Anaria’s capital city was bustling with life, people going about their daily activities and rituals, a clutter of voices and sounds filling the air. A young man in fancy attire sat in the outdoors section of some small coffee shop, blissfully taking in the energetic scenery while enjoying his cup. Across the table he was sitting was another man in similar clothing. "Today's the day, isn't it Isaac?" The man asked.

"Yeah...nerves are getting to me." Isaac spoke. "Thanks for coming along Justin."

"No problem man." Justin said. "I can't miss my brother's big moment." Isaac continued to sip his coffee, placing it down as he pulled something out of his pocket, a small box, he pushed it back to reveal a ring. "Think she'll say yes?"

Justin nodded. "She'd be crazy not to say yes."

Isaac took a deep breath, taking one last look of the ring before placing it back in his pocket. He then turned his attention to his watch. "Ah, almost time. Let's pay and head out, Diane's waiting."

“Wait, what’s up with the sky?”

Isaac followed Justin’s outstretched finger to the once blue sky, now a deep plum. He squinted, “I’m not su-”
In a great blinding flash, a monumental object of fear and destruction smashed into the city. Its black tetrahedral body piercing the crust of the very planet as it touched down, sending a powerful and explosive shock wave in all directions. The buildings leaned away from the impact, and crumbled into particles. Shadows of vehicles, people, pets, were whipped away from the city, their owners ceasing to exist, and most not knowing why.



"What the hell is going on!?!?!" A Defense Station captain screamed out, warning sirens crying out throughout the station, adding on to it, the structure itself had shook violently. "We don't know sir!" One of the CIC staff replied.

"Something hit us, sir...we can't identify.."

"Captain! Multiple Silpspace ruptures...by the the gods, they're in the thousands!"

Sweat begun to seep downward from the Captain's forehead, this fear was something he's never felt in his life. "G-g-give me a visual!" He stuttered.

A holo-display instantly materialized in the center of the room, what probes that remained had captured some images of the alien fleet, the image chilling the crew to the bone. Thousands of vessels of unknown design, eldritch in shape.

"Contact the fleet! We need to act! NO-" The Captain couldn't finish his orders... a plasma bolt had hit the station, leaving a large gaping hole in the CIC room, the Captain and his subordinates sucked out into the void of space, their screams of terror soon muffled and silenced.

Horrified, one solitary survivor managed to break his fist on the door pad, forcing the door into emergency mode and shutting him off from the void filled tomb of his coworkers. Oxygen rushed back into his lungs, scratching his throat and causing the chilling sweat on his neck to shiver. He found his legs and began to run, the station crushing behind him as he ran through checkpoint after checkpoint. The emergency doors slammed closed behind him as he sprinted, the colorful flashes of enemy weapons causing a kaleidoscope of negatives to twist his vision as he continued his flight from death. He passed the infirmary, but it had been ripped off the station, only a emergency wall keeping the corridor safe, a severed body split against it. He kept running.

The Survivor pressed on in his long trek across the station until reach his final destination, a few escape pods had remained, most of the crew, understandable, dead. He whispered a quick prayer to the gods and jumped in the pod.

The pod jettisoned out from the station, the survivor taking a brief glimpse of his doomed world.
Pocks of explosive light erupted on the planet below. The bright spheres illuminated the silhouette of escaping ships, civilian and military, from the amassed fleet of unknown origin. Ensign Zaamil pressed his forehead against the window of his pod, fear gripping his stomach as he watched strange yellow beams rip right through those attempting to escape. He was helpless, he was alone. The vacuum of space swallowed the flood of screams, the shouts of desperation, as uncountable bolts of plasma tore apart all he knew, as machines of the unknown deep ripped apart the very federation he served.

----





Five years have passed since the Fall of Anaria, for five years the Federation has been on the constant defense against the Daisan's droid swarms, slowly losing system after system, but despite such losses, the men and woman of the Federation Armed Forces refuse to surrender and keep the fight on to preserve the federation and their way of life.

Uduna was one of many worlds that has yet to fall to the Daisan, the 4th Fringe Defense Fleet holding the line in orbit of the arid world. Hundreds of federation ships were pitted against a near endless swarm of Daisan warships, no matter how many were destroyed, they kept coming.

Within and out of the fleet, federation fighter squadrons struggled as they fought their own battle against the drone swarms, the fleet itself now a deathtrap for the squadrons. A trio of Starhawks moved in unison, a symphony of lights blazing all around them as the larger ships continued their exchange. “Green Four and three, maintain formation!" The Squadron leader ordered as they chased and shot down a few drones. "The rest of you!" he called out to the rest of his scattered squadron. "Regroup at the Valentia!" The three starhawks took a sharp turn as they flew past the remains of a federation frigate, the static still emanating from the downed vessel, calls of help and screams heard. "Shit.."

"Green leader!" Green three, a feminine voice called out. "Boogies incoming!" Over a dozen fighter drones were on hot pursuit of the trio, plasma raining down over them. "Scatter!" Green leader ordered, the three fighters parting their separate ways, all around was utter chaos, the fleet was faltering, ships going limp, drifting, others going out in a blaze of light. "Fuckfuckufuck!!" Green leader cursed repeatedly, it was all going so wrong, again. Things would only escalate.

A group of Daisan suicide droids whizzed by, just barely missing the pilots. A massive static cloud erupted from the droids as they pummeled into the side of a close by federal ship, shredding through its shields. As the destructive cloud dispersed, an all too familiar sight came into view.

“Daisan hive inbound,” a voice on the intercom announced. Straight ahead, past the volley between the Daisan and Federal forces the scourge of the federation approached. A massive deflector shield covered the approaching hive in a nigh indestructible sphere, five escort ships surrounding the gear shaped hive inside of the shield, along side equally intimidating cruisers.

“You know the drill,” the voice came back online, “take out the escorts, the shield falls.”

Admirals always had a way of making it sound simple. Just as the order came in, one of the cruisers exited the hive shield, an opaque cloud of strike craft quickly following. A massive yellow beam blasted out from the bow of the cruiser, tearing through the federation forces deemed too close to the enormous hive escort.

“Boogies!” The call forced attention from the massive Daisan ships and to the cloud of Daisan strike craft breaking through into the federation line.

“Watch out for those suicide drones!” The smaller strike craft appearing in front of the encroaching fighters and bombers. A bolt of plasma struck one of the Federation fighter’s wings, the three Daisan fighters from before reappearing behind them.

“Green le-”

“I know.”

Green three’s fighter was suddenly blown to stardust, shattered by a hail of plasma bolts. “Godsdamnit!”

“Green leader! We got incoming friendlies!” Green Four spoke, several squadrons worth of fighter craft rushing to engage the drone cloud. “Delta Squadron standing by.”

“Deathsheads, standing by.”

“Gnashu, standing by.”

“All squadrons, we need to buy the fleet time, keep those buggers off!” Green leader cried out.

The three squadrons came charging, unleashing a volley of missiles against the drones. “Scatter! Scatter!” Delta leader ordered, the squadron breaking up, the others soon following. The space between the Daisan Hive and the rest of the fleet was a frenzied dogfight, the pilots giving their all, years of pent up rage directing every shot. What remained of Green Squadron flew in a arrowhead formation, turning away from the battlefield for but a moment. “Green two, Green Five, what took you?”

“Sorry, sir, it’s a godsdamn mess out here.”
“We’re here now, Green Three won’t die in vain!”

The four craft made their charge, towards the buzzing angry hive of warfare as they assisted their fellow pilots, unleash another round of missiles, small blooms popping up. “Yeah!”

“Weapons free!” Green Leader ordered. “Don’t die on me.” Green leader’s starhawk zipped and zoomed around, dogging incoming plasma and yellow beams, pursuing the occasional drone and blasting it into dust. “Green Leader! We have a problem!”

The hive was closing in, and its swarm of strike craft were chewing through the federation ships and fighters. Those going too fast bounced off of the spherical hive shield in violent blooms, while those who managed to enter it to engage the escorts were quickly overwhelmed by a crossknit of the Daisan yellow beams or pounding storms of plasma. The federation ships were slowly being forced back towards the orbit, those on point being pummeled by the encroaching Daisan ships, as well as pincushioned by an endless sea of suicide drones and bomber craft. More massive beams raged through the void of space, green leaders eyes following one as it touchdowned explosively across the federation flagship, Valor]’s, shield, causing it to fluctuate. Another beam came pounding forward, and another, a hovering of bombers added to the strain, Federation fighters floating dead around them. The barrage continued and suddenly the last few fatal shots echoed across everyone's channels as the final beams tore through the center axis of the Valor, tearing it in half was a violent flash.

The Pilots stared in awe as the dreadnought was torn in half. “Fuck!” Green cried out in frustration. “....fall back.”

“Sir?”

“All squadrons fall back to the surface!”

The Daisan hive slowed as it entered the planet’s orbit, the federation defenses unable to halt its invasion. From the hive’s belly, flashes erupted as foreboding black spikes the size of ships themselves fell from the hive, flying slowly out of the shield, and then as they cleared it, they were gone with a massive blast of speed, plummeting to the planet like lost comets.



“General Bradley.” An Operator called. “Dasian Spikes have breached Orbital defenses.”

General Argus Bradley stepped forward from the shadows, his attention focused on the images of the approaching spikes. “I want all ground batteries blowing those things out of the sky.”

“Understood.” The operators replied in unison, relaying the General’s orders to the STS Artillery crews. Within moments, the distant hills were blazing, the heavy Anti-Ship artillery unleash their rounds, large fiery orbs colliding with the spikes, punching holes through several. The General and FOB staff watched in anticipation, followed by some cheers as several spikes begun to break up before passing the atmosphere, a good portion of the enemy’s ground force had been taken out, but it was far from celebration worthy, more spikes were still incoming. “Brace for impact, order all ground forces to find cover! The big one’s coming.”

Even being far from one of the impact zones, the ground shook violently. Everyone quickly looked away from the spike as a bright flash erupted from the impact, the explosion vaporizing the local defenses, and sending clouds of what was friends and comrades out from the impact zone and scattering them for miles.

As the ringing in their ears stopped, a worse sound replaced it. An ominous cacophony of groans polluted the dusty atmosphere as the factory spikes activated. Comlinks quickly opened up from fortifications that survived the impacts, those close enough to the factories reporting contact.

“We got Daisan cyclops droids!” one message shouted.

“Destroyers inbound!”

“Fuck, they brought Melees’!”

“Daisan warmachines approaching!”

“kshhhhhh -- Hyeekshhlllkeesh rgr-rgr,” one of the last comlinks simply echoed the sounds of Daisan blasters, and their bizarre speech patterns.



“Hold steady men!” Reginald shouted. “There is not a force on this planet that can force us to move!”

The men shouted a chorus of “Aye Lord Captain!” in response, either blissfully unaware or simply ignoring just how close they had come to being annihilated. The fortifications nearby had been destroyed when the Daisan had made planetfall. All of them.

Reginald looked up into the sky as a pair of Imperial strike sabres roared overhead. Their railguns opening on some target The lord captain and his men couldn’t see yet. Some of the men lifted their fists and yelled cries of victory at the sight of the friendly aircraft, but it was a short lived celebration. One of the strike sabres dove and rolled, narrowly avoiding Daisan return fire. The other tried to gain altitude, but wasn’t fast enough, its right wing flew off as a Daisan beam struck it, sending the aircraft into a death spiral.

“Here they come paladins!” Reginald shouted again. His men hunkered into fighting positions, most aiming down their railgun’s sights while a few others drew their swords. Overhead the remaining strike sabre dropped a pair of bombs before beating a hasty retreat.

The next few moments seemed to last an eternity as Reginald and the paladins he lead waited for the Daisan to approach. His father once told him that being in the military was long stretches of boredom intersected by moments of intense terror. Funny how his thoughts went to his father at times like these. His finger squeezed the trigger of his railgun before he even fully realized a Daisan clanker had walked into view, appearing through the distant dust cloud.

“Open fire! Open fire!” He yelled. It was unnecessary as the paladins all around him were already powering fire downrange. Bolts of plasma erupted from the dust clouds in response, the barrage jetting out of seemingly everywhere.

Reginald put a droid in his sights, squeezed the trigger, and dropped it. Only for two more to appear where the first had fallen. He growled, dropping the second droid as the third returned fire. Its aim was solid, Reginald’s shields flashing as the droid’s beam struck his shoulder. He’d probably have lost his arm if not for the shield.

He dropped more fully behind cover and looked around at his men. They were faring well, thus far only a few were wounded. It wouldn’t last though and they all knew it. The Daisan would keep throwing droids at the problem until the paladins were either overwhelmed or relieved.

Reginald peered over his cover, but had to duck quickly as a hail of Daisan fire greeted him. One of the paladins further down the line yelled “They’re keeping us pinned.”

“Watch the flanks!” Reginald yelled. “Watch the damned flanks!”

“Harris here” That was the lieutenant in charge of Reginald’s left flank. “We are taking heavy fire. We need- Watch it! Myrmidons!” The transmission cut off suddenly; whether because of some kind of jamming or Harris’ death, Reginald had no idea.

“First sergeant! You’re in charge here!” Reginald said. “Sergeant Pynty, you and your men are with me!”

“Yes sir!”

Reginald charged towards the left flank, his men following close on his heels. By the time they reached the left flank, the battle there had devolved into a free for all melee. Paladins and myrmidons exchanged sword blows, plasma swords and monomolecular blades finding their way into human bodies just as often as droids. A few paladins were desperately trying to keep the clankers pinned with railgun fire while their brothers fought valiantly to keep the myrmidons off of their backs.

Reginald aimed his railgun at the closest myrmidon and fired. The myrmidon seemed to simply lean backwards, dodging the round, before snapping back forward and stabbing the paladin it had been dueling with. Reginald pulled the trigger again, but snarled when his rifle didn’t fire. Had he already run out of ammo?

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He shouted as the myrmidon turned towards him and charged. He dropped his railgun and, in one single smooth motion, drew his sidearm and shot the myrmidon in the head. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it did throw the droid to the ground and give Reginald enough time to draw his own plasma sword and promptly plant it into the droid’s chest.

“Destroyer droids!” Someone cried. Reginald had just enough time and look up and spot where the three crab-like droids had managed to flank the paladin’s position, before they opened up a hail of fire on the defenders, their signature shields bubbling up around them.

“Fall back!” Reginald shouted. A few paladins turned their railguns on the destroyers, only to have their rounds do little more than dent the destroyer’s energy shields. Some paladins, Reginald and the squad he had come with included, managed to fall back towards the center. The majority, however, found themselves still locked in a melee with myrmidon droids even as the destroyers gunned them down.

“We need support here! Now!” Reginald shouted over the radio. “Air support. Mechs. I don’t care. We are moments from being overrun!” A nearby explosion through the captain off his feet. Men screamed in pain, their limbs torn from their body. Reginald took just enough time to pat himself down and make sure nothing was missing before shouting “This position is a shattered sword! I repeat: we are a shattered sword!”

“Kshhhh Mecha’s inbound, hold tight River company” a federal accent suddenly came over the comlink.

IR1211 (5 years ago)
1st Imperial Morte Expeditionary Fleet
Approaching the Blume System

The Morteans survived a sector-wide disaster, weathered multiple wars yet what brought down their centuries long isolation was ironically peace and prosperity. It was a simple matter of overpopulation, a crisis Morteans could have never imagined to happen. Yet here they are, with their farms and habitation facilities steadily reaching their limits. Thinking back the Morte Empire could've avoided this with birth control. Yet for death world inhabitants like the Morteans the idea of limiting procreation was nearly unthinkable. Indeed, even if they were no longer target of either neighboring Xenos clan's invasion anymore the threat could be renewed in any moment. Intentionally weakening themselves was simply not an option. So with the new generation the Morte Empire had no choice but to expand. Yet with so many enemies, and even more mouths to feed, finding a suitable planet was no easy task. It took scientists and astronomers over 4 Mortean Cycles to discover a distant planet almost 20 light-cycles away. They dubbed the system Blume, reflecting their hopes in its future growth. The planet in question was the fourth in the Blume system, temporarily named Blume Vier.


As such the 1st Expeditionary Fleet had taken form. Given what the Morteans had experienced in the past they knew that space isn't a terribly welcoming place. The importance of this mission was vital and the Morte Empire spared nothing to ensure the safety of its first colonists towards Blume Vier. The 1st Expeditionary Fleet had no less than 128 warships forming its backbone. They were supported by 455 escort ships providing screen and fire support. The fleet closely guarded a huge caravan of civilian vessels, ferrying not just the fleet's supplies but also resources, tools and machines essential for colonizing Blume Vier. On the other hand millions of colonists were kept on dozens of Assault Transports, kept in the same landing pods Morte deployed their troops. Thanks to the wonders of stasis technology they have yet to experience any discomfort.They were supposed to be the first wave of Morteans to set foot on their would be new planet. Meanwhile the fleet's duty was to make sure their territory is secure.

The commander of this new fleet was the famous Kampführer Alexander von Sterbstahl. Veteran of no less than 3 wars, it was no exaggeration to say he had more experience than the rest of the fleet combined. Aged 180, he lived far longer than the average Mortean. This feat is partially thanks to the skill of Reichswehrmacht's medicine and cybernetics departments. The accumulating battle injuries forced him to gradually exchange his organic parts with machinery, latest checkup said Sterbstahl is nearly 70% cyborg. In anything but the name Sterbstahl was a living ghost, only exist to haunt his enemies for his remainder years. This man now commanded the 1st Imperial Morte Expeditionary Fleet, the key of the Reich's future. Rest assured, the irony was not lost on the elderly Kampführer.

"Reaching the system's perimeter, switching to low-warp navigation now." Noted Oberleutnant Herbert Braun, navigation officer of the 1st Imperial Morte Expeditionary Fleet's flagship, the Sieglinde. It was fresh and the first in the line of the Morte's new Sieglinde-class Dreadnoughts. In spite of its size the ship was capable of matching or even surpassing the warp speed of the fastest Frigate and have power to defeat dozens of them in a single fight. It was a design and technological marvel but, as expected, with comparably high price. After a few seconds the entire fleet switched down to low-warp, allowing ships to maneuver and engage in case of combat. According to estimations it'd take 41 minutes to reach their destination. They were at full readiness, expecting to react quickly to any sudden threat.

@Commodore
"Sir, I'm picking up multiple hyper-pings, it's an unknown fleet!" Sensory chief Gerald Henlein said. It hasn't been even 5 minutes and they've already spotted a xenos fleet. Normally this would've called for immediate battlestations but the Kampführer reigned over his instincts (or the cogitator in his upper left brainstem did) and issued different orders. "Hail them! Our first priority is to establish a colony on Blume Vier. Let's not multiply our problems." The elderly war veteran made this surprisingly diplomatic decision. "Aye sir, hailing them in all known languages." Leonore Kranke the communications officer aboard the Sieglinde said. The Morte Empire made contact with four xeno species prior, none of them were friendly. Yet overcoming these statistics Kamführer Sterbstahl attempted to negotiate with the fifth. Besides with a fleet of this size any attempt at ambush was already impossible. Talk was cheap and if it achieves something then all the better. Unfortunately the Morte Empire didn't know the Galaxy's interstellar language, neither the IUC's.
As such on the other end the IUC fleet only heard the following:

"Grüße, ist dies der erste Expeditionsflotte der Morte Reich! Wir haben es mit Ruhe kommen und die vierte Planet auf diesem System zu erreichen." (Greetings, this is the 1st Expeditionary Fleet of the Morte Empire! We're coming with peace and to claim the fourth planet on this system.)

Overcoming the language barrier was the first and perhaps the greatest huddle.

Star System Mirodin
Valerian Republican Navy Supply Depot
CSC Praetoria

No annexation ever went flawlessly, Admiral Lord Sir Adison Volkov, Count Mornington, Knight-Companion of the Order of King Nicholas, Commanding Officer 5th fleet, thought to himself as his flagship shuddered. The Valerian Republic had seemed willing, even eager, to join the Imperial Systems Commonwealth six months ago. Or at least, their government had. Events since the annexation had proved that sentiment was far from universal.

The annexation had started off well enough. The Valerian Republic was an 8 system nation that had watched for years as the Commonwealth swallowed its weaker neighbors one by one. About a year ago, some foresighted individuals in the Republican government had decided to actively seek membership in the Commonwealth, rather than wait to be gobbled up. It had actually turned out to be a very good idea. Using their sophisticated technological base and abundance of psintegrae as a bargaining chip, the Valerian Republic managed to get themselves a very nice deal. Rather than go through years of exploitation and oppression as colonial territories, the worlds of the Republic were being directly integrated as full members. Their government was to remain intact, and they had even been permitted to retain their military (at a significantly reduced budget) as a local defence force. The plebiscite the Republic had gone through showed about 70% of its population was in favor of annexation. That was actually shockingly high; nobody had expected every Valerian citizen to greet the Commonwealth with open arms, so the mere 30% opposed was surprising to say the least.

What the Commonwealth had not been prepared for was how highly placed that opposition was, or the kind of resources they had access to. Two days after the Valerian Republic officially joined the Commonwealth, a number of their most prominent generals and admirals had seized control of some 80% of the military and attempted a coup. Volkov shuddered to think what might have happened if they’d succeeded; the months of gruelling, grinding warfare against an entrenched enemy, the loss of civilian lives, the PR disaster back home…

Luckily, the usurpers had hit too hard, a common mistake with military coups in Volkov’s experience. The coup had been focused on the Republic’s capital, Valeria, and it had been brutal. Evidently the usurpers had quickly seized control of Valeria’s orbitals, spaceports, and major military installations, but had encountered stiff resistance at the Senate building. Loyal soldiers had dug in to defend their duly elected government, and for three days the usurpers had tried and failed to break their defences. Eventually, the usurpers had gotten frustrated, and opted to wipe out the Senate from orbit. Volkov couldn’t help but shake his head at their folly. The population in general had initially been in favor of the annexation, but if the usurpers had played their hand right, they could have swung public opinion in their favor. Some fabricated evidence and a few show trials for captured senators would have exposed the ‘conspiracy’ behind the annexation plebiscite. But by killing the senators, especially with such excessive force, the usurpers had firmly set the public against them. Six days later, Volkov Volkov’s 5th fleet, the Commonwealth’s most famous and successful offensive unit, had descended on Valeria like Llyena’s Spear. When they arrived, they were greeted like liberating heroes rather than foreign invaders, thanks to the excesses of the coup.

Unfortunately, whoever was in charge of the coup was a lot better at strategy than public relations. Only minutes after Volkov’s fleet dropped out of FTL, the usurper commander had recognized he couldn’t stand up to that kind of firepower and gone into full retreat. Valeria had been liberated in a day, but the usurper withdrawal had forced Volkov to disperse his forces in an effort to track them down. He’d spent months doing exactly that, and it had proved to be an interesting challenge. That Valerian Republican Navy had a noticeable tech advantage over the Royal Commonwealth Navy, which equated to better sensors and superior stealth systems. But that advantage was not nearly enough to offset the RCN’s awesome warfighting capability. At the end of the day, Commonwealth ships were tougher and hit harder, and their officer corps was infinitely more capable. The VRN had fought well, using hit and run tactics to assault isolated elements of 5th fleet. Volkov had tried to avoid overstretching his forces in anticipation of such a tactic, but ultimately he had to defend all eight Valerian systems, while the usurpers were free to run off to remote bases and strike at will. Volkov knew that fighting a purely defensive war in unfamiliar territory was a losing proposition, so he’d scrambled to take the initiative. He’d ultimately decided to split the 5th fleet into multiple elements: all eight systems were guarded by minimal picket forces. Four large forces were concentrated at designated node systems, ready to respond to any attack. Meanwhile, Volkov took his flagship and a select few of his heaviest combat units, along with a token cruiser escort, on the offensive. Using intelligence from VRN records and captured usurper ships, he’d designated a number of likely targets and gone out to attack them. The offensive had two main objectives. First was to make the usurpers worry about where he might hit them, instead of letting them plan where to hit him. Second was for Volkov to use his own illustrious persona to draw the usurpers into attacking his task force. It was a bit of a gamble, but it was far more likely to force the usurpers into a decisive engagement than any other option. The usurpers couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try to kill him and deal a huge blow to the Commonwealth’s image, and his flagship’s stripped down entourage provided the perfect chance for them to try it. It was a significant risk, but Volkov had down-to-the-bolts specifications on the capabilities and tactics of the VRN ships (courtesy of the remnants of the Senate), while the VRN had nothing but hearsay and secondhand sensor footage of a Commonwealth wall of battle. In a pitched battle, the Commonwealth’s greatest fleet commander was confident enough in the capabilities of his own fleet to put his life on the line.

Volkov’s plan had worked out exactly as he’d hoped. He’d established a clear pattern in his attacks, forcing the usurpers into the same position he’d begun the conflict with. They’d done exactly what a competent but tactically inflexible commander might do: establish a defensive perimeter and hope to catch their opponent in a trap. Sure enough, not ten minutes after Volkov’s flagship dropped out of FTL to attack a VRN supply base near Mirodin, the remnants of the VRN fleet came rushing in out of hyperspace in a classic pincer maneuver. And so, here he was, on the flag bridge of the CSC Praetoria, getting blasted by the majority of the VRN with only a few battleships and barely half his usual number of cruisers between them. Volkov stared intensely at the master display holo-sphere, absorbing the myriad of blue and orange dots. Volkov’s own ships were tidily arranged into a standard RCN formation. His flagship and battleships were closely packed into a literal wall of battle, while his few cruisers flew in tight screening formations. Fighters weaved in and out of the formation, carefully staying out of their motherships firing solutions. Those firing solutions had gone to full defensive not a second after the VRN usurpers sprang their ambush; countless shells exploded into flak and EM bursts in a neat bubble around the Commonwealth ships, repelling missiles and energy weapons alike. The VRN ships were arranged on either side of Volkov’s formation, trying to catch him in a deadly crossfire. His only criticism of the opposing commander’s maneuvers was that he was being too cautious. Facing an opponent who’s capabilities he did not fully understand, the enemy commander had opted to spring his ambush at extreme ranges, giving himself the ample time to assess the situation and the capabilities of the Commonwealth ships. Volkov understood the logic, but given the energy-heavy armament of VRN ships and their decidedly average missile capabilities, engaging at such a huge range was a mistake.

The Praetoria rumbled slightly as a Valerian meson beam struck its shields. At these ranges, the destructive potential of energy weapons was virtually gone by the time they hit their targets. Still, it made Volkov frown. “Give me about 5% more anti-beam charges in the starboard flak shell,” he ordered briskly to his ops officer. In response to his command, the frequency of EM flashes to starboard increased ever so slightly. Volkov looked over to his chief of staff, Captain Maria Anisimovna. “Masha, let’s go to fireplan echo-two. Targets at CIC’s discretion” he said thoughtfully. “Aye sir, going to echo-two, targets at CIC discretion,” the staff officer replied stiffly, then, with a small smile, added “I think they’ll be needing a few extra pairs of pants over there in a minute, sir.”

Every missile launcher on every Commonwealth ship went to full rapid fire mode, spitting a missile into space every ten seconds. But the missiles stayed inactive, coasting along at low speeds with only the momentum from their launchers carrying them forwards. At the same time, multiple squadrons of dive bombers--little more than cockpits and weapons on giant GDC engines--began to launch and carefully maintain position inside the flak shell.

Sixty seconds later, all hell broke loose. The impenetrable shell of flak dissipated for a moment, and literally thousands of missiles exploded outwards. Alarms wailed on Valerian ships as their computers were overwhelmed by the huge number of threat signatures barrelling down on them.

As they raced out towards their targets, the missiles shifted slightly into two closely knit waves. As the first wave approached, a selection of ECM missiles went to full power, spewing false signals and jamming Valerian targetting sensors. A few of missiles were felled by point defence, but the majority broke through and tore through Valerian shields with bright ion flashes. The second wave followed scant seconds later, unleashing a storm of plasma that melted through armoured hulls with ease.

