[IC] The Fires of Anuria(Reboot)

[Sigma]

For a whole century, the Jasaran Federation has struggled, millions of souls lost to a war that seems to go on without end, and no clear end in sight. And once against, more will be sent to their inevitable deaths to the Graveyard that is Anuria.

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

Aurolia, Paradise System
Capital City of Tanis, Starport
Two Years Ago.
Today was quite a busy day then normal for the Tanis Starport, for today was the deployment of a new wave of reinforcements for the forces fighting on Anuria, a dark and saddened day for many. All the men and women were very much aware of the reputation of the planet, to be sent there is guaranteed death, never to see their loved ones ever again, this was particularly heart-breaking for one man.

At the very back of the masses of soldiers and other personnel lining up to board the transport ships, was a man in his early thirties bending down to a young boy, around the age of seven, behind him was a another boy, much older then the younger one by five years and a woman around the same age as the man. "Don't worry, It'll only be for a little while." He lied to the boys, holding back the tears. "Your Dad's gonna go save a whole planet, save a suffering people! So cheer me on, ok?"

The younger child unfortunately couldn't hold in his tears, sniffling and tears running down his face, the same happened with the older boy and the mother, she too was aware that he may no ever come back. "Ok..." the child responded."

"I'll be fine! I'll be sure to talk to you guys through holos." He assured his family, wiping away a tear from his son's cheek. "Come on, give your old dad a goodbye huge!" He widened his arms as his sons, without hesitation, rushed into his arms as they embraced him hard, and him back. After they were done, he rose up and gave his wife a long huge, and shared an intimate kiss. "I love you." he whispered into her ear. He grabbed his bag and turned to the quickly dwindling masses as they herded into the transports, quickly hopping aboard one.

The man turned and took one finally glance towards his family, waving each other goodbye as the doors slide close, the ship lifting off to orbit, shipping him to and his comrades to certain death.

-----------------------
Anuria, High Orbit
Hanger Bay of the Valiant Cruiser Freedom
Two Years later

Two years pass, an almost amazing record for a soldier such as Adam Morrison, he and his batch of recruits were noting more then barely-trained cannon fodder to hold the line, and inevitably die, but he was too damn stubborn, or lucky. But in the end, he's just a determined family man desperate to return home, to Aurolia.

Adam and over a hundred others consisting of both his fellow humans and aliens lined up in an orderly fashion, standing at attention as a tall imposing scarred man paced back and forth, the man's name was Matthew Ironside, battle-hardened veteran of Anuria's countless battles. "Alright boys and girls." He said in intimating, gruff gravelly voice. "Our Company just received a new assignment from High Command. We're to leave for the surface again, and reinforce our forward base in the City of Kol'Kora." Captain Ironside paused for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. "The Vaegirs are on the move again. Last time the FOB barely managed to hold 'em back a few days ago, now they're breaking under the pressure, and it's up to the 81st Mobile Infantry to save their asses. " The captain paused once more as he scanned his troops, seeing both young eagerness, to fear. "Ready to give the Kittens hell?"

"Sir! Yes,sir!" They responded in unison.

"Bullshit! I SAID DO YOU WANT TO GIVE THEM HELL??!?!" He screamed out, pumping up his troops with pure adrenaline.

"SIR! YES, SIR!" they responded in an even louder tone.

"That's more like it." He grinned, as just right behind him, over two dozen dropships begun to hiss as the doors slide open. "Grave Company, move out!" And with that they rushed towards the dropships, climbing aboard and taking their selected seats and strapping themselves in, Adman following behind, slowing down a moment as he took a deep breath, silently praying to whatever god can hear him and be kept safe on this day. He quietly hopped in one of the ships as the doors slide shut, taking the last vacant seat in the back, and braced himself as he felt the humming of the engines starting to life and lifted off the floor and into the empty vacuum of space, and into the fray as yet another battle wages in the planet's orbit.

[Ozerath]

Anuria High Orbit
Archangel class cruiser Persevering in the Face of Adversity, Bridge

Captain Rodel Ilturade gazed blankly at Persevering’s primary display; a beautifully high fidelity holographic representation of the space around the ship that surrounded the elevated bridge platform. Ilturade had picked up a particular expression from some humans a few decades back, one he’d grown rather fond of and used quite frequently. “Well this is something of a clusterfuck.” he said out loud.
His first officer let slip a sigh of exasperation on hearing the Captain’s overused slang . “Indeed sir.”

The Ashtar had been hoping to sneak into orbit over Kol’Kora and deploy a surprise invasion force to take the city. Every cruiser’s hangar was full to the brim with loaded transports. They would’ve needed no more than ten, maybe fifteen minutes to deploy to the surface and catch the Jasaran’s off guard. But scarcely a minute before arriving in position, Jasaran and Vaegir ships that were supposed to be engaged over the southern hemisphere had appeared and begun to try and blast each other out of the sky while deploying their own forces.

“We will not be able to safely deploy the invasion force, sir.” Commander Ayluna reminded Ilturade.
“No, we will not. Cancel launch orders, seal hangars and charge FTL drives. Teleport the reconnaissance teams to the surface, and charge weapons. Let us at least bloody some noses before we disengage; target the Jasaran dropships.

With a flashing surge of excess gravitons, the Ashtar task force jumped from their holding point at 1 AU directly into the Jasaran-Vaegir battle, weapons blazing. Swarms of missiles raced after the descending dropships, followed closely by wolfpacks of Strelnikov corvettes. Omega pulse cannons and torpedoes lashed out against enemy heavies. In the midst of the confusion, a handful of recon teams teleported down to the surface.

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

Anuria, Arctic Northlands
Point Jakurna

General Lith Diae tentatively poked at the mass of scarred flesh along the left side of his face. “You could not provide one a little more...intact?” he asked the med techs.
“Apologies sir. We have been forced to scavenge additional bodies to supplement our cloning procedures, and front line soldiers have priority. If you give us a day, we could grow a replacement eye.” one of them apologized.
“No, no time. Give me the cybernetic option and I’ll be on my way.”

Less than an hour later, General Diae stepped into Point Jakurna’s operations center. No sooner was he in the door than a sheepish looking hangar deck worker accosted him.
“Sir, once again I am deeply sorry about the incident, such a thing will not happen again. I submit myself to whatever disciplinary measures you deem necessary.”
Lith sighed. “No permanent damage was done, specialist, but we are running short on bodies, and losing five to an accidental weapons discharge is unacceptable. You are assigned to facilities maintenance until further notice.”
“Thank you sir” the specialist replied, and hurriedly left the room.

“That was rather lenient,” Colonel Telryk said, her voice distinctly amused.
“What should I do instead? Execute him?” Diae retorted, and the two of them chuckled. “I gather Captain Ilturade encountered complications.”
“Yes sir. The Jasarans spotted the same vulnerability we did.”
“It was something of a long shot anyways. At least he got the recon teams deployed. Let us figure out what to do with them…”

Diae and Telryk pulled up a series of holo-maps, and got to work, as they had a hundred times before. Lith couldn’t help but feel that nothing was ever going to change on Anuria.

[Legion02]

Anuria
Kol’Kora urban district - West Quadrant
Grunt command base Epsilon

Grunt Sergeant Alex Lagran looked down on the scraps of paper with reports on them. Walking through the long corridor of the building they seized and turning their Grunt command base. As grunts had no right to remain at the official outpost, they were sent out to fend for themselves with the simple order: Establish a military presence within the West Quadrant and await to support MSSC army. They were supplied weapons, ammo and food to last half a year and then send out on their way.

Luckily not all Grunts were fools. Alex gathered a huge chunk of the aimlessly wandering Grunt units and put them under his over-arching command. He entered a large hall, probably a dining hall, stock full of Grunt Sergeants and Corporals. He grabbed a chair and stood on it, looking over everyone. “Okay, listen up. The USVI appear to be gathering troops within Kol’Kora. No doubt the UJF will prepare to bolster their troops east from us.” The room exploded in a murmur. One Alex had difficulty silencing. Eventually the murmur died down to a little. “I am sending scouting squads out to the eastern border of this Quadrant. There will be list in the mess hall board. Dismissed.

25 minutes later
A chalkboard was rolled into the mess hall. With on it, the names of the squads with their leader and troops. Alex watched as everyone gathered around it. Some looked relieved, others seemed happy and excited, and some sat down with despair in their eyes. The only thing Alex could think of was what MSSC Command Base Alpha was planning next.

[ClocktowerEchos]

To my dearest sister,

The war here on Anuria is as hard as ever, some days we storm the enemies with our overwhelming numbers and other days we're fighting to the last man against and onslaught of bodies. We make progress some days only to loose it the next before gaining a new position. Our commanders say that the body count is an inventible result of this war and that good men will always die first and said that 'we are the few who make the many strong'. I remember when I first landed here on how excited I was like a child; looking back on it all now this entire bloodbath is nothing but childish.

