[IC] [Advanced] The Fall of an Empire: Space Opera NRP

[Zadubadabu]

Arcadia, Elder Council

The inner chambers of the Elder Council on Arcadia was silent. This was a place of quiet meditation on the coming of the Long Night. The cold stone halls were only dimly lit with flickering torches and the occasional candlelight of an elder as they moved through the sacred place. Deeper in the sanctuary there lay a circle of candles surrounding the old frame of a man dressed in dark robes, a thin golden lining reflecting the small flames. As he sat there on the cold floor, another dressed in similar robes without the fine lining quietly walked up to the circle before kneeling down just outside the circle of light, not making a sound. Without moving, the older man spoke, his voice soft, yet commanding in the silent chamber.

"Elder Kyron, can you feel it? The Empire is falling further and further and now with the 'Sacking of Almata' as its being called and the disappearance of Emperor Fashti XI it is hard to deny that Long Night is upon us, or at least not far off. The new Initiates flocking to us surely would agree. Now, why have you come to me?"

"Grand Elder, I too feel the coming Long Night, and more still can at least see the signs. Many of the Elders wish for you to call another meeting of the Council. There are too many new Initiates, we simply cannot handle them all in our current state. We need to appoint new Elders before too many fall to radical and extreme ideologies such as that of the Quade. Additionally, the Council must appoint a replacement for Elder Antsan, reports say he was killed in the Sacking of Almata when our temple there was hit during the fighting."

"You speak with wisdom Elder Kyron. Send a message to the Elder Council members, they are to come to Arcadia to discuss these developments. Also, send a message to Elder Sonikah in the Quade, I wish to see her as well as soon as she can make the journey. She and her followers in the Quade will have an important part to play in the immediate future, but they need guidance lest they make the wrong decision. I know the Quade wishes to see the Arcturan Empire in ruins, but they must not act without judgement. Long Night is upon us, and any step in the wrong direction could cause us to become lost in the darkness."

"As you wish Grand Elder, I will see it done."

With that Elder Kyron stood and left, his steps just as silent as they were when entering the chamber. Behind him Grand Elder Nox remained still, never having moved during the short conversation. To an outside observer if would have been as if nothing at all had happened.

The Quade, Reed City

Reed City was the largest population center in all the Quade, centered around a great tower of Sacred Metal covered entirely in bamboo-like reeds which rose up its entire monolithic surface. This tower and its Reeds for which the city was named holds up large platforms formed of the same reed material which housed the Quade's Monastery of Long Night. There lived the Council of the Quade which acted as the region's Religious head as well as its Governing Body. Inside this structure in the heart of the temple lay the Quade's version of the Elder Council on Arcadia. Here the Elders of the Quade gathered to discuss their personal agenda, separate from the rules set forth on Arcadia. Elder Sonikah led this council, and with her guidance, the Quade remained united but distanced from the teachings of the Grand Elder Nox. Unlike the majority of the followers of Long Night who simply wish to embrace the coming darkness, the people of the Quade despised the Arcturan Rule after being abandoned by the empire to the harsh environment of the Quade and the numerous invasions that come with being on the fringe of Arcturan space.

"Elders of the Quade, I have gathered you today to bring great news. I'm sure you have all felt it as I have, but Long Night is upon us, and it has confirmed for us that it brings the end of Arcturan rule. Almata has fallen into chaos and disarray while numerous groups have arisen in the wake of increased outside invasions and seek to carve from the rotting carcass of the Empire their own rule. We have always been seen as radical, the extremists of a minor cult. But now none can deny that we were correct. Long Night brings the destruction of the Arcturan Empire, and even the uninitiated can see it. More are turning to us now than ever before, and we are finally in a position where we can truly do something to usher forth Long Night. I just received word from Arcadia. I am afraid that I must make leave from the Quade to meet with Grand Elder Nox in person. Surely he wishes my aid in bringing the teachings of the Quade to a more standard level across all levels of the Cult. This will likely cause me to be out of contact with the people here, and as such I must ask that you all work harder than ever. New initiates require teaching, and it is your duty for Long Night to give this to them. Now go, I leave for Arcadia as soon as my ship is prepared. Glory to Long Night."