The divebombers were right on the tail of the missile barrage, and they screamed into the Valerian ranks with their engines at full power, launched their payloads of antimatter torpedoes, and were gone well before the cataclysmic explosions began.

The Valerian order of battle was shattered. The confused, haphazard response of the remaining ships told Volkov he’d likely taken out their commander, and it was taking them time to reestablish the chain of command. With any luck, the fleet commander had been the unknown leader of the coup, though Volkov wasn’t counting on it. With a few brisk orders, his own ships began cleaning up the mess, sweeping out with positron beams and unleashing the full offensive firepower of their railguns. The remaining Valerian ships put up little resistance, and Volkov couldn’t help but feel a little smug. He’d broken the resistance’s back, and it wouldn’t be long until they were crushed completely.

There was a loud bang on the wood of the Council table followed closely behind by a gruff and obviously irritated voice, "There's enough to worry about without going on Minister Gallus's witch hunts for possible infiltrators from the damn NAC! There's no way that one of those... things," the Minister sneered, "could possibly have infiltrated the UAG, have you even seen the things? They're see through for God's sake!" Minister Petasius, the First Representative of the planet Tellus, exclaimed from across the table as he pointedly shook a finger at the younger Minister Gallus from Lucina. There was a low rumble of agreement from some of the more right leaning Ministers as the others shook their heads in silent disagreement or whispered to their planets partner Ministers.

"Minster Petasius please, this is a place of calm deliberation not bickering, we are the Council of Ministers of the UAG. Do our people not count on us to calmly choose the proper path for their futures?" Minister Papus of Vesta and the oldest Minister on the Council, calmly spoke to his fellows. There were more mutterings of agreement and support which were quickly cut short by Minister Petasius.

He snarled in the direction of the far older Artanin, distaste for the Minister clear in the way his eyes shifted color to a deep red, "Minister Papus, frankly your words are no longer required in this Council, you bring nothing but your self proclaimed wise words and offer no such solutions to any of our matters." he paused and took a drink from the small glass of water in front of him, "How exactly you manged to get reelected to the Council is beyond me, but I'm glad it can't possibly happen again, perhaps the next First Minister of Vesta will be more helpful then the current one." Petasius stated to the First Minister of Vesta.

"Minister Petasius that is quite enough!" the voice of the Prime Minister rung out from behind the Council table, "I may not be anything more than a figure head in this Government, but we are all aware that I am granted some measure of power, one of which is the removal of a Minister from the Council. If this continues..." at this point Prime Minister Aulus, a seasoned political veteran who had governed the planet of Fides for four years and served twice on the Council of Ministers, was at Minister Petasius' side. He leaned down to the level of the three vestibular intakes at the Ministers side, "Do not make me even consider using that power, Minister Petasius." with his show over he ambled back to the chair to the side of the Council table and took his seat.

Minister Petasius, although hiding the fact rather well in his expression, was betrayed by his eyes as they turned to a lighter hue of red signalling his embarrassment to the rest of the Ministers, "Understood Mister Prime Minister." he stated before leaning back in his chair and seeming to end his part in the debate.

Minister Gallus cleared his throat from across the table and signaled to an aide that had been standing close to the door of the chamber. The aide quickly went about the table, handing out a packet of some thirty pages of information to each of the Ministers at the table and the Prime Minister at his own seat. "Thank you Prime Minister." he said as he stood and gave a nod to Aulus, "Now if you will direct your attention to the packet in front of you, in it is everything we know about the NAC. We've received word from Captain Horatius of the UNF Penance an Ardent class Frigate on patrol in the Libitina system," he turned to the third page of the packet while in the middle of the table a holo-image of the system sprung to life, "if you will take notice of the golden triangle orbiting L2-1B, that is the Penance, the purple circle," the holomap zoomed in on a purple circle surrounded by smaller purple diamonds, "orbiting L7-2A is what is believed to be another of the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit's stations. The second of it's kind now in our sovereign space."

There were a few concerned voices around the council table but the majority of the Ministers remained silent, their eyes reading through the contents of the packet. "This packet contains the telemetry and scan reports from the Penance, composition of the fleet around the station as well as other data sets for the system are included. But the most important part you will find in the last six pages." Minister Gallus turned to the premarked page in the packet, "Appendix C if you all would be so kind." the young Minister gave his fellow Councilmen time to navigate to the page before continuing.

"What exactly are we looking at here Minister Gallus?" Minister Valeria of the planet Fons asked.

Minister Gallus turned to his fellow Minister with a smile on his face, obviously elated that someone had asked the obvious question. "This, First Minister Valeria, is the ANF Patrol assignments for the system of Libitina. As you can see, there were regular patrols twice every month until six and a half months ago, at which point the schedule was changed to once every six months. Why, you may be wondering?" Gallus asked, the question rhetorical as he was obviously going to provide the answer, "No one knows, that is the answer. There isn't one, the schedule was changed but there is nothing to indicate who did it or why." Gallus said as he motioned to the information on the paper.

"That's all well and good Minister, but I don't see the correlation. So the schedule changed and someone forgot to sign their name. That doesn't mean anything." Minister Petasius chimed in from his seat as he lazily read over the contents of the packet.

Minister Gallus let out a small laugh, "Minister, please, that is all we need to open an investigation. I simply need the budget allocation and a vote of confidence from the Council and we will be able to track down exactly who changed it and get the answers we need. It is completely possible that the ANF High Command has a NAC sympathizer or has been infiltrated in order for this to have happened beneath our chins."

"Preposterous, no Artanin would ever give themselves over to such a repulsive and distrustful race as those Printed People." came Petasius once more as he stood from his chair, "When this hearing is over send an aide to get me. I won't have anymore of this foolish talk, there are more important things to tend to then a ghost infiltrator. We need to take decisive military action against this clear violation of our sovereignty, not skulk in the shadows of ANF Head Quarters for what could be months!" with that Petasius stormed out of the Council Chamber, the double doors closing quietly behind them thanks to their design.

"All in favor of providing the Intelligence Committee, and in extension the Comprehensive Investigative Service the required funds and jurisdiction to conduct a thorough investigation of ANF Head Quarters, please raise your hands." said Minister Gallus in a friendly tone. Around him all but two hands were raised at the table. "So it is voted. The Intelligence Committee will receive its funding and be granted all jurisdiction to enact its investigation to the fullest.

---

In the distance of Heavy Weapons Range 3 an old, hole filled tank, shot sparks and fire as a new hole of molten metal and ceramics was left in it side. The resounding crack followed close behind the fireworks display as the sound of the projectile caught up. At the far end of the range, nearly three kilometers away, an AZAZEL Mobile Armor rose from it's kneeling position, the barrel of the gauss cannon in it's hands still smoking as it did.

"Lieutenant, great shot, but you were slightly off the mark. Is there a problem on your end, because we're reading all data-sets as green." came the voice of Tech Sergeant Iulia over the comms, her displeasure in the current test evident in the way she spoke.

Lieutenant Decimus, a seasoned test pilot for AGF Mobile Armors pressed on his forehead as the voice of Iulia chewed into his thoughts. "Nothing that I can tell from my end Tech Sergeant, it's possible that alignment maintenance on the cannon was off by a fraction of a degree. That'd explain the wander on the round." he said as he ran a quick diagnostic test on the AZAZEL unit just to be sure.

There was a short sigh over the comms to which Decimus rolled his eyes, all comms in the UAG Armed Forces required that you knowingly key the mic to prevent any accidental chatter, which meant that Tech Sergeant Iulia had purposely sighed over comms to express her displeasure with his performance. "Tech Sergeant my AZAZEL diagnostics are showing green as well, it's got to be something related to the gun."

"Understood Sir, bring the gun back to the depot and we'll get right on it." came the Tech Sergeants reply.

Decimus keyed up the mic, "Roger that Sergeant." he said as his AZAZEL rose from its position and made a hundred and eighty degree turn now facing away from the range. The short walk to the test depot was the most peaceful moment of the day, as Iulias didn't seem to bother him whenever he was doing something as mundane as moving the unit, but god forbid he's off on a three kilometer shot by even a twentieth of a degree and she's breathing down his neck like a hungry Ingrit in the deserts of Vesta.

The mobile armor came to a halt in a specially designed scaffolding designed to be able to allow access to every inch of a mobile armor for repairs as well as any sort of refit that would be needed. Decimus flipped a switch, the a bright green light illuminating the cockpit a second later as the clamps that held the AZAZEL in place clanged into place. With another flip of a switch and a quick key punch, the back end of the cockpit opened up and Decimus's chair spun in place allowing him to climb out onto the platform provided by the scaffold.

He was met by his chief mechanic, Corporal Nona who saluted the Lieutenant with a smile, "If the boys and I didn't know any better we'd say you two have slept together." Nona said witha shit eating grin plastered across her face.

Decimus returned the salute and waved the Corporal away, "Yeah yeah, just get her prepped for another test Corporal."

Corporal Nona dropped her salute and turned on her heel as she began to bark orders to the rest of the mechanic crew. Sure it was just a test, and not even a field test at that, but the maintenance of a Mobile Armor was no joke. You miss one simple thing and you may soon have a cascade of problems on your hands, it was why Decimus was grateful for Nona and her team. They were dedicated, knew what they were doing and could fix anything even if they didn't have the part with their combined grit and determination.

Decimus made his way down the stairs that led off the platform and made his way back to the front of his AZAZEL. He was greeted by Tech Sergeant Iulias as she poured over some fast scrolling text on her datapad, she didn't salute. Ahead of them a large cargo mech was carrying away the Gauss Cannon to its own separate set of scaffolding where the tech types would be able to pour over all its parts and internal systems with a fine toothed comb. "Any ETA on when it'll be ready for another shot?" Decimus asked as he watched the mech carry it away.

"Tomorrow at the earliest, if it's really just a simple adjustment error. We still need to check that it's not something else. I'd give it two days." the Tech Sergeant grumbled, her eyes a light red with irritation at the current issue.

"I take it you don't need me then. I'll be in my rack." with that Decimus made his way through the depot and out the back to a one story converted supply building that had been turned into a temporary barracks for the test crew. Decimus pulled open the door and entered the building, determined to catch some sleep before the Tech Sergeant was breathing down his neck once more.

“Intensify forward firepower.”

“Incoming fire!”

“You’ve got one on your tail!”

“Boarding parties deployed.”

“We need reinforcemeeeeents!”

A history professor once told Octavia: Violence is what people do when they run out of good ideas. Its attractive because it's simple, it's direct, it's almost always available as an option. When you can’t think of a good rebuttal for your opponent's argument, you can always punch them in the face. Octavia was inclined to agree in most situations. But there would always be those situations where diplomacy was no longer an affordable luxury. When stating one’s opinion resulted in one’s murder, such as Humanity United was prone to doing to its opponents, it was time for violence. When one’s neighbor took a flamethrower and began to burn down your house, such as their Daisan were doing to the Federation, their reasoning behind doing so suddenly became much less important than simply forcing them to stop.

“Lady Admiral” Octavia’s squire said, “a formation of government ships is moving towards sector blue-3-bravo.” The battleship that was part of the hostile formation would be a nuisance if allowed to get behind Octavia’s ships.

“Imperil, Herald, Valiant” Octavia listed off the three closest battlecruiser to the hostile battleship “destroy that ship.” She didn’t need to specify which ship she meant, her squire had already done that for her.

“Understood my lady.”

“Yes Lady Admiral.”

“Barrage away.” Particle beams were already reaching out towards the battleship in a concentrated barrage from the three battlecruisers by the time their captains had confirmed the order.

Two fighters raced Octavia’s field of vision. The next instant the lead had disappeared into a cloud of flames and debris. Octavia, despite herself, couldn’t help but flinch away at how close they fighters had come. The battle had been a harsh one, still was, but it was coming to a close. Octavia’s fleet had come charging into the system in such a way that the system’s defenders were left scattered. Over half of their capital ships had already been destroyed and those left were either in full retreat or fully engaged in a losing battle. That left the series of stations serving as minor shipyards relatively undefended.

“Lord Major Rosson” Octavia said, knowing her Squire had already connected her to the marine officer. “What is your status?”

“We are in the cleanup stage of the operation, my lady.” The marine responded. Octavia could hear the tell-tail crack of small arms firing in the background. “The two heavy cruisers are, as we expected, almost fully operational. They’d have been firing at us along with the defenders if we’d waited a few more weeks.”

“And the light cruisers?”

“Non Operational.” She could hear the frustration in Rosson’s voice. Destroying government ships was good and all, but stealing them was worth three times as much. “They don’t even have functional maneuvering thrusters yet. Shall we set demolitions charges? We have enough to destroy the light cruisers and the shipyards.”

It took Octavia only a moment to contemplate her options. “Leave them, both light cruisers and the shipyards intact. Let’s not wreck industrial facilities that we’ll be wanting for the fight against the Daisan.”

“Understood Lady Admiral. We’ll be ready to depart in fifteen minutes.”

All had gone according to plan. This time. The Coalition for Imperial Constitutionalism wouldn’t hold the system for long, but it had never intended to. Instead of trying to take the system’s planet by force, wrecking the planet’s infrastructure and industrial capacity while draining the rebel’s resources, they would instead take what they wanted and then make a dashing escape before government forces loyal to Humanity United reinforced the defenders. For once all had gone according to plan.



You are to kill every single person found out on the streets captain.” The black shirt said. “This farce has gone on for long enough.”

“I must of misheard you” Lord Captain Noel Dupuy said. “For a moment I thought that you gave me the unconstitutional order to kill on sight any citizen in this city.”

“These citizens are rioting.” The black shirt said, a raised eyebrow belying his indignation at having to explain himself.

“They are protesting peacefully” Captain Dupuy countered. He gestured towards the crowd of humans standing before the two men. The crowd held signs plastered with anti-Humanity United slogans as they chanted their demands for the party to step down from its position of power.

“We do not distinguish between rioters and protesters.

“Perhaps you don’t, but I do.” Captain Dupuy said. “As do my men. And even if we didn’t we still wouldn’t shoot them. We do not shoot unarmed civilians.” The argument had drawn the attention of a few nearby soldiers, who were even now beginning to crowd around so they could listen in.

“Very well” The black shirt let out a long sigh, “if you will not listen to reason than I will have no choice but to charge you with dereliction of duty. Sergeant” He turned to a nearby soldier, “Please arrest Lord Captain Dupuy and notify his XO that he is now in command.” When the sergeant stood unmoving the black shirt said “Sergeant? You have your orders.”

“No one here will listen to your orders.” Captain Dupuy stated. “You are hereby under arrest for breaching article seven, clause two of the IGF code of conduct. Sergeant, remove this piece of trash from my sight.”

“What you can’t-” The black shirt began.

“Yes my lord!” The sergeant gave a smart salute before manhandling the black shirt away.

“And now we wait to see what the fleet does…” The captain muttered to himself.



“So in short,” Lord Admiral Lolande summarized, “the IGF on Arkford are refusing our orders and placed all the black shirts under arrest while allowing the riots to continue.”

“That is correct sir.” The captain of the battleship Undoubting said. “Its nothing to be overly concerned over. There are only a few battalions planetside anyways. Just give the order and we’ll send the marines in to reestablish control over the planet.”

“I have another idea.” The admiral said. “Captain prepare for planetary bombardment. Target the planet’s capital city. I want nothing left of that city.”

“Uh… You want to bombard the whole city? Shall I issue an evacuation order?”

“Heavens no. We want to kill them all, don’t we?”

“...Them?” The captain asked with a deep frown.

“Why the rebels of course. And not just the soldiers. Those so called ‘citizens’ down there are also guilty of treason. Now prepare the bombardment.”

“I… Yes my lord.” The captain turned away from the admiral. “Prepare for orbital bombardment! Target Arkford’s capital city.”

“Ye- yes my lord! Preparing orbital bombardment. Target: Arkford’s capital city.”

Pleased with himself, Admiral Lolande tuned out the going’s on of the bridge for a few moments until something said by an officer caught his attention.

“Sir! The destroyer Argent has moved into our line of fire. Its captain is requesting that we hold off on our bombardment.”

Lolande yet out a long sigh before saying “Just destroy the Argent if it insists on rebelling as well.”

“I,” The captain began only to rethink whatever it was he was about to say. “Aye sir. Gunnery. Target the ISF Argent. Now fire.”

“ISF Argent has gone silent.” An officer reported. “Its breaking up. No escape pods launched. All hands lost.”

“Excellent.” Admiral Lolande said. “Now captain, continue with the bombardme-”

“Sir!” Another officer shouted. “The battleship Warspite is broadcasting to the entire fleet.”

“Let’s hear it” the Captain said.

A moment later the voice of Warspite’s captain could be heard throughout the bridge. “Warspite will not follow the orders of a fleet admiral who is willing to fire upon his own fleet. This action, along with the intent to destroy a city of the Empire, is an act of treason. This ship will now act to purge the Empire of this filth. All loyal subjects of the Empire to arms!”

Admiral Lolande let out another sigh. “Captain destroy the Warspite, then commence the bombardment.”

“The battleships [i]Warspite, Repulse, Indomitable, as well as several battlecruisers, heavy cruisers and numerous screens have just formed their own command net!” An officer reported a moment before the Undoubting began to shake. “They have us outnumbered three to one!”

“Oh shit.” The captain muttered. It was those words, more than anything else, that caused the blood to drain from Admiral Lolande’s face.

“Captain!” Lolande shouted. “Hail the rest of the fleet. Tactical retreat. We’ll return with more forces later!”

Yrrkeltharl Coalition Space
Border Region
System Ahl-115

The dim light of the nameless star washed over the sluggishly spinning barren worlds of Ahl-115. With the scarce consideration given to celestial bodies typical of the Yrrkeltharl authorities, the system had not even been deigned a name of its own, instead taking on by default that of the only item of interest within it. On the fourth of the rocky planets from the unnamed pulsing gaseous orb of plasma stood the metallic walls of a Nodule, seat of those who truly swayed the fate of the Coalition, or at least a fraction of them. A rather small one as well, truth be told, and by far not the most significant; yet, for thousands of light-years to all sides, this was the greatest bastion of the interstellar covenant's authority, and it certainly did not disappoint in this regard.

Around its planetary seat, swarms of patrolling drone craft darted from one end of the system to another. Some sped outwards, tearing themselves from the star's gravity well before vanishing into rips in the dimensions of space; others emerged from similar ruptures and converged over the Nodule's seat to rearm, repair and refuel; others yet circled around the desolate worlds, as though seeking prey they knew was somewhere nearby.

On the surface, the stronghold appeared even more forbidding. Its gleaming, convex walls curved inwards as they rose over the lifeless landscape, tapering into menacing spires. Cones of pale green light, visible even in the planet's feeble day, struck out from them, sweeping about like ravenous inhuman eyes. All about, over wastes and mountains, dark valleys and glimmering plateaus, amid black angular factory compexes erupting with choking fumes and the immense pillars of the planetary shield generators, legions of war-drones stood, awaiting silent commands or crawling about on unknown errands. Their toxic exhalations rose to choke the already weak spark in the sky, coating the world in the foul, viscous grip of the Coalition.

Scarcely a thousand kilometers beyond the nameless planet's surface, an unscheduled slipspace rupture burst into being, the blinding, iridescent arcs and tendrils of light clearly visible from the surface as flashes of blooming cinders that bled through the nauseating coils of smoke that choked the atmosphere around the Nodule and surrounding complexes. The craft that emerged was immediately flagged by the ubiquitous, bead-like ink-colored sensors and surveillance devices that dotted the larger superstructure. It matched no known configuration of vessel. A structurally curious craft around the size of a Frigate, it seemed strangely compartmentalized even on analysis of its surface hull and chassis, with multiple seams and detachable bulkheads. It resembled an extended octachoron, with smoothed curves at each angle that broke only at the observed seams. The metal itself was curious - a synthetic, manufactured material obviously, but the Nodule's sensor arrays were having some trouble keeping a steady bead in contact with the craft, as its frame appeared to a uniformly flat down to the atomic level, as if it had been shaven to a perfectly level plane and set of grooves with a monomolecular honing blade. Complicating the issue was the distorted spatial geodesics surrounding the vessel. It had no visible external propulsion, and as it eerily moved through space it seemed apparent that it used some form of internal drive for sublight movement.

Just as keen, cold intelligences below began to calculate and devise potential scenarios - the unexpected occured. In one of the orbital traffic control segments of the Nodule, one of the controllers received a telepathic message with official parameters from a being onboard the alien craft.

~Ones upon the early world, Fh'thnal Two of the N'vall speaks. Under my hands comes the house-from-beyond named Urbane Errata Twenty-Two, approaching. Heralds from a people beyond our voids of roaming are in it, and demand to hear from your shapers and speak to them. Send your voices to me.~

Pulsing slightly at the neural centers with the pain of a N'vall mental contact, the operator did its best to proceed as instructions indicated when dealing with the I'nler'attul - focus upon the thoughts relevant to the matter, and direct them at the intruding presence. It seemed simple on the electroscreen, but, in practice, it was an uphill struggle. The brief exchange was unpleasant and taxing; thankfully, the oddly-named harbinger communicated a conceptual equivalent of remote communication data and indications on how to use them. Inputting the deciphered codes into the contact device terminal, the controller cast forth an invisible link to the unknown vessel, and signals prompting to open a direct transmission soon followed.

The images transmitted down from the Errata depicted Fh'thnal Two standing in a darkened, cramped compartment along with another, similar being. It was roughly of the same height as Fh'thnal, and might have even been reasonably mistaken for a member of the N'vall had it not been for the off-yellow coloration of its flesh and the fact that rather than a head, it had the suggestion of a formless lumpw, with no visible sensory or respiratory organs. The similarity to the N'vall was nonetheless striking - its body was ever-so-slightly bulkier, but it had the same four arms, each ending with an extremity bearing four digits. It wore a gray, skintight suit over its body, only moderately obcured by the N'vall-like cloak-garb covering it. The material looked pristine and unblemished, as the alien figure had only just put it on moments before.

"Operator." Fh'thnal Two rasped through the transmission, the skin along its neck shuddering faintly as they vibrated. "Indicate the place where this house is to strike old soil. Gather the shapers and bearers of word to come meet the beyond-heralds."

The Ekhrilthur swayed in perplexity upon hearing the "harbinger"'s world. This being clearly possessed powers comparable to those of a N'vall leader, and it was best not to contradict it openly. And, at the same time, it was clearly not one of the wandering species, not with that name and a request to land.

"Exact coordinates of the nearest landing point and adequate approach trajectory are now relayed. The Nodule overseers have been informed." As it spoke, it saw to sclicking levers and entering commands of virtual selection interfaces, as much as a show of faith as a carrying out of its duties. "Identify yourselves so that appropriate arrangements might be made."

"The last beyond-herald besides me is Mardelr Nineteen, Mucor Typis and plenipotentiary envoy of the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit. Their head of security is Kenat Six-Hundred Twenty-Four, Mucor Typis and commander under the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit."

The strange headless N'vall like being - Mardelr - uttered a noise, like hissing static and boiling tar, a brief issue filled with pops and slick resonance.

"Mardelr Nineteen forwards their regards." Fh'thnal supplied, gesturing faintly towards the strange alien. The Operator saw on their read-outs that the craft's descent trajectory had changed as it passed through the planet's atmosphere. Strangely, despite moving more than fast enough to have generated an entry burn cone, there was no hint of flareups or building heat across its surface - likely because with whatever drive it used for propulsion, it was not descending fast enough within its own private frame of reference for the friction differential to affect it.

Oscillating in acquiescence, the operator proceeded to enter a second sequence into its devices. Somewhere high in the ovoidal towers, signals were probably ringing out from the assembly broadcasters, and images of the strange delegation, accompanied by a standard, yet rarely ever used protocol text appearing on larger, more sophisticated displays than this one. It had almost never been there itself, and could only imagine what the convocation sound for non-hostile contact was. With Luxan raider incursions being almost a routine, one tended to forget how most things aside from the alarm screeches sounded.

If even these N'vall-like beings did not immediately show aggressive intent, however, this was no reason not to observe the usual procedures and, most of all, common sense. The course set for the unknown vessel led not into the seat of the Nodule or even a nearby space, but a bare, even tract of ground some distance away. There was no assurance that the newcomers were not planning to obtain safe access to the surface in order to then strike out with a surprise attack, or whatever that ship, small though it might have been, was concealing; and the selected spot had the advantage of being readily accessible to response forces stationed nearby.

The alien vessel settled into the barrens, its curious sublight drive seeming to warp the ground for a moment before it made contact and disengaged its propulsion. That, however, was the least of the ensuing oddities. As the craft settled, some unseen field extending out from it - kilometers in radius - tore a massive, circular trench into the barren ground. The ship itself seemed to fracture and fragment at the seams, its form levering itself apart like some kind of puzzle-box. The front and rear of the vessel remained largely intact, but the curved extremities near its center of mass folded out to either side while extensions of the forward hull pulled back and extended out to form the equivalent of ramparts. The upper extension of the hull slid forward before blooming open, its sides prying apart to reveal a fortification akin to some kind of watchtower. Directly in the middle of the craft, now fully opened and exposed, was a turbulent, spherical apparatus of some sort. The air immediately around it, partitioned and blocked off by hazard lines and a surrounding guardrail, seemed to boil and churn. Immediately ahead of it, secured by cable-lines, were a number of twelve-by-twelve meter cargo containers in what had previously been an enclosed hangar bay. Swarming across the interior were a number of tall, indistinct beings wearing powered exoskeletons with highly segmented armor sections. Finally, nearly unseen beneath the deployed fortification's mass, eight armored, two-jointed arms reached down to settle heavily into the earth with broad, flared support pads.

The reason for the craft's compartmentalization was now apparent - it had been made to deploy into a fortification upon landing. For the moment it was remaining stationary, appearing to be waiting - although the unseen field that had torn the circular trench into the surrounding terrain was evidently still present, made manifest by the swirling halo of debris and rock that rose like a short, billowing curtain around it.

For some moments, all remained quiet. Dust slowly settled upon the charred soil within the alien field's perimeter, and beyond its unseen barrier the rocky wastes appeared motionless. And such they were, for a few moments, until they sprang to life. The grey terrain seemed to well and roil forward like a sea of undulating quicksilver, its motion converging upon the circle formed by the ship's protective emanations. Sparse gleams of reflected starlight passed through the advancing mass, even as from its midst there rose clouds of poisonous vapour. It was only when the tide approached the obscuring halo and stopped still before it that its nature could be distinguished. Hundreds of thousands of the drones that had, at the Nodule controllers' command, begun to gather at a distance considered safe from the designated landing spot now marched towards the strange intruder, weapons trained upon the distant yet detectable vessel. Over the even mass of their ranks, monstrous Colossi rose like walking hills, their hollow electronic eyes blinking in automated yet seemingly malevolent patterns.

High above the extended craft, the already crepuscular sky began to noticeably darken. Myriads of black shapes blotted out the nameless star as they floated menacingly overhead, the concerted pulsations of their jagged, angular flanks almost visible from the ground. Now and then, the echo of a shrill creaking sound reached down through the invisible dome.

Within the ship, the transmitter device resounded once again with the operator's words. "Urbane Errata Twenty-Two. Confirm intent of non-hostile contact."

"We do not seek to reap. The beyond-heralds have descended to bring our homes together." Fh'thnal rasped through the transmission. The sound of the swirling, turbulent atmosphere surrounding the alien craft was now clearly audible through the N'vall's side of the image. "Show us where the last beyond-herald will meet with your shapers."

There was a brief silence, then the Ekhrilthur's vibrations replied: "A section of the Nodule complex has been allocated for that purpose. Transportation will be provided should you require it." Simultaneously, a partial internal map of the turreted stronghold, a section of which was marked as "accessible", was broadcast along with the vocal message as if to confirm what it said.

