Isotope

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

@Mihndar

Noted!

@Dinh AaronMk

Am I cleared?

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

I sent a pm to Mihn. We'll see if they pop in.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

Rostov-Tsaritsyn Provisional Government

Green Claim

History:

Rostov, ‘the forgotten stepping stone’. Or at least, that was what many came to see their home as. In the Great War armies had rallied there, and left, and so too was this the case when the Tsar looked to stamp out the communist menace. No matter the destruction around it the valuable port was left, more or less, unmolested to profit from the drunken soldiers and sailors that stopped there for a nights rest. It was, in the end, a fond saying.

Or perhaps it is only remembered that way. Decades of the relative prosperity that accompanied peace came to a screeching and abrupt halt upon the death of the Tsar all those years ago. The chaos that followed consumed the country and its people, but perhaps nowhere was it more evident than that once forgotten stepping stone on the sea of Azov. Anarachy came in the form of Cossacks, Communists, and worse. Rostov was besieged within months of the Tsars death, set upon by a sundry of enemies all hungering for its meagre riches. In the first year alone thousands died in the fighting, and thousands more starved when the cities remaining authorities failed to secure a consistent source of aid. The cities defenders were stalwart and without qualms when it came to demonstrating their mettle, but the wretches that came screeching from the Caucuses outnumbered them badly.

Rostov burned for two years before hope came, and when it did it came from a place none expected. For in the northeast the city of Tsaritsyn a man had risen to forge order from the chaos that threatened to consume the shattered remains of his erstwhile homeland. Vasily Sokolovsky, Tsaritsyns former chief of police, had repulsed the forces that sought to annex that city and now looked to do the same in the south, sending word that his army was coming to all who would carry it. Compared to the forces of the would be Tsars his was a motley army, composed of old soldiers and battle hardened peasants, but in spite of this it fought with a ferocity that overwhelmed those that stood in its way. It took a month before the army of Tsaritsyn cleared a path to Rostov, but and in a matter of weeks it beat back the communists who’d held the cities outskirts for years. Praised as saviours the men from Tsaritsyn were honoured with what little Rostov had left to give, and those who’d held the city for so long declared their loyalty to the man who’d risked so much to relieve them.

In the years to come the communists would try again, and again, but with the populations of two true Russian cities united behind a man some considered a more worthy ruler than the coward who'd failed to protect his own family the new southern state prevailed each time. A few short years ago the steel foundries were burning again and the mines were running alongside them. Fields were plowed without fear of their destruction. Hunger gave way, slowly and arduously, but with certainty. The people of Rostov and Tsaritsyn were no longer merely surviving, but working towards a brighter future under the direction of a man they trusted implicitly.

When the provisional government was declared many questioned why Vasily had not made himself the southern Tsar, but those who knew him only scoffed at the idea. He was a leader because his people had cried out for one, a general because his people had demanded one, but he would not be a Tsar even if they chained a crown to his head. While his public speeches are rare they have always echoed this sentiment, that he and all in his domain are Russians. To hell which Tsar is winning, or what the quarrelling dictators are calling their little fiefs, those who live under his protection need only work to the best of their ability, rebuild as much as they are able, and remember that when the day comes they are Russians above all else. In the end it matters not who rules her, for the spirit of Russia lives in the people of Rostov and Tsaritsyn as it does in the men and women of every Russian city.

Other: WIP

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

@Dinh AaronMkFrom what I understand there would have been around half a million in the area around the start of the Great War. As the blame shifted from Germans and the Tsar to Bolsheviks they might have been subject to progressively less discrimination in this time line though. Certainly no mass deportations to Siberia.

Maybe they dominated the regions population at the time of the Russian empires collapse. Hm. That would be INTERESTING.

Aaron you're making me want to make a majority German state in Russia.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

@Pepperm1ntsIn that case I'll probably claim Rostov and Tsaritsyn if that's cool with y'all.

Probably going to be a sort of fortress state, not claiming to be the rightful Russian government but not necessarily choosing a side yet. I'm thinking the cities are under the command of the nobility and military.