'See the galaxy!' and 'Serve the Imperium!" the holo ads said. Pft. I guess I did get to see this damned planet at least, not that its much to look at any more. I've seen many a good men and women die and for new recruits to be shipped planet side only for them to be killed and replaced in an endless cycle. Its happened so many times now that I barely recognize my own comrades. Of my once 100 strong unit, all of us like a great big family who trained, slept, ate and fought together, 6 of us remain from the originals. About another 20 or so are from the first wave of reinforcement, another 60 are from the second wave. The rest of them are all raw, fresh faced recruits who got here no more than a week ago. We've even exchanged officers twice to the cold hands of death, the newest one is a scrawny kid boasting of his academy grades. Pft, as if they'll help him here. If he lasts his first fight I'll be impressed.

But fear not, I am alive and well. I've taken two bullets and a handful of shrapnel but I'm fine. The doctors says there is no lasting harm outside of the occasional numbness in my hip. I heard that you're pregnant once again with your fourth child, good to see that you're doing well and my paycheck is doing some good. Tell my nieces and nephews that uncle will be home soon. I love you very much my dear sister and hope to see you again soon.

With love from your caring brother,
Alesander Tulucoshkov

[Sigma]

After some time passing, the dropships of the 81st were fast approaching the planet, maneuvering around thousands of shredded starship debris from past battles, Anuria's orbit was a deathtrap for any pilot who came unprepared and lacked the training, most fortunate for the 81st Mobile Infantry that their pilots knew what they were doing, unfortunately, they were never prepared for what was to come next.

Captain Ironside sticked around in the back of the cockpit, gripping tightly to the co-pilots seat's cushions, observing the outside as the group flew in a loose formation, it was comforting and unnerving that nothing happened yet, that he thought both his troops were going in intact, and that the enemy was planning something. Within the instant, one of the dropships furthest ahead of the group was hit by an incoming missile seemly appearing from nowhere, and on was engulfed in blinding light, followed by fast approaching wreckage from its fresh carcass, the pattern repeated several more times as more dropships were destroyed from the ambush.

"Son of a bitch!" The captain exclaimed. "Where're they coming from!!??!" trouble wasn't over yet as the surviving dropships were assailed by energy weapons fire from the Ashtar corvettes, a few more shredded up by their attack, one of the hostile ships had came into view of the lead dropship. "Sir, we got an Ashtar wolfpack on our asses!" the lead pilot said.

"Get us out of their aim!" He ordered as he turned back to the squad nervously waiting in the cargo hold. "Alright ladies and gents brace yourselves, we're going in real hot!"

Despite being safely buckled in, Adam and the rest of his squad out of sheer habit, gripped tightly on their seats as the turbulence grew more intense. He closed his eyes, focusing on his family, calming himself. "No way in hell I'll die here... He thought to himself, every second of survival being a damn miracle to him, especially what's pursuing them relentlessly.

"Everyone, huddle in!" The Captain ordered as the surviving dropships moved closer to the lead ship as they passed through the atmosphere, the City within visual distance. "I think we lost'em sir." The pilot said with a heavy sigh of relief. "Good..." The captain replied with a hint of sorrow in his tone, over half of their company was blown out of the skies, their part in the mission to secure the districts surrounding the Forward Base was about to become a lot more difficult.

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

Kol'Kora, Federation Forward Operations Base

"Hostiles on advance!" A soldier shouted, firing from cover along with several others.

"Come get some!" An federation soldier of the Caadori species shouted, firing a heavy machine gun towards the charging Vaegir Penal conscripts. "I can do this all day assholes!" He continued unloading lead on the convicts until he heard several clicking sounds. "Reload!" He yelled, but before he got the chance, he was pulled down. "Masu! get in cover you mad idiot!" shouted the human next to him, pulling him down with all his might behind the safety of the makeshift walls they set up. "You're a sniper's magnet!" he shouted over the gunfire. Masu simply smiled, "Hah! Come on sarge, ain't nothing that can stop me, I'd say let'em try!"

The Sergeant frowned to the over confident Caadori. "You're no good dead to the Squad, soldier." He replied as he placed two fingers over the right side of his head. "Control, this is Echo One, we're facing some heavy fire here, requesting some backup ASAP." A response came as a feminine voice replied. "Roger that Echo One, we're sending an Legionary in your way."

"Much appreciated Control." The Sergeant then turned his gaze back to one of his soldiers, a member of the Naasu as he tinkered with a power generator, pressing down keys. "How are those Auto Turrets Sull?"

"I'm working as fast as possible sarge!" He replied, frantically trying to turn the generator on. "You stupid piece of crap! Turn on damn you!" He kept shouting at the generator as it refused to power the auto guns that help protect the base's left flank. He then resorted to smashing it in frustration, however, in his recklessness he was out in the open briefly, and was shot in the arm. "Gah!" he yelped, falling to the ground in agony. "Medic!" The Sergeant cried out, and without delay a woman rushed over and dragged the injured Sull away into cover. The sergeant proceeded to fire blindly at the attacking Vaegirs, and before they knew it, a Vaegir Armored Car came crashing through, aimed at the defenders and ready to fire it's main gun. "Ah shit.." the sergeant said, and right before his eyes, before they could be blown to bits, From the left, the Legionary APC promised mere moments ago crashed in as well, right between the weakened defenders and attackers.

The doors on the side slide open as a dozen Auxilia-class infantry drones rushed out of the armored vehicle, one of them approaching the sergeant. "Sgt. Mike Zaamil." It droned. "We have been ordered to cover your retreat."

"Your timing is just so damn perfect." Zaamil complimented. "Echo Squad! Fall back to the gate! The Toasters are gonna cover us!" And with that, they all complied as they slowly fell back to the gate as they brought in the wounded, however, they unfortunately had to leave several others behind, those that were killed in earlier moments of the skirmish. Before long all the remaining Echos reached the other side, the large doors sliding closed.

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

Command and Operations Center
In the center of this ramshackled base, Colonel Itinus Kosh of the 701st Strike Battalion, the Battalion tasked with the push into the city, and several others watched over a holo-display of the battlefield, three platoons-worth of men, equipment and drones were struggling across several locations around the district they controlled, a few squads such as Echo were left to guard the base in case of Vaegir flank attacks that occurred not too long ago. The room begun to tremor, dirt and dust falling as they were being shelled by Vaegir artillery.

"Damn it, they got us cornered, their getting serious this time." The Colonel said as he glued his eyes to the battlefield, Vaegir, and even other forces making a slow advance in great numbers. He turned to his Second in Command. "Any word on those reinforcements?"

"Yes, sir." He replied. "We've sighted incoming dropships, they're ours." The Colonel smirked with the news. "We can not lose this beachhead we worked our asses on taking and defending."

[Legion02]

The MSSC’s grunt part of the military is a funny thing. In essence they throw you a gun and tell you to fend for yourself for 2 years. You also get water, but nobody wants to drink water after their first firefight. And you also get enough rations to eat at once a day. But the food was clearly made at a place that had no concept of hygiene or flavor. The grey-brown smudge is usually heated in its can before eaten. Something Grunt Lander Ibines was doing. He was part of the scout team. His squad was huddled up in one of the few skyscrapers still somewhat standing. It offered both excellent shelter, and perfect view. “Hey Lander. What’s that?” the lookout asked. Lander turned and abandoned his cooking stand to look out the shattered window. Outside he saw trails of smoke and fire plunging down. “Fallen wreckages!” his eyes shot wide open. The objects were too small to be spaceship wreckages plunging towards the surface. “Get Epsilon on the radio!” he commanded. Soon he was handed a phone. The damn thing was beyond a relic. But Grunts didn’t get state of the art radio communication so they were forced to make do with what they found. In this case, primitive radios. “Epsilon base actual. Please identify.”

“Grunt 2786. Lander Ibines. Scouting group. I am registering several crashing ships coming from space.” He was interrupted in his transmission by the lookout again. “Sir! I got visual on several damaged ones too. Engines down and the likes but the rest seems in still okay. I’m also seeing several undamaged ones sir!” Lander repeated that message and awaited orders. In the meantime, his grunts got restless. Grabbing their makeshift armor and their RM-5’s. At this point Lander wished he had concluded that trade back at Epsilon for a Temporary Personal Shielding Device. “Mr. Ibines, you are to move out towards Center Quadrant for Scavenging. We will contact several other scout groups to do the same. Please be advised, stealth is highly recommended.” That pretty much meant: if you get caught in a firefight, we can’t help you.