"This is meet. The beyond-heralds and I will await transport there. The home-from-beyond will lower its shield. None are to intrude beyond the stricken earth." Fh'thnal indicated, sending back a return external map of the field the frigate had landed in with the ring created by its shield highlighted.

Some minutes passed, during which the drones at the edges of the scorched circle remained still as a wall. They did not advance, but neither did they withdraw. At last, their files began to part in a point, the gap between them growing wider until it became a narrow road through the metallic forces. Through this fissure there appeared a shape that was evidently the promised vehicle.

It was a fairly small trapezoid of black steel, hovering half a metre above the soil with the aid of some silent, but evidently effective device. Its shell was angular and many-faceted, with two lines of dusky glass-like material running along its sides and a dozen of blinking pale-green lights on its front side, but no signs of a cabin or a driver. Having traversed the shallow crater, it slid to a halt near the ship's side and stood waiting.

A number of armored being coolly surveyed the vehicle. They all apparent to be anatomically similar to the N'vall-like Mardelr who had appeared in the transmission, albeit they bore two legs and had only depressed lumps where their heads might have been. They stood approximately two meters in height and bore four arms, each with four digits at the end of each extremity. They appeared largely unconcerned of the craft as it approached, merely standing by within the rampant-like fortifications of the deployed frigate. A few minutes passed, and Fh'thnal emerged from the still-intact forward section of the craft along with Mardelr, who was wearing an exoskeleton, albeit one without any armor affixed to it. Worn over it was a dark cloak reminescent of that Fh'thnal thmself was wearing, albeit much less worn in appearance. They were both accompanied by another of the armored beings, who wielded a long, streamlined carbine and was followed in turn by a semi-halo of six drifting, head-sized spherical drones, each mounted with dish-like arrays and drifting through the air with the use of eight, gyroscopic ion emitters. The three figures and their six smaller attendants approached the black craft, whose flank suddenly seemed to have been horizontally sliced near its lower edge. Rotating upon unseen hinges, the suspended machine's side rose in a smooth semicircular motion, revealing a dark, empty but surprisingly large space within. One of the six drifting spheres entered the craft first, and after a moment of examination, the remaining party filed onboard.

As though it were aware of its passengers' motions, the vehicle closed once all of them had entered it, then turned about and headed back into the corridor formed by the drones. The glass in the cabin's walls appeared translucent from within, so that its occupants were able to observe the tetrapodal constructs from up close as they passed among them. As well as, perhaps more importantly, form an estimate of their numbers. If the length of that tunnel was any indication, the latter must have been fairly impressive.

At last, the steel ranks ended, and nothing was left at the shuttle's sides but flat, boundless desolation, with only columns of nauseously coloured smoke rising in the distance to interrupt the monotony of the wasteland. It might have been a mere impression, but the small craft seemed to gain in speed as it moved through that grey landscape. From inside, almost no trace of its outward motion could be felt, save for the mild tugging of acceleration and a subdued, but persistent vibration of the floor. A while had passed when the vehicle began to perceivably slow down, and soon it stopped, though nothing could be seen from the windows. Then, it turned on its axis while remaining in place, and its left half was cast into shadow by the steel walls looming over it.

The cabin opened, and a greater part of the fortress became visible. From up close, much of the complex's higher part was out of sight, vanishing into the sky before even half of it had come into view. The uninterrupted smoothness of its imperceptibly bending surface struck the sight as unnervingly unnatural, and its vast face, curving out of sight in both directions, gave the impression of a metallic tsunami risen up from the earth to engulf the insignificant figures before it. The only feature to mar its gloss was an arched doorway, small and black from that distance, which opened near the ground directly before where the shuttle had stopped. No other entrance was to be seen.

The six spherical drones that had accompanied the three envoys exited the craft first, three of them immediately flying through the arched doorway. Two more listed to the sides, scanning the external permimeter while the last one followed after Fh'thnal, Mardelr, and the armored being - presumably the security chief Fh'thnal had introduced as Kenat - emerged and entered the doorway themselves. Fh'thnal had taken the lead, hovering ahead of the two alien envoys with its prosthetic boosters.

The visitors were not far gone into the building when the entryway behind them was closed by a sheet of metal noiselessly sliding in place, sealing the opening as though it never had been there. Beyond the portal there was a dark corridor, weakly lit by a seemingly distant golden light shining through narrow fissures in the walls and ceiling. It delved into the structure for a brief distance, then took a smooth bend to the right, followed by a series of short segments and curves in both directions.

After about twenty bends in the way, the corridor emerged into a large circular room, whose domed ceiling hung high above, slightly obscured by strands of thin, pale vapour. Its walls and floor were as bare as the fortress's exterior, save for a second doorway directly opposite the one which led into the tunnel. It was noticeably larger, and of a slightly more circular shape; before it there stood a group of eight figures. Three of them were Ekhrilthur, their seemingly identical semi-fluid bodies rising as undulating grey-brown mounds over the floor and spreading a distinctively pungent, humid smell through the air. Near them stood a fairly large Skirol, the low breeze of its breath audibly whistling through its ribbed exoskeleton and its proboscis flicking from side to side in what might have been impatience. The other four were drones, similar to those that had surrounded the landing zone, but not not bearing any visible weapons. They followed the envoys with the impersonal gaze of their multiple red eyes, and the veinings of their armour regularly pulsed with the same colour.

One of the Ekhrilthur briefly swung its body in a greeting gesture, then spoke in already familiar tones: "I am Sentry-Operator Eullvallt. Here present are Nodule Administrator Iuvruelt, Nodule Defence Coordinator Aulthellr and Cycle-Weaver Xeresh. By our personal mediation, the Sovereign Coalition of the Yrrkeltharl Systems and Fleets declares you welcome guests."

Mardelr turned its lump-like head to Fh'thnal and 'spoke' once more, its voice a largely muted mixture of static and churning tar. It could barely even be heard by the assembled mediation party. Fh'thanl, it seemed, had no issue interpretting the incoherent noise however,

"Shapers, these are the beyond-heralds Mardelr Nineteen, unbound speaker," It gestured with both of its left arms to the unarmored alien wearing the dark N'vall cloak. "...and Kenat Six-Hundred Twenty-Four, their protector for this occasion of nearing." They jabbed with one of their clawed hands at the armored figure bearing the carbine. Even as Fh'thnal spoke, the six floating drones assembled in a loose hexagonal boundary around the mediation party. "...and I am Fh'tnal Two, and shall be their interpretor." A curious claim to have made, seeing as it had failed to relay the Sentry-Operator's own words back to either of its companions, unless it was exclusively using telepathy to converse with them.

"Mardelr represents the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit, and accepts your designation of them as guests with gratitude and reverence. They demand to know if you will partake in a preliminary exchange of tokens of honour."

As Fh'thnal spoke, Mardelr took a single step closer to Kenat and indiscretely uttered more of its churning, static-filled voice, though clearly in a subdued tone that was barely even audible. Kenat turned its body slightly towards the envoy as if listening, and then turned back and gave the Skirol Xeresh an appraising scan, raising and lowering the lump of its armored head, twice, in a cursory examination before turning back and respong to Mardelr in the same low undertones.

Eullvallt exchanged waverings and low vibration pulses with the two other Ekhrilthur, then slightly waved a pseudopod at Xeresh, who, finding its own interest in inspecting the visitors, replied with a somewhat careless series of clicks. Rising and falling in slight frustration, the Sentry-Operator addressed the Circuit's delegation with the same even tone as before.

"If such is the intent of the representative, we do not object to it being enacted. However, the Coalition has nothing to offer them in response to their own gift."

Fh'thnal gave the Sentry-Operator the best equivalent of a look the eyeless N'vall could manage. "I can tell them you are worthless and empty-handed, or that you refuse to comply. Which one is it?" It indicated with a venomous tone.

The Ekhrilthur shrank slightly at the interpreter's words, not so much due to what it had said as at the thought of being in a room with the displeased equivalent of an I'nler. Xeresh, on the other hand, tapped one of its forelegs on the ground in irritation and hissed out in the Ekhrilthur language, albeit with a heavy accent:

"Threaten us, will you, false-N'vall? If you seek the way of arms, not even the strength you have appropriated will safeguard you or your charges." It gestured with its proboscis, and two of the drones took a step forward. Bluish sparks began to distinctly crackle between their arachnoid mandibles.

Kenat visibly lowered its own weapon as the drones advanced, and the hexagonal ring of the smaller drones that had accompanied the delegation notably did not move.

"That was not a threat, firstborn one, but a lashing. Would you receive any of the I'nler'attul with such lowly braying? I am borne of the stars, coalesced with the same reverence as any other N'vall, and will not endure your earthly ways." It raised both of its upper limbs as if about to signal for something, but before more could occur, the alien Mardelr stepped forward and lay a single hand on one of the N'vall's raised limbs. It spoke in the same, crackling and popping voice as it had earlier, the intensity of the sounds now raised and keening.

After a brief moment of consideration, the N'vall tore its arm free of Mardelr's grasp and looked with an air of contempt back towards Xeresh and Eullvallt. "It has been asked," Fh'thanl's voice was insidously low and soft. "If you will demand another interpreter."

Upon Mardelr's intervention, the drones had extinguished their mandibles and stepped back. "You are no I'nler'attul, and you know it" the Skirol continued to snap in a lower tone, but Eullvallt waved it back and resumed its activity as the Yrrkeltharl group's main speaker.

"The representative may dispose of their entourage as they see fit. However, if we are to ensure peaceful and fruitful contact, we recommend they do not take antagonistic action against us or other Coalition personnel. Responsibility for any undesirable developments would lie with them."

Fh'thnal visibly paused for a moment. After a brief silence, Mardelr spoke again in lower static tones.

"The last of the beyond-heralds has indicated that I do not speak for the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit or its interests and am no more than an interpreter. They refuse to declare themselves responsible for my actions. Nor do they desire any strife between themselves and the Coalition, and now desire to withdraw and return in order to produce a more appropriate interpreter." Fh'thnal sounded positively livid, its voice containing barely controlled rage.

Eullvallt was about to reply, but, before it could begin, Nodule Administrator Iuvruelt spoke up, its voice somewhat softer and lower than that of its fellow. "You may inform the representative that they may act as they see it most expedient, but there are some factors they must consider. By constraining your own person, which you yourself assert is comparable to that of any other member of your species, to enter the atmosphere of this planet and move on its surface, they and their associates have committed an action condemnable by the N'vall fleets. Should the latter be informed of it, a forced cessation of cooperation between us, as well as violent reprisals against their persons and property, would follow. The forced withdrawal of your person from the function of interpreter would likewise be regarded as objectionable. However, we can ensure that such developments would not come to pass if the concerned Nodule personnel were to receive due compensation for the friction caused in this occasion, and your own person were additionally consigned to us for extradition to the N'vall fleets."

Another brief pause. What passed for Mardelr's head turned and gave Eullvallt a steady look before it issued another inquiry-by-proxy with its hissing, seething speech.

"...How would my own extradition not bring about similar condemnation upon my sounding?" Fh'thnal asked, its voice bearing a trembling timbre to it, as if their vocal cords were on fire.

"There is a distinct probability the N'vall will prove more tractable should they be able to directly dispose of your person as they see fit" Iuvruelt responded, as its colleagues oscillated appreciatively, "Any decision in that regard by the representative and their associates would be interpreted as a further affront to their authority."

Mardelr almost immediately issued another sound once Iuvruelt has finished, almost as if Fh'thnal was providing translation for them in-time. They were not slow to translate for the envoy in turn. "The NAC would prefer not to deal with the ambiguity of distinct probability. They are prepared to accomodate your request, but require more adequate assurances."

The Nodule Administrator motioned with its pseudopods for its compatriots to draw closer, and the four began a hushed conversation of short, rapid replies, now and then casting a motion of the center or a swipe of the proboscis in the envoys' direction. After two or three minutes, they drew back to their previous positions, and it was Eullvallt who spoke again. "In view of your preferences, we are ready to vouchsafe for the absence of a hostile reaction on the N'vall's part. However, in this case, we find ourselves constrained to request a contribution for the mediation process in addition to the compensation previously mentioned."

"You will find that the NAC is capable of rewarding you generously for your services in this matter, and that they will likely be able to provide your compensation at will without conferring abroad. They are prepared to discuss your needs in further detail once more true bridging has begun." Fh'thnal indicated, this time without Mardelr having to say anything. Their voice sounded curiously empty and hollow. Their stance was bent and wary. "They find your gift adequate. Although it does not begin to equal your magnanimous offering, they are willing to offer you a token of their own propitious will and intent."

As Fh'thnal finished, Kenat abruptly stood to attention, and adjusted the grip on their carbine, while Mardelr reached underneath their N'vall-like cloak and produced a a small spherical device with a brass-colored ring around its equator, handing it off to one of Kenat's free hands. Kenat then approached one of the four drones, presenting both the carbine and the sphere for the machine's inspection.

The spider-like construct's red eyes flared up as it swept its probing gaze over the items held out before it. As the electric light passed the carbine, filtering into all of the weapon's incuneations and external mechanisms, a premonitory buzzing rose from its body, but it was promptly silenced by a pseudopod wave from Eullvallt. The sphere proved to be less easily recognisable in its purpose, and the drone paused, its eyes flashing in a manner that could have appeared perplexed and emitting an indeterminate hum. It was then flanked by a second machine, and both raised one of their forelimbs, mmanipulator claw rotating upwards, towards Kenat.

As they did, Eullvallt voiced the group's satisfaction with the turn events had taken. "We greatly appreciate the NAC's disponibility and eagerness to meet our necessities, and offer our and the Coalition's gratitude for its well-inspired gift. Insomuch as it is within our abilities to ensure it, we shall provide to it that its own needs in Yrrkeltharl space be optimally satisfied."

"That is satisfactory. If you are willing and prepared, our speakers may retire to a better position for further tractatives." Fh'thnal indicated.

"We may proceed" came the Sentinel-Operator's reply.

The four officials and their drone escorts turned about, more or less noticeably, and lead the way through the ample doorway they had come from and into the maze of corridors beyond.

Collab between me and Terminal.

-----------

The Aurolian Federation
Yilumi System
Orbit around the Urbos Gas Giant
Aboard the Stealth Corvette Darkstrike

"Target within visual range in twenty minutes." An artificial, yet soft and feminine voice rang out through the halls of the Darkstrike, much to the annoyance of one Kadan Morau as he awoke from his short slumber, followed by a loud groan. "Couldn't this just wait a little longer for godsake..." He groaned some more. He arose from his bed, eyes still barely open, gazing upon the dreary sight that was his bunk, his squinted eyes turning to the attention of his already awake bunkmate, a fellow Ishkaan by the name of Ushia Ganis as she was getting properly dressed for the briefing to come. "Kadan, get your ass up and gear." The female Ishkaan spoke sternly. "Captain wants the team assembled for briefing."

"Yeah yeah." He said, waving his hand and shrugging her off, he slowly stood up, stretching himself as d far as he possibly could, releasing an incredibly satisfied moan, followed by a yawn. "You go ahead, I'll catch up soon." Ushia gave that look to Kadan, and stared for a brief moment before nodding. "Gotcha, see you soon." Ushia was already dressed in a Intelligence variant of the naval uniform, with a darker shade of plum, the door sliding open as she left for the Bridge.

------

Unsettling reports begun to sprung up within the ranks of Federation Intelligence, reports by passing starships, be it some civilian cargo freighter or a patrolling SDF craft, spotting strange, alien, yet incomplete orbital installations around select systems across Federation Space, descriptions and captured footage of these installation closely matching with previously obtained blueprints provided by the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit, or "Printers" as they've become to be called by many.

Oddly enough, and beyond sheer coincidence, the known locations of these installations had been identified as areas of space the N.A.C had previously attempted to requisition, much to no avail. The dots started to connect, it seems the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit were hellbent on their little project, even to the point of violating Federation sovereignty. Much later on after the sightings, the N.A.C had informed various leaders in Government and the Military of their intentions, leaving all doubt as to what they have planned. Before any drastic action was to be taken, High Command deemed it worthy to send a Psi-Ops reconnaissance team in advance.

-----

Darkstrike
Bridge

The Bridge of the Darkstrike, like all Stealth Corvettes, had an almost translucent look to it, the floor, the celling, the various controls and consoles, all matched the infinite, dark cosmos outside, it was almost calming in a way, the atmosphere itself felt the same, the bridge staffed by only the captain and two Central Operators, Stealth Corvettes by Navy standards, were very understaffed, running mainly on small skeleton crews.

The two helmeted operators were going about their business, directing and maintaining the ship as they made their fast approach their destination. The Captain himself stood in the center, facing the Commando team, or part of it. He had an air of casualness, or at least, seemed somewhat more relaxed then the Commando team standing before him. Ushia, Kadan and two humans stood at attention.

"As you're all aware." The Captain begun, pressing a small button on a device he held, a holo-display materializing behind him, images playing on a loop. "There's been multiple sightings of these orbital installations all over federation space." he paused as he pressed down on the device again, pausing on the Urbos Installation, their present target. "Sometime after, the N.A.C had opened up to all Leaders in Government and the Militart about their little project, the Vacuum Maintenance Subspace Realineators."

"A what?" One of the humans, Leena Homs, asked in bewilderment.

"I'll be Honest, don't know either." He quickly replied, shrugging. "But, we sure as hell know that the N.A.C never got such permits to build these things." He paused, stepping forward a bit close to the squad. "The higher ups are having a panic attack with this little revelation."

"What's the plan?" The last human and squad leader, Arnold Jenkins, asked.

"Before the Navy go in guns blazing." The captain said. "We're being sent in ahead for some good ole recon, your squad will be sent in to investigate the installation, direct combat is ill-advised."

"And if we can't help it?" Kadan asked.

"Then weapons free." The Captain replied with a grin.

"And if things go wrong?"

"In case it all goes wrong, an SDF carrier is on standby, ready to cover for any tactical retreat."

"Sounds good with me." Usiha said.

"Captain Leska!" One of the Operators called out to the Captain. "We have Object on approach!"

The NAC may have been illegally building their station while flgrantly violently the sovereign authority of the Aurolian Federation, but at least it appeared their standards were up to code. The displayed site was surrounded by three interlocking rings of light buoys with a radius of approximately twenty-five kilometers and a circumference of around a hundred and fifty-seven. There were larger, more prominent caplights at the pole of each axial intersection. Even using archaic sensors, the site would have been impossible to miss from across the system unless Urbos was obscuring it.

Positioned along the sphere's X-axis was what must have been a supply depot; a wall of evenly spaced cargo container cubes interconnected by a web of cables and kept stable by anchor-drives. The technology used for those was a relative unknown; they were apparently scaled-downs version of the same sublight drive most of the NAC's vessels used. There were just under a thousand of the containers in total, each with a width of twelve meters. Parked directly in front of the large wall of containers were three of the NAC's transport frigates. They were curiously compartmentalized even along their exterior hulls, which bore multiple seams and detachable bulkheads. They resembled extended octachorons, with smoothed curves at each angle that broke only at the observed seams. The material the hull was made from was of some interest to the Federation's own structural engineers, as all of the NAC's ships and a large number of their craft and structurs appeared to be uniformly flat down to the atomic level, as if they had been shaven to a perfectly level plane and set of grooves with a monomolecular honing blade. Not beyond what the Federation could accomplish of course, but it was a matter of application. Aurolia did not have the industrial base or use manufacturing methods that might have allowed for such uniformly applied precision, but obviously the NAC's did, despite their initial facade as a mundane heavy industries manufacturer.

Sitting serenely within the sphere of light buoys was the station itself. Its own structure was deceptively simple, with a solid spherical central complexed ringed along all three axis with a network of external arrays and secondary station segments, similar in structure but smalller. The design was clearly highly modular and standardized in nature, building up and connecting all the individual external components was clearly the least time-intensive aspect of the station's assembly. From what had been seen of the blueprints, the internal components were largely the same; but there were many, many more of them and they had to be manually installed in a piecemeal fashion it seemed, which was the predominant complicating factor of the mission. They would have no idea going in which station segments were close enough to begin finished to warrant power, an atmosphere, and life support.

The group stared in awe at the massive station. "Amazing..." The Captain let slip, simply astounded by the sheer scale and speed of their construction, he turned back to the Commandos, knowing for sure the next question coming, and intercepted it. "Before you say it, no you won't get lost." He said, followed by a few sighs of relief. "From referencing the blueprints, the station should be relatively the same, the data has been uploaded into your gear, so your entry point should be easy enough to find."

"Once we're in." Jenkins said. "Anything in particular we're looking for?"

"Just a simple recon." Captain Leska replied. "See if it matches up with the actual blueprints, and if not, search any irregularities and anything out of place."

"Get in, take some pictures, get out." Kadan said.

"The gist of it, yes." Captain Leska said, followed by a chuckle.

"Say no more." Jenkins said, walking besides the captain to face his squad. "Echo Squad, gear up and meet at the airlock."

"Sir! Yessir!" They replied in unison.

------------

The Corvette continued on its approach towards the station, slowly becoming more and more translucent as the cloaking generator engaged, hopefully undetected by the station's sensors. Following the direction of the schematics, the corvette powered off it's engines as it drifted closer to the station, within a reasonable range to deploy the commandos safely.

Within the ship, Echo Squad gathered at one of the airlocks, making final preparations before tossing themselves out in the vacuum of space. The four of them were cramped up in the airlock, tightening anything loose. Kadan was the one most having trouble. "Uh..sir?" Kadan called to Jenkins. "Can't reach my jump pack."

"I got it." Uisha said as she tend to Kadan, tighten up the straps.

"Ah, my caretaker, what would I do with you." Kadan said humorously.

"Dead that's for sure." She replied.

"Well maybe one day I can repay you."

"I'll hold you up to that." She said with what constitutes as a "grin" for ishkaan, getting downright flirtatious.

"That's about enough love birds." Leena said, turning her attention to Jenkins. "Boss, we're ready." He nodded and took one last look at everyone, one final check. "Alright people, from here on, we maintain radio silence, use your psi-amps to communicate."
"Yes, sir!" They all nodded.

"Good...brace yourselves.." He said, making the countdown. "5...4...3...2...1..GO!" He smashed down the button, the airlock opening wide as the four were sucked out into space, all spinning like mad. "Activate jump packs!" Jenkins ordered via telepathy, pushing the trigger on his suit as the jump pack activated, maintaining his stance, the others following suite.

The team made their way steadily across the field of vacuum. Of course, a 'reasonable distance' was a very relative term. Stealth Corvettes like the Darkstrike were usually most effective the closer they were to their targets, its small size occasionally allowing it to slip into gaps between sensor arrays and completely preclude any chance of detection. Of course, the snag was that the closer you got, the higher the chance of a mishap collision or of damaging and alerting the target with propulsion burn from manuevering thrusters, or disrupt the craft's cloak. The happy medium of distance to remain undetected was the relatively short kilometer.

Of course, what was reasonable, relative, and a happy medium for a stealth corvette was ten-minute nightmare for the commandos. To remain undetected, none of them could use full burn with their packs, so they had to slowly build up velocity and then abruptly decelerate halfway there, on top of making course adjustments. If the Darkstrike was detected at any time during that period, they would either have to turn around and spend a very exciting mininute at full burn to return to it or otherwise continue throwing themselves at what, for all they knew, had transformed from an infiltration target into the jaws of the underworld.

Thankfully, nothing went wrong. They reached one of the secondary station segments still under construction, slipping through the gaps in the hull to the nearly-completely internal skeleton. Even that was relatively large, the largely-hollow superstructure being perhaps a hundred meters in diameter with only support beams and struts filling the space. Towards on end was an obvious airlock, the only apparent means of entry. The first complication of the mission ensued: The airlock was unpowered.

"Mission is a go." Jenkins' telepathically announced. Echo made their careful advance, drifting closer and closer towards the unpowered airlock. Jenkins was the first to reach the end, maintaining his stance with his jump pack, the other soon following in. "We'll have to skip the pleasantries." Jenkins said. "Leena, you're up."

"Say no more boss." Leena said, pulling out a magnetic demolition charge from her chestplate, pushing forward from the group to Jenkins' side. "Brought this little bastard for such an occasion." The Magnetic charge was glued to the surface, Leena pressing down several keys before the device sparked to life, only for a brief moment of course, the countdown represented by bright red numbers. "Charge is set." Leena proclaimed. "Get clear!" Before the countdown ended, Echo squad scattered, and drifting away from the blastzone, or well, at least away from any sharp debris. As the countdown reached to zero, the demolition charge went off.

Although Echo Squad was no stranger to spaceborne ops, the lack of a proper "boom" was still a strange sensation, all they felt was a small shockwave as the charge blow a large hole where the airlock doors once stood.

Echo squad then did the one thing absolutely nobody in space should have done. They [i]heard[i] atmosphere rushing past them as the section they had just breached vented out through the new hole that had just been punched in the airlock. The sound of alarm klaxons ringing carried across that rushing air as it flew around and past them until finally, the section they had breached either locked itself down or simply ran out of atmosphere to vent, leaving the squad in silence once more.

"Shit." Kadan cursed. No doubt the station was already on alert, but then again, accidents amidst constriction are bound to happen, kadan just hopes and prays the Printers think more of the latter then the former, nonetheless, now with that out of the way, Echo Squad was able to proceed with the mission, and begun their trek, delving deep in the bowels of the station. The interior of the station, or at least the section Echo Squad was in, screamed Corporate. The lighting had turned red, and was flashing in a few places accompanied by holographic projections helpfully displaying warning messages which the team's translators helpfully revealed read as 'DANGER: HULL BREACH! NO ATMOSPHERE! NON-TYPHIS EVACUATE AFFECTED SECTION IMMEDIATELY!'

The walls, ceilings, and floors were polished, almost reflective, the design harking back to a more "retro" and "nostalgic" era so to speak, it was all so bland, but at the same time, that blandness was inviting, calming, all the more unsettling to a degree. "Let's be thankful this sector wasn't inhabited." Jenkins said. "No need for a body count...yet." The squad proceeded forward, their jump packs on a low setting as they drifted through the corridors.

Jenkins peered around the next corner they came across, seeing just another empty hallway. Signalling for the rest of the squad to follow, he then turned the corner and immediately bumped into a crewman.

The most startling aspect of their abrupt appearance was that they were barely wearing anything. A utilitarian, skintight bodysuit of some sort that covered most of their torso, but left the feet, lower arms, hands, and head exposed. At least, whatever it was the alien being had for a head, which was really more of a vague lump in place of a neck. It has no visible sensory organs or orifices, resembling a discolored dome of flesh protruding up from the creature's torso. The flesh of its feet looked somewhat swollen and bulbous, but seemed firmly connected to the floor even without any internal gravity - told further by it remaining firmly planted where it was even as Jenkins himself was shoved away by its four arms to collide with the nearest wall.

The appearance of the "crewman" was a startling experience for for the squad, once Jenkins was shoved aside by the creature, the rest of Echo Squad instinctively aimed their rifles at the creature. "What hell is that thing?!?!" Kadan shouted, telepathically of course. The other squad members, under their helmets, were visibly disgusted by the creatures appearance, and were moments away from pulling the triggers. "Echo! Stand down!" Jenkins ordered. "Look." He said, pointing at the creature, which in actuality,seeminly paid no mind to the commandos' presence.

The creature appeared unarmed - it was wearing a pack across its chest with several pouches and contact-seams, and pinwheeling in the space behind it was what looked like a welder with accompanying tank of some kind. A non-combatant, perhaps, maybe even a technician responding to the hull breach.

Of course, just because it was neither armed nor strictly a combatant did not mean it was not a threat. It had immediately begun to backpedal down the hallway, its swollen feet permitting it to reach a slow jogging speed in the vacuum. Its limbs moved with a strange, undulating limpness and ease suggesting it was quite acclimated to moving around in a zero-gravity vacuum. As it retreated, it had unsealed one of the contact seams on the pack it carried and was reaching inside with one of its four limbs. Its rapid retreat halted, briefly, when it ran up against the same welding device and the tank it had presumably been carrying earlier.

