Enigmatik

alpine republic

I am beginning the glorious Fifth Worker's Reich of the Greater Unified German States, who wants to join me comrades?

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

A video had been circling across Matuvista’s internet. It was an inherently unusual video- it was only about thirty minutes long and there was very little to view other than the walls of a prison… But it was the audio that was important. The video started with the narrator talking as a truck cruised into the prison.

“Most Fridays, that hovertruck drives into the prison. It’s a military transport, and it carries the executioners for this week’s death sentences. Nothing weird about that, but I noticed something last Friday and it got me up before dawn for this shit. So, normally, you hear maybe a single volley, maybe two. But last week, I heard… I don’t know. Thirty? Forty? I got no proof, so let’s see what I hear this morning."

The video then sped up, the first of Matuvista’s three suns cresting the horizon. Once its rays had touched the prison, the video slowed and the voice emerged again. “Alright. First dawn. Should be a volley coming now.” A timer started in the corner, hanging on zero. Then, a series of cracks split the early morning, and the counter ticked up. “So, that’s one criminal dead. Nothing weird. Then, wait for it.” There was another crack. “That’s just them finishing the guy off, not another dead.

The seconds dragged, then a minute. Then, at about a minute and a half, another series of cracks. “So that’s two. By the way, they execute these guys in batches, so it could be one dead, could be like five. Fuck do I know.” More minutes dragged along, and then… Crack. The counter ticked up.

By the time the video ended, the counter sat pretty on 11. “Dunno about you, but something here seems a bit off,” the voice chimed in. “Never heard more than 3 before last week. Now there’s 11? Seems suspicious. Alright, well, I guess if I don’t post again I’ve been thrown in prison so… I guess let’s hope I can upload again? Aight. Signing out.”

---

Addressing |@SgtEasy|

Devi, we received two new nations whilst you were away. One I handled. The other… Well, they’re about to arrive aboard the station shortly. You should know though,

“They’re somewhat unusual, Capitão. They say that they’re evolved… Well, evolved apes.” The patrician paused for a moment, as if recognising how absurd their own words were.

Apes? Simians? Our closest ancestors on Old Earth? Sigma-Devi paused for a moment as she processed this information: She had been asleep after returning from the gala, and thus hadn’t had the same chance to come to terms with the Khanate as the rest of the Consciousness had.

“Indeed, Capitão. The same ones on Old Earth. We thought them entirely extinct, and now here they are, apparently uplifted and having mastered interstellar flight.” Alfonso paused for a moment as he too processed this information, then slowly reached for a pocket and drew out a cigar.

No time to waste. I shall send a message immediately. Open communications with them before they bring their parade aboard.

"Understood, Capitão. At once." The patrician gave a crisp salute, then hurried off to relay the message.

Almost at the same time, the Khanate received two messages.

Hail from the Gran Republic of Matuvista! Congratulations on your Gateway having opened, and your peoples being re-introduced to the stars which our mutual ancestors promised them. Much as you draw from the past of great Mongolia, we are the heirs of the mighty Spanish Empire, inheritors of a New World twice over, and eager for any and all who understand and draw pride from their past, no matter who they be. Please, we bid you come aboard with all haste, and should you wish to engage in further diplomacy with us, have no doubt your ambassadors and representatives are welcome aboard the Santa De Angelo.

Greetings, Supremus. We are the Zetan Consciousness, and we understand the need of continuing mankind's legacy in the face of what seems like certain extinction. We are transmitting this message directly to you to offer you both a heartfelt welcome to the Intergalactic Community, and a warning to you- there are others who will not be as welcoming as we to the idea of Simian inheritors. Should it please you, we invite you aboard our section of the Meeting Place whenever is expedient for further discussions.

---

"¿This is insane, you see that right?" A cigarette dangled from Marco's mouth as their transport flew through the air, covered by a team of three jetrikes. Their job here was fairly simple. Recon had identified a rebel leader stronghold, and after almost a week and a half of constant pounding music and permanent day, they knew the rebels within would be exhausted and prime for picking off.

Inwardly, much of the Matuvistans had been impressed when news of the Hollywoodite plan had leaked through to them. It was... Not exactly a traditional method of winning a guerrilla war, but it certainly showed a knack for tactically thinking outside the box that the Gran Republic appreciated.