“Okay people, let’s move out!” Soon the troops were going downstairs with the stairwell. Lander was still eating his ration. He wasn’t going to die on an empty stomach. Downstairs they hid 2 ancient vehicles. Civilian in nature, their technicians made them work again. With those they swiftly moved. Several guys were hanging out the window with maps and goggles. One crawled back inside and marked a location on the hard-paper map. “Near this bridge one of those ships should have crashed. I saw an engine burning but it was still in one piece.” Lander nodded and gave the directions to the driver. Soon they reached the bridge. Stone and metal with fast flowing water below it. The dropship, UJF in nature, was crashed on the other side of the bridge. Never the less, Lander gave order to step out of their vehicles and travel the bridge on foot. But as soon as everyone was out of the cars, a bullet flew through the air and caught the Grunt next to Lander. The bullet shattered his femur. “Shit! Take cover!” Lander yelled, and they all did. Hiding behind the reinforced cars and the ruins of buildings. The kid was still screaming in pain, laying in the middle of the street. “Cover me!” Lander commanded. He dropped his gun and started running towards the kid. He was bleeding and squealing like a pig getting slaughtered. Lander grabbed the kid and started dragging him into cover. With bullets flying all around him. His squad seemed to be doing somewhat of a decent job of keeping the enemy off him. Lander only had 2 meters to drag the kid and they were both safe. But with a shattered femur in a combat zone, they’d probably have to amputate it. Though all those thoughts vanished when another bullet went straight through the kid’s chest. The last thing he could do was spit blood before collapsing. Lifeless. Lander yelled in fury: “Shit! Give him a chance you bastards! You just had to give the kid a chance!” As he grabbed his rifle and began to spray down the general direction of the crashed gunship. Behind him, a grunt on the radio was broadcasting their position and a call for aid from other grunt scavenging units.

[Sigma]

Back at the crashed dropship was a young man laying on the ground, holding onto a sniper rifle and pinning down the opportunistic mercenaries. There were only three survivors in the crashed dropship, fortunately for them, their dropship had managed to keep the ashtar missiles off them long enough to reach the atmosphere, despite losing most of the squad plus the pilots, they at least were spared from the fate of being sucked out into vacuum.

All the while he was firing off the rifle, his other comrade was patching up the badly injured third with medical gel. "Hurry up! Mercs are gonna swarm us any minute!" The sniper asked with a desperate tone.

"I'm trying the best I can!" The medic responded. "Goddamn gel takes forever to take effect!" before long, several more technicals had arrived, with more mercenaries pouring out, before the sniper could even react, a hail of bullets followed by the reinforcements, too many to dodge, several manged to pierce his combat armor, two hitting his arm and shoulder, forcing him to drop the rifle and convulse in pain, gripping onto his arm. "FUCK!!" he swore out in pain.

In a panic, the medic picked up the injured soldier over his shoulder, looking, he quickly shouted "Run!"

[Ozerath]

Anurite Basin, Anuria
0300 Local Time

Psion Manderra Kurath was actually beginning to sweat, no mean feat considering the perfectly controlled climate inside her battle armour. She’d been holding three Jasaran soldiers under a mesmer for quite some time now, and the effort was beginning to get to her. She thought of her rifle, slung over her shoulder. Her long range mod DEL carbine would have gotten the job done a lot faster, but a lot less quietly. Shifting the energy output of the weapon out of the visible spectrum was easy enough, but the Ashtar had yet to implement a way to sufficiently mask the energy against sensors. A concentrated beam of energy, even low level, would easily have been detected.

The alternative was simple enough for the Ashtar. Commonly called mesmer, it was a simple psionic technique useful for incapacitating enemy soldiers quietly. The process involved infiltrating the target mind (easy enough against undisciplined opponents) and essentially hijacking their train of thought, filling their head with abstract musings to distract them from their surroundings. It was a simple and subtle warp that Manderra was quite fond of. All three Jasaran sentries were currently thinking about what might be on the mess menu tonight; under Manderra’s gentle touch, they were completely failing to notice Ashtar commandos sneaking by them and disabling proximity sensors. Food was a favorite distraction of Manderra’s. It was something all soldiers from all species thought about, so there was little in the way of mental disjunction to interfere.

The Ashtar were almost in position. A radio check-in interrupted one of her Jasarans; Manderra shifted more attention to him, gently soothing his mind to absently respond to his com as he always did. He responded, confirming all clear, then got back to comparing his lunch to soggy cardboard. Then Manderra got her own all clear, a simple Now over the tactical psylink.

The night exploded into screams and gunfire as armoured Ashtar seemed to materialize from thin air, practically on top of the Jasaran FOB. Two of Manderra’s targets fell to harsh energy blasts, so she set herself on the third, the gentle whisper of her mind in his turning to a shattering scream as she tore at his mind, battering and smashing it down, ripping and clawing at the inner core of his being. All traces of resistance fell away, and Manderra cast her senses out, looking for another target. She wasn’t sure if her original victim was dead, comatose, or gibbering mad, but he wouldn’t be giving anyone trouble tonight.


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Anuria, Arctic Northlands
Point Jakurna

General Diae and Colonel Telryk gave the Basin battle a cursory glance as real time data was relayed back to Point Jakurna via psynet.
“Seems to be going well enough,” Diae commented absently, poking at the persistent itch around his cybernetic eye.
“If things keep going this way, that base will be ours within the hour. Then just a few more like it until we can launch a viable assault on the main facility. Once we take that I think we can secure supply lines through the area within a week, then secure the build site in the Straites, then begin construction…” Telryk let the list peter off. “Still, at least we are making measurable progress under the new operational directives.”
“Yes. I cannot help but feel we are missing the real war though…”
“Then you have spent too long away from the front lines Lith Diae,” a booming voice echoed across the operations center.
Diae turned abruptly, doing his best to mask (or at least mitigate) his irritation. “Noble Hierarch Arctes. You fell in battle?”

Hierarch Arctes, for it was indeed him, was massive. Modern Ashtar fought their genetics and preferred to be lithe and athletic, since their original heavy gravity adapted bodies tended to develop annoying health complications. Arctes, however, looked like he’d just stepped out of Ayrie’s ancient jungles. He was one of two people on Anuria whose new bodies were still custom tailored, and Arctes’ was riddled with scars, carefully recreated on each new body. His hair was crudely cut short, and his face was broad and chiselled. A DEL carbine was slung over one shoulder, jostling against some kind of elaborate spear. Arctes had a pistol on one hip and a sword on the other. A thumper cannon was strapped to his right arm, and knives protruded from the tops of his boots. Arctes was one of the Ashtar’s five Hierarchs, each embodying and manifesting an aspect of the Ashtar as a whole. Arctes was generally summarized as “Hierarch of War”, and he was ostensibly on Anuria for no more reason than to enjoy the heat of battle.

“A landmine,” Arctes boomed out. “I got careless. Do not belittle this war, Lith Diae. War is fear, madness, strife; fighting for a planet or fighting for galaxies. The grief of the widows and orphans this battle will cause is not somehow lesser than the grief of Faran widows and orphans.”
“Forgive me Hierarch, I mis-”
Arctes cut him off. “Your soldiers laugh when they fall, Lith.”
“So do you, as I remem-”
“They do not laugh in the face of death, as I do. I have seen death, true death, and I am not afraid. They have not, cannot even conceive of anything than the Union’s embrace. No, they laugh because they think it pointless or futile, perhaps even absurd. They have been here so long they have forgotten the consequence of death.”
“Noble Hierarch, I do not under-”
But Arctes still wasn’t finished. “I think we are in need of a funeral for the fallen Jasarans, conducted with battle honours. All of us need a reminder of the sacrifice our enemies here and allies far away make every day of the war.”

Without another word, Arctes strode purposefully out of the operations center, leaving the room somewhat awed. Diae was surprised at how moved he was by the Hierarch’s words. It seemed the Hierarch of War was more than he appeared.

[Monkeypants]

The Unforgiven

Strange spirals engulfed a lone Jasaran assault ship. Bright lights pulsates by the windows as the vessel sped towards Anuria.

"So..." A feminine voice muttered. The voice belonged to a fair woman named Licia. She was before the dirt and blood set in. It didn't matter how much she washed, those stains seemed part if her body. Perhaps a testament to what she has seen.

Next to her was a strong male with short brown hair. His voice was gruff which reflected the scar over his eye and the rough beard.

"So..." He said plainly.

Licia smiled at the man, "Look Marcus, you know ship rides are boring as hell."

A smirk crossed Marcus' lips before a metal door opened before them. A mess hall.. A big one at that held doomed men and women alike. These Marines and regular infantrymen sat and laughed, joked and engaged in strange horseplay. Normally this would be forbidden but the CO of the mess seemed fine overlooking it. Maybe it was respect for their lives being nothing but a statistic for upper command.

"Hey! " a young man shouted, raising a plain metal cup "the heroes of Dax !!"

Licia smiled while Marcus shook his head. There was a brief moment when she heard a robotic voice finish a story, "Then Licia's marker grenade called down the strike that killed appopoa shon. That was it, game over." It said enthusiastically.

Marcus walked over to the combat robot, a unique model with a better AI. Not a true one but close enough. Named Jar by Licia, lovingly of course. Its real name was JaR-21B, a reference to its make, model, and year. She didn't quite see it as a robot anymore.. back when it was first introduced, so many were confused why the higher ups would add robots to the field, especially concerns that they could be hacked wireless or gain full sentience. People find anything to be worried about.

Out o nowhere, a sudden jolt and flickering lights sounded the end of the FTL journey. Licia noticed that the room had become very quiet, including Marcus. She turned to see a planet with explosions all over it, ships firing wildly onto the surface. It looked like hell, or as close to it as anyone would believe. As the ship sat there lifeless, a voice came over the intercom, stating it to be the captain. The message was simple that the planned ground invasion of this world would be postponed due to "unforeseen circumstances". "Well shit." Licia said with a sigh.