The Squad observed the creature for a brief moment. "Captain, you're seeing this?" Jenkin said loud.

"That's an Affirmative." Captain Leska replied over the commlink. "Never seen anything like it before...proceed onward, if it or others like it try to stop you, eliminate them."

"Roger that." Jenkins said, turning back to his men. "Echo Squad, move forward, and don't provoke that...thing, until they're deemed hostile."

The thing then drew what was clearly a hand-weapon from the pack and leveled it right at Jenkins. There was a brief pause as its other three limbs splayed in the air, as if it was trying to make itself look even larger than it already was. It was then that Echo Squad noticed a change in the scrawling text being holographically projected at certain intervals.

'DANGER: INTRUDER ALERT, HULL BREACH, NO ATMOSPHERE! ALL NON-COMBATANTS EVACUATE! ALL NON-COMBATANTS YIELD TO SECURITY PERSONNEL!'

Jenkins was caught offguard in the moment, freezing as he saw the creature wielding a firearm of sorts, Uisha was quick to react as she raised her rifle and shot the creature several times in several parts of it's body, head included, the other two following her lead as they fired.

Uisha's spray of fire hit the creature three times dead its center of mass before it fired. There was a ever-so-brief flashbulb like pop of light, and in that instant the hull besides Jenkins' head was smoldering with a red-hot glow of suffused heat, a black ring of char-marks surrounding it. Uisha's fire then riddled the creature in the head, and a few stray shots caught various parts of its arm.

Staggered by the force of the shots, the creature extended its arms to catch at the sides of the ceiling and walls of the hallway to stabilize itself as the kinetic force rocked through its body. Although the Squad scarcely even noticed in their haste to shoot the thing dead, none of its wounds appeared to be leaking vital fluid, and apart from its body being forcibly blown backwards by the kinetic force of each projectile, it did not seem terribly worse for wear. This was only borne home when the two other members of Echo Squad drew beads on the creature and similarly opened fire, completely shredding and destroying the fabric of the pack it was wearing, filling the hallway with shreds of torn synthetic material, tools, and loose pieces of metal and ceramic construction components. Their fire completely severed two of the creature's arms entirely, causing it to lose a firm grip, while another shot pierced through one of its anchoring feet and caused it to lose its grasp and fly back through the air, the repeated shots from Echo Squad forcefully flinging it back down the hallway. However, it made abundantly clear through the rapid flailing of its remainings arms and legs that despite having been shot upwards of several dozen times, it was still alive and likely incredibly angry.

Jenkins was frozen where he stood, and but a hair away from death, taking notice of the blasthole made from the beam weapon, everything seemed to move at a slower pace, taking a brief glimpse of his fellow commandos dispatching the creature before he had regained his composure.

"How's it still alive!?!" Kadan shouted, breaking the silence.

"Can't do much anyway!" Uisha shouted over the com.

"Jenkins!" Captain Leska called over the commlink. "What the hell's going on?"

Jenkins shook his head, regaining his senses. "Things got a little complicated, captain.."

"Orders sir?" Usiha asked.

"We press on." Jenkins replied, staring at the wiggling, furious creature. "Leave it, it can't do much now." And with that, Echo Squad glided through the hallways, their jump packs almost at full settings, searching for any means to traverse other parts of the station.

They blazed past the flailing creature as it attempted to reorient itself in the corridor, leaving it behind in the dim emergency lighting of the halls. Echo squad soon reached yet another complication: an emergency bulkhead. Essentially a secondary airlock for use in emergencies, it had probably slammed down once the original hull breach had been detected, and it was powered. Which meant the section behind it was likely pressurized. Helpfully displayed as a holographic projection in front of it was another emergency message.

'AIRLOCK SEALED, SECURITY HAZARD NEARBY. AWAIT SECURITY PERSONNEL.'

"Leena, gonna need another hole." Jenkins ordered.

"Got it." She replied as she pulled her last demolition charge from her chestplate. "I really hope we don't need more.." She muttered to herself, placing the charge in the center of the bulkhead, following the same routine as before, the countdown starting. "Here's come another! Get clear!" The squad backtracked, bracing for another shockwave, and perhaps metal scraps flying their way.

The explosive blast from the detonation was carried to the team as another wave of atmosphere rushed past them, alarm klaxons once again blaring. Multiple shards of metal and debris in the form of furniture and curios slammed into the wall around the corner opposite the blast door, and then, thankfully, the rush of air stopped, the arranged debris spiraling about the hallway at manageable velocities.

Jenkins peered around the corner again and saw that they had company however. Taking a step through the breached bulkhead was another one of the massive four-armed creatures - only this one was wearing a powered exoskeleton with segmented armor plates, and carried with it a long carbine that was probably larger than Jenkin's arm. It raised the carbine as it spotted Jenkins, who thankfully pulled their head back before the armored being could fire.

"We got company!" Jenkins declared. "And they've brought in the big guns!" Echo squad backed further away from the blasted blukhead, they rifles ready to rain shards upon the enemy. "This ones got heavy duty armor, be careful!"

Rather than the hulking armored brute they had expected to round the corner, a spherical, hovering drone the size of one of their head's careened around it instead, orienting its front-mounted array at the Squad. It projected a holographic display even as it bounced off the wall, the message somehow remaining stable in a set orientation even as the small drone attempt to balance itself.

'SURRENDER OR DIE. THERE ARE MORE BACK THE WAY YOU CAME.'

"Shit..." Kadan let slip.

"Sir, we're caught in a rock and a hard place..." Uisha said. "Orders?"

Jenkins, for a but a moment, pondered on his small list of options, although this was a quick decision. "Captain." Jenkins called over the comm. "Infiltration Op is a failure, initiate Plan B." There was a brief silence, Echo squad waiting, time being of essence, especially if the machine was telling the truth.

"Understood."

-------

Outside, the Darkstirke had shed it's cloaking field, exposing itself to the station. Within the command bridge, Captain Leska stood at the center of the bridge, in between the Operators as a console emerged from the floor, rising at just the right height, he pressed down a serious of keys, holo-image of an older woman displaying in front of him. "Captain Rosland, the mission has gone sour, we request the Crow's Nest's support."

"Roger that." She said. "We're en-route to your position and will cover your retreat." The holo-image dissipated as transmission was cut off. "Good, let's lend Echo a hand. Open fire." The guns on the Stealth Corvette begun to flare up as particle beams and kinetic rounds were shot out, assaulting the exterior hull for a but a moment. "Get out of there Echo!" Captain Leska ordered.

There was seemingly no reaction to the Corvette's attack on the station. Although the munitions were able to punch through the hull easily enough, it was just shooting into a depressurized environment - courtesy of Echo Squad. It did little real internal damage. Curiously, none of the frigates parked nearby reacted to the attack. However, the Corvette's internal sensor array had picked something up.

"Captain, we have just picked up multiple inbound Slipspace mass signatures, and none of them are ours. High probability it is the NAC fleet observed by scouts earlier. It must have been stationed on overwatch to respond to attacks at the construction sites." One of the Operators aboard the bridge reported, their voice remarkably level considering he had just announced they were about to be cornered by a massive fleet. "We have less than a minute before they arrive."

"Godsdamnit, they're not making this easy." Leska cursed, placing his middle and index finger over his right ear, the comm device located there. "Echo!" Captain Leska shouted. "We got hostile warships on approach, you have a limited time window, get out of there now!" The Captain turned his attention back to the situation in space. "We stand no chance against that fleet, prep the engines, and as soon as Echo Squad is extracted, I want this ship out of orbit and out of this system ASAP."

-------

'SURRENDER OR DIE. YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS. FIVE. FOUR. The hovering drone had regained its stability, and was now slowly advancing beyond the corridor, approaching Echo Squad as its message counted down.

"Echo squad! Fall back!" Jenkins ordered, the four of them activating their jump packs to max setting, blazing though hallways. Their rapid withdrawal came to a halt when a second of the floating drones cut them off at the next corner down.

At that range and at their speeds, hitting the drone in time to stop what happened next was next to impossible. As Echo Squad Decelerated in order to break and swerve around the corner, the drone detonated like a large grenade, right in front of them.

Jenkins and Leena were front and center, and were caught in the blast, Usiha and Kadan were fortunate enough to only be blown away. All was calm for a few moments before Kadan regained consciousness. "Boss! Guys! Can you hear me..?" Much to his horror, the blast had killed Leena and Jenkins upon impact, their suits torn to shreds, limbs and droplets of blood floating. "Ohh sweet Irura...no...no.." Panic started to overflow, the team leader and demolitions expert were dead, all that was left was..."Uisha!" He called out to her, turning to see her still alive, but barely conscious. "Oh thank you..." He whispered as he drifted towards her, grabbing onto her as they pressed on to their exist. "Captain...we lost Jenkins an Leena..." Jenkins and Leena were front and center, and were caught in the blast, Usiha and Kadan were fortunate enough to only be blown away. All was calm for a few moments before Kadan regained consciousness. "Boss! Guys! Can you hear me..?" Much to his horror, the blast had killed Leena and Jenkins upon impact, their suits torn to shreds, limbs and droplets of blood floating. "Ohh sweet Irura...no...no.." Panic started to overflow, the team leader and demolitions expert were dead, all that was left was..."Uisha!" He called out to her, turning to see her still alive, but barely conscious. "Oh thank you..." He whispered as he drifted towards her, grabbing onto her as they pressed on to their exist. "Captain...we lost Jenkins an Leena..."

Kadan felt a smooth, hollow piece of metal suddenly being pressed against the back of his head.

Having approached silently in the vacuum of the hallway, the power-armored alien Jenkins had spotted earlier had caught up to them. Using one arm to keep its carbine leveled at Kadan's head, it had moved to grab Kadan by both of his shoulders, and was even now reaching for his weapon with its free fourth arm.

"Guess this is the end.." He thought to himself. "But not for you..." Before he would be taken by the armored creature, he reactivated Ushia's jump pack, still awake, but barely. "I'll hold this monster off, go." He telepathically told Usiha. "Live on." He pushed her ahead, he pulled his sidearm with the short time he could, and accepted his fate.

A second of the power-armored, four-armed begins stepped around the bend of the corner the exploding drone had met them out and effortlessly caught Ushia in three of its hands, completely dashing any hope of her escaping once she recovered from the blast. The drone that had warned them earlier of there being more back the way they had come had evidently not been lying. As Kadan wrestled the creature grappling with him for his weapon, he found himself completely overcome by its monstrous, inhuman strength. Trying to resist its movements seemed like he was trying to stop a cave-in from crushing him. Moving with slow and deliberate ease, the taller being moved its grips from his shoulders to his forearms, and then rather than continuing to try and rip the weapon from his hands, simply chopped at his fingers with its free remaining extremity with enough force to fracture each individual bone in his fingers.

-------

Back on the bridge of the Darkstrike, things had been eerily quiet. There had been no reaction whatsoever to either their abrupt decloaking or to their firing upon the station's exterior. None of the four frigates had moved or appeared to be powering their weapons. "Captain, the station is hailing us." One of the Operators announced.

This added on to the unease of the situation, but time was still needed to prep the ship for their retreat. "Very well, open channels, let's see what they want."

"This is Stationmaster Poenghrin Eight-Hundred Eighty-Four, Darkstrike. There appears to have been a minor security issue onboard concerning some intruders. Unfortunately, while security forces were engaging the intruders, your guests were inadvertantly caught in the crossfire. I am afraid there is no sign of the intruders themselves anymore. Two members of your crew were killed, but thankfully their nervous systems are intact enough for us to revive them. If you are willing to wait a few hours, I can have our medics tend to the other two while the others are being resuscitated. If you are presently under duress or are aware of any hostile craft in the area, please inform us. Respond."

The Captain was silent, utterly astounded at what he heard, are they truly not aware of their violations they've committed? The deaths they caused? Nonetheless, the Captain had maintain his attitude, he needed to get his remaining people back, he sure as hell doesn't trust these things to do another with both the living and the dead. "That will not be necessary...I uh..must insist the survivors immediately be returned to us."

"Well, that's quite a strange proposition, but I guess you do get to decide who can board your ship or not. The survivors will be returned shortly, be aware they are in need of medical treatment. Do you have anything you would like us to tell the fallen parties once we have revived them?"

As Poenghrin's transmission ended, one of the bridge Operators signalled the Captain, indicating the numerous slipspace mass signatures had just vanished and that the NAC fleet had arrived. "They appear to be moving to intercept the Crow's Nest upon its arrival. They must have picked it up on their own sensors." They indicated discreetly through the Captain's earpiece.

"It's too late for them...they knew the risks." The Captain said sorrowfully. "But they will all be avenged, make no mistake."

"I can tell you from personal experience that being told that sort of thing upon revival after dying is very perplexing. Not for the least of reasons because they are to be avenged for something profoundly stupid their superiors were responsible for." The voice on the other end of the transmission was transparently smug as it finished that statement. "No matter though. I suppose we'll just have them dropped off at the nearest colony. The survivors are on on-route, by the way."

Leska's blood started to boil. "The way I see it.." He began. "Their deaths were at the hands of your abominations, on an illegally-built station that clearly violates Federation sovereignty, as such, you will force our hand in the matter and we will have no choice but to remove or seize your assets for ourselves. Enjoy it while it lasts monster, but we will be coming for you, that I promise." Leska turned to one of Operators. "Cut Transmission."

"Yes, sir." He complied, and with that, connection was lost.

Thirty seconds later, both Kadan and Uisha were bodily slammed against the forward window of the Darkstrike's cockpit by a quartet of drones.

-------------

Elsewhere, along the edge of the Yilumi system, the Crow's Nest, one of several heavily modified carriers made from two civilian cargo haulers, jumped out from slipspace and began its trek to the Urbos Station. Within the Command Bridge, Captain Rosland sat, and along with her crew, waiting in anticipation for combat, however, the battle would unexpectedly arrive to them.

Proximity alarms rung throughout the ship as the NAC fleet was on intercept course. "Captain!" An Operator cried out. "We got a hostile fleet our way!"

"Shit...they saw us coming." Rosland said, biting her thumb nail. "The Darkstrike will have to wait, battle stations!"

Throughout the halls of the carrier, the crew scrambled to their assigned positions as they prepared for battle, dozens of pilots streaming down the halls as they assembled in either of the four launch bays.

"Captain," An Operator called out, "Enemy fleet composition is overwhelming. Advise mission abort."

"Captain, we are being hailed by one of the hostile fleet's Dreadnoughts." Another Operator announced in succession.

"...Open transmisison." She ordered, despite her gut feeling saying otherwise.

"This is Fleet Admiral Ariamache Twenty-Four of the NAC." The voice coming in over comms was feminine and had a low, mischievous tone. "You seem lost. The Daisan frontline is to the Galactic Northeast of here, Captain. Do you need directions?"

"Captain, we have been painted by multiple targeting beams." Another one of the Operators called out. "We have entered presumed effective weapons range for the enemy forces. We are two point four million kilometers out. No incoming fire."

Rosland cleared her throat, ignoring the clearly condescending tone of the NAC officer. "Attention NAC warships, this is Captain Jess Rosland of the SDF. Your vessels are in clear violation of Federation Sovereignty, stand down or there will be dire consequences."

"We are not the Federation's enemy, Captain. We are not the ones butchering your fleets and your planets. We are not interested in conflict. But if you shoot, we will return fire. The only dire consequences that are going to come of this will be the Daisan conquering your space all the more swiftly for the lack of the forces you will throw away combating us. Which is not to our benefit either. The Federation is, after all, the buffer between our assets and the Daisan." The Admiral sounded vaguely amused as they spoke, as though they were in the middle of laying out a long joke. "I am being informed by the station authority that they elected to spare your operatives and your stealth craft. Next time, we will not be so generous."

"Your generosity will not go unnoticed." Rosland said. "However, I don't quite recall the higher ups in Government agreeing to any sort of property acquisition to the N.A.C." Rosland paused, letting a small cough. "The Law is the Law afterall, any illegal actions within our borders will be dealt with..." Rosland however, knew full well she was outgunned and outnumbered. "However, that day will not be today, I do hope you have time to...evaluate your position and be warned, the Federation will not stand this clear act of aggression, and WILL answer it with force."

"I see. So what you are saying is that I should motion the second board to establish more station sites so that I can requisition a larger defense fleet." Ariamach's voice brimmed with barely constrained laughter. "Well, I suppose it is nobody's business but the admiralty's whether or not your entire civilization ceases to exist. Safe travels Captain." There was a brief pause. "Now get out. And take your inept lackeys with you."

"...Take us out." Rosland ordered. "We'll get that bitch later."

"Yes, Ma'am." One of the Operators said, all of them directing the ship outwards, jumping into slipspace. "We must inform High Command of this...situation." Rosland, mostly talking to herself, and to any crew close enough. "It's a risk, but we must not allow any foriegn fleets operating within Federation Space, no matter the cost."

-------------

A pair of crewmen in space suits had volunteered to venture out and retrieve the two injured commandos, bringing the barely alive ishkaan, once they entered the ship, medical staff had stood there waiting to take over care for the severely injured soldiers, and hauled them off to the Sick Bay.

Before long, the Darkstrike's engines flared up with life as the ship swiftly departed from the vicinity of the station, fleeing to the system capital of Yilum, to both better prepare and await the arrival of the main fleet for the assault to come.

Several hours later, within the depths of the station, Jenkins abruptly woke up as if from a dreamless sleep. The last thing he remembered had been...

The second breaching charge on the emergency bulkhead doors. Leena had placed it and then everyone had retreated past the bend in the corridor and now...he was abruptly here, in what was clearly an infirmiry room. He was resting on a raised bed, and there was a large compartment mounted on the wall to his right which he vaguely recognized as being similar to a modular, fold-out storage unit for specialized medical equipment. To his left was a line of counters with blank viewing panes set into the wall above them and several rows of neatly arranged handheld medical devices as well as several cylindrical containers for biological materials. He was wearing his undersuit that had accompanied the rest of his operations equipment, but the rest of his gear was missing. He was not restrained to the bed and there was not any equipment hooked to him, so although his abrupt displacement things seem alright.

Directly in front of him towards the front of the room was a metallic sliding door - which opened even as he contemplated what his next move was. Another Human wearing a loose and baggy, one-piece bodysuit underneath a medical coat entered the room. They looked unremarkable, like any normal Federation citizen.

"Welcome back." He said to Jenkins wryly. "The Captain of the Darkstrike told us to relay you a message for when you woke up. He said that it was too late for you, but that you knew the risks and that you would be avenged." He looked expectantly at Jenkins.

Jenkins raised an eyebrow, utterly confused of the situation. "...What's going on? How did I get here?" He asked.

"You died approximately..." The man glanced at a nearby info-pane on the wall. "...Seven and half standard hours ago? There was enough of you left over for us to resuscitate you."

Jenkins was speechless, scanning his surroundings and getting a good look at the stranger before him. "I vaguely remember...why do this though?"

"Well the call was made to return the survivors from your team to their ship, and the Stationmaster decided as long as we were doing that we should revive you and the other casualty on the offchance your captain was willing to wait long enough so they could take both of you back." He paused briefly. "Oh, right, sorry, sort of forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Could I please have your name and personal information for our records? We did not find any identification on your corpse."

"...It's Arnold Jenkins.." he replied. "And there was another? Who else died?"

"Well we still don't know her name, she has not woken up yet. Internal sensors indicate she was the one who planted the second breaching charge. Very stealthy entry method by the way, I have no idea how security even figured out you were there."

"Leena..." Jenkins muttered.

"And is that her first or last name?" The man asked expectantly.

"It's Leena Homs."

"Great." The man pulled a viewing-pane with an antiseptic, white-colored trim from his overcoat and spent a few seconds entering the two names into an unseen form before replacing it. "Now I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but both the Darkstrike and the Crow's Nest elected to leave without you two. I am afraid you and Leena are going to be here for a while. At least until the next transport arrives. I am fairly certain we can have them drop you off at the nearest Federation colony, but it may be several standard weeks before the next one gets here."

"We had a mission to follow, I don't blame them for leaving, we were dead afterall." Jenkins said, no hint of regret or resentment to be be noticed. "I'm willing to wait...but I'm sure they'll be here before you get the chance."

"The chance to do what? It's not like we're building a superweapon here. And whoever it is you think 'they' is," The man airquoted as he spoke, his eyebrows raised slightly. "bear in mind, if they destroy the station, they will be killing you too. Take a hard minute to think about that. Not everyone gets a second chance like you did."

"That is true, and you got my thanks, but, I'll manage, and if not, I at least did my duty." Jenkins said with a smirk.

"Yeah, sure, whatever makes your boat go." The man replied dryly. "You can make use of this room for lodging until you leave. You and your friend will have base access to most of the station. Be warned, if you even given the Typis a reason to suspect anything, they will kill you. Welcome to VMSRA 1044." With that, the man turned heel and left the room, the sliding door closing behind him.

With that, Jenkins hopped up, losing his balance for a moment and left to search for Leena's room. Upon existing his room, he found himself in a brightly lit hallway, in all its sterilized glory, complete with the white walls, floors, and ceilings. Jenkins continued to his left and just walked forward until he could find the correct room. The first room he tried opened to reveal a familiar looking, alien being in a skintight suit, missing two of its four arms. It adjusted the shard-ridden lump that was its head to look up at Jenkins briefly from where it lay secured on the raised bed, before raising both of its remaining arms and making what was undoubtedly a profane gesture with both of them.

The second room was Leena's. As the door silde open, he found Leena, still unconscious, although perhaps Jenkins wiould have better luck getting her to wake up. "Leena!" He called out to her."Get the hell up!" He shouted.

"Ughhh, Boss, please lower your voice..." Leena mumbled, finally back from the dead. "Had a terri-" She stopped midway, realizing she's not on the Darkstrike. "Uhh, sir, where are we?"

"What do you remember?" Jenkins asked.

"All I can think of was a real bad dream, we botched a mission and..." Her eyes widened. "That wasn't a dream, was it?"

"Nope." He replied. "We died, and for some odd reason, those NAC guys "revived" us."

"I have questions..." Leena said. "But at the same time..I don't want to..." Leena remained silent, just thinking. "Did the others make it?"

"Yeah, they did." Jenkins replied. "They got away before things got too ugly."

"Good to know..."Leena sighed with releif. "Soo, we gonna get rescued?"

"Probably, probably not, I guess it depends." Jenkins anwsered, pondering. "They still think we're dead, so..chances are a bit low."

"Oh don't worry." Leena grinned. "When the fleet comes, and they will come, I'll make sure they know."

Kingdom of Amucia
Present Day
Rodenia, City Square

The pole struck the ground with a loud metallic clang, as if the gravel beneath it had been eviscerated entirely with the cobble street cracking from the sheer force. In reality, it hadn't changed a thing- other then horrifying the two Rodenians in front of the tall guard.

"Return to your homes." Augustus stated, holding onto the tall pike with a firm grip. One of the natives whimpered something inaudible before taking the other by the shoulder and walking around Augustus. He'd turn his head as far as it could go, watching the two little creatures move away in a panic, nearly stumbling along as they looked back at him only once. Following their disappearance from his sight, Augustus would resume patrolling the nighttime street, moving between the large and very primitively made residential structures. Brick and wood were the materials that made up these houses, with glass windows following all the up to the highest floor.

Rodenia, a quaint little backwater with a native species strikingly alike to Amucians. The Rodenians had only been allowed to survive due to their appearance, though their humanoid features were lacking. If anything the Rodenians were actually quite bestial, like anthropomorphic rats, slightly smaller then the average sized denizen of the galaxy with a medieval culture and technology. Or they used to, the Kingdom had decided to forcibly uplift them a few decades ago. Now the new generations living in this scientifically advanced age would scurry about beneath the Amucian colonists, those same Amucians who lived in luxurious and isolated villages in the mountains where the soldiers were never deployed. Instead, their patrol routes had to go through the most overcrowded and detestable streets belonging to the natives.

Augustus turned his head forward, marching down the street with the pike in both hands while the town was eerily empty. The natives had to follow a curfew since a attack a few weeks ago. It was nothing more then a mere bombing, but it was more of a symbolic attack, an attempt to arise rebellion among the rodent populace. Genocide was much more preferable in response to something like this- but supposedly the rich and nobles of Amucian society found the natives to be too useful in agricultural work, enough so that any idea of killing them was disregarded. So the elite honor guard were sent to give a clear message on how the Kingdom felt about the situation.

The honor guard, a very important military unit. Their weapons varied, armor strong and thick enough to hold up against the detonation of many handheld explosives. Their exoskeletons and metal plating made them stand tall, a total of 7ft, much higher then much of the populace. Their armor always remained coated in a black, bulky enough to hide their entire body and exoskeleton beneath. To have them deployed is quite a event, the fact that a mere bombing held enough importance to deploy them felt a bit shameful.

His ears would receive a loud buzz, emitted from the helmet's headset. "Augustus, respond." the voice spoke in a empty tone, much like all those in the honor guard.

"Yes?" Augustus replied.

"We're getting new orders. Meet us in the town square." it was vague, probably intentionally so. In a second the radio came to a dead silence, the transmission ended and orders having been received. Without question he'd march his way there.

Kingdom of Amucia
Present Day
Amucia, The Palace

The situation was getting increasingly dire.

The navy found that found that quite a few ships were missing parts critical to communication. This would not be such a severe mistake if it hadn't been for the fact many ships with this same flaw were currently patrolling the border. No awareness of how alone they were, no ability to communicate, if a mistake were to happen only the crew aboard could solve it. The amount of problems to be experienced in the void of space is innumerable, so much so that casualties were assured by now, especially with the state most of these vessels were already in. The King felt it necessary to just give on up these lost ships entirely.

But this was not all, the border was now left blatantly exposed to any incursions, which was a quick way to get people of all kinds into a panic.

"-we'll keep them doing drills until our fleet is back in action." that was one of the many advisers speaking. Nothing more then another plan out of many.

The King tapped the tips of fingers together repeatedly, slumped in his chair while sitting at the end of a lavish wooden table. On top of it sat a unrolled hand drawn map of all of Amucia, all known star systems and intricate little anomalies, numbers surrounding them indicating population of both Amucians and native species, from stockpiled supplies to local garrisons. Whoever commissioned it certainly knew who to talk to, the regret of not knowing who had drawn this up caused a great regret in the King's heart. It was such a good piece, ruined with all the hand prints of others.

"That is too expensive, way too expensive, I don't think any of us could come to a agreement like that." arguments continued like this. Peaceful at first as always, providing little facts and opinions intertwined, so desperately trying to push for relief for a side. Such sides would be corporations, the military branches, nobles, a representative for the peasantry and even a alien sympathizer so heavily mocked. It was all caught around in a ferocious verbal battle around one long rectangular table in a colossal room. The walls shined in morning light, enough so to be blinding. Couldn't look away from every arguing, couldn't go anywhere without hearing their voices echoing, having to deal with so many men screaming at each other...

The King, in all his youth, had seemed to age ten years every time this arguments kicked off. The lounging position and long hair didn't help.

The chair he sat in made a slight creak, a hand raised with fingers together and palm exposed. A clear demand to silence which every adviser froze at as if time itself had come to a stop, their mouths shutting and hands bodies becoming idle.

"We'll get two dreadnoughts running." The King's voice was depressing to listen to, like a man dying from a sickness, he continued with his hand hitting the arm of the chair "Get both patrolling our most familiar routes separately. We'll need the mining colonies working on overtime in the case any of our ships have been destroyed." a barely noticeable hand motion went over to the nearest General "And we'll have each garrison doing a series of drills, but only the militia. We'll keep everyone distracted from this mess until we know whats going on."

The entire room fell into a depressing silence.

"Meeting adjourned." he added.

There was a clatter of footsteps as everyone but the King began to separate themselves from the table. A rolling of chairs and finally, the opening of a door and the echoes of their footsteps leaving the room. A minority looked at their leader with a confusion and a pity for his sorrowful state, but all remained hushed until they were out of his sight.

