little, bounced around colonies for a while, their still on Galileo 2a though.”

The other guard looked up; he was of Asian descent, likely one of the Canton settlers who ran out of work. He asked, “2a? That’s not the one that…” The look on the other guards face confirmed his suspicions. He resumed, “They lived Axel?”

The Swedish man, now identified as Axel, responded, “Most did… My mother wasn’t so lucky; the rebellion there didn’t end well for anyone once the orbital bombing started.”

The Asian man looked a bit uncomfortable and apologized, “Sorry for asking that man, it’s not my business.” Axel was about to respond when John heard the leaves rustle, it was raining, it could have come from anywhere. But something felt wrong; Axel’s silence confirmed his suspicions. They all felt the change. The fire hissed as a sudden change in the wind blew some rain on them, and Axel reached for his helmet slowly, inching his fingers along the moss and dirt. John heard a thunk, something warm hit his face that he knew wasn’t rain. Axels hand slumped, his body followed and a thin stream of blood fell from the long arrow shaft where his eye used to be. The Asian man grabbed his helmet in a hurry and pulled it onto his face, he was yelling profanities as more and more arrows bounced off or shallowly stuck into the soft parts in his armour. John was sitting there silent; the liquid on his face couldn’t be blood. Axel was right there, why was he lying down? John was confused, and then the child like confusion was stripped away by the cold reality as the noise of automatic fire from the Asian man’s rifle permeated the air and for a moment struck John deaf. John couldn’t face what he saw, what he truly saw. He stood up and ran, he just ran and ran even though the man behind him called out for help, and the rifle fire droned on.

Before he knew it John was back in his cabin, atop his mountain of steel. The cabins sterile light caught the mirror and John looked to it. His pale face was covered in red, partially washed away from the rain. It was then the anger started, John screamed, “Fuck!” At the top of his lungs and slammed the emergency button, just before the sirens kicked in John noticed the rifle fire stopped, a louder thud this time, accompanied by the sound of metal scraping a rock. John heard the alarm blare and stepped on the gas as the horde of dark profiles swarmed the trucks. As the headlights came to life the profiles became flashes of colour as they ran past, scrambling up ladders and falling as the vast machines came to life. One after another the trucked lurched forward, and John noticed one of the flashes was too slow, it met his wheel and for a moment he saw red below him, more red, more blood. The trucks roared down the road the flashes faded into the mirror, once again silhouettes. For a moment John saw the fire in the mirror, still alive, and around it he saw slumped shapes, were they rocks? No, bodies… It was Axel’s body, the Asian man’s body, the bodies of more silhouettes than John dared count. In the next second a silhouette became a flash in the light of the fire, and the fire died, the silhouette gone. Consumed by the dark, that living night, and the shadows that dwelled in the trees.

Space near Dacyira
PIRATE TERRITORY

---

"Primary systems green, Mercury-126 has cleared the second Moon without navigational error. Setting calibrations for FTL drive, all hands prep for passage into light speed."

A simple announcement that might seem commonplace on any simple transport vessel, outgoing from Dacyira with a shipment of basic ores and materials. Yet all the same, there was one group of people listening who took great interest in it. The captain of the vessel had no idea what he had done by transmitting this message, as his simple on-board computers could do nothing to alert him of the hidden enemy, listening in on his communications. A few moments pass with only the occasional noise of computers and chatter between the crew, when suddenly, a single light flickers. It was not a particularly ominous or frightening light, just an ordinary one that indicated communications were incoming.

Thinking that it was a message from the planet, perhaps some sort of go-ahead for FTL travel, the Captain presses down on the gently glowing button, calling for silence in the bridge as he quickly fixes up his hair for video communication. Suddenly, a face appears on the screen of the Captain's computer, but it wasn't even close to the face he had been expecting. It was the face of a girl.

"Yohooo? This is Captain Integra~ speaking! Captain of the Mercury-126, that transport vessel right there...yes, you! We should be showing up on your radar riiiiight...now!"

As if on cue, one of the technicians let out an audible gasp, panicking at the sight of what was approaching on his radar monitors. He begins stammering something out, but is promptly interrupted by "Captain Integra".

"So anyways, we're here to steal your cargo. Your goods or your life, and such. Although, we'll be grabbing your goods anyways, so you might as well just surrender. See you soon!"

As abruptly as it arrived, the communications line closes. The bridge is silent for a few moments while the crew and captain take in what they had just heard, but pretty soon there was no way they could keep silent. One of the technicians, who had been watching the radar vigorously since the pirate ship had appeared, suddenly let out a cry.

"S-Sir! They're charging their weapons at us!"

---

Meanwhile, on the Little Princess...

---

"Well, how did I do Pluto? Was I ferocious enough? Do you think I struck fear into their hearts?"

"No, Captain, I'm quite certain that it was the cannons that frightened them, not the little girl winking at them over their com line."

If Integra was disappointed by this revelation, she didn't show it. Instead, she laughs loudly at the whole thing, before redirecting her attention to the monitors in front of her. Magnified on screen was "Mercury-126", a transport vessel that they had barely caught trying to pass out of their territory. At first, they had assumed it was just any ordinary transport shuttle, bringing resources out from the mining colonies on Dacyira. However, as she had just heard from Pluto, there was something about these readings that was abnormal.

This transport ship was armed.

Now, that isn't to say that transport vessels were always unarmed, but it seemed strange to go to such lengths to protect a shipment of petty ore, as it seemed they were carrying. So here they were, leaving their hiding spot behind the moon to descend upon their poor, oblivious victim from above (relatively speaking). At Integra's orders, their weapons were fully charged and targeting the enemy's engines, to prevent them from escaping at lightspeed.

Integra takes in a deep breath, letting her excitement from before calm down as she prepared to give her next command-

"Fire on their Engines with the primary guns, take them out before they can try to escape!" Her voice was steady and decisive, a tone that the men had grown to expect from the daughter of that person. With a unified cheer from the weapons crew, a large indicator appears on Integra's screen, showing her the results of her orders. The main guns had fired flawlessly, carving a brilliant line through the dark sky as they accurately ripped through the Mercury's engines. She could see where the great beams had torn through their target's hull, breaching the vulnerable areas around the engines and disabling them completely.

There was another cheer from the weapons crew, this time accompanied by cries of "Direct hit!", "Nailed 'em!" and "Yahtzee!" One person, a woman apparently in her early thirties, looks up from her monitor and calls up to their Captain-

"Captain! The enemy is attempting to hail us, but we've jammed their communications!"

"Very good, inform the crew that we are to board momentarily. Weapons crew, use the precision laser to take out the enemy's turrets! Helmsman, bring us into boarding range! Somebody open communications with Lieutenant Lonning, tell him that he and his boys can strip whatever they want from the ship once we've boarded. I want us out of that junk in an hour, tops, before the chumps back at home realize what's going on!"

The operation continued as planned, despite the on board resistance. The first pirates to board had been in for a shock, as what they had assumed to be a defenceless transport crew had an organized security force, ready to repel their attack every inch of the way. With a little bit of hacking, however, the crew of the Little Princess managed to subdue the security force with few losses, and quickly took control of the ship. This wouldn't be the last surprise ol' Mercury-126 had for them, however, as they would find out when they finally reached the cargo bay to find-

"Ummm...hey Pluto, this isn't Iron, is it?"

"No, Captain, I don't believe it is."

CANTON/ASM TERRITORY, MOUNTAINS FOOT CITY

---

Marco sat at his desk slowly tapping his display. His window was tinted but the location of the sun was still evident, and he had been watching it move across the sky for several hours. It was always like this when people died. Marco could have had his secretary or even an assistant handle it, he certainly had enough of them, but it had always been the way things were done; that the leader of men is the one responsible for them. It had been his father that drilled that into him, and perhaps it wasn’t terribly hard to write an apology for the death of a man you never met, but this time was different. The first letter Marco had already sent, but the second, for a man named Axel Lind, that was the hard one. Marco had known Axel back on Earth when his father had been running the IMIB diplomatic office in Sweden for Marco’s grandfather. Of course Marco and Axel had been scarcely seven years old but the two had been inseparable for a year, perhaps two. Still, even though Axel had to move away and Marco not long after when his Grandfather died and his father moved to the IMIB chair world of Perseus 3b Marco felt an obligation. After all it had been Marco who had Axel hired when his application came up, Marco had intended to speak to him. Marc wondered about that, it had been scarcely a week and Marco had his own responsibilities, why had Axel died so quickly? Was it fate that Marco would never meet anyone from his old life again? His finger continued its beat on the display, the drum was slow, consistent, unrelenting, like rain.

It was then the door flew open, and the light streamed in from the open windows beyond it. Marco shielded his eyes at first before he sat up in his chair and realized who had walked in. Mira Comb, Marco’s least favorite employee whom he couldn't fire. The tall middle eastern woman spoke clearly as she deactivated the window tint from a control on the wall and allowed yet more light in, “Marco-“ She stopped when he shielded his eyes from the light and gave him the same gaze she always did when she disapproved. She continued, “Marco we have an issue.” She noticed how inattentive he was being and added, “I fear the days just starting, a bit early to shut yourself in and drink.”

Marco responded with about half as much confidence but a thousand times the ease, “Well for your information Miss Comb I have not even touched my flask today, though I like the idea!” So just to spite her Marco pulled a well-crafted and carefully engraved silver flask out of his desk drawer and drank a swig before putting it into his suit pocket, Mira rolled her eyes and Marco continued, “Anyway this great issue at hand! Now let me guess, has another truck broken down?”

Mira once again gave him that glare and responded in a more serious and less scolding tone than usual, “No, I’m afraid this is a bit more pressing. We lost contact with Mercury-126; they re-established an hour ago to report they are dead in space.”

Marco interrupted at that point and asked, “What the hell could have done that?”

Mira replied, “According to them, pirates, well-armed ones. They report a missing shipment and the command crew dead.”

Marco froze, there were few things he was told to never do by his father when he was given this job, but losing any ship that’s designation ended in 26 was the first one. The look on Mira Comb’s face proved she had no idea what was in the ship, and to be honest neither did Marco, though by now he had a very clear idea. He replied seriously, “Get me a shuttle now; we need to deal with this. Label it as a gold transport, should get their attention.”

Mira looked at him more puzzled than she ever had before, and that brought him some pleasure. She was clearly surprised when she asked, “Why you? Why do it like this, we can just send an ambassador like we usually do.”

Marco replied in the same tone as had surprised her, “I have to deal with this myself, it’s beyond just wanting something or acting foolishly, this is something that needs to be done.” Marco stood up and straightened his suit, he continued, “When will the transport be ready?”

Mira replied, “You could be hurt, something your father would blame me for, but I can tell you’re going to do this regardless. I can have it ready immediately.”

Marco walked around his desk and forward to the door, passing Mira without a word as he headed to the landing pad. He guess that he would have to write a great deal more letters before the day was over, but he took solace in the fact that he didn't know them, for Axel’s death still weighed heavy on his mind. As Marco made his way the runway where the atmospheric transport shuttle was waiting he looked around, even though most of the facility was enclosed there was no shortage of glass. Add to that the mountains to his right were surely one of the more impressive sights he had ever seen, if only his window faced them and not the grey mammoth that was the refinery building. When he exited the building and reached the shuttle the pilot approached him and asked, “You’re sure you don’t need an escort? Or me for that matter?”

Marco replied clearly, “No.” As he made his way to the shuttle that was sitting freshly fueled on the runway just away from him. He climbed the simple stairs and noticed a small cargo of Phosphorus in the back, likely it was going to go to one of the colonies before he demanded the shuttle. He took a note to pay the colony for the delay, or loss of cargo depending on how things went. He sat himself in the pilot’s seat and caught a reflection of his green eyes in the glass before he started the takeoff sequence. Often times he wondered if those were the same eyes he had when he was a kid, playing with Axel; or if they changed when his father became the CEO and he never met a real friend again on that grey metal planet he moved to. Banishing the stray thoughts Marco allowed the shuttle to blast into orbit, before long he was following the same route as the transport that was attacked, he guessed it was a mere matter of time now.

Space near Dacyira
ON BOARD THE LITTLE PRINCESS

---

Captain Integra was sitting, lounging tiredly in the Captain's Cabin where nobody could disturb her, when she suddenly hears a gruff voice from her communicator-

"Captain, we've got something on the long-ranged sensors. You might want to check this out."

The young Captain rolls her eyes, but doesn't ignore the suggestion. If Lonning said something was big, it wasn't anything that should be overlooked. After a few moments, she activates her private monitor and takes a look into the Bridge, revealing a huddle of figures around the radar monitors. A burly, dark-skinned man stands next to the Captain's chair, and turns to face the monitor when she appears-

"I hope I'm not disturbing your...beauty sleep, Captain, but it looks like something is heading towards the site of that last haul."