Marcus then turned to her as the mess hall turned back into its cheerful self. Within a split second, the ship shook again and that swirling energy pulsated around the ship. It was strange for a sudden jump to light speed again, especially considering they were already at the target, even prepared for the intense fight below. As soon as it started, it ended.. the jolt, the lights, the sight of yet another planet. This one didn't seem in bad shape from afar and the sudden arrival of seven allied ships made them feel at ease.

The ride was so smooth, almost serene as the ships glided through the emptiness of space. The stars were shining in the distance and a strangely warm feeling of a sun on a planet that seemed stable kept many cheerful. Then the calm ended, it was so fast.. so abrupt.. Marcus was one of the few to catch a glimpse of the other assault frigate literally blown in half from a strange energy weapon before the emergency armor plates raised over the windows. Sirens went off and like a well oiled machine, crews moved to their stations. Licia, Marcus and Jar followed suit and quickly arrived at the hangar. They boarded their designated drop ship and checked weapons. Marcus enjoyed the machine gun he was blessed with, its buzzing sound gave him a strange satisfaction and Jar was even happier. He had a high caliber anti material rifle and a deadly precision. Licia however sat there with a scoped carbine, her trusty man killer sat neatly between her legs.

Outside the ships armored hull was a vicious battle unfolding and it wasn't in the Jasarans favor one bit.

Seven Jasaran warships began to turn their guns on an enemy that had taken them completely by surprise, Ashtar warships and lots of them. Pilots from both sides prepared their fighters. Jasaran pilots donned their helmets and tested the thrusters of their interceptors before getting the infamous green light before being flung out of the ship at incredible speeds. The Ashtar pilots, if you could call them that, sat calmly at alien consoles and linked into their vicious little fighters. They had no fear, no consequence for sacrificing one of their fighters for the good of the battle. The Jasaran pilots were fighting for their very lives and that ferocity was soon shown to the dismay of the superior Ashtar war machines.

Federation fighters started to take defensive positions while the capital ships turned their heavy guns towards the massing Ashtar advance. It was eerily quiet as the two forces slowly converged. The Ashtar commander was the first to make a move, sending a large group of fighters to whittle the Federation line down before employing its heavy weaponry. It was a superb tactic but to his surprise, the Federation repelled this in a grand display of pure firepower. The Ashtar commander had little choice but to start engaging the Federation ships that were growing ever closer to the line of Ashtar corvettes.

It was almost like the flip of a switch as from one moment of calm turned into as federation massed firepower met the precision killing weapons of the Ashtar. Shields deflected blows on both sides but before long, the Federation was starting to wither. As soon as the corvettes got within a few kilometers of the Federation line, the Jasaran fighters hit full burn into the Ashtar lines. Short range, heavy payload missiles launched en masse' from the fighters missile pods. The contrails of missiles filled the battle space within seconds, doing massive damage to everything they touched.

The first real blow to the Federation battle group was the loss of its centerpiece, an endurance class carrier. Various pilots remember seeing the light blue beams firing from corvettes on it once the shields had dropped. Armor did little to mitigate the energy weapons of the Ashtar as they had targeted the thin armor of its launch bays. Normally the Federation wouldn't have had a carrier operating so close but the sudden arrival of the Ashtar group led to that vessels demise. It was only the first too.

The Ashtar commander was growing angry as its arrogance was starting to be tested by the Federation ships. White hot beams and bright red metal slugs flew in massive barrages into corvettes, destroying them in alarming number. The next loss was a triumphant class, a sad loss at that. Its side missile bays were nailed by a dark blue beam from seemingly nowhere. It wasn't in vein as the frigate had taken three corvettes with it. It was at that point the Ashtar commander chaged its tactics, recalling its corvettes to a line formation out of the Federation warships medium guns effective range. Federation fighters attempted to pursue the retreating corvettes and after a few kills, were outmatched by the corvettes superior speed. Not much time passed before Ashtar big guns appeared to make up for the corvettes that the commander had thrown against its opponent. It was obvious that had the Ashtar commander rushed in with its full strength, losses would've been much less. Pride was the death of so many warriors.

Federation warships began moving away themselves, trying to form a defensive line and signal for help. The Ashtar commander made its best attempts to block the signal but it was too late. The commander knew it only had moments before the Federation would possibly respond. Its tactics turned barbaric and blunt, forming its ships in a wall formation and bringing in more fighters to supplement the corvette casualties and with a sudden rush showed its combat prowess. Bright flashes far more intense than before lit up the immediate area. Shot after shot until the Federation guns were glowing red and the Ashtar weapons were even straining at this point. There was some confidence in the Federation commanders mind that it could survive this fight but then the Ashtar cruisers arrive, tipping the balance far in their favor.

Cruisers sped in from the 'sides' of the federation line as the wall of Ashtar corvettes steamrolled through the middle. Federation guns weren't able to keep up with the targets once the Ashtar fighters started the point blank knife fights with the remaining Federation interceptors. Explosion after explosion signaled the death of many Ashtar and Federation fighters alike. No one would ever want to admit it but at that close range, it's likely that the Federation capital ships did just as much damage to their own fighters as the enemy fighters did. Flak didn't discriminate and many pilots learned that first hand, sadly at the end of their life.

The federation line began to falter when the closest cruiser fired a high intensity "Omega" cannon directly through its bow. The beam went from nose to tail, carving out its targets innards like a knife through paper. Things went from bad to worse when the Federations Resolute Destroyer fell to enemy fire.

Inide the assault ship, the "heroes of dax" could only speculate what was going on outside as the only thing they had to go on was the rumble of weapons hitting their ships hull. Alarms were blazing and many marines were shaking at this point, not sure if this was their end and there wasn't a thing they could do about it. That was probably the worst part of it that their training was for nothing if an enemy blue death ray would end their life in a flash. Marcus was one of the calm ones, he didn't give a damn at all. He had already came to the conclusion that he should have been dead by now. Jar had no emotion to display so it sat there plainly. Licia however was growing nervous. The marine next to her wasn't helping, constantly asking its maker for salvation.

"Shut the fuck up!" she said, finally snapping.

Outside the situation was growing dire and before long, the Assault ship took its final blow from a point blank omega torpedo through its nose. The ship immediately broke in half, its aft sent into a slow spiral. Inside, only those that were close enough to see the ships separation knew, everyone else was silent as the alarms were still blaring. Artificial gravity was still functioning so there was no way to really know but it eventually failed, forcing many objects into the air. A massive shake ended the ships life as the engine core shut down from stress and feedback. Licia was one of the few that could see out of the drop ships cockpit, noticing the lights shutting off.

"Alright, everyone assume your emergency drop positions. We are preparing to launch." was the last words Licia heard before the explosion...

The massive hole blown in the hangar pulled everything into the vaccuum including the dropship. She could see out of the cockpit and her eyes grew large as she saw the assault ship, or what was left of it, burning into the atmosphere. The drop ship did its best to stay on course but the engines had been damaged in the free fall. Licia did get a last minute satisfaction though, seeing a massive formation of Federation capital ships emerging from light speed and immediately destroying four of the cruisers that had ravaged the battle group she was apart of.

Darkness followed.. was it a blunt object to the head? she had no idea but when she awoke, she could only see the ground below her dangling feet. She somehow landed in a tree and from this vantage she could see the impact site of her drop ship and the assault ship itself. "shit.. shit.. shit.." she said angrily as she fought to break free of the vines that had caught her fall. Licia finally broke free and landed hard onto the ground.

Marcus rode the drop ship straight into the ground. He was the sole survivor and somehow managed that without a scratch. Maybe it was the splatter of two mangled bodies that protected him from the impact. Regardless he didn't care, his weapon still worked.

Jar had a different fate, landing in a small pool of water. It was just deep enough to not damage the robot, some intense luck most would say. It made no difference to the robot as its only concern was its destroyed rifle.

Hours went by as the group came together at the ships crash site. There was no sign of life anywhere but at least Jar had found a replacement rifle. Supplies were laying about as well as vehicles and weapons. Marcus face lit up when he saw it.. "Hey! come here!!" he shouted exuberantly. A centurion tank sat unspoiled in front of them. A true weapon to project the whooping of ass was staring at them. Marcus climbed in and started the mighty weapons engines and brought it from the hangar. At the height of Marcus excitement, the engine caught fire. His cursing was likely heard miles away as he slammed his fist against the metal plates before jumping out. Automatic extinguishers stopped the tank from further damage but none present knew how to fix that beast.

Then they saw it, another possible salvation. A pristine Razorwing that had somehow survived the crash. Jar announced its ability to fly the machine so the group made their way. It was a tough climb to get into the ship that was hanging upside down on its hangar clamps. "This is going to be tough." Marcus said, almost mockingly. Jar dismissed Marcus' negativity and climbed into the cockpit. The engines spun up and with a sudden clank, the drop ship broke free and quickly rolled upright with perfect thrust angling by the robot pilot.