Yilumi System
Kasui, High Orbit
The Darkstrike hung high in orbit of the serene Agriworld of Kasui, is dark shades contrasting with the green and blue landscape underneath the vessel. Nearly a day had passed since the incident at the Urbos Station, Captain Ian Leska had locked himself away in his private quarters, giving himself time to think, plan and mourn. He laid against his recliner chair, his coat hanging by the door, a glass of whisky in hand as he indulged himself in the alcoholic drink every now and then.

Despite his less then chipper position, he was far from it, the incident still lingering in mind, the various mistakes made coming to him like an avalanche, but in truth, this rather disastrous infiltration Op had provided some "positive" results, for a lack of a better word.

Ian Leska knew full well that the Federation must enforce it's border integrity. This was thee plan from the start, the recon being a sort of "inspection" before any serious actions were to be taken, but honestly, that no longer mattered, the very presence of these stations was a clear slap to the face of the Federation, and with that, it needed a heavy response. The original projected numbers of the probable task force was under a hundred, but that won't do, no, more were needed.

Leska set his glass aside. "Aisha." The Captain called out to the ship's AI. "Set up a private holo-link with Grand Admiral Sanders."

"Understood, Captain." A digitized, feminine voice replied, echoing through the room. "...setting up link now." Within moments, a holographic form of Aged human, a dark-skinned man in his early sixties, materialized in the center of the room, a holo-projection device emerging from the ceiling. The Admiral was slight caught off guard with this sudden call. "Captain Leska." He begun, with a deep, soothing tone in his voice. "I haven't expected another call from you so soon."

"I apologize for the rather sudden call." Leska said. "It's....regarding the Urbos Incident."

"Ahhh, yes, I see." He realized. "I assure, both your ship and the Crow's Nest will be listed as ships to join in the task force."

"Thank you, sir." Leska said. "But, there's...another request I have to make."

"Oh?" Admiral Sanders raised an eyebrow."What is it then?"

"Sir, I suggest the task force be expanded." Leska said. "The currently projected numbers will simply not do. We need at least two hundred vessels for this mission."

"Out of the question." Sanders replied swiftly. "You should be all too aware of the grave threat we're facing, every ship recalled from the frontline is an asset lost and a victory for the Daisan." He paused, clearing his throat. "We shouldn't even be doing this! But the N.A.C. have forced our hand in the matter."

"That's exactly my point, sir." Leska said, standing firm in his resolve. "That is why we must not take little risks in such a situation." Leska paused as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "We mean to send a message, yes? Then we must answer the N.A.C.'s taunts with overwhelming firepower."

Sanders was silent, pondering on the possible scenarios and outcomes, but the Captain had a point. "You do realize the risk we'd be taking, yes?" Sanders asked.

"I'm fully aware, sir." Leska replied. "The Daisan can wait, at least for a moment. For now, we must send the N.A.C. a message."

"...Very well, however, if this all goes terribly wrong, It's on both your head and mine." Sanders said.

"Understandable, sir." Leska said. "But if this goes just as well as intended, we'll be done with this before the Daisan reach the Gateway Systems."

Interstellar Union of Collectives
Bountiful Birth System
Administrative Habitat Station

Austere grey seating raises far above into the ‘ceiling’, artificial gravity maintaining the different orientation of the current ‘floor’ of the meeting room. Clearly designed for audiences the above seating is set back and lights shine down onto the table of meeting. Designed for standing adult ‘Ysh’ the table and display raises to a half average height, a little over a meter. Gently flashing the table display is currently in a standby mode, awaiting the progression of the meeting in earnest.

Two figures stand at one end of the table, speaking quietly. One is an alien being unknown by the Ysh, faintly shorter in stature than their average two and a quarter meters, with four arms and a bulky frame. Their head is little more than the afterthought of a lump atop their torso, with no apparent sensory organs or even a mouth. Their flesh is a bare, off-color yellow with no hair of any sort. Their appendages end with four-fingered extremities. By and large it resembles an incomplete, reanimated Yshin corpse. The being wears a skintight suit, though even this is a token gesture meant to alleviate the anxiety of those forced to converse with it. Its companion was a Ysh - or at least, a being that looked very much like a member of the Ysh. There was something ever-so-faintly wrong about it. Its scent was a grave departure from the norm, neither pleasing nor disgusting, but rather impossible and foreign. Their eyes were static and dull, indicating an absence of chromatophores. They wore more customary clothing, but everyone present knew what they were. It was a Mucor Typis as its own kind described themselves. A kind of cultured being made so as to resemble the Ysh, but without being apart from the rest of its own kind - it and the corpse-like being it accompanied were of the same flesh.

They were the representatives of the NAC, the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit. Although overtly alien and somewhat anxiety-inducing to contend with, thus far they had made for fair association. Their own society was apparently not too dissimilar from that of the Union's, and the two polities shared many values - and, for the moment at least, a particular agenda. The introduction of the IUC and the NAC had gone over better than either side had anticipated, and the relationship between the two seemed like it might soon become an alliance.

Seven members of the ‘Ysh’ delegation, presumably one of the ‘Ysh’ collective base units, stood around the other end. Vocalizers around their throats hooked up to headsets primarily covering their eyes, a small microphone is extended out to their rarely used mouths. Each member wearing a skinsuit with various attachments, each member looking roughly the same despite their variable ages. Almost lined up perfectly as an example of ‘Ysh’ aging from the youngest to the eldest, only disrupting this effect somewhere in the center of the grouping. Each gently chatted with those across from them as the larger group curves around the edges of the table, changing the visible color of the skin around their eyes in polite conversation. Representatives from a variety of professions, the delegation from the Interstellar Union of Collectives was in primary support of the eldest present there as diplomatic and administrative officer. Although rarely dealt with in any terms of parity, the foreigners had been found surprisingly agreeable.

All the members except the eldest trying and failing to not glance at the uncomforting visage of the ‘Ysh’-like foreign being. Particularly of disgust is the lack of color from the skin near the eyes of the construct.

The same being finished its conversation with the shorter, near-headless alien and turned to address the Ysh delegation. It then spoke, actually addressing them directly with words uttered through its tongueless respiratory hole. It spoke in the trade language used by the Federation, simply due to it being a known element that the translators could easily work with. An unseen cybernetic device embedded just below the surface of its skin projected corresponding, shifting tones of coloration that hung in the air like frozen multicolored amber in a halo around its eyes - made ever so slightly disconcerting by the still faintly visible, unchanging static hue of the flesh underneath.

"If the delegation of the Interstellar Union of Collectives is ready, we are prepared to begin." The tone of the spoken words was neutral, but had a curious hollow timbre to them. The implant they were using to make up for their lack of chromatophores possessed an excruciatingly formal hue, the 'words' used unintentionally more arcane and precise than was strictly necessary or even suitable for everyday discussion.

The noise of the speech quickly stopped any ongoing conversation as focus shifted to the speaker. The group silently waited for the vocalization to finish, that itself was rather unsettling the range of sound coming from the ‘Ysh-like being, the youngest shifting their look to the other alien preferring not to recognize it. The eldest ‘spoke’, changing skin color to active the vocalizer by code then proceeding with their message, following quickly up on the end of previous speaker’s statement. The headset covered the eyes and much of the skin blocking the visible communication for the most part.

“We can begin, please proceed.” The voice was one of careful correct meaning in words, something gained from their efforts before obviously abandoning further advancement. The voice would quickly be identified as artificial should a Human, or other speaker, hear. Neutral because anything else would not be manageable by the underdeveloped vocalizing system.

"Very well. Members of this special delegation - Union military, navy, industry consultants and specialists - I am Sciroa Seventeen, adjucant and special liason for the NAC with the IUC for the purposes of this briefing. My associate here is Berrawo Ninety-Two, foreign operative and Field Commander under the third board of directors. We are here to elucidate to you as to the current political situation in the Imperial Systems Commonwealth, particularly as to why it is important both the NAC and the IUC be poised and ready to move if necessary. We will begin with a brief summary-"

Sciroa waved their lower left hand, and the table's display shifted to display a holographic map of the Commonwealth's systems.

"As I imagine some of you are already aware, the Commonwealth is divided into three distinct regions. The Core Worlds, the Verge Territories, and the Colonies." The map shifted and changed color to highlight each separate territory accordingly, various points of interests and demographic information appearing to supplement the imagery. "The NAC is currently an incorporated, independent organization in all three regions. As far as the Commonwealth is concerned or aware, the NAC is a mundane if prominent heavy-industries megacorporation. We have our own reasons for being there - our ongoing Hyper and Slipspace research project, of course. We also generate a large amount of capital and credit in the Commonwealth for the purposes of engaging in standard commerce with other nations, including with the IUC. The NAC does not have a traditional standard of currency and credit, and so it is necessary for us at this time to generate value and revenue in the galactic market through provision of goods and services with other sovereign powers."

Sciroa looked away from the projected map towards the elder. "Would you like to lay out the Union's current state of affairs in relation to the Commonwealth?" Although the color of their cybernetic chromo-array remained the same, an astute listener would have noted the faint hint of wariness and caution that had become intermixed with the hollow timbre of their voice.

The ‘Ysh’ present were not astute listeners, still relying on their less than perfect translation systems and so completely missed any hint of deeper meanings. The elder waved for the general information specialist, one of the middling ‘Ysh’, age and location, to reply. Vocalizer activated and proceeding with the same synthesized voice that the elder had ‘spoken’ with. Generally they made little use of the display as they generally spoke of non-location specific matters.

“The Commonwealth has up to this date not been the most pleasant of neighbors, being competitors for expansion and particularly militaristic one at that. Union analysis has mostly been of the conclusion that the expansion is necessary for the extension of their empire, plundering systems to put off their own collapse. However it seems to remain apparent that the Commonwealth will not collapse on its own anytime soon, primarily to the inordinate loyalty to their governing system. Specifics of revolt against the regime have always been obscure but it is estimated that a significant sustained disruption in normal operations could potentially cause widespread revolt whether that would be successful, there is no definite conclusion. A primary consideration has always been the specialization of the different regions, and indeed their strange focus on planets. No long term strategy has been formulated for policy on the Commonwealth besides pre-emptive expansion.”

As the general information specialist finished the eldest spoke through their vocalizer, unnecessarily, identifying someone in the raising cone of audience members above. “Regional Officer Obedient Legion, is there a question you wish to ask?”

Standing from their seating the Regional Officer sought to seek the best they could from as they stopped communicating with those across the cone. Fumbling on a vocalizer attachment they respond, “Yes Habitat Commandant, I believe there four distinct regions in the Commonwealth, not three as the ‘Sciroa Seventeen’ suggested.”

"Ah, yes, that is correct." Sciroa indicateda, their spoken voice faintly embarrassed, though their chromo array retained the same arcane tone. "This is because the Commonwealth has two different regions for legal incorporation, specifically the Core Worlds and everywhere else. As far as the NAC is concerned, the Colonies and Constituent Worlds are the same. Which leads us directly into our next point." He gestured and the projected map shifted again, additional graphs and lines of text appearing beside each region. "You see, the entirety of the Commonwealth's industry and economy revolves around the Core Worlds. The verge worlds and colonies supply in excess of ninety-nine percent of all skilled and unskilled labor in the Commonwealth. They harvest most if not all of the Commonwealth's resources, work in all of the Commonwealth's primary industries, and make more than ninety-five percent of all material, commercial goods. Most of these goods, products, and resources are then sent directly to the Core World markets. The situation there is the exact inverse. The Core World has only secondary and tertiary industries in it. Entertainment and leisure, luxury goods and service industries. These are not even the largest or most successful businesses in the Core Worlds, and instead the wealthiest individuals make nearly all of their money from speculation, proprietary trading, and accounting. The Core Worlds, which contain less than ten percent of the Commonwealth's population, contains more than ninety-nine percent of the Commonwealth's net worth, and more than eighty-five percent of all officially mandated products produced in all regions of the Commonwealth. The population of the Coreworlds are, by large, bourgeois and decadent or otherwise involved in the administrative affairs of the Directorate."

As the point was brought up into further detail a greater reaction came out the audience. At first there was merely flashes as some audience members looked to their friends and others in the time honored tradition of ‘Are you seeing this?’ however, this soon grew into rapt attention, always unblinking staring down from above. As more and more unfolded before them they sat still. With the last word they continued in stunned blankness, not a pattern unfolded across the faces of the audience members. Eventually one of the Ideological Protectors stood and made the distinctive ysh sound of attention demanding, finally bringing motion to the audience once more as they turned to face the rear. Vocalizer attached the Protector spoke out.

“That. That is evil of the Individual!”

The audience above broke out into flashes of words, concepts, phrases. “Immoral” “Inefficient” “Evil” “Individualistic”, each broke out mirroring amongst groupings of ‘Ysh’ until eventually settling back into their own seats and blankness, attention rapt onto the meeting below.

"The political demographics within the Commonwealth follow a similar pattern," Sciroa carried on after giving the audience time to settle down once more. "Many of the constituent and colony worlds are annexed powers who were either conquered or coerced into joining the sovereign power that would then later become the Commonwealth. Due to frequent revolts and uprisings within these annexed powers, that power formed the modern Parliamentary system of representation that we know as the Commonwealth. After that, order was restored across the majority of worlds. However, many of them are still not fully represented within Parliament due to the status of personal integration. Simply put, different factions and populations are integrated within the Commonwealth in accordence to need, convenience, and of course the motivation of Parliament, the Noble Diet, and the Imperial Line in endorsing such integration. Contemporaneously, many constituent and verge worlds have suffered from increasing unrest due to the full annexation and integration of a species known as the Valerians."

Sciroa reached out with their upper right hand and tapped on one of the illuminated table's control panes, calling up an image of the Valerian species, alongside several lines of basic information.



"The full integration of the Valerians was due predominantly to the high relative prevalence of individuals with Psionic potential within their popualce, many of whom have been drawn to serve as State Psintegrae. Many constituent and verge world populations are displeased with this, since many of them have been waiting for full integration since they were annexed more than a century ago."

Another distinctive ysh issued forth, although this time from the Ground Forces Specialist on the floor of the meeting in the pause from Sciroa’s speech. Once more the pattern activated the vocalizer and words flowed.

“The Psintegrae are not something we have been able to gather much information on. We have been able to gather they are exceptional individuals, greatly desired for a variety of elite combat purposes, and it goes without saying we have been unable to procure a sample of one. It would be helpful if you could clear up for many what exactly a Psintegrae is, particularly in context of apparent improvements in their capabilities with this development.”

At this, Sciroa turned their colorless eyes to the headless, corpse-like being he had introduced as Berrawo standing beside it with something very closely approximating a knowing look. Berrawo began to speak - their voice was an unfathomable, arcane series of roiling, boiling tar intermixed with crackling static, their voice filled with hisses, pops, and a slick kind of effervescent resonance. Its voice had to be completely translated, unlike Sciroa's own already admittedly alien tongue. A large halo of iridescent light was projected above its head in order to provide a visual translation while members of the audience in the front rows rushed to convert its odd speech to something properly audible to the Ysh.

"Many individuals with Psionic potential in the Commonwealth are..." A faint pause of consideration. "...requisitioned at or near birth by the state by an organization we suspect is affiliated with the Commonwealth Directorate in some way, though how we are not yet sure. They are run through a processing and training regime that lasts several years, eventually procuding elite soldiers, security forces, and guards, known as Su'urtugal. You see many of them serving a police role in some of the Core Worlds, especially in affairs attached or pertaining to the Diet of Lords and the Imperial Line." Berrawo reached out and manipulated the nearby control pane once more in order to show a brief visual clip of a Yassinan Su'urtugal pursuing several individuals in powered armor across a crowded urban underroad junction, running much faster than they were despite being, on the surface at least, unaugmented. With a flick of one of their wrists as they caught up, one of the power-armored criminals was lifted off their feet and flung into a nearby wall, their form pressed awkwardly and with unnatural firmness against the metal surface, sounds of audibly snapping bones and shearing metal filling the briefing room over the other chaotic sounds of the underroad in the video.

"In addition to possessing considerable telekinetic prowess, these individuals are adept inquisitors, capable of reading surface thoughts reflexively as well as being able of going through long-term and deep memory when given time and allowed to focus. As far as the third board is presently aware, their Psionic powers are effective against all forms of sapient, sentient life, including the Mucor Typis - which, as we do not have centralized nervous tissues, is indicative of their great ability. The NAC has several protocols for preserving and obscuring information from discovery, but this is largely done through compartmentalization of our operations and dissemination of intelligence on a strict, need-to-know basis. Until our peoples' joint, API project produces notable results, it should be assumed there is no hiding any known memories or information from them, and it is speculated they may even be capable of retrieving subconscious and completely forgotten or otherwise inaccessible information."

The general information specialist broke in with their vocalizer. “The Anti-Psionic Initiative is a joint project seeking to update, improve and expand the various means of Psionic control developed after the integration of the Kre’allar. Particularly to increase its effectiveness in a greater variety of scenarios and deployments.”

The specialist manipulated the controls as they spoke, retrieving archival footage from the habitat’s databanks. Displayed up is footage of obviously dated security feeds from an older model of a ground forces’ power armor helmet. Watching a crowd of Kre’allar humans, in obvious conditions of some indoor compound, slowly filter through a security gate. There is no issues until alarms blare around the gate and ‘Ysh’ in power suits are blown back, the gate is mostly undamaged. A Kre’allar human unremarkable except for their position at the center of the psionic wave is briefly seen before bolting back into the crowd.

“Although effective in certain instances detection technology has continued to be rather limited even if it has greatly improved since that time, range is still an issue. Direct measures have been unfortunately even less developed.”

The display changes from a security feed to five Kre’allar lined up and restrained, a large pillar, obviously of heavy electronic construction, is being carried by two powersuited ‘Ysh’ in front of each in turn. After being brought in front of each the pillar is brought close to the foreheads of each, the first two showing no reaction. The third, however, visibly recoils from the device, prompting the two ‘Ysh’ visible to move the pillar behind the man and transfer his restraints to the pillar.

“Although improved from these models, especially in mobility, inhibitor devices still leave much to be desired, especially in a combat situation. Thankfully the NAC has graciously donated a number of subjects for this endeavor, allowing a greatly advanced rate of testing. This should hopefully soon allow for mock tests of currently developed models.”

"We expect many great things from the joint initiative, which the NAC owes largely to the Union's own initial, if modest, research in the area. Although the results are still to be borne out, as far as we are aware the Union is the only power in the galaxy that had taken any successful efforts into investigating methods of deterrence in that regard. With that topic addressed, let us now return to the Valerians." Sciroa tapped on their own controls for the table once more, shifting the projected imagery back to the previously displayed map of the greater Commonwealth. "As I said, many of the verge and colony worlds are presently subject to high degrees of unrest and civil disorder due to widespread discontent over the rapid integration of the Valerians into the Commonwealth, whereas many other member species have been waiting over a century. This is where I would like to turn the briefing over to Berrawo Ninety-Two here." He gestured with both of his right arms to Berrawo.

"Many thanks." Berrawo said, their crackling, seething voice whining through the air for a second time. "As my companion mentioned earlier, the NAC has been using the Commonwealth market as a means of generating revenue and credit for our own purposes - and to further that end, a number of operatives and agents have been distributed across the Commonwealth's sectors and infiltrated a number of their more successful industries." They motioned to Sciroa, who manipulated the control panel for the table again in response to project an image of several Commonwealth stock ratings, as well as a large display of several charts depicting how each particular stock had changed in value over time.

"With some effort, our agents have managed to procure inside-information on the value of certain key stocks far in advance of their public release. By comparing and analyzing contemporary market dialectics to those of the past, we see that the Commonwealth market's stability is highly predictive of social disorder and strife within the verge worlds and colonies, particularly within the oldest member species and factions not yet fully integrated. Within the last few galactic months, two new pieces of information have started to circulate through the Commonwealth."

"In particular," Sciroa spoke up, taking the reins of Berrawo's tract in an almost rehearsed fashion. "...amongst the core worlds there is spreading word of an upcoming bill that is to be passed through their parliament that would increase the individual cost for applying for state citizenship tests, as well as reformatting the tests to make them more strenuous, and to add either one or two new tests to the total number required by foreigners or colonial inhabitants in order to become citizens. I will return to this matter in a moment to explain why the bill may have been developed."

"Meanwhile," Berrawo picked up once more, "...in the verge and colony worlds, there is a very curious rumor about many heavy industrial megacorporations enacting plans and agendas in order to advance a policy furthering advanced, widespread industrial automation. As far as our agents have been able to discern, this was in fact nothing but a rumor. However, the various corporate powers operating in these regions believed it. Many of them are now racing to implement these policies in order to stay ahead of their competition. As more than eighty percent of the Commonwealth's products and goods are made using skilled labor provided by their populous verge and colonial populations, advanced automation implemented on that scale would likely completely destroy the weaker economies present in these systems."

"Which is where we return to the first rumor of the upcoming citizenship bill. The NAC's analysis of the situation is simple." Sciroa picked the conversation up again, changing the projection above the holo-table to dismiss the displayed market data. "The Commonwealth is aware that their market is due for a minor crash soon, and is preemptively seeking ways to consolidate political capital in advance while also scraping together an additional source of revenue in order to weather the drought. However, knowledge of the second rumor has not yet spread at large to the core worlds, due in part to the industries incorporated there not desiring to tip their respective hands. They, in turn, are hastening their automation agendas in order to get out ahead of the perceived, incoming crash."

Sciroa paused briefly, permitting the audience to digest the information that had just been divulged before continuing. "These three separate forces are all timed to occur in-synchrony with one another. It is the NAC's educated guess that the Commonwealth stock market will soon flag severely. Not by a tremendous amount, this will not be a civilization-slaying depression, merely the largest notable dip in recent history for them. At the same time, parliament will pass a bill making acquisition of full citizenship more onerous and inaccessible to the lower classes of the verge worlds and colonies, and various corporate powers will begin implementing their automation policies in full. This will leave a vast portion of the lower class, working populace unemployed and without any meaningful courses of action remaining to them short of revolt."

If the audience had been composed of a more auditory species whispers would no doubt be abound. However as it was composed of ‘Ysh’ the sight of the audience was one of ever changing colors. Excited communications encompassed the ‘Ysh’ audience, presented before them was not just an opportunity for a victory, but a lasting one. The ever present conflict to the south, perhaps a necessity with two expansionist powers, could be ended with a grand liberation. This opportunity was not one to easily pass by, the audience shifted back to the floor, the vocalizer of the Naval Forces Specialist.

“This is an opportunity that may never again be presented. In light of this certain measures normally reserved for moments of national survival have been decided to be put into effect. Primarily to general information that will be released through appropriate channels, primarily it is to be considered at this time that all reserve collectives are to be mobilized for matters of national importance and ability to support the necessary manpower for any possible liberations.”

The Naval Forces Specialist paused allowing this to sink in before continuing, “Orders have been sent out to Naval units across the Union to report to the Southern sectors, as have other orders that will be listed by my colleagues in the matters of National importance. To fill holes in roles caused by this mobilization, select mass mobilization super-collectives will be mobilized, specifics of which will be available on request at a later date.”

The vocalizer of one of the Industrial Consultants flared before making his words auditory for those who required it, “In support of military forces it has been decided that all vital industries are to be brought to full economic mobilization in accordance with necessary supply. In addition several stockpiles have been authorized use in bringing full production as fast as possible.”

A disturbance in the audience causes a pause, “Regional Officer Obedient Legion, I believe you wish to ask something?” Apparently nonplussed for their second time of being visibly picked out of the audience, Obedient Legion vocalized their question.

“Will offensive forces have habitat vessels on hand for necessary resupply? This impacted the last war to a large extent according to estimates that I have presented before.” They pause before continuing with renewed vigor, “I cannot speak for everyone but I speak for some at least when I ask if we are going to take this risk with a chance to succeed or are we going to handicap ourselves?”

The flare from a vocalizer resounded before the words of the Habitat Administrator, the Eldest came, “I can confirm that Habitat vessels will be deployed for this effort as well as other necessary logistical tasks. I can also say that further orders and information will be released as we close onto full preparation. The current plan is maintaining preparation to support, and possibly enact a quick and bloodless as possible revolt to secure freedoms for the colonial peoples, this is something that will be reflected in operational procedures, specific information will be forth coming soon.”

"The NAC is also preparing to render assistance to any liberation movement that arises." Sciroa followed up. "Our naval assets are not as numerous as those of the Union, but we are even now laying down discrete logistic routes and passages in key areas of the Commonwealth. We will work to keep liberation forces supplied and equipped, and we will also mobilize special operatives in order to strike at the heart of the Commonwealth's ruling elite. Of course, we will not act without the consent of the common populace of of the various liberation movements and without agreement from the IUC's own intelligence analysts."

“Thank you Sciroa Seventeen, and we must thank the NAC in its good morals over the good of the galactic peoples.” The Eldest paused before continuing in a more formal style, “We know that each of you will do their best to assure that suffering of subjugated peoples will not continue for long nor will it come to nought but more suffering. We must all assure that every soldier, and worker, researcher, and farmer, all do their best to exploit this opportunity in the best way that they can. I want you to spread this message to your subordinates, as we may go to war we seek only peace, a peace that can only come when an individual is no longer subordinate another individual in their single name alone. Only when the collective good comes first can we reach a lasting, free peace.”

The general information officer transmitted, vocalizer working for those who needed it, “Specifics will be in future briefings in a more regular situation, orders will be sent once you all return to your posts. This Briefing is officially over.”



The Imperial Systems Commonwealth
The Core Worlds
Corinthene
Adalusia City
Neuftshcellier's Fine Dining Highrise

Neuftschellier's was a fine establishment, Severus Thannicus, policy analyst to the assistant deputy minister of internal revenue, thought to himself. Perhaps his favourite in the city. It was expensive, but not too expensive, just expensive enough that one could demonstrate affluence without breaking the bank. All the right people frequented it as well, anyone who was anyone really. It was a good place to see and be seen. The food was good, and the view, the view was spectacular. Thannicus had been born and raised on Corinthene, not in the capital city itself, but not far away, and one city on Corinthene was much like another, all gleaming highrises, none more than a few decades old. Some complained Corinthene lacked character. Thannicus thought 'character' was a funny way of describing decrepit old stone buildings like the ones they treasured on Praetoria. The old must by necessity give way to the new, and on Corinthene, it did. Constantly. Thannicus could see at least three highrises under construction from where he sat. He adjusted the Rhodesian sized powered chair he was occupying and scanned the room for his lunch partner.

He was only left waiting for a few minutes. The soft whirring of the restaurant's elevator doors receding carried ever so faintly like a whisper across the open-aired hall, seeming to waft just above the low murmur of voices from the other diners. Stepping in across the fine black-and-gold slate tiles was a Rhodesian Woman with a fine red and auburn coat of fur, with the faintest traces of golden coloration along the tips of her hairs along her ears and along the back of her head. She was wearing a brass-colored strapless evening dress adorned with a modest brocade of orange lines about the front and back, drawing the eyes inevitably up, and the way it caught in the light of the afternoon sun through the restaurant skylights gave it a seemingly luminescent gleam. The ensemble was held together with a pewter brooch with a recognizable emblem adorning it - nine Amaranthine gems arranged in a circle, one being a prominent starburst at the top. She carried with her a business case, with small pewter clasps tying a small shash between its corners to a line across her waist. Nearly concealed beneath the folds of fine silk was the sight of a sturdy durachrome wire, indicating that the case being tied to her person was not precisely just for show.

When she was greeted by the attendant, she simply passed him a card with the same emblem emblazoned across it as seen on her brooch along with a few words. He nodded in understanding, and Severus found himself momentarily entranced as she crossed the dining lanai, her hard-soled bright orange shoes clinking distinctively against the fine tiled floor. Her whole body seemed to bob and undulate with a curious rhythm as she walked right up to his table. She stopped just within half an arm's reach, gave him what was most assuredly a very well practiced smile as she looked him straight in the eyes, and offered him her wrist.