"¿Would you shut the fuck up? This is gonna be easy." The strike of another lighter, and the small space within the transport continued to fill with smoke. None of the soldiers cared- every single one of them had the habit themselves. Within Matuvista’s civilian population, tobacco consumption sat at around 60%. In the military, it was closer to 90%. It helped, of course, that revivalist lung therapy could stave off the worst of the effects.

"Easy, difficult, whatever. It's still insane. They can see us. That's not how this works." Marco insisted, sweeping the ash that had fallen down onto the floor of the transport away with his boot.

"We're above the light line right now. They're not gonna see us until we drop down on them, and even then, ¿so what? They're gonna be exhausted. I bet you half of them won't even be able to get themselves out of bed. We're gonna have too many people to fit in the other transport." Leonor laughed and let out a plume of smoke, drumming her fingers against the barrel of her rifle.

"La Emperatriz, Capture Team Delta. The words crackled through all of their earpieces.

"La Emperatriz, go ahead Delta." Came the response, and with it a little bit of the strain on the men eased.

"¿We're a minute from raid site. Is everything clear for approach? Over."

"Hold Capture Team. We're waiting for a request to clear with the Oligarchs. Be prepared for rapid deployment. Over."

"Confirmed La Emperatriz, holding." Confusion filled the transport. What were they waiting on? Then, their squad leader smirked.

"¿What, you guys didn't think we had night vision to launch a raid in broad daylight, did you? Dumbasses. The Oligarchs are going to switch the lights off right before we launch the raid. That said, night vision on." There was a brief pause as troops blinked and their eyesight adjusted itself to the new light level.

"Delta, this is La Emperatriz, lights are off, you are go, go, go for deployment, over."

"Copy La Emperatriz, going in. Capture Team Delta over and out."

With that, the transport plunged down towards the ground. Holding on tight, the soldiers inside waited, the interior of the transport lit only by smouldering cigarettes and a dim red light that told them it still wasn't time yet.

Until it turned green, and all at once the soldiers moved. Rifles slung over shoulders, cigarettes stomped out, and the transport's floor groaned open, the team clipping themselves onto the deployment system and dropping down. As they left the comfort of their vehicle, they could hear the pounding music that still filled the air, covering the noise of the engines and soon, the gunfire.

"Squad, form up on me. Prep for breach." A few glances were exchanged as the breacher drew out their shortened semiautomatic shotgun- all these years, and few things were quicker and easier to use to blow off hinges, then turned to look at their squad leader.

"¡Breach!" The gun barked twice, then the soldier's heel slammed against the door and sent it toppling inwards.

"¡Move move move!" They moved inside together, a well-drilled, well-trained group. A single lone sentry stood in front of them, clearly half-asleep. He'd soon have a much more final sleep as three silenced rounds embedded themselves into his chest and neck, the thud of his body against the ground muffled by the thudding bassline blared all around them.

From there, the squad moved on. Each room had to be cleared, and in each one they found a similar scene; people disoriented by the sudden darkness, exhausted, barely able to put up a token resistance. A few foolishly tried raising up their guns to meet these strange shadowy figures storming through their facility and were met with precise, targeted fire, whilst most ended up being cuffed and left face-down.

But there was one man they wanted that they still hadn't found. As they moved through room after room, he escaped them, until at last, there was just one left. Marco reached for the doorknob, looking at squad leader. There was a nod, the door swung open, and the soft clatter of a flashbang was lost in a particularly over the top guitar riff.

Once it had gone off, the men pushed inside. Targeted audio-visual disruptive devices opened up, providing anyone who stood against the soldiers a taste of hell as their body was overwhelmed by high and low frequency sounds and a dazzling, off-coloured strobe glare.

"La Emperatriz, Capture Team Delta."

"La Emperatriz."

"Package secured. No casualties. Returning to base. Tell the Oligarchs to turn the sun back on. Capture Team Delta over and out."