Licia, Marcus and Jar loaded everything they could into the drop ship, including clamping the Centurion tank onto the back. They had no idea where they were but the crafts communications were working.

"Mayday, mayday, This is Lyra two-four to any Federation personnel. Please help!"

And above them, the aftermath of the battle that landed them in this situation.

[Ozerath]

Anuria System
Oort Cloud
Ashtar Capital Ship Perhaps it is Best to Redefine the Rules of Engagement

Far, far, far, far, far from the reach of Anuria’s sun, beyond the most distant planet, not even truly in the solar system, Rules of Engagement rested serenely amongst an ever growing network of repair and construction yards. As a fleet support variant capital ship, Rules of Engagement was equipped with internal repair facilities corvettes, a massive swarm of repair and resupply drones, and a mining ships. These extra facilities significantly compromised her hangar availability for combat vessels, and necessitated reduced armor in some locations, but her shield and weapon emplacements were the match of any mainline capital ship. The idea behind her design was to reduce dependency on fragile fleet tenders without overly compromising combat performance, and the sheer size available to her builders had made accomplishing the design objectives quite simple.

The fact that she had transformed into a fully operational shipyard was not originally part of the design, but over the course of her 50 year stay in Anuria, it had been surprisingly easy to put together. Mining ships brought in a steady supply of raw materials from the surrounding Oort cloud--occasionally journeying farther in system for certain heavy metals--which nanofabricators could turn into components required by the yards. The Anuria task force was now almost completely supplied by Rules of Engagement; arms and armor, tanks, ships, fighters, anything the task force could need. It had gotten to the point where the Anuria system was actually generating more ships and materiel than it required; cruisers from Rules of Engagement’s yards were occasionally sent off towards the distant Sakturi front.

The ship’s excessive isolation was a matter of security; the Ashtar were absolutely not willing to let her be damaged, and no one was likely to stumble across Rules of Engagement this far out. Incoming and outgoing ships were forbidden from jumping or gating directly to Rules of Engagement’s location; instead, they had to approach at sublight from randomly assigned points. It usually tacked on several extra hours to any journey, and more than one heavily damaged ship had not survived the trip, but they were acceptable sacrifices.

On the bridge of the cruiser Born of Steel and Forged in Fire, Commodore Ayluna Rammael was enduring one such journey now. They never failed to test her patience, but she recognized that the protocol was a good one. That much jump activity from a single point would set off every gravitic sensor in the system, regardless of how far away they were. She set about reviewing the plans for the attack on the Vaegir fleet.

The primary objective was the destruction of the Imperator Kirov, the centerpiece and tactical heart of the Vaegir fleet. The loss of one ship would of course not cripple the Vaegir, but it would serve as a severe blow to C&C capabilities and morale, both on world and at home. They would also be vulnerable to further attack, enough that the Ashtar hoped to be able to drive them from Anuria’s orbit with two or three follow up attacks. Bearing in mind the relative disposability of Ashtar personnel and materiel, the ops plan was bold, bordering on suicidal. The attack fleet was smaller than would be expected, and its heavy elements were dominated by Vigilance assault cruisers, with comparitively few Archangels present. The usual swarms of Strelnikov corvettes were flying in close formation, but they were also joined by tight formations of Swiftwind fighter drones. Traditionally, it was prudent to send fighters ahead of the main fleet in engagements to bear the brunt of the defenders’ opening fire, but that also meant giving them warning of an incoming attack. This time, the fighters would use their own tiny FTL drives to jump in simultaneously with the rest of the fleet. They would be extremely vulnerable on arrival, but that hardly mattered.

A light beeping interupted Rammael’s thoughts. She looked up at the surrounding holodisplay, seeing that the fleet had arrived at its designated departure coordinates, some 283 lightminutes from Rules of Engagement. She nodded to her Operations officer. “Jump.”

Within milliseconds of eachother, the entire fleet dissapeared in a series of flashes, reappearing well in system at a standard holding position of five lightminutes from Anuria.
“All ships report jump successful. Spooling up for phase two tactical jump,” the ops officer reported.
“Recon probes?”
“We are linking in now. The Vaegir remain at last reported position. Probes report stealth systems remain operational, no overt signs of detection.”
“Very well. Signal all ships to action stations. Begin jump countdown.”

The lights all over the ship dimmed to a slightly darker blue, and an alarm klaxon sounded twice, then was silent. The crew received no further prompts, but anyone who missed the audio-visual cues could not possibly miss the general quarters message echoing through the local psynet. Externally, armoured carapaces slipped over windows and other structural weakpooints, weapons reared on and powered up, while delicate sensor arrays retreated into protected alcoves, all of it suddenly veiled by the shimmering of multiple shield layers.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly, until there was just the one left. Each second lasted an eternity, until finally “5...4...3...2...1...Jump”.

A flash, a feeling of deep discomfort from muted gravitational forces, and the fleet abruptly appeared at point blank range from their Vaegir opponents.
“Anti-ship ordnance on all missile tubes, lock on Imperator Kirov at range and fire. Energy weapons, bear on Vaegir screening elements and fire, clear us a path.”
Born of Steel and the rest of the Ashtar ships roared into action, beam weapons and pulses of omega fire lashing out at nearby Vaegir ships while a veritable holocaust of missiles headed for the armored carrier at the heart of the Vaegir fleet.

[Skepic]

Sector 47, Combat Zone:
A n u r i a
Fleet:
44th Fleet of Avienia
Unit:
509th Mechanized Troops
2nd Platoon, Amalan Company
Campaign Objective:
The seizure of the strategic native city of "Kol'Kida" and its assets. Heavy use of chemical warfare is highly recommended to keep damage to strategic objectives to a minimum

Sgt. Breter woke with a start. He found himself laying on the floor of the ship's barracks, fire burning further down the hallway. He was occasionally showered in sparks from the destroyed ceiling above. His eyes slowly began to focus, head aching, left leg burning. His visor was cracked, but the HUD still read his suits integrity had not been breached. Getting to his feat, Breter glanced around, trying to get his barrings, when suddenly a soldier ran into the barracks. "What the hell are you doing!? We need to get off this thing! Now! We're abandoning ship!" the soldier yelled, grabbing the sergeant and tugging him down the hall.
"What the hell is going on? One moment I'm getting ready to brief my squad, the next I'm on the floor!" Breter asked, finally getting his wits about him.
"We got hit as we jumped the ship is currently getting shot to hell over the Artic Northland." the soldier responded, the pair running through the ship. They were aboard the AES Kanura, a Frigette Class ship that was supposed to have jumped with the rest of the fleet. However, the large chunks of space debris over Anuria had changed that, sending the ship far off course. Now it was over the Artic Nortland, suffering from severe damage and slowly falling out of orbit.

The unfortunate ship had jumped straight into the middle of a great naval battle above the poles. For the briefest of moments, both sides were somewhat stunned, taken back by such a random ship to join the fray. Some captains from either side might have thought that the ship was simply suicidal or something. Nontheless, hell fire began to rain down on the Kanura, shields flaring for a moment before succumbing to the onslaught. Hull breaches, fires, and other battle damage covered the ship as it began its deadly decent. Without shields or structural integrity to protect it, much of it would definitely be destroyed in the fall.

Sgt Breter sprinted down the ruined halls, finally breaking into the hangar bay. Fires burned everywhere, but it didn't matter now. The few dropships that remained were already beginning to take off. He leap aboard one of the ships as it lifted off the floor, making it just barely into the ship. The troops and crew already aboard pulled him in as the side doors shut and sealed. The AVC-28 rocketed out of the hanger as the ship fell. On the plus side, the large amounts of debris, the more important battle above them, and the fact that at this point, the ship was already passing the low orbit mark meant that the ship wasn't immediately blasted out of space. A small group of dropships descended upon the Northland, drop pods and conventional escape pods whizzing past them as they began their decent. Sadly though, once they got closer to the frozen surface, the formation was lit up by anti air emplacements on the ground. Ship after ship being blown from the sky. Breter starred in silent terror as tracers filled the skies around his ship. Suddenly the dropship bucked and began to uncontrollably lean right, smoke noticeably billowing from the right engine. "Brace brace brace!" Yelled the pilot as the rocketed down toward the tundra.

Thus began the unintentional, Avienian guerrilla warfare campaign in the Arctic Northlands.

[ClocktowerEchos]

The Imperator Kirov

Mosin-Class Super Armored Carrier

High Admiral Nikolai Ketrov

---

---

---

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"Sir enemy ships just warped in! Aster fleet ships!"
"Enemy main craft ID'd as Born of Steel, sir!"
"Damage control teams are at the ready."

High Admiral Nikola Ketrov listened as chaos erupted due to the sudden arrival of the Aster battle group. He couldn't say he was surprised, he was in the most heavily contested area in known space, but there is always a sense of surprise when the first thing you see is a ship suddenly come out of warp and open fire. No amount of experience or training could prepare a man for stuff like that.

Stroking his beard and staying calm and collected, the old man quickly gave move orders, issued attack commands, and commandeered with grace and experience as his ship was sunder fire. "Beat them back! Show them our numbers and what happens when you kick a sleeping bear!" Ketrov roared, his age not reducing the intensity of his voice, "We must not let them damage our prized ship!"