"Belleza Trianedyne. The NAC's Primary Adjucant Representative for Corinthene. I must say, you have the most beautiful idea of a business meeting I have had the pleasure of experiencing thus far."

Thannicus blushed beneath his fur as he bent to chastly kiss the stunning woman's hand. "Ms Trianedyne, I'm both thrilled you could make it and thrilled you appreciate the establishment. It's a personal favourite of mine." He moved to pull her seat out for her, an entirely redundant gesture as the powered chair descended and positioned itself perfectly for it's intended occupant before lifting her to the height of the table. Thannicus returned to his own chair, which did the same, placing the two of them at eye level. The policy analyst did his best to avoid staring at Belleza's shapely ears. He flipped open his menu, trying to avoid the distraction of Belleza doing the same, her soft, fine-furred ears being the only part of her head visible above both their menus, her right-side twitching slightly as a breeze rolled by.

"So, I am told you are the Senior Policy Analyst for the Assistant Deputy Minister of Internal Revenue?" Belleza's voice sounded like a silken cloth polishing slick marble, even partly muffled as it was coming from behind her menu. She had rattled off both titles effortlessly and without any hesitation. That was not entirely surprising given the complex and byzantine nature of Corinthene as the Commonwealth's beauracratic center. Most of the population here lived with being able to memorize and recite long titles of those working under the Imperial Directorate to the point where doing so was second-nature.

"Yes, quite so," Thannicus responded, quite pleased with the slight emphasis she'd put on 'Senior'. "It's a fascinating position, with a great variety of responsibilities. Policy analyst isn't even the best word for it. Certainly I do, well, analyze policy, but there's a great deal of real world data involved, thank Lexus the Metternich government restored the long form census-" Thannicus caught his rambling and felt the skin beneath his chestnut-coloured bristles flush again. "But I'm rambling, I should perhaps be a little more forthcoming about the reason I asked to meet with someone from the NAC. Specifically, we are hearing the strangest rumours coming out of the UAG." Thannicus was a bureacrat, not a spy, but he knew how the game was played on Corinthene. Adressing such a subject so brazenly was not usually done; he was hoping to perhaps get an honest answer out of Belleza by catching her off guard.

"That would be the United Artanin Governments, yes. I have to confess, they have been causing the second and fourth boards absolutely no end of stress!" Belleza sighed faintly as she folded her menu shut, laying it by the side of the table as she draped one of her vixen arms adroitly across the finely polished and gleaming table surface, her index and longfinger twisting around each other in what must have been a force of habit as she drew imaginary lines in the glass. "The region there is quite unstable, from what I have been told. The leaders of the current - well, not to seem boorish but they are something of a brutal regime. The NAC has some assets in the region that are being threatened by certain less tractable parties. A straw of Tuber Malt if you please." She graced their waiter with a smile as he came to offer them drinks.

"The Chanteclair please," Thannicus gave the waiter a smile of his own, though it was considerably less charming than Belleza's. He turned back to the striking woman. "That is troubling to hear...but not unexpected. The UAG in general could be described as 'less tractable', so I certainly understand how your corporation may be encountering difficulties. I don't believe Her Imperial Majesty's Government could condone what we understand to be a violation of Artanin sovereignty. But personally I am most sympathetic to your difficulties."

The unspoken implication of course was that anything Thannicus personally felt was reflective of the unofficial opinion of the government he served. Such was the way of things on Corinthene.

"Trust me when I say nobody is more upset than the Circuit." Belleza's smile turned ever-so-slightly down. "You see, after several cycles of being stonewalled, we were contacted by a party we were informed had the authority to lobby policy directly with their body of Ministers, one thing led to another, there were a few...massacres perpetrated here and there by separatist movements. Quite frankly the NAC has been harried by every other Artanin in a suit, claiming to represent the actual legislative body of the United Governments..." Belleza shook her head, slowly, once. Her smile thinned, becoming a stern line as she turned her gaze up from the table to look Thannicus in the eye once more. "I'll be blunt. The NAC does not wish to - refuses in fact - to associate with any known or potential terrorist bodies. We were forced to move forward with our agenda in UAG space on a presumption of abrogated sovereignty." She held up her free hand, part of her corded sash wrapped about her wrist and making a faint clicking noise as the cord tying it to her waist dragged across the table. "I know that sounds bad, but we are trying our best to hold out for...whatever legitimate political body eventually reemerges. The Ninth Amaranthine Circuit is fully prepared to honor a preestablished contract with the peoples of the Artanin Governments so that both we and they may mutually benefit and prosper as one from what will be accrued through our interests there."

Belleza lowered her hand and adopted a small, piteous smile as she lowered her head just-so, forcing Thannicus to look down towards her across the table. "The NAC was deceived into an arrangement and it would be costly not only for us, but for the Artanin people as well, for us to abandon what we have started there. Once stability in the region has been restored, we will of course abide by the sovereignty of the United Governments and their wishes, but for the moment we have a fiduciary duty to the people in the region to safeguard their future dividends."

Thannicus leaned back in his chair, processing what he'd heard. He was silent for a moment, during which the waiter slippped in to deposit their drinks. Thannicus nodded appreciatively, took his glass, and after a cursory sniff, took a long sip, savouring the wine's rich flavour.

"Ms.Trianedyne, I must thank you for providing the NAC's side of the story. Frankly what you've told me today is much more substantial than anything I've heard so far, and I'll be sure that my superiors are informed of the realities of the situation. Nevertheless, a nation's sovereignty is sacrosanct, and my Government will be hard pressed to alter its views on that point." He took another long sip of wine, as if the matter was settled. Belleza raised her head again, adopting her prior posture and seemingly appraised Thannicus with a cool expression as he drank. Her left hand traced towards the deceptively thin and long straw of glass of her own drink, fingering the recepticle delicately.

"This does all remind me of a rather humorous incident from the other day," Thannicus said meaningfully. "Someone accidentally sent around a draft memo on the economic beneftis of inviting the United Artanian Governments into the Commonwealth." He tried to chuckle lightly, but it came out sounding rather forced. "A classic blunder in the Directorate. All the more amusing in how timely it is."

For perhaps two seconds, Belleza continued to simply stare cooly at Thannicus, as if he were some particularly fascinating souffle. But a moment later though, her face practically lit up and she returned his chuckle with a soft, light laugh reminescent of rain falling across a forest canopy. "Oh, don't I know it. The same thing happens all the time at our corporate HQ down by the Calorwoods. Why, just the other day, somebody accidentally slipped some statistical data on our stock returns into my orbital holdings portfolio!" Her laugh faded to a light chuckle, and then abruptly her face fell to a more cool expression as she lifted the straw of glass with her drink in it and took the smallest of sips, staring at him intently from over it. Barely a fraction of the already miniscule thread of liquid vanished from her glass, and it was then that Thannicus remember that Tuber Malt was a particularly potent beverage. The thin straw of glass Belleza was drinking from would probably be enough to send her home unconscious if she took the whole thing at once.

She lowered the glass and her smile returned as both of her ears fluttered lightly and became less taut. "Well, I for one think it would be a splendid idea for the United Governments to become part of the Commonwealth. The light of Llyena and her majesty is precisely what the Artanins need to get all their kits quiet."

The waiter arrived once more to place their orders. Thannicus gave him a small smile and ordered the arctic thon, a particularly succulant fish native to the colder waters of Corinthene. Belleza ordered a Chestnut Souffle and requested two garnishes to go with it - something of a sweet meal, and not particularly filling.

"Oh, the Commonwealth always welcomes the opportunity to foster development and security in the galaxy. It would certainly solve the NAC's problems in the region as well. Ah well, perhaps one day. For now it's just a hypothetical discussion." Thannicus remembered not to slip Belleza a wink at that last comment. "A very interesting one certainly, but not the stuff of actionable policy."

"Yes, of course, after all, I am certain the cabinet has most of its political capital tied up in that upcoming push for automating the verge and colonial industrial bases!" Belleza agreed with a sly smile, followed by a slight tilt of her head as she closed her eyes to take a sip from nearly a fifth of the remaining fluid in her thin straw glass.

Thannicus managed not to frown or say anything revealing he had heard no such thing, but his ears flicked rather noticeably. "Yes...it's a...contentious issue to be sure."

"Ha! You don't say! Even a few airheaded glamorins I passed on the way here were up in arms about it. Quite the daring policy change. Very bold. Though I have no real opinion on the matter, advanced robotic automation is somewhat beyond my purview." Belleza laughed again as she lowered her glass, her ears now having a faint and alluring, folded droop to them.

Thannicus was saved from having to fabricate a response by the arrival of their orders. He resolved to ask his colleagues about the matter when he got back to the office. Belleza's souffle had barely touched down on the table before she viciously stabbed into the garnishes atop it before cutting it up into pieces, determined to seemingly mince the dessert thoroughly before actually tasting any of it.

Thannicus dug into his thon with a little less enthusiasm. He chewed slowly as he cast about for a way to conceal his ignorance on the topic, and he thought back to earlier in the conversation, sneaking the occasional glance at Belleza's ears. "It's funny you should mention stock returns actually. I was just looking at some rather irregular market data yesterday."

"Irregular?" That got Belleza's attention. She looked up with something approaching apprehension of her face - understandable, since any kind of irregularity in market data significant enough to even appear as an irregularity in the first place for a market as flush and large as the Commonwealth's Core Worlds was nothing to ignore. "I...Oh, I hope I am not intruding upon any of the Directorate's mandates by prying."

Distracted as he was by her ears, Thannicus mistook Belleza's interest in the subject for interest in him personally. "Oh, nothing I can't share with a valued associate. It's all public data, it's the apparent irregularity that's the interesting part. You see..." Thannicus managed to carry on for a good ten minutes uninterupted on the exact nature of the discrepency, only too pleased to show off his expertise for his attractive lunch companion. His attractive lunch companion who seemed to drink everything he said in with incrementally increasing amounts of her excedingly strong intoxicating beverage.

"Hooh, you....you know-" Belleza said, fingering her nearly obscured straw glass suggestively with both hands now, less than a sixth of its original contents remaining. Her ears were pricked ever so slightly at the tips, and though drooping considerably around the bases had adopted a very pleasurable curve to their overall length. "That- That's, well, I'm not a handsome acolyte- analyst policy like you are, but when my assistant, they screwed up my asset prot-prot-" Belleza paused for a moment, blinking concertedly several times. "PORTFOLIO! Yes, momentary jutter there, I thought there was something weird about it. Now..." She paused again, taking another sip from her straw glass, the remaining liquid within growing treacherously shallow. She then pulled her left wrist up, drawing her business case connected to her waist and wrist by durachrome cable she had been dragging across the edge of the table the whole time during Thannicus' speech, and started to pry it open. "Normally, this isn't really something I'm supposed to do, but well you've been letting me hear about your...really great...exciting work...because I'm a valued associate...and I'm pretty sure that makes you a valued associate of mine, and maybe it will help, so..." Belleza rifled through the case distractedly, her words ever-so-slightly indistinct, until she found a small display-pane with a utilitarian silver trim and slid it across the table to Thannicus.

"I mean, it looks like...something might be messed up? And if the market is also mussed- fussed up, it's probably related right? Whats is your...expert opinion if that's ok." Belleza's voice took on a certain airy, breathy quality as she voiced her inquiry, her eyelids lowered ever so faintly as she gazed at him expectantly.

Quite thoroughly under her spell by now, Thannicus picked up the pane without much thought for terms like 'conflict of interest'. He frowned as he read. "Well, it seems to me you're going to be dealing with a significant surplus of a whole range of goods and materials. This doesn't look good for the NAC's earning potential. I'm inclined to think your initial projections were far too pessimistic, and your stock may become over-valued. Not that it's anyone's fault, I can think of several ways this might have happened on its own. Most likely..." the policy analyst llaunched into another monologue, convinced that Belleza was absolutely enthralled by the subject.

However, he was eventually cut off by a bright, ringing tone from the vicinity around Belleza's left wrist - which had been busily running and stroking her left ear for a while now. "Whoops! I've- we appear to have stayed, just a bit, past desert. I think it's maybe...early evening now? Uh, I have to get back...back to the...future...past...uh...circuit...The offices, yeah, but this was great." She got up, unsteady and about to fall over until the automated chair, well-accustomed to saving incapacitated customers, rose to steady her stance by pressing against her back while she regained her balance. She spent a moment adjusting her business case and the durachrome cord it was secured with, which had become wrapped around her whole arm three times somehow during Thannicus' speech. She then bobbed pleasantly over to Thannicus and nipped him lightly on the snout before standing as tall as she could. "We should...this again, yeah? Hope you...analyze those...that irregularity what-for. My bosses would like that. I would like that. Next time!" She errantly held out her wrist like she had when she first met him, but seemingly could not hold it all the way up. Belleza giggled faintly and then stumbled off towards the elevators, leaving a smitten and perplexed Thannicus behind her to pay the bill.

It was not until he had paid and reached the elevator himself a while later that he realized he was still holding onto the display-pane Belleza had shown him.



The Ninth Amaranthine Circuit
Akkamarid System
Point Phokashra

Point Phokashra was the literal center of the NAC's operations. In addition to being located at the central-most coordinate location within their territory, it was also located on top of the Akkamarid barycenter between the Greganev and Librens stellar binaries, serving as a bridge between the otherwise relatively distant locales. Though definitively residing within the Akkamarid system proper, the system's boundaries were vast due to its quaternary status. A vast gulf of more than two-thousand astronomical units lay between the station and the closer Librens binary. While still encompassed within the overlapping, gargantuan heliospheres of the stars Tramitet and Estre, leaving the immense gulf between them a relatively clear and cool void, the station was nonetheless almost effectively positioned in the middle of interstellar space.

Phokashra itself was a massive, sprawling starbase. Little more than a kilometer in diameter when it was built five years prior, the station sprawled out in every direction like some unfathomably massive urchin now more than thirty-six kilometers from end to end. The density of traffic in and about the tremendous station was higher than some planets in the Commonwealth's Coreworlds saw. A ring of smaller supporting stations, minuscule specks in comparison, ringed the station across all three of its axis. It was no exaggeration to say Phokashra was the beating heart and the central nexus of the NAC's existence.

Very near to the core of the immense structure, a single figure rode a tram through an armored transit shaft, reinforced blast-doors opening ahead of it and slamming shut behind as the platform descended into the secure center of Phkashra. They were altogether distinct and unique relative to the standard Plasmodium templates favored by the NAC in most circumstances, being a natural species as opposed to designed - though their anatomy was unlike anything seen in the local region of the galaxy. Their lower body was a mass of twelve, rubbery, seemingly boneless hydrostatic limbs, supporting a torso with six arms and a bulbous head that seemed to surge across the creature's back with a distended, fluttering mantle of flesh. Most of the alien being's body was covered in a dark crimson skintight suit, though it wore firmer, metal frames around and underneath the folds of its mantle while a mask obscured most of what was presumably its face.

The tram finally shuddered to a halt and a chiming, animatronic voice rang out as a final layer of blast-doors and a wavering field of shielding lowered to permit the creature pasage.

'Identification confirmed. Welcome, Ariamache Four.'

Ariamache slithered and drifted through the darkened interior of the infrequently traversed core sector, which was truthfully much smaller than most might have otherwise imagined, at least as far as accessible areas went. There were, in fact, only four places one could go, all accessible from a single junction that Ariamache quickly reached. Four signs manually carved into the metal of the corridor walls were present, lines of luminescent coils winding within the grooves so as to make it immediately apparent exactly where one was and where they were headed even in the event of power failure.

Sending Platform
Subspace Observation
Kalpa Vault
Iteration Analysis

Paying no mind to the other three passageways, Ariamache drifted down the corridor leading to Iteration Analysis. Passing through unseen layers of security and a final shielded door, Ariamache entered the small meeting room. Little more than a slick, black-topped conference table in the middle of a darkened hemisphere-shaped room, the curving ceiling serving as a massive imaging system, currently displaying a map of the known galaxy in bright, contrasting colors so as not to unnecessarily darken the rest of the room. Already present were eleven other alien beings of the same species as Ariamache, gathered together at great inconvenience. As a matter of doctrine, none of them were permitted to participate in the meeting remotely. Not only would doing so be very nearly impossible due to the excessive security features of the core sector, but it would doubtlessly have opened an unacceptable vulnerability in those security features. While the NAC was eager, willing, and in fact expectant of the fact that a great deal of their secrets and technology would eventually be deciphered by foreign powers, the contents of the four sections of the core sector could never be revealed to outsiders, ever, no matter the cost. The stakes were far too high to gamble with the ambiguities of how even a single sapient being would react.

"This meeting of the Second Board is hereby commenced." The being to Ariamache's left indicated as she took her place at the table, distinguished from the rest of the gathered beings by the luminous, orange stripes running along the arms of its skinsuit. "The only new topic of consideration at this time is the impending issue of the Daisan Order."

The hemispherical imager surrounding the table moved and zoomed in to display the three-dimensional boundaries of Daisan controlled space, as far as it had been determined - though even the incomplete map showed that the fringes of their territory alone possessed more volume than the rest of the powers in the local region combined.

"As discussed previously, a plan has already been formulated in order to extend the VMSRA disc into Daisan space, which has a high projected certainty of success, albeit at significantly greater cost than otherwise normally acceptable. The means of constructing a single VMSRA within Daisan space safely and securely outweighs the cost of building twelve anywhere else. The First Board is still examining potential ramifications and consequences of the chosen methodology, but that is not what we are here to discuss."

The hemispherical screen refocused again, until the three-dimensional plane of stars had shrunk to show a small rectangular corridor of space - containing numerous territories, but with three in particular highlighted.

"As you are already aware, within the Federation, the UAG, and the Empire of Astrana, we have elected to pursue implementation agendas on the assumption of abrogated sovereignty of the respective powers. For various reasons. However, it appears that in all three cases - even in the case of the UAG - it has been decided that our presence in their territories is not to be tolerated even in light of the Daisan threat. Contrary to our expectations, it does indeed seem that these powers are destabilized and stagnant to the point where they would in fact prefer their senseless destruction over-"

"Skip past the bit where you are mad over being wrong about being able to bully them in their own homes and get to the point." Ariamache cut the decorated being off. He bristled faintly, but moved on with only the barest hint of indignity.

"All three powers are about to imminently launch military operations to expel our forces and decommission our facilities - all presently still under construction and far from active. The First Board has examined our own analysis of the situation and decided that it was inadequate. They indicate that these powers are likely to hold the grudge against us for some time, and that this will become a point of international friction as the local galactic community starts to ally together in order to combat the Daisan threat. Even in the event that the NAC is not sanctioned by a formal gathering of some kind, it will become difficult for us to infringe upon their territories again without invoking the anger of our current allies."

"And their current experiences with us will make them unlikely to entertain future offers." The being to Ariamache's right, distinguished by their dark-blue skinsuit and the stark-white coloration of their rubbery skin, stated matter-of-factly.

"Correct. Thus, the First Board has ordered us to test our prototype VMSRA modules intended for use in Daisan space within these hostile powers as soon as is convenient." The decorated creature indicated.

"They ask the impossible." Ariamache indicated. "The stockpile we have set aside in preparation for our incursion into Daisan space is already a massive drain on our resources, and we are expected to drain them further by testing the new convection stations in three separate territories at once? Impossible. Perhaps once the secondary ring of systems has finished being colonized...But not before."

The blue-suited alien shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not. We still have no mandated timetable for our incursion into the Daisan field of influence. There is no reason not to leave them for another day and use the stockpile to test within these three regions."

"Which is unacceptable." A green-clad being at the opposite end of the table stood at their full height whilst speaking. "With the Daisan, our forbidden access of Kalpa Vault schematics ahead of schedule to devise the new convection stations is necessary, since otherwise the disc cannot possibly be expanded into their space. But these other powers are more...tractable. Sophisticated, even. They will have far greater cause to probe and pry as to the exact nature of the stations. It could lead to a breach of the core secrets if their investigations prove thorough enough."

"That opinion, while noted, is awfully pessimistic. You assume any of the present powers in the galaxy even have the means to detect what we will be doing." The blue-suited being replied.

"It is nonetheless a warranted fear." Ariamache interjected. "If we give them any reason to investigate, we must assume they will. For that reason, I suggest we run diversionary efforts in all three realms. Given our present strain of resources, I suggest strictly asymmetrical tactics of attrition while we maintain a ploy of conventional VMSRA stations."

"Agreed." Came the chorus of replies.

"I accept that the chances are remote, but what if one of the three powers should detect our efforts?" The green-suited being inquired.

Andromache's six-arms wavered and undulated in a fashion equivalent to a shrug. "All three regions are...quite politically unstable. Although it would otherwise be undesirable, given the context of our situation, destabilizing the regions further in the event our own efforts should be discovered will likely preclude any further efforts on their parts, at least for long enough that the convection stations will become active."

Whitehall Palace
Old Quarter, Brandenburg
Praetoria

Lord Sir Robert Castlereagh, Earl Katyusha, Knight-Companion of the order of St. Diae, and Minister of Foreign Affairs for Her Imperial Majesty's Government pulled open the rich velvet curtains of his office. The sun was just breaking over the ancient stone spires of Brandenburg’s Old Quarter, glinting off the snow and ice and amplifying its somewhat feeble rays. Praetoria was on the cooler end of habitable worlds spectrum, and Brandenburg was really a little too close to the south pole for comfort. Consequently, Castlereagh’s office windows were covered by heavy red velvet curtains, and a massive fireplace dominated the other wall. An actual fire burning actual wood filled that fireplace, but it was made entirely redundant by the modern climate control that had been retrofitted into the old palace at no small cost.

Castlereagh turned away from the window and contemplated the map being projected above his desk. The desk was a beautiful piece, hand crafted from a rich dark wood centuries ago. The antiquity of the desk was verging on sacred in Castlereagh’s mind: modern technology was awkwardly perched in various places atop it, rather than built into it. The map didn’t tell Castlereagh anything new, but he found it helped to focus his thoughts.

Just then, the door opened, admitting a rhodesian and a yanissan. Lord Sir Cato Telemachus, Knight-Fellow of the order of St. Diae, Baron Polesia, took the specially designed smaller seat in front of Castlereagh’s desk. “Good morning Robert,” he said amiably. “Good morning Cato”, Castlereagh replied. “Good morning Martuf, so glad you could join us” he called over to the Yanissan, who was warming himself by the fire.

Lord Captain Commander Martuf of Sthiss Eban flashed Castlereagh a toothy grin. “Sarcasm suits you very well Robert.”
“Thank you I suppose. I do wish you’d wait to be invited to these meetings.”
“You did want me here today though, so I don’t see what the difficulty is.”

Castlereagh sighed and chose not to prod further. Martuf did always seem to know exactly what everyone was thinking. Castlereagh suspected he was a psintegrat, but as a yanisssan he never would’ve escaped Toolbox, so he had to be affiliated with that shadowy organization somehow. But that only partially explained the enigma of Martuf: not only did he seem to know what everyone was thinking, he seemed to know what everyone was doing as well, in all corners of the Commonwealth. He was also apparently quite close to the Imperial Queen, and so had inserted himself into the Metternich government in an advisory capacity. His advice was often very useful, but it still bothered Castlereagh to rely on a person he knew very little about.

“What’s the map got you thinking about today Robert?” Telemachus asked by way of changing the subject.
“Oh, a few things. Namely the Daisan.”
“I should think we have things closer to home to worry about,” Martuf said mildly.
“You’re just annoyed that they’re the one thing you know nothing about,” Telemachus shot back, causing the Yanissan to frown sharply, but he offered no response. Telemachus continued; “I can see why you’d be thinking about them Robert. They’re certainly an enigma. The Feds are no pushovers, but by all accounts they just keep losing ground. And still we know virtually nothing about the Daisan.”
“And that’s exactly it. If anyone is going to hold the line against the Daisan, it’s going to be the Feds...and perhaps they could use our help. The Empire is a mess we won’t delve into, and does anybody trust the Union to hold the Daisan away from our borders?” The question was met with silence.

“But maybe I am thinking too long term. The Daisan are not our concern yet.” Castlereagh adjusted the map to focus on the UAG. “The Artanins, however, very well could be. The Lord Chancellor has asked me to look into the possibility of offering them membership. Discreetly of course.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened slightly. “I hadn’t realized the idea had become so...official”
“The opposition parties are starting to toss it around as well. I have it on very good information that they’ll be bringing it up when Parliament resumes.” Martuf said in his usual mild tone.

“Then we have to act fast if we’re to take credit for the idea,” Castlereagh mentally thanked Martuf for that timely bit of intelligence, though he’d never express his gratitude out loud. “Cato, can we stand it? We’re still settling down from the Valerian integration right? Can we handle another new member so soon?”

Telemachus shrugged in a ‘maybe’ gesture. “It would be tricky. We’d have to follow a more standard integration strategy, probably designate all of the UAG worlds colonial holdings and let the economy do its thing. We certainly can’t afford another special exemption like the Valerians. Even so, I’d predict the unrest would be substantial. I’d have to get back to you with actual numbers, but off the top of my head we’d be looking at a few hundred thousand dead from Civil Order operations. It’s nothing we can’t handle, IF nothing else major comes up.”

Castlereagh nodded. “That’s workable. The Feds won’t be happy if we court the UAG, but they’re hardly in a position to fight us on this.”
“Not directly,” Martuf interjected. “But they could still support Artanin dissidents, supply and arm them, even send a few ships. Angel fleet comes to mind. I think they might need a little incentivizing to stay out of the area. Which brings us back to the Daisan. If the Federation stays out of our business, a few battlefleets could find their way to the front. If not, those battlefleets stay home.”

“That’s certainly worth exploring.” It was the closest Castlereagh would come to saying ‘good idea Martuf!’.

They were all silent for a moment, thinking. “Alright,” Castlereagh said finally. “I’m going to send word to Anderson Ribbentrop at one of our Verge offices. I’m going to tell him to float the idea of membership past the UAG if he gets the chance. Ideally, I’d like to wait for them to contact us on an unrelated matter, but if we don’t hear from them before parliament resumes, Ribbentrop will be instructed to initiate contact from our end.”

“You think they’ll reach out to us first?” Telemachus said dubiously.

“Almost certainly, with what we’ve since confirmed about NAC activity in their space. I suspect they’ll want us to intercede in some way...speaking of the NAC...Martuf, you wouldn’t happen to know anything more about them would you? I’m not entirely satisfied with the explanation they gave about their activities in the UAG. It’s...odd for a transstellar, even one as rich as they are, to so brazenly defy a sovereign state.” Castlereagh seemed hesitant to directly ask for the yanissan man’s help directly.

Martuf grinned widely. “Such a nasty suspicious mind you have Robert. I love it. I don’t immediately know much more about them than you do. A major transstellar from off to the galactic southeast, with a legitimately incorporated division here in the Commonwealth. The VMSRA’s are ostensibly part of a mapping program aimed at improving FTL travel, and the blueprints they provided certainly seem to support that. Something about using essentially an inverted FTL disruption field to match the curvature of faster than light dimensions, very interesting stuff really. For the most part, inspector reports support that, though half of them were probably bribed so we can’t be sure. I’m inclined to agree that they’re a bit odd, odd enough to pique my curiosity. I’ll ask around.”

Silence prevailed again, each man thinking about all they’d discussed. Telemachus broke the silence this time. “Well, I think we’ve covered what we need to, I for one would like some breakfast.”

------------------------------------------------------



CSC Corinthene
Deep Space

Admiral Lady Dame Lord Captain Commander Selissa of Sthiss Elanin, Knight-Indomnitus of the Order of King Nicholas, Duchess Wurzov, and First Void Lord of the Admiralty, was considerably shorter than her lengthy title, with an equally short temper to match. She was somewhat unusual for a Yanissan, turning her species’ propensity for intrigue and convoluted plots towards military strategy instead. She’d joined the Royal Commonwealth Navy decades ago, and served with tremendous distinction, earning herself a knighthood and membership in the peerage, until she was eventually selected to be the navy’s highest ranked uniformed officer.