Integra's disappointment is obvious in the slight frown on her expression, but she presses on regardless-

"And? So, they took longer than we thought to find out about it, what's the big deal?"

"Well, that's what we thought until we checked its designation. "Gold Transport.""

Now, Integra's interest was rising quickly. She stands up and grabs her Captain's jacket, talking to Lonning the entire way.

"So...what? It's some really, really bad trap?"

"If it's a trap, it's a very well hidden one. Our sensors can't detect any other ships nearby or following, and the ship itself is completely unarmed. But they're definitely trying to lure us in..." Lonning trails off. He knew the Captain well enough to know how this would turn out, so he didn't even have to hear her response to know it was time to move out. Still, out of respect for the young lady, he allows a few moments for her to relay her orders...

"Start up the engines, if they go around asking for pirates, who are we to judge. Who knows, maybe they think they can appease us with fifty tons of gold. More likely, they want their little presents back."

---

Dacyira Space
PIRATE TERRITORY

---

For a good portion of a minute, the Little Princess had been watching the small transport shuttle from a safe distance, until finally they opened communications. This time, the one who talked was Lonning, while the Captain dressed herself, brushed her teeth and fixed her hair. Lonning was a practical man, but not one without experience, he knew that trying to rush a woman was never a good idea. Especially if they could have you airlocked at any moment.

So, when the communications line was eventually created, the face that appeared on screen was not the young Captain, but instead her subordinate.

"Alright, you've got me. I've seen my fair share or transport ships in my life, carrying things ranging from slaves to nuclear warheads. So tell me, what brings a lonely little Gold Transport Shuttle all the way out here, and why should I care?"

DACYIRA SPACE

---

Marco waited in the cold of space for some time, every once and a while he thought he saw a glint from starship in the distance, but he knew all too well the way space could play tricks on the mind from the years he spent wandering it. He often missed the days he spent captaining the Merchants Revenge, the hunt for pirates when they became an issue. Though he gained a reputation for ruthlessness among other companies during that time Marco knew the reality that was that often he practiced mercy. Still it’s more effective propaganda to report a ship kill than a capture his father would say. Nostalgia rolled in his mind for some time as he waited for the ship he knew would come, in his time dealing with pirates he had often found being bold to be the best way to avoid a shooting war. Eventually the communication came through, Marco recognized the question, he had asked it more than once himself. Why should I care? It was a question that nobody asked without expecting the unexpected.

Marco opened up his end of the communication and his face showed up on the screen. His suit was obvious, and the fact his hair was perfectly clean showed he was no normal ship’s captain. Marco responded, “Well I suppose your reasons for caring are your own, but my name is Marco Astani, and it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m here because you took something we would rather have been left alone, so someone has to rectify the situation. Now as for how I intend to do that, well we can discuss that on your ship.” Marco paused for a moment and then added, “Also don’t worry; if I had armed men on board I would be considerably more pretentious. I also wouldn’t start drinking this early.” Marco took a swig from his flask that lasted longer than most people could bear, considering what it contained. Once he finished Marco put it back into his suit pocket and closed the transmission, he said what he needed to and the rest was up to the pirates, though the thought crossed his mind how simple an ending it would be if they happened to blast him right there. Then again he had seen enough people end like that; he supposed it was the most common way to die. It could be an unexpected arrow through the eye like Axel or a blast from a ship without warning, all rather ordinary in a macabre way really. Marco thought for a moment of how unusual it really would be for someone to die an extraordinary death. Eventually he purged the thoughts from his mind and focused on what promised to be a truly interesting response, if it involved more than cannon fire that was.

---

CANTON/ASM TERRITORY, MOUNTAINS FOOT HOSPITAL

---

Mira Comb looked down on the poor man from the observation window; he looked more broken than most who had the misfortune of experiencing native attacks, though none of them could be considered whole. She asked the question once again, “John? John please listen we need your record of events.”

It didn’t matter, the man in the room still walked in circles, it was a wonder he drove all the way back to base. He kept saying, “He’s not gone, sleeping is all.” Again and again the words never stopped. Everything he did was cyclic, as if from the moment he stepped off the truck he was captured by that moment of horror, held captive by his own memories.

Mira gave up and turned to the doctor, he spoke simply, “It’s worse than usual, we can expect a month in treatment at best, he’ll need drugs, is he covered by contact?”

Mira responded, “This one? Yes he’s an internal employee; you can treat him on company expense. By the way this, this stays here; we cannot have fear mongering in this operation. The drivers are nervous enough already.” The doctor nodded and walked away, Mira often found this job a string of menial tasks, but she liked it that way, ordered and clean. Besides whenever that changed it was always bad, whether Marco’s antics, more deaths, or having to speak to the husks of men torn away by experience.

Ishkaar
Azura Colony
Militia Central Command

Captain Adrian Garroway silently paced about the central holotable of the command center, the skeleton night staff leaving him alone to his musings. The silence galled him as a soldier. A veteran of the Sovereign Colonies Wars, the very idea of a command center being in such a state was anathema to him. But there was no choice, there were too few specialists to maintain the command center on a full-time basis. Instead a staggered on-watch, off-watch system stretched out the limited manpower available in addition to a lot more automation and VI-management than he was comfortable with. It was either this or not having any command staff aboard the Endeavor, which was already running on a skeleton crew besides the troops stationed up there.

Tapping the table to bring up a command console, he brought up a report from the recon corps. Grissom and Ramos colonies were acting up lately. More radical speeches and aggressive movements coming from Azura's neighbors on Ishkaar, calls for fighting for what they needed to survive in the face of rising native hostility and the lack of resupply from their sponsors in the Independent Systems Commonwealth making them desperate.

Making them look towards Azura, who just recieved a shipment of drones from the Eudaimonia Foundation which could be bought and shipped quickly while a full expeditionary force was being assembled and fueled up for the long jump to Dacyria. Those reinforcements were a long ways away.

In the morning, he'd have to talk to the President about what to do about their neighbors. And all the other newcomers to this world that were streaming in. He'd already received "offers" by PMC's offering security and order in exchange for basing and "amenities". Prices and terms verging on extortion in Adrian's opinion. He knew exactly what those mercs intended to turn this research colony into, and what they would likely look for. Not just for pretty faces and bars, but the valuable research data they held on bioengineering likely worth a fortune to someone. Not going to happen on his watch.

If Azura was to survive, it would have to deal with these problems by itself. And he was already beginning to think of a plan. Planning for said plan was interrupted though when an urgant report was relayed from a satellite drone just above Ramos.

"Get me the Endeavor on the horn!"

High Orbit
Colonial Starship Endeavor
Crew Quarters, Section 7

One thing that could be said for a colony ship was that it had plenty of space. Especially when a ship meant for 7,000 was occupied by just 300. The large central cargo bays when emptied of cargo and colonization supplies and improvised barracks offered plenty of room for anyone still onboard. Plenty of room for Zeta Squad to set up a impromptu training arena to practice in their Jackets against an array of training drones.

At the center was a lion-eared young man dancing against spinning remotes, with plenty of onlookers watching the show above on walkways. The Lion stomped left and right, firing bursts from his right-arm machinegun whilst serving and ducking the buzzing remote drones as best he could, only to catch a drone straight in the chest from a single mistep, sending him smacking into the side of the impromptu arena.

"Five minutes, nineteen seconds! Improvement of five seconds Tanner!" Called out Jaeger as he punched the off-switch command on the drone remote, sending the bots back into their alcove. "You alright down there?"

"Not certain sir. Can't feel my body." Slurred Claus from his slumped position with a large dent in his Jacket's chestplate. "Does it have to be so hard sergeant?"

"Tanner, the lieutenant can go at level 10 drones for a solid hour and she ain't a combat-type like you." Remarked the Pointman from his perch. "This is just embarrassing. Sain, Kent, go pick him up." The masked soldier gestured at the pair of clones.

"No need boss, the lion's pride is already on deck." Said Sain as a side gate into the arena opened, and Claus was promptly released from his Jacket's restraints by three sets of helping hands, with two concerned Hornet pilots and a Jacket-jock girl checking him for injuries and pressing a sports drink into his mouth and consoling him with a pat on the head to his dismay and verbal disagreement, before finally accepting being pampered when none of the three were relenting.

"Seriously? Why does this guy get all the girls?" Sain asked his clone brother as they both watched Claus be forcibly attended to while Jaeger and the Pointman left to get suited up for their own round of sparring. "I know he's good in a Jacket and in the sack, but that doesn't explain his popularity wherever he goes."

"Maybe he got pheromones in his lion-kit?" Postulated Kent, mildly amused by how Claus was now attempting to walk without ending up with a lady on both arms despite barely being able to stand on his own after the impact. It had been a recurring pattern with their squadmate to accumulate something of a 'pride' like a real Lion wherever he stayed for a period of time without even putting much dedicated thought to women unless they spelled out their relationship to his face, which they did. Personally, Kent had little interest himself in such personal affairs, free-love being one of the major tenents of the Eudaimonia Foundation afterall, but his brother-clone Sain simply wouldn't shut up about it.

"Could be it. We ought to ask. Oh snap, here comes the lieutenant." Both clones snapped to attention at the characteristic footsteps of Lieutenant May as she strode across the catwalks with a firm resolve in full Jacket armor, with both shoulders and arms loaded with guns and firepower. Yet the most stunning thing about her at first glance were the pink stripes across her armor and weapons to match her genetically-ingrained pink hair. Not that it made her any less fearsome in the eyes of the Westinghouse clones as she turned her glare down at the scene below.

"Tanner! Bishop! Redrosa! Mapleton! Stop playing around and clean this up! Training is canceled, briefing from command in five minutes!" Ordered Lieutenant May, her soprano voice starkly contrasting with her harsh tone as she didn't even bat an eyelid at the scene before her. "Be prepared for rapid deployment, it looks like Ramos is about to make the first move on us, and I want Zeta at the ready! Do you hear me?"

"WE HEAR YOU MA'AM!"

UreReode was just a hatchling when they came from the sky, blasting apart the clouds and bringing with them the falling of the stars and the crashing of the heavens. This world was never prepared or built for such intrusion, the Great Cycle was never intended to account for aliens from beyond the void wanting to claim the land as their own.
He had seen the first descent, looking upon the blazing streaks of fire as they carried down the first metal mountains to the surface — that verdant, once beautiful, sacred land. The mountains opened themselves beneath the sky that had been perversely scarred by the storm they had created, and the so-called “Humans” poured forth from the gaping maws. They soon decided that the world then, by virtue of their presence, belonged to them.
The Dacyirii had attempted to commune with their boisterous guests, treating them with caution, but open arms. Those who had tried to parley were gunned down on the spot under the pretense of being savage beasts; monsters, even. It was then, when UreReode witnessed the mindless slaughter of his entire hatchery that it became clear to him that the Humans left a lot to be desired in the mastery of their own minds, their own morality. The Dacyirii were not the true monsters here.
His kind fell into disarray in the weeks that followed, and a peaceful life of harmony was stolen from him and replaced by one of fear, fleeing, killing, and war. They were dark days, but because of the greed of one race from far, far away, UreReode and many like him grew not to be one with the Suns and Stars and Moons and Trees, but to be killers as cold and ruthless as those who drove them to their new life, simply in the name of survival.

— -X- —

— -X- —

CANTON/ASM, they called their land. The Dacyirii called it by it’s true name, AæklAkldrReode, The North Mountains. But Humans were stubborn in their ways, they assumed themselves the ultimate authority in every aspect of their existence. However, UreReode and his Dacyirii hunters watching the pathetic creatures drivel on about their lives in some alien tongue proved their true ignorance. They were hidden among the shadows, between the darkest of shapes cast by the titanic trees and the incandescent light cascading through the gaps in the canopy. The contrast was enough to obscure them from the limited visual capacity of these invaders; and they knew their home better than this cancerous race from above ever could. The silent flight of an arrow marked the start of the skirmish, striking a human in the eyeball and decimating his head instantly, his death throes acting as the war call of the hunters hidden from view. Some Humans ran like startled sheep, and some tried to fight; but they were fragile behind their moving metal boxes and walls, behind their mysterious armour and magical stringless bows. They were flesh and skin and bone, substances well suited to be rent by the Dacyirii’s mighty weapons. The night was long and filled with blood, the air thick with the screams of Humans and the death-calls of his own, those brave Dacyirii who would become immortalised in their sacrifice, martyrs for freedom and peace. The echoes could be heard across the valley, and the suns rose red that morning.
UreReode could not count the number that died that night: of his own, or of the Humans, but he knew the forest and the mountains would claim their bodies as the endless turning of the Great Cycle dictated. They had to, there had to have been harmony behind the madness, he had to sternly believe that there was a reason for any of this if he were to keep the Dacyirii hopeful for a future of their own. He knew the Humans were too advanced to keep fighting, despite all their shortcomings. He knew that no numbers could win them this struggle in the end. For every human killed, ten more would appear in their place, with the same foul sorcery wielded by the fallen.
The mountain air did not clear his mind, the endless sky and howling wind did not make him feel alive like it always did. Hope was fading, and the light of the Dacyirii faded with it. There was only one chance for the world to be what it should have been, a prospect so maddeningly improbable that it has never yet been achieved in all the history of his species. The clans would have to unite, come together and look at what matters most to them. Else everything that makes Dacyira special will fade.