The Imperator Kirov was a special ship in an already special class of ships. While originally be based on the Kiev-Class of carriers, the Imperator Kirov was the only one in the line of Mosin-Class. Slightly larger but boast more guns and armor as serving flagship HQ for the Anuria campaign. The seal of the Imperator gleamed at its front as its guns turned to face the enemy.

The darkness of space was soon lit up by immense and overwhelming fire power of the Vaegir ships. They may not be the most damaging rounds or the even the most accurate, but their sheer numbers meant that it would be impossible for any ship not to be hit, even if some friendly ships ended up taking damage in the process. Soon, fighter craft swarmed out to meet the enemy, en masse flying past them as a second wave of MB4 Bombers swept in to reveal their missiles, rockets and guns to bombard the enemy ships.

To the admiral, the fight was going well so far, casualties was only in the low thousands at this point in the battle, completely acceptable losses by USVI standards. Frigates and cruisers were properly tanking much of the damage as they zipped around shooting back as they where shot back, battleships of all kinds where opening up with their payloads of rockets, missiles, nukes and other longer ranged weapons. Sure their losses would be high at the end of this little skirmish, but Ketrov could also ask for more help from home, there was still millions of men and thousands ships to be used, who cared if he lost a few thousand men and a couple of ships? If it was for the glory of the Imperium, it would be worth it.

[Ozerath]

Anuria Orbit
Born of Steel, Forged in Fire
Flag Bridge

Commodore Rammael glared at the holosphere surrounding her. The display was amazingly high fidelity, rendering the fiery battle so clearly she could have believed she was standing on Born of Steel’s hull rather than deep in its flag bridge. With a thought, a sub-display opened in front of her, rendering the battle in a more tactical view, enemy ships represented by orange stars while her own were blue. She’d somewhat underestimated how tightly the Vaegir were willing to form up; their ships were practically touching in some places. The tight formation was causing some losses to friendly fire, but it was also making it physically impossible for Rammaels heavy energy weapons to hit the enemy flagship.

The Vaegir counterfire was also causing some problems. Having engaged them before, Rammael knew to expect a veritable sandstorm of kinetic rounds and missiles, and she’d tried to plan for it, but other objectives had limited her flexibility. The Ashtar cruisers were more or less fine for the moment, their shields constantly flashing and steadily draining under the withering Vaegir response. Her corvette packs were also faring quite well. A few dozen of them were lost to the initial salvo, but once they were accelerated to combat speed and dispersed away from the cruisers--where most of the Vaegir firepower was concentrated--they did considerably better. The problem was the fighters. In order to exectue the precise tactical jump that brought them into battle, the entire fleet had been tucked in close together. On arrival, their close formation rendered them vulnerable to the massed Vaegir counterfire. The cruisers and corvettes had enough shielding to take the first few rounds as they loosened formation, but the fighters did not, and the Vaegir cut huge swathes through their ranks. It was unfortunate, but an inevitable consequence of the overall manoeuvre. With their numbers reduced, they’d be best used on the offensive, assaulting the Vaegir from lateral vectors and keeping clear of the main barrages directed at the Ashtar heavies. This would leave the Vaegir fighter craft without any direct opposition as they closed on the Ashtar cruisers, but the elegant ships had some effective tools available to them.

The last of the Swiftwinds crossed out of the fleet’s firing solution. “All ships, engage defensive batteries at full power, direct polaron flak shell full ahead and match it with the fighters positions as they close for attack.” Rammael commanded. Missiles, shells and Vaegir fighters abruptly began to explode in the space between the two fleets as polaron packets exploded in their midst, flooding the void with blasts of coherent energy. Flak remained an incredibly useful tool on the battlefield, but as with most things, the Ashtar had decided that crude projectile flak wasn’t good enough for them, and had developed an unnecessarily sophisticated counterpart of their own. As enemy fighters continued to close, the flak shell morphed and twisted with them, sophisticated AI’s and psionicly linked gunners tracking and predicting their positions.

Ashtar corvettes were now running rampant across the battlefield, grouping and dispersing on a whim to take out targets of opportunity. Seven of them spotted a battleship with shields weakened by heavy weapons fire. As one, they each launched their omega torpedoes, the first two wiping away the last of the battleship’s shields and the remaining five smashing into the hull. Four of the corvettes abruptly died in chain detonation of nuclear ordnance, but the surviving three raced on, wreaking havoc.

The first massive salvo of missiles directed at Imperator Kirov had contended with half a fleet’s worth of point defense before reaching their target, only then to have to deal with the battle carrier’s own point defense. Suffice to say, not enough survived to do any noteable damage. But that was only the first salvo. Rammael watched the tactical displays on her flag bridge. As they shifted to open fire on her own ships, the Vaegir were slowly exposing their flank. She glanced up at the charge timer on the fleet’s jump drives. Ultimately, she did want to keep her options open, so she discarded the idea of executing another tactical jump. Besides, she had missiles for that. “Prepare another salvo of shipkiller warheads, jump capable, high burn drives….Fire.” Another massed salvo shot their launch tubes, and abruptly disappeared with a flash. Vaegir tracking systems were confused for a few seconds, then abruptly reacquired the missile salvo...coming at high speed from the opposite side of the fleet, boring in directly on Imperator Kirov.

[Legion02]

Anuria Surface
Kol’Kora – Central Quadrant
Soon the reinforcements Lander’s group requested began to arrive. One of the advantages of the grunts was that no matter what, they had numbers. Soon over 2 dozen guns opened fire at the crashed gunship. “I hit one!” yelled a kid. It was probably his first kill. Considering his happiness. Gunfire from the MSSC side began to die out as they started to notice nothing fired back. Carefully some began to cross the bridge. But once they were half-way and nothing shot at them, they broke into a sprint. On the other side they found the sniper. Clearly in pain, gripping his arm. Trying to stop the bleeding. But the Grunts had little sense of compassion. The drilled a few bullets in him, as retaliation for their fallen comrades. In the distance then saw the medic trying to make a run for it, carrying another wounded soldier.

“Hey! One is trying to run!” Yelled the squad that crossed the bridge. But not on Lander’s watch. He quickly jumped into some random technical. Three others, who knew Lander damn well, jumped in the back. It didn’t take much to overtake the soldier. Blocking his escape. All Lander’s rage turned into cold-blooded hatred. As he always did. The medic had no time for words as the stock of Lander’s gun slammed into his chin. Sending him to the ground. The wounded soldier fell down on the ground in agony. “Silence him.” Was enough for another of Lander’s squad to put 3 bullets in him. Lander himself hit the medic with the stock again. Making sure he was out. “Get this asshole to Epsilon. See if they can pry anything lose from him.”

Once the area was considered clear, the Ripper Squad was called in. Rippers were a breed of their own. Technicians, self-taught chemists, former-garage owners, illegal car modders. That sort of people. They had a talent to make something out of practically nothing. They were also extremely good at tearing apart anything. As soon as they arrived they began to drain the fuel, strip the metal plates. Even as a fire near the engines kept raging on. They didn’t care to put it out, it would take too long. They kept stripping apart the plane. Until of course the engine exploded. Sending a Ripper flying. You’d think that normal Grunts their life expectancy was bad, but Rippers had an even lower number. Their homegrown experiments became so dangerous that they got their own little base not too far away from Epsilon. Almost every month something explodes over there.

In the meantime the Grunts did what they had to do. The gathered the corpses of both sides and piled them up. Then they threw some car fuel on it and lit it up. Corpses bred diseases easily. If left to rot of course. After that, and some well-deserved downtime Lander’s squad moved out. Positioning the next crashed dropship. Heading deeper into the central quadrant where clearly a war was brewing.

---

Anuria Orbit
Cherubim-Class Carrier “Second Light”
Bridge
“Ma’am. Approaching designated battle position.” Someone at the monitors said out loud, while keeping eyes on the screen. Admiral Helen Lagare looked over the yet blank holo-table. In minutes it would come to life and show the full scale battle between the Ashtar and the Vaegir. Miss Lagare had strict orders to completely ignore the Vaegir fleet. The goal here was the capture of an Ashtar ship and the advanced technology onboard for further study. As well as imprisoning several Ashtar themselves to study their so called psionic abilities.

When “Second Light” came out of Warp it arrived fairly close to the Ashtar fleet. With it, 2 more Throne-classes, 7 Dominion-classes, 6 Virtue-classes and 10 MSSC Archangel-classes. They arrived on the portside of the Ashtar. Trying to come in by surprise. Using the full frontal attack from Vaegir as distraction, they would attempt to target a weaker ship at the back of the Ashtar fleet. Admiral Lagare quickly found her desired targets. A group of Ashtar Archangels sitting in the back. Firing their missiles. She selected them and marked them “board”. Thus began the action.