I'm not looking to be super influential, but nor do I mean to be uninvolved. Might be interesting to have a player that can be convinced to take a side in your succession struggle.

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

@Dinh AaronMkis Volgograd/Stalingrad/Tsaritsyn taken?

Dark Matters (Open)

Interstellar Space - Undisclosed Location

Felipe ran his hand along the smooth black metal of the hallway wall, savouring every moment of the action. He knew that the sensation was no different than he’d have experienced had he repeated the action in any one of a thousand of other buildings, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that he did it here, that he relished the experience of finally having arrived in this place he’d always wanted to be, one few in the galaxy could boast of entering.

The central archives of the Resurrection. Maybe Mars had something similar deep below its crust, maybe not, all Felipe knew was that there was a good chance there existed no greater archive of Humanities history and culture. Everything from tablets tens of thousands of years old to flora that had been carefully preserved over millennia, unmarred by genetic tampering. It wasn’t a complete record, it was likely that no such thing would ever exist, but it was a work in progress that pursued that impossible target relentlessly and unfailingly. A window on the other side of the hall looked into a vast room where ancient ruins plundered from Earth untold centuries ago were carefully preserved so that they could last for eons to come.

It was a lot to take in, and Felipe didn't doubt he could lose himself in such a place for years. The archive was a station, the location of which he hadn’t been told, but based on how long it took to get anywhere in it he didn’t doubt it was easily larger than a small city. Shaking himself from his musings he payed closer attention to his guide.

The affable woman had been accommodating, answering what questions she could and apologizing for what she couldn't, but something about her manner hadn’t sat well with him since his arrival some hours ago. He suspected she was waiting for any chance to eject him, after all who would trust a first generation immigrant in such a place? It was a prejudice that was hard to shake, with the waves of migration beginning to slow many who arrived in the Great Resurrections space had their loyalties questioned for the rest of their lives.

Well, he’d have to disappoint her. He had too much to learn from this place, and the satellite archives had only offered what he imagined were deliberately tantalizing scraps. The Guide spoke with an affected warmth, “We’re nearly at the section you requested access to Mister Perez, but as I’ve warned you our records are incomplete and this is one of the more notable gaps.”

Felipe grinned, “And isn’t that interesting?”

The woman shook her head, “Not every gap has an explanation Mister Perez, we lack information about a number of ancient societies but we don’t assume that there was a great conspiracy to make that the case. You’re not the first to come here seeking these answers, and I can assure you more qualified individuals have already failed to piece together anything useful.”

Felipe chuckled, he was behind her but he didn’t need to see the woman face to pick up on the sneer he wore. He didn’t doubt the validity of her statement, but he had long since realized that qualifications can be as blinding as they are illuminating. Familiarity and expertise were a two edged sword. Answering her with genuine mirth he spoke, “I’m sure, but another set of eyes has never hurt has it? I don’t blame you from tiring of people researching this though, I can only imagine how many fanatics you get trying to cut through all the myths and dethrone the figure our distant neighbours seem to think of as a god. You might be pleased to learn I’m not the least bit interested in ‘Orion’ or his exploits.”

The woman glanced back with a curious expression, her blond hair up in a bun preventing it from spilling over he face, “So what might you be looking into then, Mister Perez?”

Felipe raised the small bag he carried and patted it, “What I’ve been looking into for ages, what people were doing shortly before 'Orion' entered the picture. You might, or might not, be stunned at how little there is there. Conspiracy or no, we can all understand the Empire propping up their supposed founder. What's curious is that it seems they went a bit beyond that. Somebody mutilated the history of that first war with the Scorpine, and its a tragedy we don't fully understand the structure of Humania before its unfortunate reformation. I understand most look further back, or look at the rise of the Empire itself, but Humans didn’t stop thinking their own thoughts when we made first contact. Just because we knew aliens existed didn’t mean we were... Consorting with them. There’s a lot of value there, in what we were doing before the Empire and after we claimed our little spur, and I figure I might be the one to look.”