High Orbit
Colonial Starship Endeavor
Briefing Room 1

"Alright, here is the situation-" Said Lieutenant May as she activated the holo-projector at the center of the briefing room as the rest of the Militia and pilots aboard the Endeavour filed into the room.

"Ramos colony has been agitating towards us ever since they missed their last two supply drops from home. Word is that the ISC are considering cutting ties here due to all the hostile activity, and the local colonists don't like that. And they are beginning to seriously strike out on their own. In order to do so, they need infrastructure and food supplies they were forced to import earlier. And as it happens, we're the closest supply. A mob of Ramos militia are on their way to Azura as we speak, estimated to be 200 militia with mixed small arms, mostly elephant gun-type weaponry to deal with wildlife and natives, but still deadly if they land a hit. No vehicles or air support. There has been no word from Ramos colony command, so we are assuming this is a hostile incursion.

Captain Garroway is ordering our Militia to intercept and smash this angry mob, we can't afford to let these madmen anywhere near the automated farms or water processing facilities. Alpha and Bravo squads are on the ground and being airlifted to head off the mob at the Muelish River Crossing. Zeta, Echo, and Foxtrot squads will be spacedropped here, to flank the mob from the side. You will be in anti-personnel configuration. Gamma and Iota squads will remain on ship on standby in case Grissom colony decides to act up as well. This operation will be supported by three Hornets in ground-strike configuration."

"Three Hornets against an angry mob ma'am? Ramos doesn't have any anti-air capability, it will be a slaughter."

"Thats the point. We need to drive a line in the sand people." Retorted the pink-haired lieutenant. "We need to send a message that Azura isn't a pushover until the reinforcement force arrives. Hopefully these morons will be smart enough to run away once we start shooting, but our time of appeasement to them has ended and its time to drive the point home. All Jackets are to carry anti-personnel loadouts and pack extra batteries, we may be out there for a while. Any questions? No? Dismissed. Gear up. We jump in ten minutes!"

Ishkaar
Muelish River Crossing

The Muelish River Crossing was a simple prefab bridge crossing across a wide river inbetween the territories of the Eudaimonia Foundation and the ISC colonies. A major bottleneck for anyone trying to get into Foundation territory, and everyone knew it. Bridges across the river were scarce, and the natives had taken to destroying them. Azura kept drones on station to guard the bridge, along with Jacket-equipped militia on reserve for cases like this.

But that meant Lieutenant Nathan Harris had 30 grunts to defend a bridge from a mob of 200. Reinforcements and air support were on the way, but that still left him on the pointy end of things. And it certainly wasn't the first time that happened to him.

"Have camera drones along the treeline, alert me the second we spot the mob coming." He ordered, lumbering in his Jacket across the bridge while the rest of Alpha and Bravo squads were digging in. "I want Beaters on the edge of both flanks, give them a clear line of fire for their machineguns and mortars. I want everyone's grenade launchers to be packing frag rounds, no holding back against these guys."

"What if they try to surrender sir?" Spoke up a soldier from their sandbag position.

"Deportation, kick them back to Ramos. We have zero room for prisoners here people. Kill or deport. Zero tolerance is the word from command in regards to these madmen. They had their chance to talk peace and trade, instead they're skipping right to war." Harris hopped into his own dugout and pulled up a case of shells for his left-arm autocannon, scattering shell magazines here and there for easy access reloads and a spare box for his right-arm machinegun. "We're here to send a message. Lets be ready to deliver."

Dacyira Space
PIRATE TERRITORY

---

For the longest of moments, nothing seems to happen in the Gold Transport ship's vicinity, until suddenly something could be seen moving in the shadow of the distant moon. At first it appeared as nothing more than a phantom, creeping sleekly through the partially veiled space close to the surface of the moon. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, it bursts from the shadows to reveal the cruiser for what it was. The pirate vessel, Little Princess, had arrived.

Within moments, the imposing starship had swallowed up the minuscule shuttle and initiated docking. After a series of scans, the airlocks opened to reveal a small collection of burly men and women. If there were ever a collection of individuals who were blatantly pirates, it was not these people. Rather than looking like the scum of the universe, they looked more like low-ranking soldiers but with a little more individuality than was common. With only a few mocking words here and there, the men dutifully guided Marco to the meeting room, where the Captain would question him.

On the way, they pass by quite a few corridors and a handful of windows, revealing other parts of the ship and more crew going about their business. In the distance, laughing could probably be heard echoing down from one of the passages, along with what sounded like cheering. After what seemed like an age, they reached the entrance to a room that must have been somewhere near the front of the vessel, and stopped there. Marco's escorts push him forward, and the door opens abruptly, revealing the room within-

The room consisted of a large meeting table, with what seemed to be a single, large window on the left side. A few men were seated at various spots on the table, and Marco might immediately recognize the large black man seated near the end of the table, but he was not the one sitting at the very head. Instead, seated in the most important chair in the room... was a young girl. A smile was stretched across her face as she regards her guest, a smile that easily leads into her loud, clear voice-

"No gawking on my ship, Marco Astani. Take a seat, or I might change my mind about airlocking you."

DACYIRA SPACE, PIRATE VESSEL LITTLE PRINCESS

---

Marco certainly did gawk, though only for a moment. In his years he had seen all manner of Pirates, ones with no limbs, ones with extra limbs, heck even once he witnessed a Pirate vessel commanded by a cat, or rather a man who was mentally ill enough he thought the cat was giving him orders. Yet in all that time he had never seen a vessel commanded by a girl, especially one whom Marco wondered would even be allowed to gamble on most worlds. Still he wiped the confusion off his face as soon as it came and responded, “Well that would be a twist wouldn't it? Though I venture it would be more than a little disappointing, especially for me.” He took his seat and Marco thought on the words, to be honest the prospect was unsettling to Marco, to become another body just floating out there. Dead like all the rest. Dead and gone being a fool like always Mira would say. It was at that Marco decided he had no choice but to live, if only to deny Mira the satisfaction of being rid of him.

Marco coughed to clear his throat and looked around, all manner of men sat at the table, and all manner of men had been seen around the ship. Still they all shared a common thread, none looked particularly like Pirates. Marco didn’t expect a crew this well organized, nor a ship this powerful. That in of itself reassured him they would be reasonable, but made him strangely uneasy. Pirates were usually people driven to desperation, but for these people it was a more than that. He finally began, “It seems obvious enough why am I here, the ASM, and by extension the IMIB wants its cargo back. However, I am not here to issue empty threats and moral pressures like some high minded and suicidal priest. The IMIB may publish videos of pirates being executed and their ships being destroyed, but the reality is such endeavors are hardly profitable and are usually reserved for last resorts.”

Marco paused for a moment; the Pirates likely knew that already and were prepared for what he would say next. He adjusted his seat and continued, “As a result of that I came here myself to extend an offer, we give you a substantial monthly payment in any base currency you desire, and you leave IMIB trade routes alone. As for the cargo you currently have, well that is problematic. You are probably aware now that most of that shipment was rhodium, irrelevant to me. Feel free to keep it, but I can only guarantee a deal if the secure canisters in crates 45-55 are returned. You no doubt know what’s in them, and why the IMIB isn't precisely allowed to have it under Earth law, doubtless the idea of corporations building high grade fusion bombs would endanger our position there. So… On that front I can also advance you your first payment within the hour, with another follow up later this month, to keep that information a secret.” Marco looked around, he had made his offer and he scarcely knew how these pirates would react, people stealing to feed themselves were one thing, they were predictable, even if irrational. These people however, Marco could only rely on their rational thinking, and even that came with dangers. A thinking enemy is the most dangerous one, because he could truly be unpredictable if he, or she in this matter, chose to be. The thought threw him off balance so Marco decided to fall back on the one constant of life, and pulled out his flask, a little more than half full by the weight of it. He was about to drink when he paused and spoke before the pirates were done thinking on his offer, “I was almost rude, anyone up for a drink?” He held out the intricate flask and smiled.

DACYIRA HIGH ORBIT, LOGISTICS STATION

---

The station bustled with people, it could be thought of as small given the crowd in the cramped control room but in reality it was an enormous construct with well over seven hundred occupants. The control room was lit almost entirely by the cold light of screens, the central one displaying a vast hologram of the planet, outlining ASM operations. Jason looked on it all from his chair at the highest point of the circular room, a raised seat opposite from the wall that housed the door. He was tired from a longer day than usual, his grey hair rested over his eyes but he felt powerless to prevent it. It was then a call came onto his screen, he didn’t have the chance to dismiss it, a priority transmission, never a good thing. The woman’s face was the same one who always called on the priority channel, Mira Comb. She began, “Director I need your station to relay an order to airbase 12A.”

Jason adjusted his seat so that he was perfectly upright and swept his hair which stretched down to his ears away and responded, “Yes ma’am what do you want me to relay?”

Mira spoke with an air of sad disappointment Jason had not often heard, “We lost men on the last convoy that was ambushed, I intend to retaliate.”

Before she could tell him the order Jason spoke out, Ma’am you know that any lethal action must be approved by Mister Astani, I can’t relay the order without his say so.”

Mira sighed and looked at him in a way that seemed more direct than it had before, even through the screen Jason was terrified by that glare, “Director, I do not intend to use lethal force. Marco is off dealing with another problem and so it is left to me to deal with this one. While lethal force can be effective I wouldn't even use it here if I could. What I meant to say before you cut me short is that you are to relay the order for our transports at 12A to load capsaicin and disperse it over the following areas.”

Jason noticed the information she sent, all areas known to be populated by natives, he never understood the war with the natives, then again it was more of a massacre. He replied with sadness in his voice, “Those areas are inhabited, wont that hurt non combatants?”

Mira smiled and replied coldly, “That is the point Director.”

With that the transmission closed and Jason relayed the orders, he knew that what he did was wrong but his salary was more important than his morals for now.

Dacyira Space
ON BOARD THE LITTLE PRINCESS

---

For the longest moment, the group in the conference room of the Little Princess remained almost totally silent, watching Marco with casual indifference. However, when it came time for them to make their final conclusion, Marco surprised everybody by offering them a drink. As suddenly as a storm...the table erupts into pure, unrestrained laughter-

"A drink? Captain, I think this guy likes you!"

One man, relatively close to where Marco was seated, directs his voice towards the head of the table. There, Integra too was laughing, although in a noticeably more controlled manner. Her face, however, showed nothing but playful amusement. After a few moments, her voice cuts through the mild din and silences the table. Her tone seems musing, maybe even a little impressed, but her eyes indicate something else. An understanding.

"My my, offering alcohol to minor! How brazen of you, Marco~!"

With this, she sinks into another casual burst of laughter, but quickly returns to her speech in order to retain control of the conversation. Slowly, with great care to draw out her words for the most effect, she makes her decision.

"This deal of yours, we'll take it. Of course, we'll be keeping everything else we plundered, and I'll be expecting to be paid before we organize the transfer, but I expect this to be the beginning of a wonderful friendship! Don't you agree?"

Still smiling, Integra settles back lazily into her chair, raising her head so that she could still be in clear view of her guest and subordinates. With a strangely confident expression stretched across her face, she adds her last words playfully-

"Please do take care of me, Marco~. You'll keep your end of the bargain...right?"

Continent of Uarsh
The Northern Red Peaks

---

In the arid peaks, of which both natural and artificial, where urchin-like violet shrubs blossom, where sandy skinned snake-like creatures with backs covered in spiky protrusions slither across the land unfettered and with little fear of their environment there lies within porous and jagged spires that tower hundreds of feet in their height like skyscrapers of rock and dirt a race of beings ancient and mindless in their ways. Obsessed, in their fear and paranoia of the skies from the massive bird-like beings that had soared overhead fearing their insatiable hunger for their flesh and in the fear the cobalt they have hoarded over the ages to fuel their addictions will be all ripped away from their bony hands.