---

"Dios salve, Santa Maria,
Llena eres de gracia"

"SHUT UP AND SHOOT GOD DAMMIT. WE'RE HALF A GALAXY AWAY FROM THE SAINTS." How the hell had it all gone so wrong? One minute they were returning from patrol, the next something had taken out the main engine of their transport and they were spiralling down to the ground. The pilot and co-pilot were dead, who knew how many of the squad were injured, and now Gaspard was praying instead of shooting.

The permanent daylight of Neo-London helped them more than it did their attackers though. Hunkered down behind rubble and their crashed craft, they could see anyone stupid enough to poke their head up and try to advance. Nikki's rifle barked and chattered, the soldier ducking down to take a moment of breath.

"⸘What the fuck happened‽ ⸘What the fuck is going on‽"

"⸘Who the fuck cares‽ ¿Why does it matter? ¡Stop whinging and start fucking lighting these fuckers up! ¡It's only six minutes until evac, so work for it!"

"¡GRANADA!" One of the soldiers scrambled on the ground for the small little bomb and hurled it back with the strength of a man desperate to continue living. They squeezed their heads against the ground as the grenade went off mid-air, raining shrapnel down all around them. Nikki hissed as she felt a piece sting her thigh, but it was nothing compared to what it would have felt like if it'd gone off right next to her.

"¡HIJO DE PUTAS!" Another soldier opened up, before hurling several grenades of their own. Once they were done with their little outburst, forced down by counter-fire as soon as the grenades had gone off and the rebels could poke their heads up again, Nikki looked down, surprised to see that the small nick in her leg was now bleeding profusely.

"Mierda. ¿Medic? ¿We still got one?" She looked around frantically, only to find no medic left. One of the other soldiers would have to help her then. Raphael, she idly recalled, feeling the colour leave her more than she did actually see it. Once the bandage was on tight though, so tight that she could almost ignore the red seeping through it, she could at least know she wasn't about to die.

Hopefully.

Maybe Gaspard's prayer wasn't a bad idea. Just as she raised her own crucifix to her lips, she could hear a sound that could only be their earthly salvation.

Jet engines.

Machine guns chugged and plasma throwers spat death as the jetrikes roared into view, quickly followed by troop transports, flying as low as possible. As the trikes engaged the enemy, the transports opened their lower doors up. "¡WOUNDED FIRST!" Yelled one of the medics aboard, and it was with some relief that Nikki wrapped an arm around Raphael's shoulder and the pair hobbled over towards the vehicle. She clipped herself onto its embark system gratefully, feeling herself pulled up and into the waiting arms of her comrades.

---

Addressing |@Sigma|

Isabella paced back and forth on the command deck of her ship. They had had a major win, and then it had been balanced by a major loss. Águila-3 and its escorts had been ambushed and gunned down- although the destruction protocols had gone through to deny the rebels anything useful, they'd taken 70% casualties, and those were 70% casualties that were not about to be replaced any time soon. Every big loss like that hurt her forces a lot.

What made it worse was that something was happening in Neo-Beijing. An unidentified vessel, claiming to be an oligarch's allies, had landed, and despite claiming they were here to assist the oligarchs, there had not only been radio silence, but radio disruption from their landing points. Satellite footage did not paint a promising picture.

She had not been one for regular smoking prior to this operation, but now she reached for a cigarillo that one of her senior officers had left her. She lit the end slowly, breathing in, then out with a juddering sigh. Normally she was one of the people being commanded; never before had their lives been her responsibility. Grunting to herself a little, she turned and strode towards the airlock closest to the bridge of her ship, trailing smoke as she did so.

When the airlock opened, Colonel Bisson was met with Isabella in her full military regalia. Only one medal hung from her chest, but the cape and the epaulettes (not to mention the gold finishing) conveyed the message nonetheless. The cigarillo, half-smoked, hung from her lips, and she stood with a sword affixed to her ship. "Welcome aboard." She declared imperiously. "I'd say this ship's name, but it doesn't have one. Only a unit designation. Please, the bridge is just up ahead here. We have quite a bit to discuss."

An Unseasonable Chill

Jake had remained relatively quiet as the group introduced themselves, only nodding along to names. Halfway through Elias' little spiel about the supernatural he had drawn a packet of Benson and Hedges Premium from out a pocket. He paused for a moment, assessing his current company, and then wordlessly offered one to Hanako. Take it or leave it, he'd tuck the packet back into his pocket and draw out a lighter, tugging his balaclava down, he curled his entire body around the small white stick and struck the flint over and over until finally a flame caught and he could relax a little.