Elder Sonikah's short speech now over, she turned and left the reed chamber, leaving the rest of the Quade's Elders to govern in her absence. If she had her way, the fractured empire would be shattered completely, and the shards would never be able to reform.

Almata, Loyalist Ship

The temple had been reduced to rubble, the presence of the Long Night Cult on the capital planet was in ruins. And yet, it's followers survived. Elder Antsan led the temple on Almata, and despite its loss, the Elder had survived. He was pulled from the rubble by other surviving followers of Long Night. The group had survived the Sacking of Almata, but with the destruction of the capital there was nothing left for them here. The small group had met with another surviving group of loyalists and with some persuasion they had been accepted aboard their ship. Almata had fallen, but the Cult's presence among its people was still there, still alive, and ready to do whatever was necessary to preserve the Empire as Long Night approached rapidly.

[TehAlphaGamer]

Kuran Central Administrative Center, Kabo Prime

Harman Kuran was in a state of absolute panic and had no idea what to do or perceive of the situation. Contact had turned up red and stagnant on all communication networks with the Almata Office and his security force was on high alert as he feared for the worst. He carried a digital clipboard, nestled in his arm, showing many red numbers and percentages as the past few weeks have shown a steady hemorrhage of funds regarding the Arcturan Miltary Authority. He looked out of his office; massive floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the twilight gleaming over a massive technological city. The setting was serene, almost deliberately juxtaposed with the fear and panic that was consuming the young business leader. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple, down his tanned skin to a bearded chin. He heard a hiss from the autosliding door to his office.

"Mr. Kuran, Sir." a voice called out. It was meek and feminine. Harman pivoted on his feet almost instantly. He was relieved yet at the same time even more panicked that his director of heavy armament sales was there. Her expression was solemn, and her skin was nearly pale.

"Yes, Ms. Mantin, how may I help you?" he asked, trying to hide the haste in his voice.

"The...shipment of two Vision-Class Frigates to Almata we sent a month ago. They've disappeared."

"Disappeared?!" The word rang in his head like a massive bell. "Hijacked? Destroyed?!"

"N-no, sir...we're not sure, we just know that they're not being picked up on any broadband signal, and their identifiers have been removed completely."

Harman began to pace around the office again. Director Mantin stared at him with a look of concern as he breathed heavily and started looking around his office; almost as if he were trying to find a way to escape. Finally, he stopped, swiveled again to lock eyes with her, and asked, "Ms. Mantin, do you have any word on the news of the Almata Transition Office?"

If there were a way for the slender woman to lose any color to her complexion, it was how she looked at that moment. Her jaw began to quake, and she began frantically cycling through tabs on her digital clipboard. "S-sir?! You haven't heard? I cannot believe-"

"Haven't heard what, Sina?" Harman's eyes widened. He really was fearing for the worst.

"Sir, Almata has been completely sacked...who or why, but-" she inhaled sharply, "the fate of the office and those who crewed it are completely unknown." She strode over to Premier Kuran VII and nearly shoved the clipboard in his face. The screen displayed a large headline in bold, block lettering:

Almata in Ruin. Casualties High. Evacuations Ordered.

Without saying a word, the man nearly sprinted towards his desk. He tapped onto a holo-transceiver and primed to send a message to Military Services and Fleet Command. Nearly screaming, he barked, "I need a fleet and a capable ground force en route to Almata as soon as possible! This is on a need-to-know basis and I need to be informed as frequently as possible on progress!"

Harman stepped back from the transceiver, his anxiety almost taking full swing. He slumped into his chair and let his head fall into his hands, weakly waving off Director Mantin.

Kuran Defense Enterprises, Inc. Sales Transition Office - Almata Branch, Almata

Sales Director Marn Kan slowly began dusting himself off after regaining consciousness. The normally sturdy wall in the west part of his office was completely blown apart. In its place was a gaping hole, and what little of the cityscape he could see was accompanied by a hazy sky, black plumes of smoke rising in the sky, and fire. He turned away from the sight and looked around the remnants of his office. Everything was blown in and smoking. Soot flew in with he wind. KD-S5, his service droid, was in pieces all over the ground. Marn looked looked around and thought that it was a miracle that he didn't suffer a fate like the machine.