They would be the native inhabitants of the isolated Continent of Uarsh. A land alien to even natives of the same planet, beasts specialized not to rugged peaks and dense forests, but to arid badlands as far the eye can see and perpetual desert. In these lands, is where the Uarshi dwelled normally undisturbed. Some time a few earthly years ago [minutes for the Uarshi], a mother of their kind looked up to the skies and saw birds not of flesh, but of metal soaring above. Far bigger than any bird, far faster with screeches far louder.

And deep within the hives who noticed, came panic only paralleled by the destruction of Musiko.

Some of the deep ones opted to commit suicide, dreading the pains worse than death these metallic birds could bring. Others however, kept more vigil than ever and chose to dig deeper into the ground hoping they go away in time. But there were few, who chose to do the opposite defying the ingrained phobias and taboos- they would go out and spread awareness to wherever possible.

Most notable of these would be the divine bastard, the great mother of mothers who came into existence on a seeming whim. Before becoming aware of the alien monster that flew above, she was but another mother tasked with managing surface incursions. However, there from time to time comes when most needed a mother of mothers, whom when made such is bound to die a horrifying death or end the existential danger as the unwritten, perpetually forgotten history of the Uarshi kind might have shown the humans who made their landing.

But that will never bother the divine bastard. Mainly since the divine bastard’s caste before her ascension to true bastardness made her expendable in the first place- being a commanding mother from the hive with double the holes. Perhaps it was all those holes that made divine bastard aware of the nightmarish open sky’s new inhabitant in the first place.

Regardless of why there is a divine bastard now, we now can see as the bulky, snake-like body of the divine bastard worms its way to the depths of a foreign hive that her new purpose is clear- to take control of as many hives as possible. For the sake of the whole overrides the traditional feuding that is the norm of the Uarshi. Actively going in, covered completely in cobalt and effortless in its downward approach through the maze of pitch black tunnels only felt in their path. The depths of these hives are supported by the clay and stone that make up them, as well the bones of the countless dead creatures imp, mother or foreign. Some of which far more massive than even the mothers of the hive-states, attesting to the long tradition of the darwinistic intensity of Dacyiriian wild life.

In the deepest parts of the hive, the divine bastard encounters a group of mothers who look in shock, as the divine bastard’s spindly limbs point at them, and hordes of small imp-like Uarshi surround the deep ones of the hive the divine bastard had so invaded with no resistance from any of the lesser Uarshi or mothers. If Uarshi communicated in ways easy to understand to the ears of other sentients, there would have been a complex dialogue of confrontation and disbelief. The sheer horror felt in the deep ones however, quickly got replaced by submission to the divine bastard as they switch from shock and horror to overcame with glee and happiness.

And so, the influence of the Divine bastard grew once again.

But the divine bastard, despite having power over the minds of all Uarshi so thorough still had fear. For she internally believed that there still were not enough Uarshi on her side, and that the devourers would consume them all regardless.

The following weeks had been somewhat devastating to the Dacyirii. More of UreReode’s people continued to die, both from his Mountain Tribe and from the various other tribes around the world. The skirmishes were endless and the bloodshed seemed to have no end in sight. No matter how many of these ‘Humans’ that died, they always seemed to fight harder and with more ferocity. Only days after the attack on the convoy, another ten bodies of his own were brought back to the Great Cavern, eviscerated and decimated; torn to shreds by what the shaken witnesses would only describe as a ‘hovering metal bird’. Truly, these were the end days, the grand apocalypse from the sky as foretold in so many prophecies over the aeons. Could the Great Cycle be coming to an end?
UreReode had stepped forth from his perch inside the Great Cavern of the Mountain Tribes as two of his kin dragged forth the bodies of the fallen. All ten of them. The entire cavernous interior, the size of a gigantic cathedral, was normally silent save for the harmonious, echoing songs of the Starsinger brood who called out to their Gods day and night to beg for prosperous days and safe nights among the sky-scarring mountains. Recently, the Starsingers were silent. The Dacyirii no longer prayed to Gods that allowed such atrocities to take place. The silence that resonated in their absence was quickly replaced by the pain-filled screams of wounded Dacyirii. The once-holy ground, sanctified and revered, had become just another refuge for the dying and wounded, the painful result of a war that was unlike any the world had ever seen. Traditional medicines did little to ease to suffering from the unholy wounds caused by the sorcerous weapons of the Humans and so those that did face their enemies with bravery were rewarded with a death more painful than any other; often screaming for their kin before fading out entirely into soothing release.
The devastation was incomprehensible. Unstoppable. It had to end.

“Brothers,” UreReode addressed the two body carriers as they dragged the remains of a Dacyirii resistance force into the Cavern with as much dignity as was possible to give, while himself setting aside a wooden bowl of herbal paste that he was applying to a grave wound of a fellow warrior. “Please tell me that this is the last time we will have to do this,”
The body carrier shook his long, horned head.
“I doubt it, Khula. The casualties get worse every day. More of them come from the skies, we cannot keep up with their expansion into the forests. Even the Uarshi have been feeling the pressure of the invaders.”
“I see,” he replied bluntly.
“Khula… I… half of my hatchery is out there now. We haven’t heard from them in days. When will this be over? Are we being punished?”
UreReode shook his head. “I do not know, brother. They can see us from the skies, they hunt us on the land. If we are to repel these demons then we will need to band together,”
“Khula..? The Mountain tribe is already united under your influence. How much more can we unite?”
“No. All the tribes. The Swamp tribes, the Lowlands, the Seas, the Skies and the Forests and the Ice and the Desert. Between us the power exists to fight back, instead of simply throwing ourselves at a much superior force.”
The body-carrier’s saurian jaw dropped slightly, showing hints of a row of sharpened teeth.
“But… It can’t be done. There is bad blood between us.”
“It has to be done, or there will be no blood left. We cannot simply send a single Dacyirii, it is too dangerous. But we cannot send a large force; they can see us from above and they will be hunted. We must send our best, ten of them, tasking them with uniting the Dacyirii for the greater good.”

UreReode did not wait for the body carrier to respond to his news, instead simply asking him a rather important question:

“Have you ever flown by Ure-KhuklWing?”

The screech of a very large, powerful winged beast that was almost synonymous with the Dacyiran mountains echoed through the caverns, and the dusty sunlight pouring through the cavern’s entrance was blocked for a moment by a fleet of powerful wings…

..
...
Isuch mii lokkis khuun
ima na...
.....
Los..i..
Local language scanned and processed..
Initializing sleeper speech 'Rosetta' indoctrination..
Speech lessons complete.
All systems ready.

Aurel could feel the cold chill of the ships internal atmosphere rush over her body. Her hairs stood on end and chill bumps ran down her arms. Why is it always so cold. She could hear commotion in the room as her body slowly emerged from her sleeper pod. To her left and right, rows of pods with newly awakened crew. There was small amounts of vomit on the floor in front of a few pods, something that is not at all uncommon after awakening. "Michon Aurel, Final jump is nearly over. We will emerge from the Ahn soon.". Aurel shook her head a bit as her eyes were still adjusting to the light, "All right, system. Progress on awakening?". The computer (system) didn't reply right away, as its main systems were still warming up as well. "Michon Aurel, All ships have reported, 100% awakening achieved." Aurel had stood by now and started towards the ships command center, located deep within the ship.

"I dislike this new language, so harsh on the tongue.".. "I know!".. "Where are we at?".. "I cant feel my fingers yet.".. The hallways were full of such phrases and conversations. The first hour was always rough on everyone but it came with the job, one everyone had volunteered for. The lights flickered to life as Aurel entered the room. "All right system, lets get this started."

"Michon Aurel, Communications open with the fleet, captains are awaiting visual."

"All right."

With that, the room went to a light blue color and three lights appeared in the center of the room which, after a matter of seconds, took the holographic shape of the other captains. Aurel gave a soft, "Hello Captains." which was followed by the others giving their greetings. "We are nearing our exit point and have found a suitable system with the raw minerals we need to build the gate."

Aurel turned towards the left side of the room where a holographic image of the planet Dacyira. "Here is where we will set up our base." Larfi's hologram walked up to the planet and pointed at one of the many flashing red dots. "There's a lot of indigenous life on this world. You sure we shouldn't just mine the outer worlds and build our gate here?" Duhn chimed in, "Yes, Aurel, system says there is an over abundance of resources on the outer asteroid belt alone." Aurel turned to them, "No, we have a planet here that could operate as a hub.. A perfect place for a regional government to be set up."

"A government ran by you? please do not tell me you're still gunning for a matriarch title." was Raki's first entry in this conversation. Aurel was quick to reply "You know I'm right. The last region we were in had plenty of mining facilities and enclosed cramped colonies. This is a wide open planet with a proper atmosphere and indigenous life. You know how rare those are!" Raki rose her hands up, "Ok Aurel, Ok." Aurel turned and pointed at the planet. "This my friends, is our opportunity to make a name for ourselves." Aurel then looked at systems scans of the sentient life on and around the planet. "These races are post warp so they may pose a problem if we aren't tactful with this." Not every race was ready for subtle assimilation.

The four spoke for a while longer then the communications were ended. Aurel left the room and started towards the bridge. As she arrived, numerous Hau snapped a salute by holding their hand over their heart for a moment. Aurel moved for a chair situated in the center of the room. "Bring us out of Ahn space." The pilot replied with a simple nod then began operating the console. Ahn space is technically another dimension or "Sub space" as some would say. The Hau enter light speed then 'bounce' their ships on this dimension, doing what they call "puddle jumping". This Ahn space photons move 1000% faster than our reality, enabling light speed to be far greater with the same amount of energy expended.

Aurel stared out of the view port at the red-ish gray haze with what looked like lightning bolts by every few seconds, Ahn space at its glory. The ships internal lights went green for a couple minutes, the general warning so that everyone would report to their stations in preparation for operations.

And upon exiting Ahn space, a flash of light almost as bright as a super nova lit up the system to announce the incoming fleet. And as if the bright flash wasn't enough to alert everyone with a telescope to their presence, the incredible speed these ships were flying at, much faster than their size would suggest removed any possibility of a stealthy advance.

The flotilla passed the last body in the system and deployed communications device was launched down to it. It was to transmit a message with exact coordinates and system readings back to Hau space. This message would take time and with some veteran crews, their gate is complete before this initial message gets to Hau command. Even though Aurel and her fleet was green at this, she intended for this to be a simple and quick endeavor.

Simple and quick.

DACYRIA SPACE, PIRATE VESSEL LITTLE PRINCESS

---

Marco was relived, though it didn’t show, a heavy burden had been lifted from him. He took notice that nobody wanted a drink and decided to have one for himself before he replied to the young captain. A quick glug and Marco fastened the flask up and returned it to his suit pocket. Finally he responded with the inattention of someone who was well on their way to being drunk, “I certainly will, being rich I think it’s mandatory to be a gentleman in some way. Anyhow give me a moment to get your payment.” Marco reached inside his suit and pulled out a small paper thin tablet pad that he proceeded to unroll. Marco laid it on the table and allowed the microscopic camera to scan his eye, the paper flashed green and he rolled it up once again. A small flick and it moved across the table to where the young captain was sitting, Marco finished, “That concludes our deal, the money is there and just needs to be locked into a currency. I would recommend the Canton Alliances though, if all goes well they should be the dominant faction on this world soon enough.” Marco stood up and dusted his suit; a pirate directed him out of the room and added that his cargo was being loaded onto the small shuttle. Marco was walking out when a he noticed a large man had observing him. It was the man from the comm channel, no doubt an advisor to this young captain. Still, all the ease Marco felt on the completed deal turned to anxiety in one moment of the dark skinned man’s glance. Those eyes, Marco pondered on how familiar they seemed, that calculating look with that unwavering determination just beyond the surface. Marco remembered where he had seen those eyes before, the first day he had met Mira comb. She looked at him as this man did, and the animosity mixed with distrust under those cold eyes was as unmistakable there as it was here.

Marco hurried himself out of the room, the walk to the shuttle was similar, but this time the jokes from the pirates that escorted him were less half veiled threats and more good hearted jests. Marco thought that while many on the crew were just glad to have a certainty on their paycheck there would be more than one on this ship that doubted his intentions. Marco silently hoped that he would not see the dark skinned man again, for distrust in a man’s eyes is terror, but distrust mixed with cold calculation was doom. Marco eliminated the thought from his mind and participated in the jokes until he was ready to leave. The pirates had been paid, Marco’s cargo was safe, and he had made his way to his ship. Still, he felt less at ease than when his death was almost a certainty. Something was coming, Mira had the eyes of that Pirate, and Marco wondered if she would betray him like one when it did. A knife in the back? Marco wondered as his shuttle separated from the pirate vessel and zoomed away, the vast ship fading in the distance. As time went on and the pirate ship faded from sensors Marco returned his thoughts to finishing what he had started doing some hours ago. Safe from harm he pulled out a small notepad and pen, old tools, from a small compartment in the shuttle, usually used for course correction calculations when instruments were down. Yet today these tools would write an obituary for a forgotten friend. Marco wondered how long it would be before his was written as the shuttle cruised toward Dacyria and the blue marble grew in size.