"Leaf peepers might be dissapointed. Not sure what this weather is going to do to the trees, but it's not going to be good." He turned and looked towards a nearby maple tree, its leaves already withering from the chill and lack of sunlight. "Anyway." The walkie-talkie clipped to the man's jacket crackled briefly with conversation, then quietened.

"We should get going. Warmth's sparse enough as it is." As he walked past one of the sheriff's cars, he picked up a waterproof slab of a map, tapping it idly. "Looks like as the last group heading out, we've been given the area closest to the rez. For you folks not from around here, if we see one of them, don't fuck with them, they don't fuck with you." He reached up to his cigarette and swore, before once again drawing his lighter out and getting a flame going. "I'm gonna shut up until this is done," he grumbled."

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

@Sigma

Sounds like a slur for our new ape people, perhaps?

An Unseasonable Chill

This is perhaps the last chance Hildon has of seeing Christian Charles alive again. The boy went missing without proper winter clothes- only a lightweight waterproof windbreaker and tracksuits. A search party was organised three days ago, but now with the storm closing in, Sheriff Mercer has made one last stab at finding the high school's missing star. Flurries of snow fly about around the crowd that's been gathered just outside Jeremy's Groceries, where the young man was last seen. Through a slightly malfunctioning megaphone, the sheriff's office had organised folks together, provided cheap gloves and hats to those who had come without, and even given out a few of the sheriff's office's spare winter jackets, albeit with the patches cut off.

"He-" A squeal as the megaphone hiccupped and gave a shot of audio feedback. Hammering the side of it a few times, the steel-haired woman tried again. "Hello everyone! Ah, great, this thing is working. For now, anyway." A smattering of polite, quiet laughs from the crowd. "I'm so glad to see not only locals, but out of towners turn up as well here. I can assure you, the town really appreciates your help. Let me tell you folks of the plan here." She paused for a moment to clear her throat.

"It's twenty past two in the afternoon right now. With the weather as... Strange as it is recently, we don't think we'll be out past about five o clock in the afternoon. The rangers can be out there for a lot longer, and we've got two on the case should anyone find any trails. So! We'll split up into groups and head out, covering as much land as they can. If you're getting too cold or if you think you might be lost, stop, turn around, and head back here. We don't need to be looking for more people here." Another small smattering of laughter.

"Everyone should split into groups now with a walkie-talkie so you can report in. Remember, we'll be on channel two, so keep yourselves tuned to that frequency. Once we're done, it's back here, and Jeremy has generously offered us free hot drinks for our efforts. Once again, thank you all. Stay safe, stay warm, and let's find our boy, shall we?" There were a few cheers and shouts of agreement, and then figures slowly shuffled themselves into small groups, stopping by the sheriff's patrol car to grab themselves a walkie talkie.

In the end, there were only a small handful of people left up unpaired. A seventeen-year-old local, a heavily pierced Japanese woman, a photographer, a writer in an oversized puffy pink coat, an older woman, and a local man who had taken the last of the walkie talkies. Turning to the motley crew that was left, he held a gloved hand out towards the others, his lower faced masked by a balaclava. "Name's Jake." He said, voice tinted with the roughness that only came about from a pack-a-day habit. "Let's go find this kid."

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

@Liotrent

Troglodyte literally means 'cave dweller,' so yes, it can totally be an insult, although it's also the taxonic name for Chimps.

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

The Gala had been a great success. All and sundry had witnessed Matuvista’s great cultural feats, and as the shuttles finished depositing guests back on the station, the crew of the Santa De Angelo could let out a deep breath. The hard part of her service had been completed. Now, she would remain as a diplomatic vessel until Matuvista could add their own sections to the Meeting Place.

Isabella, for her part, had taken the next shuttle back to the wormhole. She was set to arrive in the New Hollywood system shortly before the troops arrived, and then she would rendevouz with the troop carrier and assume command of the ground forces. She was a little sad to see her holiday end so soon, but ahead of her was the potential for so much more than just a bit of relaxation. Regardless of if the government withstood the rebels or fell, she had to be seen as an effective commander that did all they could.