Perestiri System - Perestiri I

The ship Theodore was set to board was a peculiar one, peculiar enough that upon seeing it he openly gawked. By all accounts Councillor Gulliot should have have had access to a stealth fighter, let alone one with an automated guidance system. Then again, Theodore couldn't imagine any of this was supposed to be happening, he had faith in the agenda of the Economic Council but the underlying knowledge that this meeting was almost certainly not approved by the State council discomforted him.

With a deep sigh he walked up to the fighter, which true to the theme of this excursion opened its cockpit as if in wait for him. The hanger was empty, but had it recognized him specifically or? It didn't matter, he supposed. Reluctantly he climbed into the ship and watched as it took over, relegating him to the role of a mere passenger as the coordinated supplied by the Ecumene blinked in a corer of the ships heads up display.

He often wondered if it was worth accepting these 'promotions'. For years he'd been running from group to group negotiating deals to the benefit of his Council, this wasn't the first time he'd been told to do something of questionable legality. Still, what the Ecumene wanted with the Economic council he could only guess, or at least that's what he thought before the fighters engines roared to life and in lieu of the sky behind the opening hanger doors he saw Councillor Gulliot's face projected on the cockpits main display.

“Mister Allard," The projection smiled, "I can't express enough how pleased I am you accepted this assignment, especially with so little information. There is a lot to cover, and I'm afraid there wont be notes, so please listen closely. As of some days ago the Economic Council has decided to pursue what we've dubbed the contingency policy, which I'm afraid will with make us all hero’s or traitors by the time we're done. I do hope you're comfortable with that risk, because you've already taken it.”

Theodore audibly swallowed.

Dark Matters (Open)

neat

Dark Matters (Open)

Xakloant System - Local Command Station

Spleen x Iso

Tucked away inconspicuously in one of the modest stations ship berths was the SAR Shalim, a Foch class corvette that was more or less identical to any of its many siblings in the system. That was, of course, the point. While the Shalim certainly didn’t lack the extensive sensor suite native to its class, it had a number of other systems hiding under its skin that’d make it the envy of its peers. If they even knew it existed, of course. The Shalim was entered into the records under a different name, and with arguably the least important job any Foch class corvette could have, border system monitoring.

That alone, usually deflected any attention. The persistent ‘encouragement’ to drop the issue commanding officers directed towards particularly curious subordinates generally did the rest. The Shalim was, in truth, not a Spaceborne Arm ship at all. It represented one of the secretive and heavily modified ships used by IOD as mobile command centers, and the IOD did their best to ensure nobody knew that.

Kaisa Lahti leaned against the side of a corridor aboard the ship, tapping her foot against the floor rhythmically as she impatiently waited for the Astranan special operations force her sister had dumped on her. Standing straight enough that any normal human would think he was at attention, the imposing figure of Mustafa Bahar glared at Kaisa, “Must you be so irreverent captain? I understand the IOD doesn’t demand much of its officers but you are this vessels commanding officer. Would it be too much to ask for you to act like it while our friends are here?”

Kaisa brushed a lock of white hair away from her face and shrugged, “Mustafa how many times have I told you to loosen up, you don’t need to act like a soldier when you’re not… Soldiering. Or spying. Or whatever we happen to be doing. The IOD cares about performance, not appearances. Nobody is going to reprimand you for taking a load off when we’re not on a mission, least of all me.”

Kaisa straightened up and patted Mustafa on the shoulder, “And that’s exactly what I intend to tell the Astranans! God help us if they insist on formality for the duration, we already suffer you.”

A happily whistled tune announced the arrival of the Astranans. A lieutenant and master sergeant stepped through the airlock that connected the Shalim to the station. The female master sergeant stopped whistling only after her superior officer halted and rendered a sufficiently polite salute. “Lieutenant Diets. Requesting permission for my command to come aboard.”
Kaisa returned the salute and smiled broadly, “Captain Lahti, and you have it Lieutenant. We’ve cleared space for you, not that we have even close to a full complement aboard. I’ll get someone show you to your quarters and the storage space we’ve set aside for you later, hopefully you’ll find everything suitable. With that said! Just as I was reminding my friend Ensign Bahar we don’t keep track of every scuffed floor here, so if you’ve concerns just let somebody know. It’ll get sorted out.”