CANTON/ASM TERRITORY, AIRBASE 12A

---

The sun had already begun to set when the order had been received. Now with the sky running red and orange the base seemed to be sitting against a scorched horizon, a shadow of a mountain that had its top sawn off to make room for runways. Harris looked out on his plane from the bench where he was sitting, his tablet paper in hand told him what his orders were, but the canisters being loaded into his transport made it abundantly clear. Harris looked down on the sheet and the neon letters outlined the mission plan exactly as he thought they would. He was to fly in the cover of darkness and bomb the entrances to caves all across the mountain range, while the bombs were only non-lethal weapons Harris knew all too well how dangerous they could be, and the night attack was no doubt a gambit at making sure the most Dacis were in the caves. He sighed and pulled on his helmet, as he stood and walked toward the plane his gunner came up to him and asked enthusiastically, “You excited sir? We finally get a chance to get those damn Dacis back.”

Harris looked toward his gunner; though his face was hidden by the helmet Harris knew that the kid’s expression would be a dumb smile. Harris fastened his own helmet and responded, “Dan you realise we are in a plane? The natives would have a better chance fighting the tides. This isn’t us getting back, this is… Just unfair.”

Dan looked at him and cocked his head, inadvertently sending a small reflection off the polished metal and into Harris’s eyes. As Harris winced Dan responded, “How can you say that? They killed humans, and those guys sure as hell didn’t have planes. We’re showing the bastards what humans can do, don’t need to be fair.”

Harris adjusted his helmet so the light was away from his eyes and replied, ‘I suppose it doesn’t, but this isn’t me putting down a riot or a rebellion like I used to. I don’t like this, they never had a chance.”

With that the two stepped onto the plane and started their normal checks. They got a green light that the bombs were loaded and spun up the engines. The transport jumped straight up into the sky, the blue jets under then turned in one direction and in a second they were heading out at hundreds of kilometers an hour. Behind them five other transports shot off like little rockets in their own directions trailing small blue wisps. The flight was quiet, as always. While Dan was young and chatty and Harris was old and had more than enough stories to occupy him it had become their own dynamic that each person stayed silent during the flight, perhaps it was to focus, and perhaps it was because both of them knew that anything could happen while they were up here. Some time had passed and the sky was black when the first target was in range, Dan spoke up, “Target in range, direct drop authorized?”

Harris echoed the question to command and to his dismay received authorization. He relayed to Dan, “You are clear, I am slowing us for a clean shot into the cave. With that the transport slowed just enough that when the three bombs were released they glided perfectly into the dark spot against mountainside. Out of it Harris sighted the telltale blast of red gas that seeped out of the cave like an open wound. Dan gave a woot and Harris replied, “Let’s hit the next target.”

It was four hours and four caves later when they arrived at base, Harris eased the transport onto the pad and felt the reassuring bump when it made contact and he cut the engines. Dan was saying something but Harris was too busy envisioning those bleeding caves, he wondered if anyone had died by inhalation, it would not have been the first time he killed, but it would certainly have been the first time he killed someone he had no quarrel with.

CANTON/ASM TERRITORY, MOUNTAINS FOOT CITY

---

Mira had watched the screen laid into her glass table for some time. It displayed a topographical map pf the mountains, on it blue dots moved around symbolizing her transports, like dogs they moved in on their targets. The blue dots had moved from one place to another throughout the night, each time a small green triangle was displayed upon a successful gas deployment. She smiled at it, the natives were and problem and she was dealing with it. Had Marco not been as soft as he was she would have gladly replaced gas with incendiaries and ended the problem once and for all. Still, she had to deal with Marco for now. She leaned back in her chair as the dots all converged on their starting location and thought on Marco’s father. Never before had Mira met a man with so much determination. Old as he was the man commanded the attention of others merely by his presence. She remembered the day he came to her office and gave her this job; he told her that it was because she was efficient. Still Mira always thought the real reason was because he wanted someone capable of leading when, not if, his son failed.

As much as the old man loved Marco the disappointment showed in his eyes when he told her about him. Marco Astani, the old man’s son. He was next in line for a spot on the administrative board of the IMIB and Mira thought, entirely undeserving of it. It had taken her no convincing to take a job as a planetary IMIB representative, even after being told about Marco’s failures. He lived up to expectation and Mira had watched him fall further the longer he was on this planet, drinking and personally dealing with pirates. He was doing anything to evade responsibility. Mira decided then that if Marco didn’t want responsibility, she would make sure he had none. A smile crept up her face and stayed there, for longer than anyone had ever seen, and longer than anyone would.

UARSH, CONVOY ALPHA 3

---

The vast flat shrub land was without shade and the sun was high. It was usually at day when the convoy slept to avoid the heat, though Dr. Shae was still awake, looking aimlessly through a window she opened and into the distance. A woman in her thirties, Olivia Shae had long brown hair that looked almost red in the pricing light with somewhat tanned white skin and dark green eyes. Technical head of the expedition it was her responsibility to make sure all the science instruments worked, which only meant she, who had a doctorate, had been assigned as a glorified repairwoman. The light shining in through the window woke her assistant who slept opposite to the Doctors bunk. Dazed the light sleeper grumbled, “Would you close that damn window Olivia?”

The doctor did as she was asked and closed the window with a light tap of a touch button. She walked back to her bunk and sat on it upright. She spoke softly, clearly as tired as her assistant, “Sorry Peter, I was just looking out there. I lived near the deserts of Karshn on Ellisandra 1a, this place reminds me of home. Though I never did prospect for a mine at home… Not in Karshn at least, that desert was held as scared there.”

Peter pulled his blanket over his head and responded in a muffled voice, “Ok, do you know what reminds me of home and is also sacred? Sleep. So go to bed already.”

Olivia chuckled softly and went to her own bunk, she lay down and let sleep take her. By night they would dig into the soil in an attempt to verify the concentrated deposits of various minerals they had located below. That would be the time to be awake and alert, not now, not in the hot sun.

DACYRIA HIGH ORBIT, LOGISTICS STATION

---

Jason was still thinking on what he had allowed to happen, he had been off a shift and had slept on it before it came time for him to take the stations helm again. It pained him to think money was more important than others lives, but he had a family on Perseus 3b and if he not meet his family’s income expectation their living conditions would be downgraded. Normally that wouldn’t have been an issue, if it were not for his daughter being born without her legs. Even in this age of science and the healing of mortal wounds it seemed that if you were born without the hardware you needed, there was little to repair. Jason thought back to her, her smile when he had told it would be ok, and her sadness when he told her he had to leave. It had been years and the age showed on Jason’s face. He hoped she was as happy as she had always been, he never did understand how she was that way, even in the face of her disability. Jason thought on it all and realised it had been more than a month since he had been able to talk to her over FTL comms. He decided to talk to Marco about it; FTL comm use was precious as channels were few, but Marco had always been a good man, even if he was a drunk.

As nice as the thought was the sudden blaring of alarms and cacophony of voices shouting ripped it away from him. Eventually he stood up and roared over it all “Calm down! What’s going on here?”

The silence was sudden, and after a long minute deep within the crowd below, a woman called out, her location Jason was unable to see. She spoke loudly so he could hear, “We have detected unknown vessels entering the system, and their approach vector leads them into Dacyria orbit. The readings indicate unknown jump system and unknown hull configuration, we expect alien design.”

Before Jason could respond another voice chimed in, “Initial readings are showing immense power generation off surface scans of the vessels, they are advanced.”

That last line was enough to be worrying, Humanity had encountered many aliens, but the more advanced ones usually kept to themselves, why would an unknown race come here? Of all places? In a calm voice not representative of the way he felt Jason spoke out, “Back to your stations, hail them and send them the following message.” Jason waited for some time as the chaos was returned to order, he sat back into his seat and waited. When an operator gave him the nod he spoke with a clear and determined voice, “Unknown vessels, you have entered orbit of Dacyria, we on behalf of the ASM and IMIB bid you welcome. If possible we would like to initiate contact and send an emissary, if colonization is your intention we feel it vital that communications lines are established.” He gave the sign and the communication was cut. Marco would want to be the first to greet an alien race, but he was gone. Mira would be the second, but she was planet side and likely asleep. It was IMIB policy to establish contact before other parties, but Jason soon realised that by doing so he had become the only capable person available to be the emissary.

A voice called out from below, “Sir? Are you sure about that?”

Jason responded softly, “I fear there is little choice in this matter.”

Contested Territory
The once still and quiet forests of Northern Sakria were now shaken and scarred by the fires of war, a forest of once filed to the bring with trees had become cratered and burnt, what little remains are scattered far and wide between, for nearly a week the fighting was fierce and dragged on. The Canton Marines and the elements of the Militia of Fanrong, alongside a few units of Grave Company were sent to defend a Canton Research Facility that fell under attack by AVA mercenaries under the contract of one of the neighboring colonies of the Kazuni Dominion, for fear of a possible incursion. A self-fulfilling prophecy if there ever was one.

However, this Facility hold secrets some would indeed die for to get a hold of. Secrets that can guarantee dominance of Dacyira, or could lead to it's destruction.

Research Base Jìnzhǎn

The sounds of gunfire and loud booms from mortars rang in the air, as the AVA forces, backed by Kazuni shock troops, begun yet another assault on Cantoness Trenches that were dug around the Base. However, this time was different, for all the days they held on, it seemed the line would soon be broken.

As enemy infantry and armor came charging on, the front trenches soon fell under fire from mortar and air strikes. Forcing the defenders to scatter, becoming too disorganized to repel the next assault as they came rushing in. All hell broke loose.

---

Not an hour has passed, and now the facility has become a warzone, the defenders fighting in every inch of every corner and corridor. Members of Grave Company were at the forefront of the defense of the Central structure. Lieutenant Mike Qill was the one in command, forming up with his brothers-in-arms as Kazuni troopers charged forward. "Razor Squad! Looks like it's now, or never. We defend this building at any cost, not a single one of these bastards is gonna past us, ya hear?!?"

"Yessir!" They shouted in unison as they charged towards the kazuni soldiers for a bloody brawl.

Continent of Sakria
Rampart City

---

Rampart City was a concrete sprawl of buildings and roads. It wasn’t a pretty site, but it was home to one and a half thousand people, and all of it surrounded the hulk of the Rampart which had been turned into both the seat of power for what rag tag government they had established and as a military headquarters. Within the Rampart, seated at a desk within the old captain’s quarters, Interim President Hyde mused to himself on a rather pressing issue. The captain’s quarter was a windowless room, that, despite being rather sizeable, had always made him feel just a little claustrophobic. Hyde was an aging man by now, entering his fifties with a head of brown hair that was splattered with silver and gray, and a rather full looking beard. The creases in his face, though, showed signs of aging past his time, as stress played havoc with his health.

Dacyria was supposed to be a new home for these people, but now with the arrival of so many others, and the recent aggression of the natives, things were beginning to grow tense within the city. The old Underground had lost sight of its original goals, becoming nothing more than a group of pirates and thieves, but now… Here on Dacyria… They had a second chance, a chance to build a new home away from the oppressive rule they had first been established to fight. Hyde had fought hard for them to be given this chance.

The other human colonies had, so far, stayed away from Underground holdings but with things progressing as they were now, it would only be a matter of time before they were stumbled upon. Years had passed since they’d last met with governmental forces of Earth, but they were still wanted men, and discovery could bring a terrible wrath down upon them all. Even worse, they were rather lacking in both manpower and supplies compared to the other established colonies, and worse yet, there was little that Hyde could do about it.

---

Sergeant Hawkins let out a low whistle as he watched the fighting around the Canton Research Facility through the eyes of a pair of binoculars. “Looks like they’re really beating the hell out of each other…” Hawkins glanced back at the rest of his five man squad as they sat crouched at the top of a ridge overlooking the battlefield a fair distance away. He handed the binoculars over to Corporal Reeves so that he could have a look.

“Hot damn!” Reeves said as he took his own look. “That’s a straight up slugfest that they’re doing out there…”

“I heard that the other colonies were having skirmishes with each other, but this is the first time I’ve heard of them being in open conflict…” Corporal Black muttered to herself.

Private Bryan stared out over the field, his hand over his eyes. “Can you tell who the players are out there, Reeves?”