He stepped through the office door and walked down the crumbling stairs and outside of the complex. Some KDE reserve soldiers were around him. The heavy boots of their power armor stomping through ash and dirt. A KA-1 hover-APC drifted passed and stopped in front of him, a soldier on the side bay extended a metallic glove to pull him up and he did so quickly. Still trying to get his bearings, he looked at the soldier through the yellow, narrow visor on his helmet and asked, "W-what happened? What's going on?"

The soldier looked above the sky for what seemed to be minutes. Scanning the horizon around him. Hearing chatter through his helmet of plasma, laser, and artillery fire. He raised his arms and pulled off his helmet with a small "hiss" and looked at Director Kan with a solemn thousand-yard stare.

"Sir...Almata is gone." he said coldly. Not because of the apathy, but because he wasn't sure how to process the carnage that had unfolded.

"G-gone? I, I-"

"We've been ordered to evacuate the complex and stand our ground until we can receive aid from a better fighting force. Until then we have orders that--now knowing you're alive--involve protecting you. Get into the main bay of this vehicle, we'll be leaving shortly."

At a complete loss for words, Marn nodded his head and and climbed over the soldier, the large carbosteel hatch peeled open, and he slid in.

[KremeSupreme]

Alarethian Reunion Grand Council Palace, Rama

3:50 Solar Time

Despite Rama being a large and bustling city world, tonight almost the entire planet stared quietly at the news on newsboards, televisions, and Meditors; The Arcturan Empire was collapsing at this very moment. The Emperor was missing, or better yet, dead. Thousands of Arcturan military officers stationed in the sector were either quickly packing up their armies and fleeing, or trying desperately to maintain order, if they themselves weren't cowering in locked offices as thousands of righteous Alar'im quickly broke in.

The grand council of the Alarethian government sat in their meeting room in absolute silence. Nobody dared to burst into the room and deliver the already obvious news of Arcturans demanding their people stand down, or how for the first time in over a hundred years, their brother Promethians were attempting contact. The grand display in the center of the room would've normally been beeping with the attempted communications; but it had been disabled entirely. The council, a thirty-something of well-dressed Alar'im with their hair's neatly braided, needed absolute silence to fully focus their mental communications with each other. One sat in a throne above them all, the Alar'im king Zackai Comer.

"The binds have been lifted", An elder of the council communicated without words, "The few Arcturan military personnel are rapidly fleeing to Dehaka, Daruk, and Kali. We may use this opportunity to bolster our military might." A younger of the council zapped back "Are you mad, brother?! When the Arcturans in our system refortify, we will surely face retribution! We must immediately calm the people!" The link between the council men soon became rickety and uncontrollable, all the council outraging at top volume, yet not a single one's thoughts were actually heard. The only one who remained silent and calm was the king, dressed in regal golden robes and wielding a golden staff. With a single pound on the ground, the entire council's mental link silenced. "We must remain calm. Our people themselves are too panicked, possessed by uncontrollable rage. We must keep our wits if we will overcome this." The king pushed a button on his throne's arm, enabling the projector in the center of the room. "First, we shall listen to the Arcturan's."

The projector in the center of the room shot a large blue projection onto the wall above the doorway into the room in front of it, and a single man in the dark clothing worn by Arcturan officers in that sector stared sternly. "Your highness", he started with a gruff acknowledgement, "I am aware that your people are rioting to the recent news that the Emperor is currently absent. If you do not enforce order, you and your council will be removed from power, and suffer life imprisonment, and we will fully take over your system."

The council was silent, yet once again the king calmly replied "Friend Agath, I'm afraid you have no authority. Wasn't it order of the Emperor himself that you, while you warden for any threats we may plan, may NOT attack without his absolute will?", Agath grit his teeth and replied "The Emperor is only temporarily absent. In that time, any wardens of border systems may act on their own judgement."
"But what actions can you take? Your generals and officers are fleeing in droves to uncharted western space, and many more are being forced out of power by both angry civilians, and Alar'im guards." The king humbly smiled at the last statement, much to the anger of Agath.
"You're SUPPORTING this uproar?"
"Not an uproar, an attack. I assure you, many of your generals are merely being imprisoned, the others, on the other hand, are the one's who's fate we have no direct power over."
Agath's anger exploded now. "You'll pay for this!" He snapped before shutting off the communications.