“We’ve dealt with worse than a few scuffed floors” The Astranan master sergeant commented. She and her lieutenant could not look more different if they were from different species. Lieutenant Diets had a bland look about it, the sort that caused one to not even notice him if he were in any sort of crowd. And yet at the same time the way he wore his uniform and how he held himself seemed to scream ‘career officier’. The master sergeant, on the other hand, looked like she should be a model instead of a soldier. She drew gazes towards her simply by being in the same room and, despite wearing the same uniform as her commanding officer, somehow made her normally conservative and bland outfit look attractive. But more than anything there was a look in her eyes, one that only the most experienced of soldiers would notice, that promised that anyone who crossed her wouldn’t live to do so a second time.

“I suppose we have” Diets agreed after a moment. “Still it's always nice to enjoy better accommodations before taking to the field.”

“That it is.” The master sergeant turned to Lahti and gave her the laziest salute that she could possibly get away with without being insubordinate. “Master Sergeant Marphissa at your service. If you’ve got any questions about us ask me.”

Kaisa regarded the two and scratched the back of her head, “I’ve got to be honest, I don’t even know what to ask. There are other IOD officers who know more, but we’ve been operating in the warzone for a few years now. There’s not been much cause to keep apprised of other nations best. You do have my apologies for that.”

“Well I’m here if you need me ma’am.” Marphissa said with a shrug. “One thing I will offer to you is that we should not be used as ‘elite infantry’. Can we do it? Certainly, but that’s not really the best way to use us. Lots of frontline commanders make that mistake though.”

“That,” Kaisa chuckled, “Is certainly not what we’ll be doing. While Mustafa here might be an old soldier, our merry little crew isn’t in the business of fighting the enemy up front. Our mandate for the last year has been precision strikes paving the way for future actions, hitting targets deep in enemy territory and getting out before a proper response can be mounted. We do it right, we never have to hit more than a minor garrison. There are teams doing more subtle work, but the goal is the same, we make sure the Scorpine don’t have a chance when the fleet comes knocking.”

“Excellent” Diets said. “Looks like we’ll fit in perfectly.”

Core Worlds of the Resurrection - Alcesetra

If the Resurrection had a beating heart, Alcesetra was it. The erstwhile capital of the Northern Cygnus Republic, and the birthplace of the movement, while it had never been designated as more than a mere 'regional administrative centre' it was here that all the highest councils held court. That fact alone had turned this planet into hub of just about everything. It was no ecumenopolis, but more than a few urban planners were working towards that goal, enough that the lofty proposition was starting to look like an inevitability.

From his vantage point about a quarter of the way up one of the planets space elevators, it was already a sight that defied human comprehension. The lights never seemed to end, and even if he saw this sight every day Lucien Gulliot would never fail to marvel at the enormity of it, both in scale and meaning. What had started as a loose ideological alignment had evolved into this, a city that housed untold billions, a planet that held thousands of others in its tow, a government that might one day dominate the stars.

How so many failed to see it, Lucien would never know. The Military Council was so focused on its war it never considered what that struggle had precipitated back home, and so long as men and ships arrived at the front it never would. The Ideological Council saw it, but only as a caricature; centralization, with all its rewards, was their greatest fear. Some in the Economic Council facetiously considered themselves a part of some secret cabal, as if they were a conspiracy working towards their end against unfathomable opposition. Joke or not, Lucien knew better. The Economic Council was no cabal, it was merely an alliance of those who saw the potential of what their forefathers had wrought. The opposition they faced was far from insurmountable, in fact it was so fractured that the only dangers his fellows faced was in the uncoordinated flailing of their foes. Of course, that could well be a greater danger than any dedicated opponent.

He was waiting for one of his compatriots that understood that. A soft pinging from his speaker system announced their arrival, and without moving from his window vantage point he instructed the system to open his doors. Footsteps and an eventual amused scoff announced the arrival of Evi Mayer, “Mister Gulliot, as dramatic as ever I see. Will you be investing in a swivel chair next time? Or a roaring fireplace?”