“Give me a minute…” Reeves mumbled. “Well… It’s obviously Canton forces that are defending here… And it looks like we’ve got AVA Mercenaries playing the aggressor here… Hmm, wonder who paid them.” Reeves handed back the binoculars to Hawkins who tapped them in his palm for a moment as he thought to himself.

“I doubt we’ll find that out anytime soon…” Hawkins said, scratching his chin. “Anyways, HQ’s probably going to want to know what happens here, and we’re a little far from home to be radioing back to them, so it looks like we’ll be camping out here while our friends down there are blowing each other to bits.” There was a round of groans and complaints, but Hawkins ignored it. They were already expecting it to begin with. “Reeves, go and take Private Bryan with you and fetch the supplies from the jeep. The rest of us will stay here and keep watch.”

Reeves gave a lazy “Yes, sir,” and waved for Bryan to follow him before disappearing into the trees.

Hawkins turned the binoculars back to the battlefield in front of them, watching the artillery fire while Black spoke to Private Cross, the newest member of the squad. “Say, Cross… Why the hell are you still wearing that goddamned helmet?”

“What do you mean?” Cross asked back. “It’s protocol to wear all protective gear when in the fie-“

“Who cares about protocol? That thing’s stuffy as all hell! Seriously, how the hell do you breathe in that?”

Hawkins saw Cross shrug out of the corner of his eye. “We hiked with them back in boot camp.”

“Yeah, real good way to get heat stroke in my opinion, just how many recruits passed out during these hikes of yours?”

Hawkins butted in finally, deciding to end the argument. “Come on now, Black. If Cross wants to wear his helmet, let him. Long as it doesn’t slow him down.” Black rolled her eyes and grunted in affirmative. Hawkins turned over to look at Private Cross for a moment. The man was fresh out of training, and dressed in a full body suit of armor that showed zero skin, and clutched in his hands was a ZK-01, an assault rifle designed by the Underground itself. Ever since the first proper factories had started up and mining operations had gone underway, the Underground had been trying to begin standardizing Militia equipment, with the armor and rifle being such attempts. The full body armor was a simple thing, it wasn’t powered, nor did it provide any real outstanding protection other than the full body coverage, but the helmet had a few basic additions, such as a HUD and a radio system built in, and it also acted as a gas mask in case of chemical attack. The downside of all of it, of course, was the added weight, and the fact that none of the material really breathed, meaning most soldiers stuck with the more piecemeal pieces of armor they had. The ZK-01 rifle was designed by a few weapons engineers that had deserted to the Underground for one reason or another, and was designed to be rugged, reliable, and easy to maintain, a godsend considering the Underground’s current position. Still, other than new recruits, it, along with the new armor system, wasn’t used all that often just yet, as most soldiers had tried and true favorites they preferred.

Cross was the rookie of the squad, having been assigned to them only a week before they were sent out on this scouting mission. Hawkins had worked with everyone else on the team for at least a month beforehand, and he’d gotten to know them well enough, but Cross was the odd man out. He seemed like a good enough person, a little too by-the-books, so to speak, but he’d probably grow out of it. Hawkins shook his head and turned his attention back to the conflict between AVA and Canton. He wondered which side would buckle first. So far it looked like Canton was on the losing side, but you never knew. Something was going down here. He could feel it in his gut.

"The Stargazers were right, Scriber. We'll be able to breathe just fine on the surface."

Scriber Arrymoro bobbed his heads, the motion not dissimilar to a wave in water. One of his speakers, Ro, turned fully to face to the officer across the room, as the rest of him gazed out the window. Twenty years Scriber had been awake on the ramship, and still more he had spent in coldsleep. There would be no more of that now, though; with the work ahead of them, the Effort would need all the packs awake and working.

"Good. Dispatch the first survey team." He paused, but the officer knew better than to take that as an end to the Scriber's orders. The Effort's leader adjusted a mounted telescope and pressed an eye to it. His Ro continued to watch the officer's members in silence, while the heads behind her looked in all directions. "The islands we discussed, the ones in the north. Send them there."

"Yes, Scriber. Right away." As the officer's bodies turned and walked out, a shiver ran through Arrymoro. Soon, the Packs would be setting foot on a whole new world, filled with alien life. The light of the ramship's last burn would soon reach the Packworld and they would see that the First Colonization Effort of the Packs had reached its destination. The Scriber prayed that there were still Packs capable of watching.

---

The plane entered the atmosphere just north of the equator, gliding down at a sharp angle. Oddly enough, the freefall didn't give Diraphus butterflies in his stomach until the pilot called out somewhere off to his left, in the cockpit: "We've breached atmos. Everyone buckle in."

The spaceplane had no windows in its cargo bay, leaving the few passengers stowed back there blind. Diraphus sat in a line along the left side of the plane, with a pack he didn't know sitting across from him, on the right side. In the back of the plane, the survey truck was strapped down, carrying another two packs. It was cramped, and a little disorienting; the walls were quilted, but the mind chatter still overlapped too much for comfort. Scout Diraphus found himself spacing out a number of times since boarding the plane.

While he couldn't wait until they landed, he was more than a little nervous about his mission today. Soon, the spaceplane would be landing on the alien world, and the surveyor packs would file off the plane and into the wilderness. The truck would be doing a fair amount of the heavy lifting, scanning this and that. Nothing the Packs developed could beat feet on the ground, however, and that's where Diraphus and the other scout came in. While the truck made a slow patrol of the immediate area, they would be trotting off into the wilderness to see what could be seen, and -- with any luck -- they'd find a suitable place for an outpost before sunset.

"Hang on, and don't wet yourselves." And they were no longer in freefall, just like that. Diraphus was no pilot: he didn't know if the craft leveled out or just hit thicker atmosphere. In any case, the engines cut in moments later. A few more minutes and they'd be at the landing site, if the pilot was as good as they said. Either that, or splattered across some alien jungle.

The plane landed safely enough, though some time later than the scout expected. The pilot claimed she was having trouble finding a good place to put the craft down. The cargo bay door opened slowly, filling Diraphus' nostrils with the scent of the alien air. After so long with the ramship's recycled air, he couldn't tell if it was unusual or not. The other scout unbuckled quicker, so Diraphus let him leave first. No use getting a headache in a rush to get off.

In truth, though, Diraphus was more nervous about what he might see than he was worried about getting a headache. The light flooding in blinded him to the outside, at least at first. The truck rolled out, guided by the other scout. Diraphus opened his eyes wider despite the pain, trying to get accustomed to the glaring sunlight. A few minutes passed, and even the pilot trotted out before him, lighting up a flavored vaporstick for each mouth. The glare slowly faded, and Diraphus took a few steps forward with his best eyes, squinting a bit.

The indistinct green and brown of the underbrush dominated the area the Scout could see, but there was something more. A low hanging branch was just within view, its tree's apparent proximity serving as a testament to the pilot's skill. No ordinary flyer could land that close without much more than a scratch. Something about the leaves caught his eyes, despite it being no more or less green than the rest of the jungle. As he brought more members forward, he could see what it was.

And suddenly, the scout was home again, and younger. Around him, his brother and sister ran, chirping and howling away. He wasn't all there, now and again blind to some of his member's sights. A branch struck his Raph, a few star-shaped leaves clinging to his snout. The Packworld was so far away now, but here, on the alien planet he had spent over a century flying towards, were the same star-shaped leaves.

---

The scout finally stepped off the plane. Pilot Kegidiku hadn't rushed the poor triplet out of her plane, instead leaving it be. They were a rare sight, with most packs formed of four or more members. There were little instabilities here and there in triplets, quirks that made them seem not quite right. Any that didn't devolve into mindless animals were almost sure to be incompatible with new members, and short-lived. This scout had made it, however, and Kegidiku was willing to accomodate it, however slow it may be. When it finally did step down the ramp, she turned two of her heads over, sucking deep on the vaporsticks before she spoke.

"The truck went east a little ways, and Ibakherga is heading north. S'pose you'll be going south, then." She pointed the other two heads into the jungle straight ahead of the cargo ramp. "That way."

The triplet smiled at her, and trotted off in such a child-like fashion that Kegidiku couldn't help but smile to herself and shake a couple heads. Maybe it was a bit slow, but at least it was enthusiastic about its work.

ACT I – The Long Way Down To Hell
2410 AD, Earth, Geneva Supreme World Court, Trial Case Robinsong vs United Federation of Earthen States



James Robinsong sat accused of the most severe crimes one could possibly be accused of, and he knew it. High treason; conspiracy to commit treason, collaboration with separatists, conspiracy to commit terrorism, to Robinsong, it was made clear the politicians of UFES had lost patience with his wayward colony. If he lost this battle he would be executed. And he knew he was going to lose this battle.

His lawyer, some Mr. John Ash was not helping in the slightest... In fact he suspected he may even be sabotaging his case... Not that it mattered. Robinsong sighed, knowing that his case was unwinnable from the moment he was arrested. It was just as the anonymous, faceless I.B.E.I* agent had said in the prison.

“We warned you that the I.B.E.I will ensure justice is done swiftly Mr.Robinsong. Do not pretend you have any hope of escaping. Give us what we want and we will make sure you may go”. Robinson had simply glared at him, refusing to speak. The I.B.E.I agent was careful not to show his face, but he knew he was making the agent irritated by his persistent silence.

“Your defiance in cooperating with the I.B.E.I is making your court case potentially biased in its disposition. If you continue with this course of action, you may force us to act further”.

More silence from Robinsong. The man looked down at his watch, stood silent for a moment and then spoke in a harsh whisper.
“Earth and the safety of its citizens are not equal to the life of two potential terrorists, a women and a girl on a far-off colony. If you continue to test our patience in this futile attempt of rebellion, their safety cannot be guaranteed”.

Robinson had been close to attempting to strangle the man for that final remark, however he remained silent. The agent left shortly after, and now here he was, in an armoured vehicle being driven to his first trial hearing. He was thankful he was at least allowed his usual business attire rather than a prison suit. He would have thought after raiding his family home in Britain, Manor on Dacyira and his bank accounts deposits they would leave him no dignity left.

He also wore a ballistic vest and even had some form of small robot connected to his neck which if he remembered correctly injected nanomachines into the bloodstream to repair damaged tissue. Darkly, he realized the nanomachines would also be used to track him if he somehow succeeded in escaping. The vest, nanomachines, armoured vehicle and heavily armed guards protecting him supposedly was not to stop him from escaping but rather to stop Earthist paramilitaries from attempting to pull a vigilante execution on him. Popularity in the colonies was usually measured in contrast to notoriety in the inner worlds after all, so he had some inclination to believe there are those here who would like to see him dead (Why they did not just wait until a guilty verdict though, he had no idea)

Once the vehicle stopped, a virtual small army of police and other security personnel assembled to escort him to his trial. Robinson walked unafraid of any form of ambush: He knew that until the I.B.E.I either had no further use from him or gave up trying to blackmail him into giving what they wanted, he was the safest man on the planet, if not in the entirety of human space, trial or no trial.

Robinsong looked across the familiar sight of Earth. Even here in Geneva, Switzerland, little remained of nature or culture, just endless metropolitan sprawl and waves of orderly drones who called themselves human. On his short walk to the Supreme Court building, he passed another collection of drones, and another small army, this time of journalists, camera drones and reporters carefully vetted by the I.E.B.I (Else he figured they would have been blocked any access to him), there would be no incident here except a mass of questions being thrown at him. In particular he noticed one Amy Turner, the same reporter who had the luck to announce his arrest to the galaxy before anyone else.

Upon entering the building, Robinsong was confronted with the plastered smile of his Lawyer. “Ah! Mr Robinsong, you have arrived, good... So shall we begin?”
Robinsong simply nodded, and so as they waited for the trial to come into action, his lawyer went over some final preliminary details of his defence, all of which Robinsong knew was meaningless... All of which Robinsong knew his lawyer knew was meaningless.
This farce was already over; it was simply a matter of how long until Earth realized he would not back down.
With this in mind, he entered the court room.

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

Dacyira, High Orbit, UES Clinton (Liberator-Class Battlecruiser)



“Captain, we are entering Dacyira’s orbit” Reported a young helmswoman, Chloe Barm...? Barns..? Whatever it was, her surname was lost to Captain Pavlov. Just awakening from cryo it felt like but minutes they had left the edge of Sol. A new command, a new planet and of course, a new crew... Pavlov knew what the high brass was doing, you didn’t get sent out this far to “PROTECT THE VITAL TRADE LANES” of the infamous ‘Devil’s Garden’ unless you fucked up.

And he fucked up. He lost his whole god damn ship and crew to repairs for his otherwise victorious conquest against pirates four years back. Disrespectful louts, the lot of them. High brass orders him to fight a suicidal battle against seven pirate vessels led by some crazed Warlord augmented with military grade weapons and then reprimands him for actually winning.