The Cherubim-Class and Throne-Classes would be far too slow to reach the Archangels in time. But the ‘Second Light’ had the main force of the Space Intervention Force onboard. Thus they still pushed their engines hard. With the Thrones opening fire. First a few shots with their main rail gun, but at a lower than standard velocity. So to only break the shields. The 10 accelerator guns began to open fire too. But no torpedoes yet. The Dominions and Archangels pushed forward fast. The Archangels mainly served to shoot down large anti-capital torpedoes and cruise missiles. While the Dominions fired their internal rail gun freely at the Archangels. The main objective was not to harm the ships bad but to cripple their shields. The Virtues on the other hand made a small arc and went for the engines of the Ashtar Archangels. Once in range they too opened fire, and launched their cruise missiles at the speculated places where their FTL could be.

[VoiD]

The Theocracy of Aorolach

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sovereign Station
Malthecien Space, outside of Anurian System

[+]

Remon blearily opened his eyes, groaning. He glanced around his small berth, wondering what had awoken him, when with a jolt he became aware of the alarm blaring from across the room. Remon rose from his bunk and quickly moved towards the source of the noise, the electric control panel on his desk. As soon as he accessed it, the noise stopped, and the face of his Primate appeared on the screen.

"Archon Remon, please report to the bridge immediately."

"Aye, sir. On my way."

Remon turned saluted fist-over-heart, then turned off the control panel and scrambled to dress himself. He put on his fleet blues, smoothed his uniform, and quickly inspected himself before accessing his wrist console and unlocking his door. It opened with a quiet hsss, and he briskly walked out and into the narrow corridors beyond. He took an immediate right, nodding to the enlisted he passed on his way to the bridge, his thoughts racing all the while.

The adepts guarding the entrance to the bridge stood at attention once they saw him. He murmured an "at ease" and continued inside. Arrayed in a crescent, theurgists worked solemnly at various stations. One noticed his arrival and called out "Archon on deck!" and saluted him, an action which was quickly imitated by his peers.

"At ease." He said, schooling his features and donning a stoic expression. He turned his attention to the two command chairs, one of which was occupied by his superior. Remon greeted the Primate formally, then sat down in his respective chair and waited. The Primate turned and nodded to him.

"Archon Remon, my apologies for waking you early. We have received orders from the First." The Primate gestured to the holo-console but did not look at it.

Remon widened his eyes slightly. "So soon? We have just finished conducting refittings." He had expected to be stationed at Sovereign for another month at least before being shipped out again.

"Yes, I know it seems sudden." The Primate paused, as if considering something. "Order the assemblage of the fleet. We are beginning another offensive on Anuria."

Remon swallowed, and mutely nodded. The last offensive had failed miserably, barely managing to expand their territory and resulting in the near-destruction of the entire Malthecien fleet. Of course, that fleet had been less than half the size of the one now gathered at Sovereign Station. This would certainly be the largest operation undertaken by the Theocracy in the last decade. Roughly thirty ships -- five inquisitors, ten patriarchs, and around twenty missionaries -- was a large force by any standard.

"I shall dispatch orders immediately."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Patrol near Camp Frostbite
Arctic Northlands, Malthecien-Ashtarian border

[+]

"Suppressing fire!" Elthian screamed.

He rose to his knees and let out a rain of plasma at the enemy Ashtar fifty meters away. Surprisingly, he clipped one, who fell with an alien shriek, while the others ducked behind the snowdrift they were using as cover. His squad rose from their positions and began selectively firing at the Ashtar, felling another three. One of the Ashtar returned fire, and Elthian's squadmate took a shot to the neck and collapsed with a strangled gurgle.

"Keep up the pressure!" Invoker Theuron bellowed as he emptied his battery on two Ashtar who had unwisely rose from the snowdrift, emboldened by their ally's success.

"Yes, sir!" Elthian answered, bringing his rifle to bear again. He fired in bursts, his battery low, and managed to take down another enemy before the rest of his squad mopped up the remaining Ashtar. He breathed heavily, then reloaded his weapon.

"Good shooting, Acolyte." Invoker Theuron said to him, then addressed the entire squad. "Alright, we're done here. Grab the casualties and let's move it!"

The squad quickly moved to follow Theuron's orders and Elthian followed suit. Ambushes against the Ashtar patrols were swiftly becoming second nature; though incursions into Ashtarian territory as audacious as this one were rare. Although, Elthian considered, those were becoming more common as well. Headquarters had been organizing more raids such as this recently. Indeed, in the past month or so, he had participated in such attacks four times as many than he had in the previous three months combined. The veterans said that this could only mean the beginning of a new offensive, and Elthian was inclined to agree.

He was broken from his reverie by the Invoker barking at him for falling behind, and he picked up his pace. Briefly, he wondered if this new offensive would be as successful as the last.

Best not to think too long on that, He thought grimly, glancing at the ground. I don't want to become another cooling body on this forsaken planet.

[Sigma]

Kol'Kora
Shortly after entrance.
Adam's dropship swiftly landed on the nearest build, under fire from enemy AA-Guns or small arms fire. Captain Ironside was the first to charge out of the dropship, followed by Adam and the rest of the squad, the doors sliding shut behind them as the dropship quickly flew elsewhere, providing what ground support possible. The mission had barely started, and all except for the Captain were already shaken by their close encounters with death. Wouldn't be the first time, but despite that, they never get used it and only fear for it to happen again, and again. Adam gripped tightly to his rifle, he and his squad scanning their surroundings, nothing but the sounds of gun and plasma fire drowning out the ambiance. The Captain silently moved forward, standing before a gaping hole atop the roof, Adam and the squad followed suit as they all hour the gunfire become louder, the building was occupied, most likely those mercenaries roaming about or elements of the Vaegir army besieging the FOB.

Ironside made several hand gestures to the squad, understanding their meaning, they jumped down one by one. "Here we go again.." Adam thought to himself as he was last to jump down.

[Ozerath]

Arctic Wastelands
Ashtar-Malthecian Contested Zone
Adeptus Khalan Mirodin peered after the Malthecian soldiers through his massive rifle’s scope. That is the third incursion this week, he projected the through through the theatre psynet back to his commanding officer at Point Jakurna. Khalan was an Adeptus Sniper; a highly skilled Psintegrat carrying a very large gun, operating alone in the snow. The fallen patrol had gotten themselves killed before he could arrive in support--he could in fact feel their shame from within the Union--so he alone was faced with the decision of how to wipe out the intruding Malthecian patrol. The Union seemed confident that the carefully designed Point Jakurna was invincible to anything but sustained heavy siege, so a single patrol seemed hardly worth the effort, but it was about sending a message.

Indeed Lieutenant Senera replied from Point Jakurna. The performance of our border patrol was abysmal. In your professional opinion, do you believe their behaviour constituted dereliction of duty, or merely incompetence.
Incompetence. Or rather, carelessness. This problem is growing ever worse.
The problem is being analysed and dealt with. Do not let it distract you.
Very well. Orders?
Eliminate the Malthecian interlopers, then proceed to the estimated location of their primary base.

To their credit, the Malthecian base had not yet actually been found by the Ashtar. But the hidden base was simply too full of life to remain hidden for long. The now familiar glow of Malthecian minds pulsed brilliantly to the north, closer to the pole than Point Jakurna. The problem lay in correlating that feeling to a physical location, something the Ashtar hadn’t thought would be necessary given how long Point Jakurna had stood unchallenged. However, if the Malthecians were escalating towards an all out offensive, they would need to be discouraged.

With the Malthecians out of the immediate vicinity, Khalan made his way to the felled patrol. A few of the bodies weren’t too badly damage; he signaled a Coralis gunship to come pick them up (and finish cleaning the Malthecians should he fail), then set off after their patrol. It wasn’t long before he brought them back into range, about five kilometers distant. Khalan set himself down on top of a snowy hill, and unslung his rifle. While technically it was meant to be used against enemy tanks, the anti-materiel omega sniper rifle would do just fine against personnel.

The shot, when it impacted, was a single bullet not aimed at any individual soldier, but squarely in the middle of their squad. The tiny capsule of energy collapsed, destabilizing the omega particle within and causing a thunderous explosion that tore through armour and sent soldiers flying. Kahlan whipped the chamber open and loaded another round, then scanned the charred corpses and melting ice for signs of life…

[VoiD]

The Theocracy of Aorolach

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Patrol near Camp Frostbite
Arctic Northlands, Malthecien-Ashtarian border

[+]

The world seemed to turn upside down. Without knowing how or why, Elthian suddenly found himself lying on his back. He had trouble breathing, as if a great weight laid on his chest. Vision blurred and half-buried by snow and chunks of permafrost, Elthian dimly registered the sounds of gunfire and screaming raging around him. Slowly, he came to, the electronics in his suit recalibrating themselves. His HUD flashed into existence, blinking all manners of alerts. He groaned, and sat up...

"SNIPER!" Invoker Theuron screamed, grabbing Elthian's arm roughly and yanking him to his feet. He shoved him towards a snowy bluff ten paces away. "Take cover NOW Acolyte!" He didn't wait for a response, instead turning and emptying his battery into the distance.