[Durandal]

Almata, Retribution, Flagship of the Coldfyre Imperial Fleet

The view screen cast light across the darkened command bridge, illuminating the quiet, scurrying individuals, the scant number of them that occupied the area. On the central dais clustered a group of four individuals, speaking tersely, voices carrying but a short distance. Empress Kalzerian silenced the other three with a snap of the hand, a practiced signal used by those of station to demand immediate attention. Gold scroll-work and crystals covered much of the combat suit which she wore, a display of her power, more so the plain yet rare power field attached to the small of her back, a generator which created a protective barrier of energy around the user.

"I will hear no more talk of vacating Almata immediately, Admiral Golman, is that understood?" she parsed, the referred-to individual bowing his head demuringly. An aging man clad in an ancient yet fine suit of true white silk rather than synthetic fibers, he was the overall commander of the Coldfyre Imperium's naval forces. "Almata was not a planet that could be broken by our might alone, and the consequences of enlisting aid that will undoubtedly turn against us may have been short-sighted, but we could not allow Fashti's control to remain unbroken. We remain until you have found Fashti, dead or alive."

Kalzerian glanced towards the projection of Almata, eyes glimmering as the light flickered, displaying a beam coalesce and strike down from the hulls of one of her ships, grazing its wrath across some ground-based target. Mouth pursed at the action, a finger tapping at her armored leg.

"I thought the order to cease bombardment had transmitted to the fleet, Admiral. Did you disobey my orders?"

Panic streaked across Golman's face before years of military discipline suppressed his facial display. "Of course not, m-my Empress," he stuttered. "I relayed the command across the battle network personally as soon as you gave the order. Perhaps they retaliate against some surface-to-orbit installation. Eliminating hostile targets is-"

A crack shattered across the bridge, drawing the attention of all there before heads quickly turned away intent on ignoring the developing scene on the dais. Golman knelt on the ground, an armored hand tracing the shear across the plating of his helmet. Kalzerian's hand, in comparison, retained but a scratch as an indication of the action.

"Do not lecture me on military matters. Or have you forgotten that I commanded the Expeditionary Assault Divisions for a time? We stay. Establish a cordon around the capital continent both in space and on the ground. We remain until Fashti is found. You are dismissed." Three shadows peeled away to do her bidding, one with a hand still raised to it's face.

Forward Unto Stars, Conveyor-Class Troop Transport

As the members of the Cult of Long Night milled around within the empty barracks in which they had temporarily been sheltered, four naval soldiers followed a master chief petty officer, his armor as featureless as the rest with rank being displayed only through the HUD interfaces of the soldiers, although emergency insignia rested in a pocket. Nodding to the two soldiers standing at attention outside the door, the non-commissioned officer opened the door, sidling inside.

His voice, amplified by the armor systems, called out, "Attention, civilians. You will be brought to Processing, where your identities and possessions will be recorded before you are moved to one of the auxiliary barracks in the ship. Please follow me." As the men, women, and possibly children exited, three soldiers would accompany the leader at the front while three escorted the back to make sure none slipped away.

The Alasaiian System, In Orbit near Dehaka

"Council, the task force has arrived in the Alasaiian System. Loyalists within the ranks of the occupation force have already begun to strip away control of the local fleets and armories from Fashti sympathizers with as little bloodshed as possible, although perfect execution of an operation as large as this is impossible, so reports of resistance are coming in. We expect total control of the area within two days at most, hopefully less."

"Acknowledged, First Admiral Lerus. Secure the three Imperial-occupied worlds and do not act aggressively towards the Alarethian at the moment, we desire to preserve peace, not break it." Ending with that simple statement, the Council of War on Cronum ceased its communication with First Admiral Lerus, a member of Kalzerian's personal household who had once commanded a large segment of the Expeditionary Assault Divisions against the Horde. Utilizing his influence within the military complex of the Arcturan Imperium, he had swayed many of those in the Alasaiian Holding Force to Kalzerian's cause, ensuring easier transition to Coldfyre control.