Standing in full uniform on the bridge of the small vessel that had carried her to New Hollywood, she watched as the troop transport carrying the Matuvistan Volunteer Expeditionary Force arrived in the system. From the outside, Matuvistan troop carriers looked downright intimidating. Matuvistan tactical doctrine had given them a peculiar role as long-ranged support craft to the navy's much faster and more agile attack craft, and since they never actually entered the atmosphere, they had no need to be designed with aerodynamics in mind. Thus, the craft that entered New Hollywood was a wide and squat cuboid, bristling with an uncomfortably large amount of long-range firepower.

Isabella knew that this one would have been escorted by corvettes all the way to the gateway to ensure its safe arrival, and then the craft would have peeled away and returned to their home stations.

The shuttle approached the larger troop carrier, and after a brief confirmation, the docking doors of the troop carrier swung open. Isabella’s small craft entered and berthed itself, the patrician stepping out and offering a crisp salute to the ship’s captain.

“Report.” She disembarked fully.

“The entire force is in good order, commandanta. We were hailed by the Hollywoodites upon arrival, and they’ve been very forthcoming with all the information we need. Two cities have fallen to the rebels; Neo-London and New-Beijing. I recommend that we move to Neo-London, it was the former capital.” Although Isabella was formally in charge, she wasn’t stupid enough to think that made her the most knowledgeable aboard here. Capitão Alvarez was a veteran of over three decades and a capable naval commander, and more importantly, he knew this ship and the men on it better than she did.

“That seems sensible. Have we prepared an announcement?” As they spoke, the Capitão began to lead Isabella to her berth.

“No, commandanta.” Came the response.

“Get it done. I want it broadcasting as we begin the reclaiming. I assume my jetbike was brought aboard?”

“Of course commandanta. It’s secured in the vehicle garages.”

“Excellente. You seem to have things well in hand Alvarez.”

“Thank you commandanta. With the saints as our witness, I am sure we will come out of this better than we entered.”

---

The Matuvistans had been given access to the oligarch’s media systems. Of course they had: they were on the side of the oligarchs, after all. At once, all of Neo-London’s broadcasting channels were flooded with a single message. It came unaccompanied by visuals, holo-suites merely showed a nondescript white humanoid reading off the lines. "Citizens of Neo-London. We are here because some of you have taken matters of government into your own hands. You have become rebels, violent insurrectionaries against the rightful order." There was a long pause. "You are not children. You are aware of your actions, and that they have consequences. We are the consequences. Make no mistake, this is not a foreign invasion. This is peacekeeping, and you have broken the peace. To anyone who was not involved in this foolish and childish tantrum, you are now being placed under martial law, effective immediately. Obey the instructions of peacekeepers and protectors and no harm will come to you. For the rest, run. Hide. Fight back. It makes no difference. You have foolishly believed yourselves to be the arbitrators of the law. You are not. We are the law." The message repeated.

As it did, the troop transport above began to deploy its atmospheric craft. The initial operation was simple. Matuvista needed a base on the planet where it could refuel its craft, quarter its soldiers and generally carry out day-to-day functioning. There was no all-in-one location down in Neo-London that would suffice, but there was an area that could be turned over to such an operation; New Westminster.

New Westminster was an imitation of, funnily enough, Westminster back in the days of Earth. It had parks, financial institutions… And most importantly, government functions. It also had a recreation of Buckingham Palace, which was an obvious area to reclaim and use as a military headquarters, not just because it was convenient to do so, but also because, it had to be said, using a recreated palace as their military base struck a certain chord with the patricians in charge of the operation.

That was why the deployment ships were now whistling down directly towards New Westminster. They had dropped out of the bottom of the troop transport like missiles falling from bay doors, using only minimal thrust to aim them towards New London. They hit the atmosphere quickly, vibrating hard as they entered the atmosphere. Flames licked at the outside, but soon they were through, the roar of re-entry changing to the whistle of the winds beside them.

They burst through the sky like spears flung from the heavens, piercing the clouds. Engines roared as they prepared for landing, the soldiers inside going through last minute combat checks. Simultaneously they slowed down just before they would have smashed themselves apart against the ground, their deployment doors opening up as soon as they were close enough for safe deployment.