Selissa was in good spirits today. She stood on CSC Corinthene’s flag bridge, surrounded by the comforting murmur of a flagship in operation. Corinthene was Home Fleet’s flagship, on loan to ferry Selissa and a large number of VIPs to observe the test firing of the new hypometric arrays. The hypometric systems had been in development for years, and had successfully been fired from remote platforms. Today was the first attempt to fire them from a functioning warship, the Imperial-class heavy cruiser RCNS Unyielding. Only the newer RCN designs had enough spare power to mount hypometric arrays, so even if the weapons proved a success, their deployment would be limited for quite some time.

“Nervous, Aldona?” Selissa said quietly to the vit’azny woman beside her. Admiral Dame Aldona Markov, Knight-Companion of the order of King Nicholas, Fourth Void Lord of the Admiralty and head of the Bureau of Weapons, shook her head emphatically. “Not really, Selissa. The weapon will perform as expected. I’m just concerned it won’t be flashy enough for the civvy VIPs we have down in the observation deck.”

It was a valid concern. The hypometric weapons were Aldona’s pet project, but since they spontaneously generated transient singularities, there wasn’t really much to see until they hit something. Far less flashy than positron beams or railgun broadsides. The entire point of this particular test firing was to show off the weapons to the civilians, let them know what tricks the Navy was developing, what they were getting in return for all that tax money. Normally weapon development was kept under wraps until it was actively deployed in the fleet, but the less than stellar ‘victory’ over the IUC a few years ago meant the Navy needed to show off it’s stuff. The hypometric arrays weren’t likely to fundamentally alter Commonwealth doctrine, simply augment it, so the thought of foreign nations getting a glimpse of them wasn’t particularly troubling.

“Unyielding reports ready Ma’am,” a technician reported. Selissa nodded, and simply said: “Tell Unyielding; you may fire when ready.”

Screens around the bridge--and down on the observation deck--focused on the first target, a large asteroid. There was nothing for a few moments, then a large chunk of the asteroid abruptly disappeared, as if a hand had reached out to scoop out a neat semi-sphere from its surface. The screens focused on the second target, a squadron of autonomous drones flying in an evasive pattern. Again, there was nothing, then three of the drones disappeared, two were scooped in half, and the remainder were pulled into the epicenter, a number of them colliding with eachother. The final target was an old decommissioned battleship. There was a bright flash and crackle as the weapon slashed through the target’s shields. A pause, then a scoop of the target’s hull disappeared...a scoop that contained about half the reactor. The target abruptly exploded as its reactor destabilized. Markov had evidently thought of a way to make the weapon flashier for demonstration purposes.

Applause rang out on the bridge, Selissa joining in with a smile. “Well done Aldona, that indeed performed to expectations.”
Markov smiled then shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t expect to be one shotting live targets, but I think I’ve proved the viability of the weapon. We’re already working it into in-progress ship construction, and we can begin refitting existing ships immediately.”
Selissa nodded. “We’ll start with 5th fleet. Congratulations once again.”

UAG Space
Lepta Colony #2, Lepta System


All traffic to and from Lepta Colony #2 had been halted by order of the system Governor and no ships were to leave their relative positions from when the order had been given, which left hundreds of small civilian ships still in the black of the void, waiting for whatever was happening to end so they could get back to their work. The only ships allowed to move were the small contingent of ANF that had already been present in the system, which sat still just off the starboard side of the station.

Ambassador Quintus Mons made good time down the main thoroughfare of Lepta 2, mainly due to the lack of any cars on the road thanks to the curfew that had been implemented by the colony officials, and only had to stop at three heavily armed checkpoints on the way to the meeting room that had been hastily thrown together in a side office of the Colonial Shipping Administration Offices next to the #4 hangar of the station.

As the caravan neared the Shipping Administrations Entrance they passed a group of four Goliath tanks, all of which were facing their turrets at the building itself. Ambassador Mons pulled at the tie around his neck, his eyes setting slightly purple as he worried about all the extra precautions. Upon entrance to the buildings internal parking lot, the Ambassador was dropped off at the doors and quickly ushered away by a group of AGF Marines, five total, clad in black armor with weapons that seemed to be bristling with too many addons, “Isn’t this a llittle excessive Marine?” the Ambassador stammered out as the Marines led him to the meeting room at a brisk pace.

“Just following orders Sir. Never know what these alien bastards might really be planning.” responded one of the Marines that was walking ahead of him.

“Right…” the Ambassador replied. It was obvious that the Council didn’t trust the Commonwealth, but it was the Ambassador's job to ensure that everything went smoothly, and with this many guns in play… He would be hard pressed to maintain an air of calm and calculated diplomacy with any race, let alone the Commonwealth.

RNCS Anna Karenina approached Lepta Colony #2 at approximately 70% of maximum decceleration. She was an older Reliant-class battlecruiser, one of the first built, and she was due for retrofitting any day now, but she was still a capable ship. Using a battlecruiser as a diplomatic envoy ship might have seemed oddly aggressive to others, but it was a perfectly acceptable--even normal--practice for the Commonwealth, which had been known to conduct literal gunboat diplomacy before.

Anderson Ribbentrop watched the pinpoint of the UAG station--highlighted by a holographic overlay--grow larger through the window of his quarters. Few enough people on any military vessel got a window, and as a former navy man himself, Ribbentrop appreciated the luxury. By long precedent, civilians were not allowed on the bridge, even senior diplomat civilians. But Captain Wellesley had been kind enough to provide a visual link to the ship's nerve center, which was displayed on Ribbentrop's desk holo-plot.

"They've put a complete halt on all civilian traffic Anderson," Wellesley said over the link. "It's eerie. Strangely enough, I'm only picking up a few military vessels, nothing heavier than a light cruiser. That's not enough to stop us from leaving the system if things get hairy, by the way," he added, in a vague attempt to sound reassuring.

Ribbentrop had figured that much; he'd commanded one of the Reliant-class' precursors back in the day, and while exact capabilities had changed, he still knew how a Commonwealth battlcruiser would stack up against such a light picket force. Of course if they stayed and fought, the UAG ships would destroy them soon enough, suffering heavy losses of their own. But if Anna Karenina decided she was leaving, it was doubtful the light ships would have enough firepower to stop her.

But he decided to humour the younger Vit'azny. "Really Arthur? They still have the numerical advantage."
"Oh absolutely. But if we went to maximum military acceleration and full defensive fire on the railgun batteries, it's doubtful they could get through before we cleared the gravity well and made the transit to slipspace. The Reliants are a lot more survivable than the old Ramparts you know, mostly because of changes to the grav-emitters and the...."
Ribbentrop let Wellesley educate him on the exact technical specifications of the ship, happy enough to listen and occasionally comment, letting the conversation fill the time as they approached the station.

Soon enough, Ribbentrop, two hulking szitzu marines and a single Su'urtugal were on their way over to the Artanin station in an assault shuttle. Again, an apparently odd choice, but Anna Karenina didn't actually have any unarmed small craft aside from her courier boats, and those would not fit anything more than their pilot. The shuttle landed without incident, the hatch opened, and the marines stepped out to check the area. They were greeted by a mass of black clad soldiers, far outnumbering Ribbentrop's escort. The vit'azny diplomat followed the marines out of the shuttle, and the Su'urtugal brought up the rear. One of the marines turned to Ribbentrop. "Some advice; try not to piss them off. I don't think even scaly back there can get you out of here if you do."

Ribbentrop smiled. "Noted Corporal. When have vit'azny diplomats ever pissed anyone off?"
The marine slumped his shoulders comically. "We're screwed."
Ribbentrop laughed, then led the way forward.

Ambassador Mons paced the meeting room impatiently. They had sent a message for a diplomatic meeting on Lepta 2 just three days before, and hadn’t expected a reply so quickly, or a fully armed Battlecruiser to be in system just as fast. The military and the local government weren’t prepared. He wasn’t prepared, he had barely had anytime to read up on the Commonwealth and it’s different species, “Szitzu are covered in fur and large.” he said to himself as he paced, “Vit’azny have pointed ears and squished faces, usually in charge,” his words grew quicker and his breath a bit more hoarse, “and then there's the scaled ones that no one knows what they do.” his eyes were tinting from purple to a light brown as the gravity of his predicament began to set in on him.

“Ambassador. The envoys are aboard, four total. Three combat and the Diplomat. One minute.” came the cool and collected voice of the Marine that was standing at the door.

Mons shot a look his way, the color in his eyes fading to a normal clear tint, “Thank you Marine.” he said as he took his place two meters back from the double doors that led into the meeting room. He took a sip from the glass of water on the table, straightened his suit a little, and clasped his hands in front of his waist to wait for the envoys.

The Marine to Mons’s front pulled open the doors effortlessly, and in strode three AGF Marines who quickly spread out in the room, behind them, were the envoys.

Ambassador Mons eyes remained clear as raised his hand toward the Vit’azny at the head of the group, “Ambassador Quintus Mons, Designated Representative for the United Artanin Governments for the duration of this meeting, it is my pleasure to host you. If only we could have both brought less guns.” he said, his words resounded confidence and his perfectly still hand did not betray the great fear that was welling in his stomach as he began to study the soldiers behind the Vit’azny diplomat.

Ribbentrop gave a faint smile as his in ear translator relayed the message, though he wasn't sure the ambassador would understand the expression given the nature of Artanese physiology. He bowed slightly. "Sir Anderson Ribbentrop, representing her Imperial Majesty's Government, the Lord Chancellor of the Commonwealth, and her Imperial Majesty herself. Thank you for your hospitatlity; it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. As for the guns, I like to think they help us understand eachother's intentions. In fact I was quite impressed by the tanks."

"Fear" the alien thought pushed itself into Ribbentrops mind. Years of discipline stopped him from looking over his shoulder at the Su'urtugal behind him, but his eyes shifted that way. The yanissan special operatives were capable psintegrae, among other things. The marines were there as a cover really; if things went south, the frighteningly effective Su'urtugal would be responsible for getting the diplomat out. Against the kind of firepower the Artanins had assembled though, even the Su'urtugal's formidable skillset would probably not be enough.

Ribbentrop had been quite strict in his orders; read surface emotions only. No poking around in their thoughts, no intruding on their privacy, nothing to upset the UAG representative. He brought his eyes back to the Artanese ambassador. If the man was afraid, he was doing an excellent job concealing it. That, or he was a psintegrat himself, and was projecting false emotions. Good to know he was afraid, but whether he was afraid of Ribbentrop's escort, the battlecruiser outside, or the Commonwealth in general was hard to say. Possibly all three. The first two represented rather immediate threats, while the Commonwealth in general could certainly be intimidating to an emerging galactic power.

Still, what to do with that fear was a delicate question, and it depended on the nature of the Ambassador. He might be the kind of man to quail and acquiesce to demands when pressured, or he might be the kind of man to clam up and have Ribbentrop removed from the station. Best to play it safe. Ribbentrop took a seat and reclined in it slightly, trying to appear relaxed. "I'm hardly an expert, but they look very capable," he said casually, in reference to the tanks.

Mons put his hand down to his side and, like any good diplomat, returned the others bow. An odd act, but not unheard of amongst different cultures within the UAG so it was easy enough to return it. He took a seat across from the Vit’azny, his eyes flashed orange for a moment as Ribbentrop brought up the tanks, but quickly faded back to their clear tint.

Mons leaned over and took a folder from the briefcase that was placed next to his seat. He lightly placed it on the table and opened the front cover, “Sir Ribbentrop, I apologize for calling you out here so abruptly. But it has come to the attention of the UAG that there are violations of our sovereign space taking place.” as he spoke he pulled out some pictures and slid them across the table to Ribbentrop, he felt the act was odd, but the UAG wasn’t sure if the Commonwealth would be able to easily merge their file holding devices and be able to use them so the smarter linguists back on Salus decided it’d be easier to have material images, Mons was inclined to agree.

“There have been two instances to date of these construction projects beginning, one of which is almost complete the other has just begun.” the images that were now in front of Ribbentrop were optical photos of the large N.A.C. stations, complete and obviously operating one and one that was no more than scaffolding and materials, “we are aware that this company, the Ninth Amaranthine Circuit as it is known, is a company that is chartered from within the Commonwealth.”

He leaned slightly back, echoing his guests demeanor as he continued, “As a chartered company from within the Commonwealth, it is our understanding that you should be able to have the N.A.C. cease all building operations immediately and cede the stations to the UAG as they are unlawfully violating our space.” he leaned forward a bit, his eyes narrowing and the color shifting to a slightly green hue, “This is the reason for this meeting today.” he stated with a smile.

Ribbentrop frowned as he looked at the photos and listened to Mons. He carefully considered his next words. "I had heard rumours," he admitted, "but this is the first concrete evidence I've seen of such intrusions." Technically not a lie; confirmation of the NAC's activities had come from the NAC itself via a midlevel bureaucrat a few days before Ribbentrop left, but that confirmation had not included anything so concrete as photographs. "This is most concerning, but I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding of sorts. The NAC does indeed have a division incorporated and liscensed in the Commonwealth, but the company itself comes from elsewhere, somewhere to the galactic southeast. Their board of directors and primary headquarters are not in the Commonwealth, and the division that does operate within our borders is seperate from whichever is operating in the UAG's space."

He paused for a moment. "However, the Commonwealth division of the NAC does have knowledge of their counterpart's operations here. They insist they were given authority to begin operations in your space by someone at least claiming to represent your government. Whether or not this is true is debatable, but the real problem is we cannot legally censure or otherwise punish the our division of the NAC for what another division is doing in the sovereign space of a foreign nation. Frankly, we also have very little incentive to do so. The NAC is providing jobs and growth to our economy. Sanctions or other formal actions would hurt us as badly as them."

"Now, hypothetically, if the NAC were illegaly violating the sovereignty of a member of the Commonwealth, immediate, forceful action would be taken to rectify the situation. But that is not the nature of the situation here, so I'm afraid I can offer little more than to act as a mediator in resolving your government's disputes with the NAC." Ribbentrop took a sip of water, his throat parched after all that talking.

Mons nodded along politely as Ribbentrop spoke, being sure to allow his eyes to show his interest in the diplomats words as they turned a light orange. His interest piqued as Ribbentrop spoke of the N.A.C. not actually being an originally Commonwealth based company, “Is that so.” Mons said quietly as Ribbentrop continued to speak.

Then came the news that the Ambassador was hoping wouldn’t have been brought up. The fact that the NAC that was building within the UAG was not the same one that was incorporated into the Commonwealth, and even then if it had been the Commonwealth wouldn’t have been willing to move against it in favor of not hurting their own economy, ‘A reasonable outlook.’ Mons thought in his mind, were the tables turned and the UAG were reliant on a company for economic growth they likely wouldn’t move to punish it either. “That is most unfortunate Sir Ribbentrop…” he began before the diplomat finished with what seemed to be an informal offer of integration into the Commonwealth.

The Ambassadors eyes flashed light red for a moment as the words of Ribbentrop caught him off guard. He sat a bit straighter in his seat and was sure to double check that the recorder was on before even thinking about his response. He sat for a moment, mulling over his choices before he idly flipped through the rest of the documents in the folder in front of him to buy himself some time. He breathed out slowly before looking back up to Ribbentrop.

“Hypothetically speaking of course, it would be expected that a nation would take forceful action against a foreign entity infringing upon its sovereign territory. But Sir, I’, inclined to believe that the Council will not allow the actual unlawful construction to begin. As such it seems that even your mediation will likely be unnecessary, although I would appreciate to keep the line between us open in case it is needed.” he said happily.

With the simple stuff out of the way Mons leaned forward, his eyes changing to a darker orange, the intense interest of his next question being shown as to signal to Ribbentrop that he was very serious about the topic, a fact that even a low functioning Artanin would have understood although Mons was still unsure if the Commonwealth had gotten so far as to decode the colors of their eyes. “Sir Ribbentrop, for the record of course, it would seem that your hypothetical situation may have been more than it seemed. Were you trying to suggest that integration would solve this problem, or were you simply offering an example Sir?”

Ribbentrop thought carefully about his next words. He again fought the urge to look back over his shoulder. "Intrigued. Cautious. Mixed." Well that wasn't much help. Perhaps he should've authorized the Su'urtugal to poke further. But no, such an intrusion would be too obvious, even to someone unfamiliar with psionics. There was no mistaking the feel of an alien mind making contact with your own, and that would've shut down talks pretty much immediately.

Ribbentrop shrugged slightly. "The Commonwealth is open to all. Membership has its burdens and its benefits. The process in the past has generally involved fairly lengthy negotiations, but you would be hard pressed to find anyone in the Commonwealth who regrets their decision." Again, technically not a lie. It would literally be hard to find anyone in the Commonwealth who would openly talk about such a thing, because most of them were dead, imprisoned, or too cautious to openly express their opinion.

"Consider my hypothetical situation a...point of conversation for your government." That was as official as Ribbentrop was willing to make it.

Mons remained focused on Ribbentrop as he spoke, even if he couldn’t understand what he said before it was translated through his ear piece, it made everything the robotic voice was saying feel so much more legitimate than it came across. “Sir Ribbentrop, I appreciate the idea, but I’m sure as you seem to already be aware that this a decision far larger than I should be able to make alone even if I have been given full Diplomatic freedoms.” he nodded his head slowly, “But I will be sure to personally inform the Council of these happenings, I imagine it will be indeed quite that talking point for a while to come.”

He took a sip of water from his glass before closing the folder and sliding it to Ribbentrop, “Everything in the folder is for you to take.” he said politely before standing, “Now I do believe that I have gotten everything I need from this to consider it a successful meeting. The Council will be most pleased.” he said, his eyes a mellow yellow to signal his pleasure with the talks but mostly thanks to the feeling of that relief began to soak through him, “I look forward to further talks in the future. Should I expect that you will continue to be the Ambassador to the UAG?” he asked curiously.

"I too am glad of the course of this discussion. I expect I shall continue to represent the Commonwealth here in the UAG, should you call on us again." Ribbentrop picked up the folder. "In the meantime, I shall of course present your evidence of the NAC's actions to her Imperial Majesty's government. Perhaps formal action against them shall indeed become necessary. Good day Ambassador."

Mons watched as Ribbentrop and his guards left. Only once the doors were shut did he undo the tie around his neck and let out a long sigh of relief, beginning to breath faster than he had the entire meeting. The Marine at the door turned in his direction, ready to offer assistance if needed but Mons waved him away, "I'm okay Marine, just need a minute, politics too is a form of combat the stakes are just as high." he said trying to let the Marine know that he had it under control.

"Sir?" the Marine asked inquisitively.

He steadied his breath and took a drink from the glass at the table. Standing up tall once more he looked to the Marine, "My slip ups here may only be in words, but there very well may be Artanins dying in the future because of a mistake I make. It's rather stressful. Now," he motioned to the only Artanin assistant in the room that had made himself scarce in the corner, "Get me a line to the Council, they're going to want to hear about this immediately."

Yrrkeltharl Coalition Space
Unknown Region
Mlan’entel E’thuur

The dark oblong shape of the ship, covered in swarms of blinking green lights that crawled like unnatural star-born gnats over its smooth, uneven surface, sped through the stygian gulfs of empty space. A mere glimpse of them could not have revealed whether the vessel was traversing the pulsing Core of Yrrkelthar, overflowing with life and activity, or the dread vollnetlle, silent and haunted by deadly terrors. The stillness and shadow of the cosmos, indifferent to such irregularities within its folds, were identical countless light-years across. Out of the sight of planets and metallic simulacra, be they covered by the blight of alien life or corpses at the mercy of unthinking machines, the blackness was as cryptic as it had been at its dawn, and would yet be when even the hardiest of the parasites burrowing their way through it were gone.

Yet the ship pressed on, unconcerned by the mystery of its surroundings, as though it knew full well where it should go. And, indeed, it, or rather the ones driving it on, did know. The waves of strange, ethereal signals coursed through the void from the twisted prow into the unseen distance, words in a voiceless tongue being exchanged by synthetic mouths glimmering with electronic lights. The further the craft advanced, the stronger and more numerous the whispering impulses became. First they came only from the front; then more of them appeared to hammer at its sides, until the greatest part of it was engulfed in a sea of them. Eyes of astral steel opened to gaze at it from afar, and immaterial tendrils sounded its hull. Along with this prying, though so far aside from it that spatial metaphors failed, another influence began to gradually permeate the space. It was blind and had no face, not even an artificial one, and it was all the more sinister and oppressive. The breathing of ancient, immensely strong minds of metal and unnatural flesh.

Aboard the vessel, Fh’thnal Two felt it, and was uneasy. It had memories of having entered this presence before, and likewise knew that memory could not compare to its actual sensation. Now, especially, there was something in it that it, as one endowed with such powers itself, perceived and recognised all too keenly. The great sentiences were displeased. Whether at it personally, the entire situation or those who had brought it about, it could not tell; but the umbrage lying over the coursing echoes of thoughts was distinct and heavy. There were shades and fluctuating depths in it. In places, it was black, viscous and bitterly venomous, almost as strong as the Hand of Wrath itself; in others, it was but a fleeting gust of choking smoke over the depths of something too immense to be filled by feeling. But it was almost everywhere.

The presence continued to grow closer and stronger. Outside, their source was already visible. A cluster of green and golden lights, too dense and bright for stars, had appeared before the vessel. As it drew nigh, it spread out, expanding to fill more and more space, and at length their true nature could be discerned. Akin to the swarm running over the one ship, they burned in recurve metallic walls. But, where the former was a handful of gnats in the dark immensity, they shone like the malignant eyes of a pack of ravenous otherworldly beasts. The sides of the ships they were set in were colossal, as imposing as the walls of a great Nodule, and their own size was such as to rival in places the approaching ship itself. Slumbering amid the swirling of nebulae and the monotonous cycles of the stars, yet ever restless and awake, the Fleet Lastborn waited.

Not a moment sooner than Fh’thnal had expected, the door of its cylindrical, metal-walled chamber quietly slid open, the evenly burning lights on the panels parting to reveal the N’vall acolyte who had escorted it onto the ship after receiving it into consign from Ahl-115’s coordinators. The lesser one, only one of its kind it had seen since awakening in the Circuit’s hold, had been in all as deferential as befitted one of its stature towards an I’nler’attul, but it could sense that, instead of the dread and veneration it was due, the acolyte regarded it with nothing more than wariness and disgust. It so longed to wrack that firstborn wretch with all the torment it deserved, much as it had with that vile dirt-dweller of the Coalition, but again it was restrained, and by something greater than an Amaranthine envoy’s instructions. Not even the strange compulsions it had been ridden with could match the fear before the ire of the I’mthal’atl, Them Who Rule.

The acolyte beckoned with a nod, and it followed through the unaal’s dim, smooth, irregularly arched corridors, past more doorways, by the sides of which stood pairs of motionless Fham’nhl guards, through the series of small chambers that led to the exit. The main door was already unsealed, and beyond its semi-circular opening the shadowed interior of a vessel immensely more vast could be seen. They had arrived to their destination. Here, beyond the gates of a void-home that had seen much, but never something so grand, lay the halls of the legendary flagship of Mlan’entel E’thuur, last among all the N’vall fleets. The seat of the utmost dominators, whence emanated the designs that shaped the destiny of the seekers of the lightless day. Unloth A’lthn, the Final Throne.

In solemn silence, its head bowed both by the solemnity of the occasion and the crushing vicinity of the Rulers of Substance, Fh’thnal hovered through the portal and into the bowels of the great ship. The chamber was sparsely decorated, with only a few stains of glow piercing the penumbra, and empty save for some Terror honour guards on their silent vigil. A door directly before the gateway led into a further corridor, this one brighter than those on the unaal, but otherwise quite similar. After only three recurve, broad bends it ended in the white, circular space of a small elevator, sufficient for but one passenger. It was expecting its guest, and readily swallowed it before speeding upwards without need for commands. The ascent lasted but a few moments; then the enclosed platform smoothly came to a halt, and an opening appeared in the wall before Fh’thnal. It passed into the short, but high gallery beyond, swept through the tall doorway surmounted by a pointed arch and past the sentries at its sides, and came into the darkness of the great room, acrawl with eyeless thoughts and stagnant rancour.

It rose into the heights as an enormous inverted cone, growing wider and ampler as the rows of balconies lining its walls spiralled upwards. Even the lowest of them loomed meters above, the sheer steel wall only giving way to the circular terraces a few times over its height from the floor. Up there, in order of greatness, sat the I’nler’attul of the Fleet; the first ones were lowest, whereas the last were so far above that, had the chamber even been lit, one could not have seen them from below. The I’mthal’atl themselves, it was said, were not even on the balconies at all, but on a platform suspended from the ceiling, so that not even the best of the lesser could glimpse them. None knew whether this was true, for the great ones had never been beheld. Yet they were clearly there.

When Fh’thnal Two reached at last the centre of the room, where it knew it was to endure judgement, the hovering thoughts writhed and diverted their course from their unseen evolutions up in the air to converge upon it. They felt, they sounded, reaching into its thoughts with hands of cold bone. It did not try to hold them away, for what good would it have been at that point?

From somewhere high above came the resonating mind-voice of a greater I’nler’attul. It was rumbling with ancestral strength, and vibrating with the raw power of a greater shaper. Between it words, the susurrations of the gathering could be heard in slithering fragments of instinctive reaction.

”One akin to Fh’thnal, wrought by means false and heretical. You were brought to life (Defilement of the shape! Blasphemy!) by ones who came from beyond this void-realm, who name themselves as a circuit of amaranth (Vermin of the stars! The vile ones will be expunged!) and can imitate the form. The ones from beyond compelled you to serve them, although they have no strength themselves (False claimants to the throne of being! Broken puppeteers! Feeble to be bound by their snares!), and challenged the ascent of the N’vall body by bringing you upon the soil.”

At this point, the whispers grew so thick as to be indistinguishable and untraceable for a moment, the dark wrath swelling and towering over their umbral weave.

”That you did not smite them where they stood would have warranted grave penance had you been N’vall. (But – But – But) But you are not of ours, even though you are in all things alike. You are first, unknown and unsounded upon your path. For this, the mandates (Portentous though they may be) of the seekers alone are not sufficient. The I’mthal’atl, who guide the threads of flesh and void (Fist and bone of us all! They will know), will descry and speak their wisdom. Great is their reach (None more than them). May it descend.”

In spite of knowing it was not meet for it to do so, Fh’thnal Two pulled together its thoughts in a tense web. The one who had spoken wielded such force that, under the impacts of its echoes, it had not been quite able to rear even the hastiest spectre of indignation or – absurd – defiance in its defence. For all its life, it had been among the highest dominators of its fleet, and now it found itself paling before a mere mouthpiece of the great ones. Nor would it have been of any use to voice that most crucial fact – that the transgressions for which it had been summoned hither were as much as an affront to itself, if not more, as to all the N’vall, and certainly no will of its own. If Those Who Rule intended to sound it, they would inevitably feel it themselves. Their sight was all-reaching.

It came. From the shadows high above, the invisible pillar of scouring flame that was the will of the bearers of the end. Maybe only one of them. Fh’thnal remembered having put its powers to the test in its early days, and having felt the searing lashes of other I’nler’attul as they struck at each other in seeming battle. This was nothing alike it. It did not demand access, or force its way in; it swept by with the speed of a distortion lance, unconcerned about anything before it. It was impetuous and indifferent, a force of the cosmos, that to which all the seekers should aspire, and at the same time thorough, for so vast was it that its tongues crackled in every recess, be it even so recondite.

It was power, pure and simple. Painful was not a word in its light.