Fifty-eight ships of many differing classes drifted through space near Dehaka, almost half of them troop transports, although they were by no means unarmed. Most of them re-purposed from the now-defunct EAD, the transports were designed to land on worlds against heavy opposition, ensuring that their armor and shielding were some of the best in the fleets, as well as a devastating array of short-range and orbit-to-surface weaponry. Accompanying them were several carriers and battleships, although a majority of the remaining half were long-range cruisers.

Splitting into three squadrons of about equal power and size, the fleet moved to each of the Imperial control worlds, broadcasting a message requesting honorable surrender from Fashti-aligned forces to all Imperial ships in the system. Were any Imperial ships to attack, those of Coldfyre would retaliate with brutal efficiency, ravaging the vessel before continuing to the target position. In several hours, many millions of men would be deploying to each world, one of the largest deployments in the current war to an individual system.

[Dagoth]

Deep Space- Coronation, Regulator-Class Battleship
+++SYSTEMS QUICKRUN DIAGNOSTIC+++
REACTOR: 90% FUNCTIONAL.
HULL: NO BREACHES DETECTED.
COMMUNICATIONS: ALL OFFLINE.
WEAPONS: ALL FUNCTIONAL.
*FOOTNOTE: 01001100 01101111 01101110 01100111 00100000 01001100 01101001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01000101 01101101 01110000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01001011 01100001 01101100 01111010 01100101 01110010 01101001 01100001 01101110 *
Deckmaster Argyll re-read the information on his datapad and waved over the nearest underofficer. “Communications are still offline…” He left the sentence hanging like the executioners axe over the head of an innocent man. The accusation was clear. “S-sir, we’ve been working around the c-clock to put the comms back in working order. It isn’t a systems problem, I c-can’t fi-” the officer stopped his stammering when he saw Argyll flick the orange tab on the side of his datapad. Argyll’s voice rasped ominously in the empty bridge of the ship. “I’m aware of that. It’s a mechanical failure. Simple malfunction. Care to explain the footnote on my datapad, underofficer?” The young man’s face drained of color. A perceptive man like Argyll might also notice that his hands were shaking slightly. “It’s binary… just another one of V.I.C.E.R.O.I.’s loyalty subroutines, right?” Argyll frowned. “Can’t you read binary?! ‘Long live Empress Kalzerian’ is what the message says. Now tell me son, how is it that she’s empress unless Fashti has been proclaimed dead?” The young man nodded, understanding his meaning perfectly. “While our comms were down, V.I.C.E.R.O.I has been processing events going on. He’s up to date.” Argyll smiled. “Exactly. V.I.C.E.R.O.I!” The datapad’s screen was wiped clean and replaced with V.I.C.E.R.O.I’S avatar. “Good morning Deckmaster! The atomic clock built into my servers registers the time as 0200. You have 108 unread messages!” The simple face of the AI’s avatar animated a smile in welcome. “108?! Settle in son, we’ve got a lot of reading to do…”