Inside, soldiers checked the green light, prepared themselves, and began to fast-rope down. From becoming visible to digorging troops the whole process had taken under three minutes, and now trained Matuvistan marines had touched down on New Hollywoodite soil. The first ones immediately drew up their carbines, any curious civilians kept back as the rest of their comrades also dropped down from the transport vehicles, all whilst the heaviest of the craft still made their descent.

The soldiers moved towards the palace quickly, preparing themselves for entry. As they approached, the vehicle deployment craft screeched down from the sky, their atmospheric entry shields lowering to reveal their payload of jetrikes. Each craft could carry two magnetically clamped underneath them, and once they had gotten low enough the clamps deactivated and the vehicles dropped down, thrusters and levitation systems roaring to life to keep them from smashing into the ground.

With the vehicles deployed, the crafts lowered themselves further and more soldiers deployed. The jettrikes revved up and shot ahead to form a cordon around the palace even as the doors of New Buckingham were kicked in and the Matuvistans began to sweep through the ornate halls of the building.

Less than an hour later, resistance had been pacified with minimal loss of life, rebels had been captured and the Matuvistans had formally gotten themselves situated down on the planet.

---

| Addressing @Sigma |

Isabella’s briefing was both promising and concerning. On the one hand, insertion into New Westminster had been a success with no casualties, and she could begin the next step of the operation, that of actually establishing a proper planetside operation rather than a mere temporary field command. On the other hand, news on the foreign front was less positive. The Columbian Senate had announced that the ‘401st Rapid Response’ were being deployed to safeguard the interests of their civilians against the civil violence. As of yet, they hadn’t come out backing either side, but more nations could only increase the level of complexity in the unfolding situation.

Still, it was in both the interests of the MVEF and the 401st to cooperate here. They were, after all, both working for the same purpose at the moment. Suppress the rebels, protect the uninvolved. When the first of the 401st ships entered ECU space, she had a message prepped and ready for them.

“Hail Columbians. This is Commandanta Isabella de Lobasla, of the Matuvistan Volunteer Expeditionary Force. We have established a ground-based headquarters capable of being used to refuel and launch surface-to-orbit craft, and secured against rebel assaults. As a sign of good faith and cooperation, we would like to propose a joint military venture between our forces. We are more than happy to safeguard your citizens.” She paused for a moment.

“If such an agreement is satisfactory, I would also like to invite your commander aboard the vessel I am currently aboard. I’m afraid it’s hardly designed for dignitaries, but I’m sure you understand given the circumstances. Commandanta de Lobasla over and out.”

Inviting their higher-ups aboard was just good sense, and hopefully this way they would endear themselves to the Columbian government. Partially this was because as a patrician, she had a mind towards the diplomatic, but the fact that she was doing all of this also reflected well upon herself when she eventually returned to Matuvista.

A win-win-win then.

---

“Contact! Eight o clock!” Miguel hunkered down beneath one of the anti-terrorist bollards, confident that the heavy concrete would serve well to protect him. Beside him, other men of the volunteer force got themselves situated again, the NCO’s radio requests filtering in through his earpiece.

“La Emperatriz, Serpiente-5.” Headquarters would have been Emperador, until someone had pointed out that they were being lead by a Commandanta and that the feminine was probably more appropriate.

“La Emperatriz.” Came the response.

“Encountered resistance, small-arms fire. Requesting jettrike backup at operational area three-five-alfa-romeo-niner, repeat, requesting jettrike backup at operational area three-fiver-alfa-romeo-niner, do you copy, over?”

There was a pause in communications, broken by the rattle of a rebel assault rifle that snapped harmlessly above their heads.

“Copy Serpiente-5. Dispatching Recon Squad Fuego to your location now. Hold for two minutes, over.”

“Appreciate it, la Emperatriz, Serpiente-5 over and out.” The NCO nodded, knowing the squad had heard the request being met.