Lucien grinned as he turned around, some lost their sense of humour as they aged, but he dreaded the day he wouldn't be able to poke fun at himself. After all, living more than a dozen kilometres up was melodramatic enough to warrant a joke. He made his way over to her and shook her hand before gesturing to the open kitchen space, “A drink?”

Evi nodded and Lucien filled two wide glasses with wine, the straining at the bottom of one spoke to his own recent indulgences. Handing Evi the other Lucien asked, “What tidings do you bring, my friend?”

Evi cocked an eyebrow, the lithe woman smirked before he face soured abruptly, “Not good. It's as we suspected, Markus Lahti sent orders to his daughter to reveal the offensives start date. We didn't manage to intercept the details, but it will be soon. Worse yet, the man is taking rejuvenation drugs like candies. Addictive or not, the doctors I consulted were emphatic on the dangers of doing so.”

Lucien sighed, “The old fool. There's a reason I wear my own wrinkles. This offensive is preposterous already, thirty years of judicious and circumspect progress and now he looks to end the war in one fell swoop like a conqueror of old. It seems our dear leader has done his damnedest to lose his mind, with considerable success.”

Evi sat on one of Luciens kitchen stools before speaking again, and when she did it was without a trace of mirth, “So we prepare the contingency, then?”

In a single motion Lucien downed the rest of his wine and furrowed his brow, “We prepare the contingency. What a waste, though. The man was, is, a hero. He already could have declared himself king a dozen times over the last twenty years, had he even considered it. If not for his vain obsession with total victory he'd have been the perfect candidate.”

Evi sipped her own wine, “The work of building a proper state isn't meant to be easy, Lucien. You said that.”

That brought a little smile back to his face, “True enough Evi,” Lucien took a seat beside her, “But this will meant a direct conflict with the Ideological council, and if we botch that we all know the consequences.”

The two of them spent a moment in silence before Evi finished her own drink and spoke, “Then we make sure we're ready.”

Lucien could only nod. Sometimes he wished he'd opted for one of the dozens of procedures to preserve his youth, for in times like this the burden of what was to be done weighed heavily on his old bones.

Dark Matters (Open)

Xakloant System

With little fanfare the third fleet warped into the Xakolant system, having been recalled for reinforcement following its near obliteration over Hestollon II. Of course, Olivia knew the media would be spinning wild tales of her unbelievable victory against what was surely the better part of the Scorpine navy; after the Spaceborne Arms humiliation two years ago even the slightest success was something to be extolled. The truth was far more grisly. Of what was once a fleet at full strength now there remained only a handful of vessels. The back line had been mostly saved from the violence, but nearly every front line vessel and fighter craft had been destroyed by the Scorpine assault or her own gambit.

Since the battle the ships captain had been terse to the point she'd be within her rights to censure him for insubordination. She wouldn't, after all he didn’t act without reason. The third fleet had never sustained such damage, and at least in name it had been involved in the desperate backward fighting of the wars early years. In fact, nearly every member of the crew treated her with a stiffness far beyond what was expected of them then interacting with a senior officer.

She was, in a way, a pariah in her own home. It wasn't the first time there been losses after she'd been attached to a fleet she hadn't commanded before, but rarely had they been anything that was beyond what would be expected. No doubt the soldiers on Hestollon II were drinking to her name, but to her peers she'd condemned their friends and, on occasion family, to death.

She bitterly reflected that it wouldn't be the last time. For the better part of three decades the Spaceborne Arm had grown used to supremacy, gotten used to thinking of the enemy as helpless. It was only natural they sought out a scapegoat when disabused of that notion so savagely.

After the fleets ships docked at their respective moors she took her leave. Without more than telling the captain she commandeered a shuttle and flew herself to systems main command post, a nondescript station easily mistaken for an installation of lesser importance. Everyone had a job to do, and was she tired of being escorted everywhere since she'd been tentatively promoted to the Spaceborne Arms highest post two years ago.