Waystation A-14, The Rubicon Fringe
Drogan Asuul stood in the main hangar of the waystation, surrounded by an entourage of R-96 security droids. After nearly ten minutes of waiting, the intercoms finally transmitted the all-clear for the refugee ships to open and release their passengers. Ships of every make and model were present. Almost exclusively civilian ships. Asuul closed his eyes for a minute, communing with V.I.C.E.R.O.I to scan the ships’ identifications numbers and process them all simultaneously. From all corners of the empire seeking refuge. But mostly Almata. Drogan plugged one of the numerous cables that were worked into the fabric of his synthweave habit into the nearby intercom, broadcasting his voice to the multitudes of frightened refugees. “My fellow Arcturians! Welcome to Rubicon! I am speak for the Emperor in this sector, and know that by the grace of Fashti, you are safe here. You have suffered many hardships to come here, but they are now at an end! Here, you will be processed and assigned a place within our organization. Together, we will provide for your needs and work to restore what you have lost in these dark times. Please refer yourselves to the terminals located in the next room, and allow V.I.C.E.R.O.I to oversee your admission. You will be on legal record as documented immigrants into the Rubicon system. I don’t know how rulers are carrying themselves in the core territories, but we still follow the laws here. These lands belong to the Empire and its citizens. Conduct yourselves in a manner as befits that station. Nothing has changed.” Drogan glanced around the crowd, at their grim expressions and resolute faces. Though he had long ago replaced his eyes with more efficient artificial scanners, he met their gaze. Though he knew machines better than people, he could read their faces. Everything has changed. The Technocrat swept out of the room, accompanied by his bodyguard. Working his way through the narrow corridors of the station, he found himself in the command post before long. There arrayed before him were more of his R-96 droids at attention around a conference table, where sat three other men, and a robot whose head had been replaced with a monitor. As Drogan took his seat, the screen on the robot buzzed to life, displaying V.I.C.E.R.O.I’S avatar. Asuul looked around at the assembled personages before him. A man in the dark uniform of a naval officer, a man in gilded garb, and an imposing power armored soldier.
“Now that we are all here, we can begin our discussion.” Drogan smiled as he stared at those in attendance. “I have my additional labor force. Once they’ve been allocated-” “Full allocation will take approximately 6.1338 days” the AI cut in. Drogan dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. “After they’ve been assigned to work, my shipyards should be at full production capacity. Expect a production rate of no less than three regulator-class ships per day. This in addition to my current standing force of 87 similar such ships already in attendance-” “Production rate after assignment process will yield an average 3.20 ships per day. Current fleet totals when limited to vessels fitting the parameters of regulator-class include 88 as of .00009 seconds ago.” The group assembled let the AI’s interruption sink in. Another ship had been produced in the half-hour that Drogan had been away on other business. Drogan Asuul cleared his throat. “As you can see, Admiral Odom, my production facilities move swiftly. Rubicon is not a stronghold, but we will have all the ships you could need if you but give us the time.” The officer shifted in his seat. “What about crewmen? You don’t have any soldiers here. All the ships in the galaxy are worthless without trained crews to fly the damned things!” The Technocrat laughed derisively. “Entirely automated. My AI’s programming is built into all of the ships, as well as autonomous integrity stabilizers, flight controls, and weapons systems, should they become disconnected in some unthinkable way. The ships lack manual controls of all kinds.” The admiral radiated unease, but said nothing as Asuul turned to the nobleman in the rich clothing. “Lord Valdesh, I’ve sent a team to Almata to search for our magnificent Emperor. The Coronation is en route as we speak. It is crewed by loyal men and will return with confirmed news of our glorious leader one way or another. We will have our answer. In the meantime…” Drogan turns his attention to the last man at the table, a power armored soldier that towers over the others seated by nearly a foot. “You are with the Empress-regent Kalzerian. I am preparing my fleets and forces for the Alasaiian System. You question my loyalty to Lady Kalzerian. Know that I am loyal to the Empire, whoever rules it. I am loyal to the Imperial line, to the rightful ruler. I admire your “Coldfyre Imperium” as you call it for the order it is maintaining, but until I have a confirmed report on the fate of Fashti, you do not have my support. I expect the Coronation to return at the end of the week. At that time my forces will mobilize to the Alasaiian system at Admiral Odom’s request, to do them will of our ruler. Whomever that may be. You now know my strengths and my plans. Take that to your Lady, along with my best regards.” The assembled men stood and were escorted from the room by the R-96 units. Except for Drogan. Asuul closed his eyes once more and focused on using his neural implants to access The Uplink. V.I.C.E.R.O.I- fabricate conflicting reports of Fashti’s confirmed demise and upload them into the databanks of the Coronation. Disable their comms and orchestrate a series of low-risk mechanical failures. The AI processed the command. As you wish, master. May I ask why? Drogan responded audibly. “To buy us some time.” I fully expect Fashti to be alive and hunted by Kalzerian. I have other ways to search for him. This would at least slow Argyll’s return and provide a reasonable excuse for not mobilizing against the superior forces of the Coldfyres until our production capabilities make us a valid threat. I’ve no intention of throwing my lot in with a pretender while our true emperor yet lives.