“You heard la Emperatriz, two minutes. Keep them pinned down then, but don’t take any stupid risks and get your head taken off. You don’t want to be the first casualty over here.” Miguel peeked up and over the barrier he was hiding behind, assessing the situation. The rebels were easy to see: although they’d clearly attempted to hide themselves, they had attacked opportunistically and without much planning, and the pops of their guns and flash from their muzzles pretty clearly revealed their position. Hefting his own rifle up, he rattled off a burst of suppressing fire, ducking back down as one of his squadmates did the same thing.

“Man, this is a lot easier than the rebels back home huh?” One of the female soldiers a single bollard away quipped, taking her opportunity to poke her head up and rattle off a few shots. “They’ve got their shit sorted out, these guys are revolutionary rookies. Just think, if we were on one of the sisters, we’d have been alerted to the ambush with snipers, and then they’d be rocking us with an MG before bailing.”

“Think they’ll even bail before the jetrikes turn up?” Came a response, shouted to get over the din of exchanged automatic fire.

“Shut it and focus, I know they’re disorganised, but those are still bullets flying over your head. Take it seriou-” The NCO’s voice was drowned out by the roar of jet engines, and a spearhead of three jetrikes soared clean over one of the nearby houses, their machineguns opening up in a hail of full-calibre danger. “Alright!” The NCO continued without missing a beat. “Push up whilst they’re suppressed! Take as many alive as you can!”

It really was no contest, Miguel reflected to himself. On the one hand, most of the soldiers in the MVEF were trained in anti-rebel activities, well armed and well drilled. They were facing a force that hadn’t figured out even the basics of guerilla warfare and severely under armed.

He supposed it was a good day to be a Matuvistan, the soldier lighting a cigarette over handcuffed and dead forms.

---

Tau-Curie knew that she was a small cog in a much bigger machine. Of course she did; she was connected to that machine in a way so intimate that it was difficult for others outside the collective to understand. Unlike others however, who might find such an affair to be demoralising or saddening, she found honour in such a thing. Every machine worked through the smooth functioning of all its cogs together, not because one cog happened to be extremely efficient.

She was also reminded that for every single Eta-Theta there was out there, there was countless hers. Hands made of flesh and blood, working hard for the betterment of all of Zeta. No, no, they were leaving behind that name. She should stop thinking of herself as a ‘Zetan.’ Soon, they wouldn’t be on this wretched planet any more. The idea sent a shot of excitement up her spine. Away She looked around on the surface of Tau-Asphodel, as blighted and benighted as it was, and just for a moment closed her eyes and imagined that the gloom and cracked earth covered in salts that mandated heavy protective gear were gone.

She could see it now. Wide rolling fields of green. Fields of crops underneath her feet, breathing in the fresh air, nurtured not by hydroponics but by water from the skies and nutrients from the soil. Then, she opened her eyes again. Back to dust. Back to gloom. Back to the rustling of her rubber gear, and the hissing sound of her respirator working. Really, she should have gotten herself better lungs years ago, but she was one of those Zetans who liked their fleshy forms. After all, she had so much time, centuries, millenia perhaps, to have a body of steel. Why hurry to replace the movement of the diaphragm, the pulse of blood through veins, the blinking of eyelids?

Then she turned back to the Ark in front of her. Tau-Asphodel’s population mandated that they build one particularly large ark; analysis had revealed it to be more efficient to increase the size rather than construct two. At the moment, they were assembling the various frames and panels they needed for the exoskeleton of the ark into place, swarms of automated and semi-automated drones hovering about. She was in charge of a group of the latter as they put in atmospheric shielding, welders screeching and sparking as they forced metal to bond.

Every panel that was slotted into place was another step closer to her dream.

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

@Liotrent

Airhorns intensify.

Through the Gateways: Humanity [Closed]

Announcements

Secondly- drum roll please- Irredeemable is now co-GM! Why should be obvious to everyone. Irr has been here since the very start, made more IC posts than I can possibly count, and has been a part of every major plotline. Me, them and Sigma will be collaborating on major discussions and future events.

@Tortoise

An Unseasonable Chill

@Rekker

Max's biggest problem is that he shouldn't be in Hildon if he's here for winter sports. It's the middle of July; the storm took people totally off guard and there was little time for tourists to realise 'holy shit! summer skiing!' It's fine for him to have arrived in a ski location, but he can't have intended on skiing upon arrival.

Also, join the discord!