Barely comprehending, Elthian dove behind the bluff, and was soon accompanied by several others from his squad. He noticed, with a sinking feeling in both his stomachs, the absence of nearly half of their original force. He heard Invoker Theuron curse, and suddenly the world was upside down again. Elthian found himself on his back, with a still-cursing Invoker Theuron next to him.

"He's using goddamn anti-armor rounds!" Invoker Theuron said incredulously, then turned to Elthian. "Acolyte, see if you can get a read on him, track the trajectory. The rest of you," He turned to the other surviving members of their patrol. "Provide suppressing fire! Use all your goddamn batteries on him if you need to. GO!" Invoker Theuron barked.

Supercharged plasma suddenly filled the air, and Elthian quickly began running simulations. The built-in processor in his suit hummed with power as it greedily sucked in air from his ventilators. Calculations ran across his HUD as a target icon swam across his vision. Finally, an alert popped up on his screen: INSUFFICIENT DATA. Elthian cursed the father, and turned to the Invoker. "Not enough data! You need to bait out another shot!"

Invoker Theuron gave no indication that he had heard, but suddenly he jumped up at cover, only to duck down immediately afterwards. The world tilted again, and two members of the remaining squad gave startled yells, unnaturally cut off. "Got 'em!" Elthian yelled triumphantly. Invoker Theuron gave him a thumbs-up. "I'm giving you a direct line to Central! Call in hell, Acolyte!"

Elthian swallowed hard, but nodded his assent. "Central, this is Acolyte Elthian of Patrol Squad D4N02. We have a hostile sniper approximately five kilometers away positioned on a hilltop. He is using heavy anti-armor rounds. We need immediate fire support. I repeat, we need immediate fire support." His heart thudding in his chest, he only had to wait for a moment before the reply came through.

"Understood Acolyte. Sending in a Crusader fighter equipped for low-atmosphere fire support. ETA sixty seconds." Elthian pumped his fists. They were saved.

[Ozerath]

Arctic Wastelands
Ashtar Malthecian Contested Zone

As soon as his third shot detonated, Kahlan was on the move. He probably should have moved after the second, but a particular Malthecian had been too tempting a target. There was no way they hadn’t triangulated his position yet. Kahlan engaged his armour’s active camo, rendering him into an indistinct blur and dampening the power armour’s emissions. Not a flawless disguise, but good enough. He set off at a sprint, his speed augmented by the armour. A slight rise, heavy with snow, presented another vantage point. Kahlan dropped into the snow drift and paused to catch his breath, pushing his mind outwards to gently brush against the Malthecians. He delicately sampled their feelings; fear, anger, then sudden relief. They were getting support, artillery fire or an air sweep perhaps.

Gunship O5-11, be advised enemy infantry will be receiving support, remain vigilant, Kahlan informed the approaching gunship .
Understood Adeptus, we will not be caught unawares.

The seconds ticked by. Kahlan checked on the gunship, it was screaming along no more than a few seconds away. He pushed out his mind again, sensing the pinpricks of light that represented his adversaries. They were strong willed and partially shielded, particularly their commander, but there was always a weak point. He gently skimmed their surface emotions. One in particular was nervous and afraid. Kahlan delicately pushed deeper into that mind, picking up thoughts and images now. The Malthecian was at his wits end, but he diligently scanned his surroundings, rifle at the ready. Kahlan probed at his anxiety, amplifying it. The soldier began tapping on his rifle nervously. Kahlan pressed deeper into his mind, examining the man's knowledge of his weapons. He wouldn't be able to exert more than a passing influence through the soldiers psionic jammers and rigorous discipline. The rifle was out, but a grenade might do the trick. The soldier drummed his fingers on his armoured thigh, increasingly agitated.

Kahlan struck. It was such a small gesture, to reach up to a grenade, activate it, and return the hand to its nervous tapping. The entire process took less than 5 seconds real time, and with any luck, his intrusion had gone unnoticed.

The gunship arrived with hardly more than a whisper, its graviton turbines generating no more than a faint hum. The sleek atmospheric craft carried only its pilots and a dedicated psintegrat; it's personnel bay was empty. Aware of the imminent arrival of some kind of support, it held its distance from the Malthecian soldiers. There would be time enough to deal with them once the unknown threat was handled.
“There, ” the pilot said as a blip appeared on sensors. “Looks like a Crusader, approaching at top speed. Fire missiles, boost power to shields and electronic countermeasures.”

The gunship shimmered as its shields powered up even further, and 4 AA missiles sped off towards the approaching Malthecian fighter.

Anuria
High Orbit

“Commodore! Multiple signatures arriving from FTL, C&C is flagging them as MSSC ships...they are opening fire,” the ops officer reported.
Rammael instantly altered her display to show the new arrivals. She needed no more than a few seconds to make her decision, grateful now that she had held off on using her jump drives earlier in the engagement. She certainly wasn’t going to use gates drives in this situation; the sensor readings alone from such high level technology would drastically alter the natural atmosphere of this galaxy.
“All ships, execute tactical jump gamma!” Rammael said swiftly. She’d been doubly lucky that the fleet already had a number of tactical jumps calculated and set; a scattered emergency jump in this situation would have been disastrous.

With stunning coordination, the entire Ashtar fleet pulled the same trick their missiles had, flashing out of space on one side and reemerging on the other side of the Vaegir fleet. Their weapons took a minute to adjust, then resumed their fire. The Vaegir now stood solidly between the MSSC fleet and the Ashtar fleet...except for one ship. A Vision Pierces the Void, an Archangel class cruiser, her shields already weakened by the Vaegir, was hit hard enough by the sudden MSSC attack to temporarily lose shielding and take damage to her jump drive. With gating strictly a non-option, Pierces the Void was suddenly alone between two hostile fleets.

[VoiD]

The Theocracy of Aorolach

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Patrol near Camp Frostbite
Arctic Northlands, Malthecien-Ashtarian border

[+]

Elthian watched in dismay as the lock-on for the sniper vanished from his HUD. He cursed, and told the Invoker who nodded grimly. "Must have activated some sort of cloaking tech," He said, scanning the snowy horizon. "Bastard wouldn't have moved far, he knows we're still here. Probably thinks we called in artillery support or something." Invoker Theuron paused, considering. "He probably isn't completely out of range, the low-atmosphere config for our flyboys uses thermobaric munitions. Might even be able to track him...fat chance though, with our luck anyway."

Elthian nodded, his fear like a pit in his stomach. Even he knew he was tense. Elthian tried to take a deep breath. He turned to his squadmate Dimetor next to him, forcing a smile. "Tricky son of a bitch, isn't he Dim-" The comment died on his tongue as Elthian noticed the flashing light on Dimetor's belt. Instinct took hold, and Elthian dove away screaming.

"GRENADE!"

He felt the heat and force of the blast even through his power armor, and Elthian felt himself be flung away across the snow. For the third time in under ten minutes Elthian found himself lying on his back, staring at the sky. His ears rung despite the sound-muffler systems in his helmet, and he felt sore all over. Groaning, he rolled over. A click on his comms warned him of an incoming transmission.

"Acolyte Elthian please be advised, we are coming in at top speed."

Elthian didn't have time to register the contents of the message before the Crusader fighter roared past at mach six speeds, and he promptly blacked out from the ensuing shockwave.

---

The Crusader pilot was notified of a hostile lock-on fifteen seconds before he arrived at his target. He quickly dropped his payload, four two-ton thermobaric bombs, and launched electronically charged chaff to confuse the missile lock-ons. With ten seconds left to the target, he unloaded on the enemy gunship; both heavy repeating plasma cannons firing over three hundred rounds before he completed his flyby. The pilot anxiously checked his instruments for a confirmed kill.

Meanwhile, the thermobaric bombs landed on the targeted hill at mach six speeds, each bomb containing the equivalent to six tons of TNT along with the significant kinetic forces of their delivery, as well as a blast radius of nearly four-hundred-fifty meters. The hill, and much of the surrounding area, was utterly annihilated.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Anurian System
Anurian moon, two-hundred and fifty thousand miles from Anuria

[+]

Archon Remon stared in awe at the images of Anuria on his screen. This would be his seventh time seeing the planet, but he never could quite get over its beauty, even when marred by a century of constant war. He dared to allow a little hope enter his heart that this eternal war would end, with this new offensive...

He shook his head. Best not get too optimistic.

Remon listened as the Theurgists reported their systems. At the end of the reports he nodded, and turned to the Primate. "All systems nominal sir. Fleet lines are open and ready to move on your mark."

The Primate stared at his console for a while longer before responding. "According to the First, we are the vanguard of the next major offensive." He paused to let that sink in. Remon's mind whirled and he suddenly felt ill. Vanguard? This alone was the largest Malthecien fleet sent to the Anurian system in the past five decades. Was the First planning on committing the entire navy?

The Primate continued. "Our orders are to reinforce our headquarters in the arctic as well as land forces to establish claims on the city of Kol'Kora and the Sand Straits. We are then tasked to secure orbital control of Anuria." The Primate said monotonously. He looked up and gazed around the bridge.

"What's with the slack jaws people? Let's get to it!" He motioned to Remon. "Mark. Fleet move in formation to sector forty-three - above the arctic."