In its wake, more presences crept down, clawing their way more cautiously. The assembled masters of the void-homes dripped down to ascertain for themselves what had led to this point. The echoes of their motions were many, and laden with hundreds of shades; yet, even in the searing grasp of the supernal entity, even among all their faceless numbers, Fh’thnal Two’s attention was spontaneously drawn to one of them. Its resonations, the paths it left, so much easier and more confidently than the others, as it slid through memory, the speed with which it surpassed all but the fiery column were captivating in a fiendish manner. The answer to whom it could be was made obvious by this and more, yet it did not have to ask itself the question at all. Immediately, it knew.

Fh’thnal turned upwards, arduously tearing itself from the chains the weight of the great one’s mind had inadvertently laid upon it, and looked at itself.

The other did not block its sight. It could smell its smouldering anger, more potent yet than those of most who were assembled there, fade to a surprise it could not quite suppress itself. It had, obviously, expected this, but manifestly had not known what exactly it would find. Little more than an extension of itself. How little was indeed why it was taken aback: instead of the crude, superficial and, beyond any doubt, distinct replica one could have expected from heretics of the form, here was one of itself which had ramified into another corridor of progress. Almost disappointing in its identity, like an extraordinary sight ground into dullness by routine before being beheld at all, but less surprising than that would have been.

It was thus all the less surprising that, upon seeing that the one whom the outsiders had constrained in mind – by then, all could clearly see, if not the fetters themselves, their effects – and degraded from its high station was itself, Fh’thnal’s wrath against them should have surged higher than before. Hunger for the torment of the beings it now could itself remember gnashed upon itself with cold spines. Not even a likeness, but it had been made subservient to incomplete beings, and it had become a symbol of hindrance to serve their insignificant ends. They probably did not even think of what they had done, and upon this the thrashings of violence grew higher yet. Fh’thnal Two found it natural, almost reflexive, to lift up the anger as its own – for its own it was – and hold it at the very core of the inquisitorial pillar.

If the I’mthal’atl did feel something, its grip did not betray it. Perhaps it already knew, or its thirst for violence was already absolute. But the others, who not were struck by the arising emotion in the full light of its presence, reached for it curiously, and it spread among them like a plague. The black tendrils of their probing thoughts bristled with slashing edges and tormentous claws, grasping, flailing, invoking censure. Fh’thnal, duality notwithstanding, was no longer the sole possessor of the seed; all of the I’nler’attul had partaken of it, and from them, it would doubtless spread to all N’vall between void and stars. The fleets would blaze forth as they had centuries ago, bearing waste and ruin upon the blindly arrogant dustlings.

Abruptly, the pillar split into a multitude of narrow, spear-like rays, which dispersed, sweeping to all sides in a circle mirroring the shape of the room. They cut through the groping feelers, dissipating them and sending the charred stumps wavering back. Fh’thnal Two could no longer feel most of them, though the presence still pierced it with the innermost ones, which had remained motionless. Then, the great one spoke.

S^SU^UR^RC^CE^EA^AS^SE^E.^. A^AL^LL^L W^WI^IL^LL^L B^BE^E A^AS^S I^IT^T I^IS^S M^MA^AN^NI^IF^FE^ES^ST^T.^.

The last rays faded, and for what seemed to be minutes all was plunged into silence and darkness. No thought stirred where others could hear it, though it likely was because they, as well, were clustered together, almost not daring reach out. At length, the I’nler’attul who had been first to speak broke the stillness, either by the daring conferred by its vicinity to the ones above or by their command. No other echoes joined it.

”As it was seen, so it will pass. We are to honour our accord with the earth-dwellers, and not move against the blasphemers from without ere great motive is given. You who were wrought in imitation of Fh’thnal have trespassed in negligence and shown the face of weakness, but the I’mthal’atl find no further fault with you. You shall do a penance, and if you return absolution will be dispensed.

It has been decreed, and it will be.”

Yrrkeltharl Coalition Space
Core Region
A’thaur I’entil Kotsal, Orbit of Iurthelath

The silence in the chamber would have appeared eerie and unnatural to any not accustomed to its dusky atmosphere. That neither the curvilinear, almost fluid, yet bulky mass of the monitoring and input apparatuses, nor the large cylindrical vats, strange dark shapes writhing and beating about in their obscured depths, nor even the metallic tubes, which appeared to fuse with the walls and floor and now and then pulsed irregularly, should emit even the slightest of sounds despite their evident activity was strange, almost unsettling. The impression was strengthened by the fact that not even from without the room did anything resound, near or far. The entire ship seemed to be dead, a husk fit only for the haunting of warped wraiths. And, after a fashion, it was. But to Xalthil this mattered little.

The Skirol presently stood before one of the vats, its proboscis occasionally darting to the nearby control panel and withdrawing without having touched it. In the recipient, a dense bright-blue liquid stirred uneasily, bubbles of irregular size sporadically rising from the centre of its mass. At brief intervals, glimpses of an indistinct tubular form emerged into view. Its appearances followed a curious pattern: almost regular sequences interrupted themselves just as one’s eye was about to begin expecting them, matching the moment with uncanny precision. At times, even this custom seemed to be broken by a flash clearly out of any rhythm.

Having finally laid its appendage upon the panel and snapped something on it, Xalthil swung it in a negative gesture and turned sideways towards the further corner of the room, where a cloaked N’vall was hovering before a concentric holo-display.

“If these two hundred and three simulation estimates will run their course as probability dictates, the result for this subject will be the same” it clicked, before crawling to reach another panel set in the wall.

“We now know with all certainty this approach to be sterile.” The other did not divert any of its limbs from their manipulations at the display as it voiced its reply.

“And nothing else.” Xalthil’s proboscis remained suspended over the device for a few moments, wavering from side to side as a snake ready to strike, then drew back as the Skirol paced towards another of the vats.

Just as it was midway to its goal, the ghost of a muffled grinding sound, as of jagged metal upon stone, blinked through the air from the display, immediately vanishing in the oppressive ocean of stillness. One of the N’vall’s hands paused in its motions before resolutely snapping through a three-dimensional spiral of light.

“Belay the next scheduled experiment” the being spoke, and Xalthil stopped in its tracks. “We will soon have something unprecedented to work with.”

UAG Space
Federation Frontier Station Pathway
Ambassador's Office

"This is a troubling development..." Ambassador Yando Rev said, sifting through several paper reports brought to him. Standing before him were three Intelligence Agents, standing at attention. "Our sources confirm it." One of the agents, a young woman spoke up. "There has been an increase of Commonwealth activities in the region."

Ambassador Rev tossed the reports aside, leaning forward, his chin resting upon his clasped talons, his eyes drifting down at his sleek desk. "Could've come at a worst time." He said, his eyes shifting their gaze at the agents, he sighed heavily as he took a sharp turn with his chair, spinning himself up as he walked towards the ray-shielded window, taking in the serene sight outside. The station Pathway, with the generous, if extremely cautious graces of the Council, was allowed to orbit a fringe colony world in the far edges of Artanin Space, it was a recent addition, so starship traffic was minimal, allowing the Station's crew to appreciate it's semi-primordial presence.

"I had prayed it wouldn't come to this." Ambassador Rev said, turning to face the agents. "But it seems the Commonwealth have other plans."

"You'd think the Daisan would be more of a priority." One of the other agents spoke, a man around the same age as the woman.

"No doubt that is the Commonwealth is all too aware of that problem." The Ambassador replied. "Of course however, it's not their concern as of yet."

"The keyword is yet, sir." The last of the agents spoke, a member of the Ysh species.

"Right..." The Ambassador said, however, that wasn't the topic of discussion and returned to the true topic. "The Commonwealth's little power grab in the region will stir up quite a storm." He paused as he return to his chair, leaning forward. "As you are all have been made aware, the political situation among the Artanins is....less then stable."

"A ticking time bomb is what it is." The lead agent interjected.

"Precisely." Ambassador Rev agreed. "And the Commonwealth's actions will only aggravate it, Civil War is a high probability." The agents remain silent, looking to one another briefly.

"It seems the time has come for a little intervention." The male human agent said.

"Partially true..." Ambassador Rev agreed. "Problem being, the war with the Daisan has taken a great toll on the Federation's power projection capabilities. " He paused as he grabbed a glass water. "Nearly every ship is a valuable asset not to be wasted." Despite the rather grim situation back home, there was a small glimmer of hope for the federation outpost. "However, a few friends in high places have managed to arrange a little something."

The three agents gave inquisitive looks to the Ambassador. "What would that be Ambassador?" The Leader of the agents asked.

"Ever heard of Angel fleet?" Ambassador Rev answered her question with a new question. Their eyes widened. "Only by reputation." She replied.

The Angels, or the 10th Expeditionary Force as they're officially referred to, is a special task force established several decades before the Daisan War, created for the purpose of traveling from one conflict hot spot to another, giving aide to minor states in any way possible, be it in the form of humanitarian aid, peacekeeping, or more active military operations. In the years they've been active, the Expeditionary Force has grown a reputation among the civilian populations on worlds they've aided, quickly gaining said title of "The Angels".

"I figured they would be the perfect assets to a potential conflict." The Ambassador added. "If civil war breaks out, we'll be ready to aide Artanin worlds that stand against the Commonwealth's imperialism."

((Collab with @Ozerath))

MSV Friedrich Lochland
ICX-979 System
Restricted Space

MSV Friedrich Lochland stood still in space, vigilantly watching over the swarms of mining drones swirling about the asteroid field nearby. MSV was perhaps a misleading prefix for the Friedrich Lochland. It was indeed registered with the Commonwealth Ministry of Commerce as a “Merchant Space Vessel”, but it was considerably faster and better armed than most ships of the same designation. Friedrich Lochland was in fact a decommissioned Resiliant class battlecruiser, purchased and refurbished from the scrapyards above Bravia. Formerly named RCNS Impatient, the vessel’s original hull was over a hundred years old, and it had been mothballed for 50 before being refurbished and renamed. The Resiliant class predated Commonwealth positron beams, so its turrets were less potent grasers. Combined with the removal of its axial weapons, it was cleared for civilian ownership and operations, but it was still very much a warship. Just a very, very old one.

The expense of purchasing and maintaining such a vessel exceeded the costs of a more traditional freighter, but the Friedrich Lochland’s captain had come to possess it under some interesting circumstances-namely with assistance from the Office of Naval Intelligence. The captain himself was an interesting man, engaged in all sorts of interesting business. His name...was also Friedrich Lochland. Lochland was a bit of everything; innocent cargo hauler when it suited him, smuggler and gun for hire most of the time. He occasionally took passengers as well; there wasn’t much of a market for high security high discretion personal transport, but those few who needed the service tended to pay well.

Lochland prowled around the bridge, deep within his ship’s armoured bulk. He was a male Vit’azny, a touch over 70. He was a little on the tall side and a little on the thin side. His frame was lithe, but well muscled, and he twisted a stylus between his fingers with tremendous dexterity.
"Status?" he called out, continuing to fidget with the stylus.
"All clear. Wild Rose and Rusty Razor report holds are at 80%." Vana replied with a touch of exasperation. Vana was a yanissan woman who served as Lochland’s pilot and first officer. On most ships, the two roles were filled by separate people, but Lochland insisted that he was the only one allowed to walk around the bridge looking ‘captain-y’, so his first officer had to be firmly seated to avoid clashing with his image.
“Well I’m sorry that my concern is bothering you Vana,” Lochland replied sarcastically. “We’re just a little exposed here, and starships are very expensive. I think about these things Vana, that’s why I’m Captain and you’re...well, definitely not Captain.”

Lochland’s sarcasm blew over his XO like so much hot air, the woman having long since gotten used to his eccentricities. Something on the display gave her pause though. Vana frowned. “Hold on, I think we just detected a bunch of FTL transits...Confirmed. Nine signatures, one of them outmasses us by a good chunk too."

Lochland stopped fiddling with his stylus, his face grim. This had been a possibility from the beginning; the system was in restricted space for a reason. But its fabulous mineral wealth had made it too tempting to pass up for a particular mining consortium, and they were paying Lochland a staggering sum of money to escort two of their ships.

"Signal the miners. Tell them to flush the holds and abandon the drones, we're leaving right now."

Thankfully, the mining captains didn't argue. They were evidently frightened enough to listen to their escort without question. The three ships set off on a vector that would clear them of a nearby gas giant's gravity well while keeping them away from the unknown ships. But the problem was speed. Friedrich Lochland could have outrun their pursuers on its own, but the mining vessels were proving to be too slow, even with empty holds. Lochland watched the plot as the unknown ships drew closer.

"Captain...we'll have to leave the miners behind." Vana said quietly. That was certainly an option. It would mean forfeiting pay, but money wasn't much good if you weren't around to spend it. Lochland was seriously thinking about it when a particular memory struck him, a young boy saluting a uniformed father he'd never see again. A memory that had troubled him for years, and gotten him into trouble many times.

"No. Turn us around and prep for combat. Tell the miners to keep running for the well limit." Lochland said firmly.

Vana sunk her head. "Captain, I know what you're thinking but you're going to get us all killed."

"You're welcome to take a shuttle and leave, if you're feeling cowardly. The ship is staying to fight, and I'm staying with my ship. You're all welcome to run actually..." he cast an eye around the bridge, but no one moved from their post. "Good. Now prep for combat."

The 'Merchant Space Vessel' did exactly that. Armoured shutters slid down to protect vulnerable areas, the space around her flickered as her shields came up, and missile hatches and railgun batteries popped up into battle configuration.

Meanwhile, the unknown vessels, having fully emerged from the spatial ruptures they had opened, had approached dangerously close. Though the distance was still too great to distinguish most of their shapes' finer details, their overall appearance was dishearteningly clear. The distinctively sleek and smooth black hulls, scattered with green markings, betrayed their origin, yet this was apparently not a concern for whomever had sent them. While it was not yet entirely recognisable, their sides bore the criss-crossed golden circle of the Yrrkeltharl Coalition. Whether by chance or machination, a small fleet of its battle drones had found its way to that perilous out-of-the-way system; and anyone who had ever had dealings with the Coalition knew that, however horrid and strange its acts, it rarely ever did anything by chance.

The nature of this force showed that whoever had sent it not only knew what they were doing, but likewise did not want to take any chances. Over half of it was made up of small, oblong and predatory Thorns, which now were speeding further and further ahead of the other ships as their infamously fast sublight drives accrued strength. Behind them came a couple of Nhuul Parasites, their mechanical mandibles already poised to sink into the enemy's hull. Some way to the side, a single Tlaelon Scavenger, not as minuscule in comparison to the Friedrich Lochland as the others, flew in a way that would have been cautious had it not been a machine, occasionally swerving evasively to one side or the other.

But it was the last of the drone ships that truly laid the Coalition's intentions bare. Advancing much slower than its escorts, yet not the less threatening for it, a Nfaal Devastator was making its way towards the old Resiliant and its charges. The vast, gleaming bulk was partly obscured by the crackling of its shields, stronger by orders of magnitude than those on the Parasites, but what could be glimpsed of it, from the vicious spike of its spinal projector, flanked by what seemed to be purely ornamental steel jaws, to the grates running along its armoured back, eerily similar to some gigantic monster's ribcage, seemed to be there solely to flaunt the construct's deadly purpose.

As the Lochland began to turn about, three of the Thorns abruptly accelerated and shot forward so suddenly they became for a moment a blur on the sensors. However, they were not headed towards the battlecruiser itself. Turning aside by a slight angle, they moved to intercept the mining ships, cutting off the shortest route out of the gravity well. At the same time, the other two, followed by the Parasites, charged the larger craft head-on in a bid to distract it from the threat to the miners. Beams of pale-green light flashed from their prows, and the Nhuul began to pulse with ominous light-blue luminescence as they charged up their unmakers.

Lochland watched the various ships manevuering about intently. His own vessel had barely completed its turn, and there was plenty of time to intercept the group heading for the miners. But that would expose him to the second group...ah well, he'd already committed to protecting the miners, might as well go all out. "Match vectors with Bogey 2, I don't want them reaching the miners. Railgun batteries to full offensive fire, smaller vessels are the priority targets. I want all missile launchers on rapid fire mode, double broadsides on Bogey 2, a mix of standoff warheads and proximity nukes. Main graser batteries, target Bogey 2. Disable engines if you can, but whatever you do don't let them reach the miners."

"What about Bogey 1?" Vana asked, referring to the group of ships targetting Friedrich Lochland itself.
"We'll just have to worry about them later." Lochland said, trying to project calm. They had to be Coalition ships, he thought to himself. The system was near enough to where their territory apparently lay, and the designs of the ships didn't match anything in the databanks, so they had to belong to that mysterious faction. He'd heard stories of the Coalition, but only stories, and had hoped never to encounter them. Too late now.

Friedrich Lochland turned about again, maneuvering to intercept the Thorns pursuing the miners. Her missiles were the first to fire, all of her tubes from both broadsides throwing their weight towards the still distant targets. A second salvo of missiles was away scant seconds after the first, then her dorsal and ventral graser turrets lashed out with their invisible fire. Finally, her broadside railguns opened up, barraging both groups of enemies with relentless fire.

The grasers and the first salvo of missiles reached their targets almost simultaneously: without access to military munitions, the Friedrich Lochland made do with weaker bomb pumped lasers and good old fashioned nukes, which furiously erupted among the Thorns, even as the graser turrets swept across them, with the first waves of railgun rounds coming in close behind.

Struck so suddenly in their progress, just as their speed had reached such heights as to make manoeuvering impossible, the drones found themselves in the very middle of the barrage. In an instant they were engulfed by the explosions bursting out around them, tossing them off-course and causing them to careen dangerously close to each other. One of them attempted to redress itself, firing its thrusters forward to stabilise its mass, only to find itself shredded by the oncoming railgun projectiles. Its armour, already weakened by the grasers, gave way, and the metallic shell caved inwards as though something inside it had begun to drag and fold the hull. In an instant, a misshapen husk surrounded by minute debris was all that was left of it.

Another of the Thorns tried to spin sideways without slowing down to elude the Friedrich Lochland's fire, but its excessive momentum, combined with the debilitating effect of the explosions and a lucky graser shot having hamstrung its lateral propulsion drive, caused it to spiral uncontrollably and crash into the remains of the first one. Beaten, but still functioning, it began to retreat in order to resume its trajectory, but some well-placed rounds struck it in the fractured point, penetrating into its engines. With an inaudible groan, the ship seemed to literally implode, an invisible anomaly at its core drawing in both what was left of it and the carcass it had slammed into, reducing both to an unrecognisable bundled lump.

The third drone, however, was more fortunate. Flying at the head of the group, it had already been rather forward when the barrage struck, leaving only a section of it exposed. While that part did include the vital rear thrusters, it had nonetheless escaped serious damage. Graser burns pitted its flank, and stray railgun slugs tore off pieces of its armour, but, though battered, it flew on, without even losing much of its impetus. In a blink, it was near the scrambling mining ships. With an abruptness that would have left a living pilot smeared over the walls of the cockpit, the craft decelerated and swung around, facing its defenceless targets. Yet its goals must have been less evident than they seemed, for, instead of firing at them directly, it began to weave over them, blasting their engines with surgical accuracy. It shot to cripple, but not to destroy.

All the while, the four vessels that had hurled themselves against the Friedrich Lochland had drawn so close as to be visible to the naked eye. And they showed no sign of stopping. One of the Thorns swerved towards the main drive at its rear; the other dodged upwards, aiming for the heaviest weapon emplacements. They were within metres from the battlecruiser, and still they did not stop. If anything, they were going faster, their great speed letting them punch through the old battlecruiser's shields with minimal effort.

The battlecruiser's batteries were barely fast enough to respond. Mere seconds before the drone struck the larger ship's flank, it was torn to scraps by intensely focused fire from directly before it. The greatest part of the Thorn fractured into several pieces before and inward force akin to the one that had claimed another from its ranks sucked it in, compressing the loose plates and machinery with tremendous strength. Only a few stray shards of debris clattered harmlessly against the Friedrich Lochland's armor.

But the other drone met no such resistance. Avoiding the sparse belated blasts from the fore, it sped along the ship's side, now distinctly locked onto its rear. Another moment, and it struck. Its spiked head tore into plating, scattering parts of itself around as it did. The whole carapace began to crack open as it was still moving, the anomaly within it seeming to grow by being fed with tatters of both hulls. There was a silent creaking, and a section of Friedrich Lochland's drive aft collapsed on itself, sending shudders through its whole bulk, before exploding into a series of bright flashes.

The ship bucked and heaved as the smaller vessel tore into it and explosions ripped down the aft section of the hull. Emergency bulkheads slammed into place, the shields flashed and failed, and on the bridge, Lochland himself was thrown off his feet as the lights and displays flickered. But the ship was built to last, and it kept fighting, railgun batteries lashing out with massed fire.

"We've lost the GDC. We're not going anywhere now," Vana reported grimly. Lochland clambered back to his feet. Technically they were still travelling at a great speed, but they could no longer accelerate or decelerate, except with tiny amounts of thrust provided by maneuvering thrusters. Lochland glanced over at the tactical display, noting the 1 remaining hostile surgically carving up the mining vessels. He couldn't risk another full barrage, not with the miners so close, but he still had grasers...

"Wait for a shot, then blast that last guy from Bogey 2 with all the grasers. Throw all our missiles at that farthest ship from Bogey 1, keep railguns at maximum offensive fire!"

The remaining Thorn finished crippling the first mining ship, then moved to begin it's surgical attack on the second. As it moved between them, Friedrich Lochland's grasers fired, reaching out at the speed of light and neatly catching the Thorn in its center of mass.

The missiles flew off towards the more distant Scavenger, their number reduced and their targetting compromised, but still deadly. The railguns kept right on pounding away at the approaching Parasites. The Devastator remained untouched, its vast bulk too much for the crippled battlecruiser to contend with.

While the last Thorn imploded upon itself as it was struck directly in its battered midsection, the Scavenger continued to weave at the edges of the battlefield. Until that point, it had not yet fired a single blast, though it had had ample opportunity to do so. Now, abruptly finding itself the target of enemy fire, it seemed to gain speed as it began to twist and dodge in even more intricate patterns than before. A few of the missiles were thrown off their trajectory before they reached it, swinging wide past the ship. As another cluster approached, the Tlaelon hurled a brightly-pulsing sphere of plasma at it. Some of the warheads fired off moments before it reached them, scattering the others; yet that did not prevent them from being drawn in by the unmaker bolt's second wave and incinerated as the sphere collapsed upon them. The last few missiles crashed against the drone's shields, which momentarily dimmed before starting to rapidly recondense.

At the same time, the Parasites, which were already dangerously close to the Friedrich Lochland, responded to the railgun shots with their own scorching flares of green light. A good part of the first shots to reach them was deflected by their shields, which, however, seemed to give way soon afterwards, albeit vague halo of sparks still surrounded them. One of them brought itself to the front with a short burst of speed, drawing the brunt of the continuous fire upon itself. Yet, as its beaten hull seemed to be about to give way, it dove under the Friedrich Lochland, bringing itself outside its broadside radius.

The focus of the batteries turned upon the second Nhuul, but found itself once again repelled by its shields, which had strangely coalesced in the brief interlude. They did not last longer than the first time, but that was enough for the drone. It blasted forward, the large spines on its prow digging into the armour between weapon emplacements. Its entire fore suddenly blazed with searing plasma light as it fired its unmaker directly into the surface, incinerating it and sending superheated gusts into the battlecruiser's interior even as its own form, the batteries and the plating around it were fused into a single liquid wave, rapidly cooling into a fantastically distorted shape stuck to the ship's side like an unnatural tumour.

Alarms blared on the bridge and the ship heaved again. The lights flickered again, this time going dark, to be replaced only by dim orange emergency lighting. Lochland checked the tac display again. One of the miners was hopelessly crippled, but the other was just now making it to the edge of the gravity well. An instant later, it disappeared into the relative safety of slipspace. Lochland breathed a long sigh of relief. He'd saved at least one of them. He wasn't expecting it to summon help; the Royal Commonwealth Navy had made its stance on venturing into Restricted Space very clear. But they were safe.

"What've we got left Vana?" he asked with a calm that surprised even him.
"We just lost 60% of the port broadside railguns, 80% of the missile tubes, and control runs to turrets 3 and 4 are fried, though they still have local control capability."
"Can we do something about the ship below us?"
Vana shook her head. "He's out of the ventral turret's firing arcs, and we can't roll or maneuver fast enough to change that without the GDC. Missiles could still get him, but he's really close; we wouldn't survive our own barrage. We don't have enough left to do much to the other two hostiles. We've done all we can Lochland."

Lochland nodded. "That we have. Stand us down, but have everyone ready to abandon ship, in case our 'friends' out there hold a grudge."

Just like that, it was over. Trailing vapour and debris as it drifted through space, the Friedrich Lochland's guns finally fell silent.

As the surviving Parasite swept further down below the damaged battlecruiser, the last ship finally approached. The vast silhouette of the Devastator hung menacingly over the Friedrich Lochland, drifting, almost idly, to cover the remaining mining ship from its sight. It had lowered most of its shields, and the long curves of its dark, glistening armour were clearly visible in all their facets. The force driving the great vessel seemed indifferent to the possibility of its quarry still having some hidden trick to bring to bear against it despite the destruction of their weapons. Still, the immense focus projector between the horns on its prow remained aimed at the smaller ship's midsection, sparks of yellow light coursing around it.

Once it found itself directly above the Friedrich Lochland, the giant drone slowed its progress to an imperceptible speed, strangely coloured blazes pulsing from its exhaust vents. Then, a circle of evenly spaced beams of pale green light erupted from the tips of its frontal spikes, encompassing the battlecruiser from all sides as they blasted past it. Not one of them had struck or even glanced it, but the message was all too clear. None was to leave the ship or otherwise attempt to escape.

Some minutes passed before the Scavenger emerged into view. As fast as it had been during the battle, it circled around its prey once, then a second time, pelting its sides with what seemed to be missiles. Or, rather, what would have seemed to be missiles, had they not been so large and slow. The foresides of the cylindrical steel capsules were lined with large, thick triangular blades, whose purpose became apparent when the Friedrich Lochland shuddered under several impacts from both boards, and a quake of continuous vibrations, accompanied in some spots by the odious screech of plating being torn open, coursed through it. Soon, they faded, only to be replaced by a thundering of steps through the ship's corridors. Heavy, metallic, mechanically rhythmical. They were approaching.

A dozen figures marched onto the deck. They were shorter than most of those on board, but in the silence and fading light of the dying ship they seemed enormous. The blows of the thick, crude digits of their fourfold limbs remained brutally cadenced even as they dispersed around the chamber, their ovoidal carapaces more than vaguely resembling the bodies of monstrous mechanical insects. The spots of golden electric eyes, empty of thought or emotion, sought their living quarry, quickly, accurately. Yet, of all their parts, it was perhaps the unassuming tubules of the particle stream-blasters that were most menacing. Not, perhaps, for their shape, or even that they were there at all, but rather for how many there were on each of the machines.

Once the steel invaders had ascertained the number and position of the crew on deck, they began to rather unceremoniously push them into the corridor whence they had appeared. The drones’ strength was even greater than what their armoured exterior led to believe, and no amount of resistance could make them budge. Slowly at first, then faster and faster as the struggling was crushed by implacable unfeeling motion, the metallic herders and their captives made their way through the battered ship, past closed emergency bulkheads and failing engines. The sound of more such processions could now and then be faintly heard from other parts of the Friedrich Lochland, converging then trailing away into the distance.

At last, the machines roughly ushered their convoy into an empty, dark lateral chamber that had quite clearly not been there before. In fact, even though its entrance was itself in heavy shade, it could be seen that the wall around its circular doorway had been molten and torn. Inside, there was nowhere to sit, nor even anything to properly stand on but the treacherously concave floor. The space did not seem to be designed with humanoid occupants in mind. Or, for that matter, living ones.

Heavy panels slid down with a clang, swallowing the last glimmers of light, and all was silence and darkness. The maw of the Coalition had closed around its prey.