“Very good, communications please send a memo out to the other captains that we are having a joint meeting in five minutes. Make sure the local fleet gets the message” Pavlov grumbled. The little blue and green world was now a massive globe stretching across the bridge’s monitors (only an idiot would actually have windows built into a bridge). The navy and army alike had good reason to call this death trap the Devil’s Garden. Hell on the surface filled with dark jungles and some kind of lizard natives, hell in space; filled with yet more god damn pirates. Pavlov swore if he ever became Admiral the first thing he would do is enter Edwardina and glass every single world that had a pirate on it.

“Local fleet in sight captain” the other helmsman, some cocky youth (Always cocky!) stated. The local fleet apparently was now also moving into orbit of the planet, likely they had been away from this area patrolling in the outer reaches of the Natu system.

“Very well, I have a meeting to attend to. Commander Wallace, you have the bridge”. Pavlov stiffly stood up, and still recovering from cryo awkwardly limped back down the hallway to the conference room.

“Aye aye, sir” Wallace replied. In Pavlov’s eyes, Wallace was a professional careerist, proper but a bit too ambitious to be fully trusted. Pavlov reached the elevator and descended. “ARDA, respond. Are the other captains connecting?”

“Affirmative captain, besides yourself, only Captains Laurance and Yamauchi are still absent from the meeting”. The synthetic voice responded. The only trustworthy entity on this vessel, the Ship’s Military AI nearly never changes from ship to ship.

Pavlov entered the conference room and sat down in front of a desk facing a blank white wall. “ARDA, activate screen”.

The wall lit up, showing the faces of the other seven captains now in orbit of this godforsaken hellhole. Captain Acker; Captain Laurance and Captain Laskowski of his own group of ships alongside the colonies local military vessels represented by Captain Yamauchi; Captain Macbay, Captain Shou and Captain Hale, each of the eight faces started at each other, sizing up who they would be working with for the next six months. Pavlov was at least secure in his knowledge that technically for the duration of this mission he was now unofficially made a Commodore, so he had authority in this room even if only nominally.

“Well, gentlemen...” Pavlov spoke first, then remembered his fellow Captain Edyta Laskowski was a woman, not so common from his homeland of Phobos, much more so apparently everywhere else. “And lady. It seems from the reports I have acquired, this planet is a complete and utter mess; even worse than as per usual. Can anyone here please fill me in as to why?”

The local captains looked at Pavlov, silently communicating until Captain Yamauchi, an old Asian man who from what Pavlov had briefly read of him in the report was a woefully under ranked naval genius of some sort who was repeatedly denied promotion decided to speak on behalf of the four locals. “Your assessment of this world would be correct commodore. We are understaffed, only have four ships to do the impossible task of policing this entire system and are drowning in pirate threats” The old captain then looked over to his side, obviously indicating for another captain to speak.

“Whenever we get reports of pirate activity on the outer edges of the system, another pirate vessel is always waiting to catch a ship and loot everything” the man known as Hale spoke. A moment of silence and a cough later, he continued. “We suspect in fact it is actually a single ship doing this, a powerful ship that has been preying on the mining haulers of the Astani Corporation in particular”.

“A single ship?” Pavlov asked in disbelief.

“A single ship.” Hale confirmed. Pavlov merely rubbed the bridge of his nose and allowed them to continue speaking.

“The ground is worse off, natives have become increasingly aggressive, colonists are ATTACKING each other in all out wars and we just witnessed proof that some kind of unidentified object, most likely a xeno ship landed on the planet. Earth’s only response to our request for aid is to arrest one of the most unifying figures of Earth’s administration here and instigate civil unrest across the few legitimate Earthist colonies ” Yaumachi rasped.

Ah yes, the James Robinsong case, yet another case of typical Earth bureaucracy. The big shots back home could have at least waited until his taskforce had arrived at this world before throwing it into the fire. “Is the magistrate dealing with the unrest adequately?” Pavlov hesitantly inquired, once again preparing himself for a barrage of bad news and incompetence.

“The colonists have mostly calmed down since the initial announcement. General Alvarado and Colonel McCarron have been instrumental in coordinating the local military to work alongside their own Earthist reinforcements. We believe so long as the Robinsong trial remains in status quo the issue will not escalate further”. After Yaumachi concluded his analysis, it was Pavlov’s turn to decide on a course of action.

Drumming his fingers across the desk, he sat contemplating a course of action. After a minute of thought, he had drafted a basic strategy in his mind.
“Right, first we will need to network between the different colonies and bases aligned with Earth” Pavlov immediately turned away from the screen and turns a small holographic emitter. “ARDA, please tell Wallace to send out hails to each colonial magistrate, I need everyone on this rock on the same page” The small emitter briefly came to life, showing the AI was now present.

“Affirmative, captain” ARDA replied in her usual monotone.

Turning back to the captains Pavlov continued. “We will need to get in contact with that Raeche colony eventually, the fact that the entire colony are made up of Blue’s** makes the place invaluable should anything come up”. Concluding the matter of unrest and angry mobs, Pavlov turned to the actual issue, the elephant in the living room... and his absolute nemesis in all things.

“The Pirates, when did they last strike?” Pavlov said with loathing. Everyone here knew Pavlov’s reputation as a pirate-hunter.

“Very recently, the Astani Corporation was once again robbed. They aren’t telling us anything and we have no means to acquire more information so we assume they were carrying new technology and don’t want us snooping into their business secrets” Yaumachi responded, Pavlov sharing his annoyance with these corporate dogs, they were just as obstructive as Earth’s bureaucrats.

“Well then my fellow comrades, I think it is time we deal with this “single ship” for good. I will not stand being in the same system as a pirate as full of themselves as to stay in the same location for so long” Pavlov then begun smiling, he always loved this part. “So, we smoke them out. If these pirates are worth their stripes then they have been monitoring us the whole time and as such will be leaving this system shortly, they can’t possibly hope to fight eight warships at once, nor can they avoid us”.
Pavlov smile became a grin, and he continued. “But by God, Earth and Alien Space Jesus, I pray that they are stupid enough to have not been monitoring anything but the trade lane. If these are just lucky rookie’s, then right about now they sho---“

Pavlov’s and the other captains laughing were abruptly cut off by the appearance of ARDA’s holographic form, the small red woman on a pedestal making a polite “Ahem” noise.

“Captain, the bridge is reporting movement behind one of the planets in this system. The vessel is not pinging its identification, which by the Space Affiliation Act of 2211*** is illegal. The ship at its current course will reach Dacyira’s orbit within ten minutes and the Trade Lane in an hour and twenty minutes” First shocked, the captains looked at the AI and realized that the universe had decided to throw their prey straight at them

“Speak of the devil” Laskowski muttered under her breath.

“It looks like my prayer has been answered. ARDA, tell Wallace to turn this ship around. When the ship passes into range, we’ll ambush them right here. Fellow captains, I think we will be dealing with this pirate threat sooner than later”. The captains appeared eager to finally take these pirates out and so the captains disconnected shortly thereafter. Pavlov walked back towards the bridge, fairly eager himself to slaughter more pirates.

Upon entering the elevator, ARDA appeared again on the elevators consol. “Captain, Commander Wallace is reporting that the target ship is of a capital ship design, from heat scans I have extrapolated it to be a Cruiser of either Lionel or Crusader class”. This surprised Pavlov, it was rare to find pirates with serious firepower beyond Edwardinia or Karastova. No wonder these pirates were hanging around a single star system, they had the firepower to fight off most patrols easily.

Emphasis on most Pavlov thought. One cruiser against six alongside a heavy cruiser and his own battlecrusier, this battle was over before it had even begun. “ARDA, tell Commander Wallace that I want visual and target mapping, tell him to launch probes if he has to, we need to see them before they see us”.

Just as Pavlov was walking off the elevator into the bridge, the general alert was sounded. “BATTLE STATIONS, ALL CREW TO BATTLESTATIONS! I REPEAT, BATTLE STATIONS! 5 MINUTES UNTIL INTERCEPTION!” ARDA’s voice was no longer monotone, almost eagerly she announced over the intercom with gusto comparable to any true human warrior (Pavlov had to remind himself that Artificial Intelligence was not merely a program). Entering the bridge, Pavlov looked around and saw the entire room was filled with people busy preparing for battle. Wallace upon noticing him stood up, saluted and returned the captains seat to him. It was time to wage war against god damn, stinking space rat coward pirates.

“Activate turrets 1 through 8, charge the Excalibur cannon, aim all point defence towards potential assault trajectories for fighter and bomber squadrons, and prioritize shield strength to the bow”.

“Activating turrets 1 through 8, sir” the chief gunner replied, Pavlov watching on screen as the main guns sprouted out of the hull

“Captain, our probe is getting preliminary data; enemy vessel is of Crusader-class, five main guns, fifteen side arms, fifty point defence and two hangar bays” ARDA reported in.

“Excalibur cannon at 30% charge, captain!” The support-gunner announced. Everything was set, time to begin phase two.

“Right, beginning-“Once again cut off, this time by a ringing noise coming from the communication officers console.

“Sir... I have a message from the surface; one Major Isaac Jenkins is requesting assistance from all Earth forces in the system...” The communications officer stated hesitantly, as if unsure of what she was seeing.

“What is the problem done there?” Pavlov asked quickly, concerned as the target ship rapidly approached them.

“He and his men are surrounded inside their barracks by a mob of colonists, sir”. She said, now confused. Pavlov raised his eyebrow at this and almost laughed.
“What nonsense, tell him to report to General Alvarado. Begin charging main turrets 1, 2 and 3. Tell the rest of the taskforce to follow suit”. Pavlov was now utterly focused on this ship. If he timed it right, the probes would spook the pirate ship and they would hastily raise their shields in the wrong direction. One volley of shoots from the taskforces main guns and the UES Clinton’s spinal cannon would obliterate the ship before they could return a shot.

“Captain, the target has noticed the probes; they are activating shields and charging weapons, two minutes to interception!” ARDA spoke; everything was going according to plan.

The battle was about to commence, everything was set up... until that annoying ringing noise from the communications console begun again. “What does this Major Jenkins want now...?”

“Sir... He is stating that he can’t connect with either General Alvarado or Colonel McCarron, hence he is sending out a general distress call to all Earth military frequencies”. Pavlov was now generally confused. What the hell was Alvarado and McCarron doing? From what he knew, Alvarado is probably drunk somewhere, but “Mad Dog” McCarron?

“Tell him that we will send some men to break up the riot once we deal with this pirate ship if no one comes to help him, sit tight and lock down the base”. Pavlov said slowly, musing that perhaps the magistrate could have selected a better high command. Turning back to the screen, he could now see the enemy ship, a tiny dot only viewed through high level magnification from the ships Optics. A nice, smooth long-range engagement, they called these your typical “Sniper Duel” back on Phobes Military Academy. Doesn’t matter how good a military strategist you are. Even a fool with superior numbers could defeat a genius in this kind of engagement, and Pavlov was no fool.
“Main guns ready to fire! Excalibur cannon at 70% charge!” The chief gunner was ready to fire. It was time to begin.

“Fire.” Pavlov spoke followed by a swish of his hand.

The main guns launched a collection of rapidly accelerated shells directly at the tiny spec in the distance, followed by Laskowski, Acker and Laurance joining the barrage. It took him a brief moment of confusion to realize both that the enemy ship was still accelerating towards him... and that only three other ships had opened fire.
“What the hell is the meaning of this!?!” Pavlov shouted while standing up from his seat.

“Captain, the UES Yamamoto, UES Kentucky, UES Griffon and UES Monroe have failed to fire their main guns at target, unknown error in firing mechanics, scanning for possible sabotage of local fleet” ARDA announced and then disappeared in the comparison of a human wandering off to look at something that caught their interest.
“This is ridiculous! Do they not have maintenance crews!? Идиот! Дурак! Сын блудницы!”

Pavlov continued ranting while at the same time moving towards the chief gunner. “Prepare mid-range weapons! This has become a mid-field engagement...” Calming down slightly, Pavlov continued. “Four ships seem to be useless, but we still have the numerical and tactical advantage, if need comes we can use those four local monkey’s as cannon fodder”.

Mid-range weapons were being prepared, missile pads, plasma torpedo’s, particle cannons and yet more electromagnetic rail-guns when that. Annoying. Sound. Came again.
“What does Jenkins want now!?” Pavlov barked. This was absurd.

“ Sir! Th-e, uh...” The woman gulped. “The mob has guns sir!”

“What of it?!” He barked again.