The docking procedure went smoothly, but when she stepped out of the shuttle and dusted off her white uniform she was met by a sight she hadn't expected in the least. Waiting just beyond the shuttles ramp was her sister, Kaisa dressed up in the ghastly wrinkled garment that passed for the livery of the Irregular Operations Division. She shared Olivia's ghostly white hair, though hers had been permitted to grow down to her shoulders, but beyond that Kaisa was a different creature. Her face was a tad longer, but the real difference in Kaisa's face was in features that would have looked similar if they'd ever attempted to hold an expression beyond smugly satisfied. Olivia adopted a slight and bemused smile as she greeted her, “Kaisa.”

Kaisa's toothy grin met Olivia's lukewarm greeting, “Olivia! My favourite and only big sister. I see the your new station hasn't rotted your brain entirely, still flying for yourself like you are.”

Kaisa stepped forward and took Olivia in a friendly embrace before she could reply to that, but when it passed Olivia straightened out her uniform again before asking, “As welcome a surprise as seeing you is, what brings you to Xakolant? More specifically, what bring you to me? We both know you'd not be here if there wasn't something going on.”

Kaisa's grin withered at the callous statement, but with a shrug it rebounded, “Always business with you Olivia, we've not seen each other since your promotion! You're not wrong though, the IOD keeps me busy. Its not a conversation for the hanger though.”

Olivia sighed and wordlessly set off towards her quarters, beckoning for Kaisa to follow. They caught up, or at least as much as was possible given their jobs, on the way. It wasn't that Olivia didn't enjoy the smalltalk, but she hadn't suffered from Kaisa's career taking her to the ends of the galaxy. Theirs hadn't been an unhappy childhood, but their personalities weren't the sort that meshed easily.

Eventually Olivia reached the door to her quarters and motioned Kaisa to step aside as the little sensor on the door verified Olivia was who she said she was. The room wasn't spartan, but it was the sort of domicile familiar to anyone who spent the bulk of their time elsewhere. A library of suspiciously pristine texts dominated half of one wall, a few screens on the walls displayed scenes from tropical planets, and a large table took up the space not separated from a small kitchen by a glass pane. For a military space station it was luxurious, and Olivia often wondered why they'd even given it to her if she rarely used it.

Kaisa helped herself to a seat as Olivia prepared tea, not needing to ask and not bothering to either. When she returned with the cups Kaisa had a serious expression and was focused a small foldable tablet. Olivia cleared her throat and Kaisa looked up before she spoke, “So, to business?”

Olivia nodded and Kaisa went on, “Alright, I suppose we both have things to do. I hear the Astranan delegation arrived a little while before you did, I won't be keeping you from them for long. The IOD has become aware of certain worrying patterns abroad, it looks like the Coalition might have something up its sleeve beyond what we've come to expect from them. We have nothing definitive, but there have been whispers of 'No Man', which we can safely assume is code for some sort of Martian asset, being dispatched to Scorpine space. Where Mars acts we can only expect the Coalition to follow, and probably the Free nests at that given their stated position on the war.”

Olivia cradled her cup with one hand and pinched the bridge of her nose in thought with the other, “What are we looking at then? A potential intervention?”

“No,” Kaisa sipped her drink, “We'd have more to go on if that was it. Our best guess at the moment is a multinational spec ops contingent. Which is why we're informing you before we know enough to really respond, it could be that they intend to damage the war effort through sabotage and... Assassination.”

“So you're telling me to watch my back then, Kaisa?” Olivia asked fondly.

Kaisa begrudgingly reciprocated Olivia's little smile, “Yes, Olivia, I am. In seriousness though, you're the head of the navy now, and the Scorpine have never had the capability to take a shot at our senior staff before. It's not how they operate, and that's not true of Mars. You need to take this seriously, the IOD, and yes me personally, are suggesting you order additional security staff be assigned to all officers captain and above.”

Olivia drummed her fingers against the table and took on a contemplative expression, “I'll do that, then. Like you said though, it's not a lot to go on Kaisa.”

Kaisa shrugged, “It's what it is, and it's all I was sent here to say. Be safe, Olivia.”

Olivia regarded her sister with concern, “You too, Kaisa.”