[TehAlphaGamer]

Almata Space; Kuran Defense Enterprises, Inc. Sales Transition Office - Almata Branch, Almata

A combined warfleet 35 ships strong abruptly exited from their slipspace transition as they phased through rips in space and continued onward into the space around Almata. As they neared the planet's exosphere, a Vigilance-Class Supercarrier, KDS Endeavor, aligned itself in a geosynchronous orbit as it prepared to launch dozens of dropships full of KDE soldiers, mercenaries, and vehicles to begin a heavy recovery operation on the surface. As it began to slow its decent, a long, sleek Valiance-Class Cruiser, KDS Graceful Forgoing sped past as the scoop-shaped Shaped Plasma Discharge Array began powering its massively powerful magnets and began to generate a large swathe of plasma.

As a preparation shot, the cruiser fired four weaker bursts into the atmosphere. They wouldn't reach far enough to cause significant damage but burned hot enough to ionize the air and leave a bright flash and stench of ozone. When the time came, Graceful Forgoing would switch to her eight starboard magnetic accelerator cannons and begin to lay waste to any major opposition on the already crumbling surface of the once-glorious capital of the empire.

Once preparations had been set, dropships and fighters spewed from the titanium and carbon-steel alloy hornet's nest that was Endeavor. Making steady headway to reach the ruins of the Almata Transition Office.

As these dropships neared the surface, the ones carrying vehicles opened bay doors as massive tanks and armored personnel carriers dropped from them and impacted on the surface. They aligned themselves into a convoy to move through the streets. A bulldozer-type tank took the lead, and between its massive, earth-gripping treads a large blade began to protrude. Once it was passed the tread-holdings it unfolded on either sides to measure a dozing blade five meters across. The KT-3 lifted its large railgun turret upwards and pushed forward, clearing any debris that came in its way. The 24 vehicles following it soon picking up pace.

The vehicles had finally reached the office, and as reports indicated it was in complete shambles. The normally 6-story, advanced office building was missing two and a half of its floors. There were fires all throughout and the blue-tinted glass was stained black. Columns were crumbling and parts were swaying in the wind. It wouldn't be standing for much longer.

Soldiers rushed from their vehicles and got into the building, making sure to look around and check to make sure there were any survivors. They made sure to act as quickly as possible, but before all of the men could get out the building collapsed in a violent explosion of dust, stone, and steel. Soldiers looked through their HUDs as the life support indicators of three of their own flatlined.

With the remaining KDE employees in tow, the soldiers rendezvoused with the support force that was planetside prior to the sacking. The lead of the convoy, Commander Tarin Kattra, met up with Captain Vaz Kamu to discuss how to handle the relief and evacuation efforts. But remained cautious and hesitant, being sure to make sure that no sudden invaders wold turn up uninvited.

[KremeSupreme]

Alarethian Reunion Grand Council Palace, Rama

An attendant stepped through the massive doorway, and cleared her throat.
"Grand Council, the Arcturans in our sector are attempting to flee, though a cell of loyalists are taking them under their control, and forcing them to their worlds. Also, the Promethians are once again attempting to hail us."
"Yes, Yes, that we know," The king assured, before pressing the same button on his throne used to hail the Arcturans. The hologram popped onto the large wall once more, but instead of a fuming Arcturan man, it was a large Promethian with a helmet completely concealing their face. "Your excellency," Their voice was light, detailing their gender to be female. "I am Rashaana Dus. Queen of the Promethian Rebels. Due to the collapse of the Arcturan Empire, we are aware that it may put you and your people in peril by loose Arcturan fragments seeking to seize power. This puts us a risk too, however, as the space we occupy is in the Larantha Asteroid Belt. With limited resources the old Arcturans could not subdue us, but with a new Arcturan empire seeking to dominate this sector may take those extensive precautions. For all these reasons, I ask that our people become one once more, to retake the worlds Dehaka, Daruk, and Kali, and to force out any Arcturans attempting to invade our sector. Do you accept our offer?" The entire council mumbled amongst themselves as to what to do, and then look at the king for his response.