“A-and Jenkins has lost contact with Military bases, uhm, C1, C2 and D1”

“TELL MAJOR JENKINS TO ROLL OUT TANKS AND DEAL WITH IT THEN!” Pavlov paused, turned towards the enemy ship, now clearly visible. “Cut off that link with his base, we have our own problems.” Pavlov had never dwelt with so much bullshit before in his life from anywhere except the High Brass and Earth’s bureaucracy. He had six months of this hellhole... He knew he wasn’t going to be leaving this place with any hair left on his balding head.

“Captain, incoming hail from the UES Warsaw, it appears to be Captain Laskowski on a private channel”. ARDA sent the hail to the main screen.

“Connect”. Pavlov saw the middle-aged spectacled woman again, now appearing almost genuinely worried.

“Commodore! My ships intelligence suite intercepted a transmission from the fleet! IT IS GOING TO THE PIRATE VESSEL!” Pavlov simply looked at her with an expression of blank incomprehension. Wallace however seemed to pick up on something and begun walking backwards towards the elevator.
While Laskowski was still on screen, that helmswoman, Cloe Baunch or such suddenly yelled. “Captain! The Kentucky is turning! Collision cause in forty seconds! “
“Move this ship damn it!”

“Captain, the Kentucky, Yamamoto, Griffon and Monroe are breaking formation, they are turning their vessels”. ARDA spoke while Laskowski silently deactivated the channel, a face of sudden enraged determination disappearing.

“Captain! The Kentucky has weapons back online! They are charging cannons!” The chief-gunner yelled

“Oh god! What is happening!” Screamed the helmswoman And then the ringing noise.
At that Pavlov cracked. “Who the fuck is doing this!? COMMUNICATIONS, I TOLD YOU TO CUT THE CONNECTION WITH JENKINS!”

“S-s-ir it-it isn’t J-Jenkins. It’s coming from the Magistrate Building” Her eyes were widening at whatever she was reading. Another ringing noise. Then another. And another. In just ten seconds there was at least thirty different ringing noises going off in the bridge drowning out the crying of the helmswoman and Wallace slowly opening the elevator door and backing into it.

“Captain, the Yamamoto and Monroe have restored weapons and are charging their main turrets” ARDA’s voice spoke, raising her voice’s volume to speak over the ringing noise.

“Communications just play the damn message!” Pavlov was nearly screaming at the girl who looked like she was also about to break down crying.

“ALL EARTH FORCES! I REPEAT! ALL EARTH FORCES! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT OF ALL RESERVES! CODE OMEGA-221! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK BY HEAVILY ARMED FORCES! I REPEAT! ALL EARTH---“

“Captain, the pirate vessel is hailing us, it is an open transmission. Analysing...” ARDA was almost selectively ignoring the now panicking bridge crew, pretending everything was alright. Pavlov was too shocked for words and had stopped ranting; now just looking blankly at the ‘pirate’ cruiser as it came into view, the words “ICS Defiant” of the separatist fleet proudly displayed on its starboard.

“Analysed, the ship is the ICS Defiant, a cruiser of the Grand Interstellar Army for the Self Determination of Colonists, its captain, Engelbert Einsenberg is requesting our immediate surrender or we will be destroyed. What is your response captain?” ARDA spoke with still more false calmness.
Before Pavlov could respond, ARDA suddenly spoke again. “The Kentucky is turning its guns towards us Captain”
“It’s a trap! Yelled the chief-gunner

“Captain, from my analysis I believe we have become a victim of a military coup instigated against Magistrate Billy Frankston by local military forces” ARDA replied, returning to monotone.

“трахаться” Pavlov breathed.

“Captain, all ships are charging weapons, the Warsaw is breaking formation, Commander Wallace has also abandoned his post and is located in Escape Pod Bay 3, do you wish me to lock the Escape Pods?” ARDA asked innocently.

“Turn this ship around! Distribute guns between targets and lock Bay 3’s door and launch the pod while the coward is still in the bay!”
“Captain, I can not intentionally harm crew members of this vessel, if I can would I advise to simply turn the bay into a temporary brig by sealing him inside?” ARDA spoke in a questioning tone. Pavlov ignored her and watched as suddenly the top section of the Kentucky exploded into thousands of tiny bits of debris. The Warsaw had opened fire...

And all hell broke loose.



“All guns open fire, if they want to fight like a mugger in an alley way, then lets FIGHT LIKE A MUGGER IN AN ALLEY WAY!”**** Pavlov yelled
The Clinton opened fire at the damaged Kentucky while the Kentucky returned fire, their physical shells bouncing across the shields and flying off into other vessels shields. From such close range, the plasma and particle weapons strength were at such levels that the shields were quickly drained mutually, allowing shots to rapidly smash through into the armour and hull.

“Critical damage on decks 7 to 9, emergency blast doors locking” ARDA announced.
The Griffon and Hector engaged each other, the Yamamoto fired on the Warsaw and both the Monroe and Cape Town moved to assist either the Kentucky or Clinton respectively.

“Critical damage to main guns 4 and 7, major damage to engine 3 and 2, blast doors on engineering and stern decks activated” ARDA continued
The space around the orbit of the planet was quickly covered in flashes of hundreds of beams of particles, plasma and explosions of kinetic weapons. Shrapnel and debris floated around now in hundreds of thousands to millions of tiny (And not so tiny) pieces, obscuring targets and deflecting kinetic shots off their primary targets.
“Captain, the Defiant is opening fire on the Warsaw”.

ARDA’s announcement followed by the “Pirate” cruiser launching an all out barrage on the Warsaw’s shields. Luckily its distance was still just entering mid-field, forcing it to rely on kinetic weapons for accuracy and speed, giving the Warsaw shields time to take the hits. The Warsaw continued pounding the Kentucky, a few medium guns firing on the Defiant.

“SIR! THE WARSAW HAS CHARGED ITS EXCALIBUR CANNON, IT IS FIRING!” The chief-gunner yelled followed by a wave of panicking of the bridge crew.
“What the hell is that bitch thinking?!” Pavlov cried out as the beam of energy shot across the battlefield, the intense light and heat frying the bridges sensors, optics and blinding the crew. Pavlov was lucky enough to avert his eyes in time, others not so lucky. He heard the screams of not only the helmsmen/woman as their eyes were fried but ARDA’s too, a bizarre mechanical scream followed by what seemed like binary. The bridge’s lights went out, the screens disappeared and a number of consoles exploded with their controllers still on them.The only information they had on what happened outside was the chaos of what was apparently (very large) pieces of debris from the Kentucky flying into the Clinton, launching crew across the bridge like rag dolls.

Energy came back to the bridge finally half way through another collision with debris as the bridges Emergency Redundancy Generator came online. The bridge screen came back to life as the system realized the optics were fried and activated the spares.

The place was a complete and utter shitstorm. The Kentucky was in tiny exploding piece’s floating across the battlefield as a new asteroid field, the Warsaw was being hit by missiles from the Monroe and various ordnance from the Defiant, both the Griffon and the Hector were burning up in Dacyira’s atmosphere, the ships tearing themselves apart as they fell, still firing at each other. The Yamamoto was limping back towards the Clinton to engage it while the Cape Town seemingly wandered off to nowhere, its engines apparently flying it aimlessly as pieces of its hull floated off behind it, perhaps a thousand years from now the pieces would crash into one of the other planets of this system.
Fighter squadrons had been launched by the warships that had bays, but most of them were being mercilessly ripped to shreds by TINY PARTICLES OF DEBRIS. A swarm of strike craft from the Defiant and mobilized towards them, then veered off as they realized the battlefield was a death trap (All except one, whose pilot was insane enough to drive in, and good and lucky enough to survive).

“Sound off!” Pavlov yelled in the dimly lit wreck the bridge now was. A collection of half alive replies responded, the Chief-Gunner was still alive but bleeding badly, and that Helmswoman was now sobbing on the floor and permanently blinded. The communications officer was apparently crumbled up against the back wall with numerous broken bones and screaming. It was good enough.

Suddenly, one last voice responded, in binary. “010010010010000001100001011011010010000001110011011101000110100101
10110001101100001000000110000101101100011010010111011001100101001011000010000001100011011000010111000001
11010001100001011010010110111000101110001000000100100100100000011000010110110100100000011011010110000101
10100101101110011101000110000101101001011011100110100101101110011001110010000001100010011100100110100101
10010001100111011001010010000001100011011011110110111001110100011100100110111101101100011100110010000001
10000101101110011001000010000001101100011010010110011001100101001000000111001101110101011100000111000001
10111101110010011101000010000001100010011101010111010000100000011000010110110100100000011100100111010101
10111001101110011010010110111001100111001000000110111101110101011101000010000001101111011001100010000001
11000001101111011101110110010101110010001011100010000001010000011011000110010101100001011100110110010100
10000001100100011011110010000001101110011011110111010000100000011011000110010101110100001000000110110101
10010100100000011001000110100101100101001011100010000001001001001000000110010001101111001000000110111001
10111101110100001000000111011101100001011011100111010000100000011101000110111100100000011001000110100101
10010100101110” *****

Complete nonsense to Pavlov, he at least knew ARDA was still functioning, mostly. “Anyone still alive, commence firing on the Yamamoto, that treacherous bastard Yaumachi isn’t living this battle alive! EARTH TRIUMPHANT!”. A half-hearted cheer came from the bridge crew followed by a wild spurt of binary.

The Clinton and Yamamoto began a broad-side action, a rare occurrence usually only seen in very large battles where capital ships survive all the way up to being directly beside each other, although this form of battle has been eternally memorialized by fiction. At least he would be going out in such an unlikely form of battle. The Clinton’s portside and the Yamamoto’s starboard side were peppered with holes and craters by the time the two ships passed each other, just as another bright flash erupted across the screen and sensors (Thankfully weaker and farther away), the flash from the thermo-nuclear explosion of the Hectors reactor exploding in the atmosphere of Dacyira, taking half of the Griffon with it.

After that moment, Pavlov knew the final moments of this battle had come.
The Clinton and horrifically gutted Warsaw versus the Yamamoto, Monroe and cleanly undamaged Defiant, Pavlov knew he was unlikely to win. But he was no fool; he always kept one last card in play.

Apparently so did Laskowski, after a volley of escape pods ejected from the vessel, the ship flew directly into the Monroe, the two ships carcases mangled together in space like a deformed tree in the process of combusting. The insane dangers of knife fight combat should never go understated.

Now with the battle being just the UES Clinton Battlecrusier against the UES Yamamoto and ICS Defiant cruisers, Pavlov knew this was the final moment. The Chief-Gunner was back on his seat, the seat and console now covered in the man’s blood. “Chief-Gunner, fire the Excalibur directly at the Defiant’s engines” Pavlov said calmly.
The man half-dead and bleeding out looked painfully at Pavlov with an expression mixed between confusion and pain. “Sir, firing that thing now would rip half this ship apart, I don’t think we’ll be able to survive it”

“We’ll have to take the chance; we are all going to die either way. I say we take the one who likely arranged all this with us to hell”. Pavlov was determined; none could call him a coward. Surprisingly the man also gave a determined nod. If they survived this Pavlov was making sure he learned the man’s name and caught him a medal.
The blind helmswoman and now bled out helmsman was no use, so Pavlov himself sat in the pilot seat, turning the ship to face the Defiant at an angle. The Yamamoto was unleashing a volley of shells into the stern of the Clinton, and just as Pavlov succeeded in positioning the ship, the last of the engines were gone.
“It has been an honour serving with you all”. Pavlov saluted.

“FIRE!!!!”
=============================================================================================================
Dacyira, Atmosphere across the planet



The sky rained fire across the world as the ashes of a madman’s battle concluded. The bodies of thousands rained down and were incinerated in the air. A nuclear explosion was felt across Dacyira as some even had the misfortune of witnessing the blast... But all saw the skies fall.

Thousands of pieces of debris. Sections of decks, sections of turrets, the remnants of fighter craft and the back half of the UES Griffon cruiser fell from the sky.
Dark, dangerous days were following for the people of Dacyira, and no longer were the natives the only beings who feared what fell from the heavens.

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

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO OTHER PLAYERS:
-Lots of flashy lights and the sky is falling, time to pray to alien space Jesus harder. (Natives)
-A coup just happened and the patrol fleet just blew itself up, seriously wtf! (Earthists)
-Earth is fucking nuts and needs to cool down (Colonists)
EFFECTS:
-An asteroid belt of debris now orbits Dacyira
-A whole bunch of Debris is falling down to Dacyira, about to impact with the surface
-An atomic explosion just went off in the upper atmosphere, destroying unprotected electronic devices in a section of the world.
-A whole bunch of shit floating around in space for pirates to loot or at least check out
-Civil war amongst the Earth-aligned colonies
-A serious head ache for every single sentient being on the planet.

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