Fight for Solomon-IC (FT)

[The Commonwealth of Steel]

The frigate glided back into reality, with nothing more than a burble from the stars and the Beacon to acknowledge its arrival. Thirty seconds after jump-terminal, the frigate was recharging it's energy matrix. Forty five seconds after jump-terminal, the background radiation had subsided enough to be filtered out, and so the ICO SEWACS Array was activated and began scanning surrounding space. One minute after jump-terminal, shields and weapons were charging and the ships was taken off amber alert and placed on green alert. The ship began it's lazy transition into orbit around Solomon, a slow descent over a sunburnt planet with seas like turquoise jewels. All the while, the Beacon played it's lonely harp-song in the CIC. The signal grew in strength and soon grew oppressive in it's overwhelming volume.
"Turn it off." Said the Autarch
The lonely harp-string of the Beacon cut off abruptly, and silence hung heavy in the air, equally as oppressive as the Beacon. The Autarch almost missed it's diving wail, but he knew there was much work to be done, without distraction.
"Right lads, begin data-harvest and elevate to blue alert. Activate Graviton sensors and keep armour on lockdown."
"Aye Autarch." The crew of the CIC echoed. High Exarchs, Exarchs and Demi-Exarchs all began coordinating their charges to complete the mission objective. They'd all received the briefing before Jump, so everyone knew what to do and what was at stake, which was why not a few SysOps made nervous glances at holo-projectors, wondering what would happen before this mission was done.

As the crew scurried like little ants to do their jobs, small Graviton sensors slid out from their armoured hull cavities on telescopic pillars to be barred to Space. Each sensor was shaped like a soccer ball, made of metal hexagonal and pentagonal cells which shined like a Faeran Mirror, so pure in their reflection that they seemed to glow from within. This Graviton Pillars began feeding information back to the ship CIC, where a SysOps registered an alert.
"Alert, alert, spatial anomaly detected on same orbital trajectory, 34 seconds out at a distance of 3,000,000 km out."The Virtual Intelligence echoed across the CIC.
"Elevate readiness level to red. Arm pulse cannons and shields. Bring it up on the podium." The Autarch replied cooly, turning to face the SitRep HoloPodium at the centre of the amphitheatre-like room. It showed an isometric view of the planet Solomon, with a red triangle approaching a blue square along a purple line.
"Arm a Grav torpedo and get a vector on the object."
"Aye Autarch." The weapons Exarch replied, hastily manipulating the holographic tumbler-wheel to get an exact coordinate.

Meanwhile, the alien SD satellite broke the horizon and gained a line-of-sight on the frigate. Immediately, it fired a short beam at the frigate, as it's ancient programs emerged from slumber to refacet and reformat themselves into working order. The beam shot through the atmosphere, due to the shallowness of the angle, creating a dance of light and shadow as the particles struck the atmosphere. It successfully struck the frigate. At the impact point, a deep impenetrable darkness blocked out the sun, and the for a moment the frigate sat alone in Darkness. Then, the starboard pulse cannon disintegrated and jetted away. Nine crew were caught by the venting atmosphere before the ship AI managed to bring up the Atmospheric Shields. Of the nine, two were dead as they glided in sombre silence from the ship. Another three suffocated, with blood streaming from their eyes when their emergency AtmosHelmet failed. Four remained alive, using their Atmos Suits to stay alive until it was all over.

The frigate launched a Graviton torpedo at the alien satellite. It burned a silent corona through the atmosphere as it cut across the ozone, to hit the satellite just on the horizon. It detonated just before the satellite, the red matter condensing into an zero-point density. A micro-singularity formed in front of the satellite, and exerted a negative-kinetic force in excess of -13G's. Too small for an event horizon, it closed in a femtosecond. For a moment, the Autarch saw the stars get sucked in towards the explosion, then spontaneously spring back to normality. The crew set about arming every single torpedo and vesparum available. As the cloud of debris cleared and the radiation dispersed, everyone saw that the Satellite was still in one piece, if only with a few more dents to speak of. It returned fire, this time raking it's beam across the top of the frigate. The frigate lost three xaser lances and half the patterning cells in the Spine.
"Prep ordnance for immediate deployment. Get a reading!"
"Reading confirmed, tubes open, ready to fire!"
"FIRE!" The Autarch yelled.

The ship lit up with hundreds of nuclear engines igniting, accelerating for the satellite. The vesparum were little more than a nuclear engine and it's fuel-tank strapped with one tonne of submunitions. They sped through the atmosphere, shining like hundreds of stars gliding across the golden deserts. As the vesparum got in range, they launched UV laser-bombs, which shot an intensely bright and short lived beam, then came the Plasma-yield fusion warheads, creating dazzling explosions which kept blacking out the shipboard monitors. Lastly were the Ramrod Kinetic Harpoons, where the Autarch could almost hear the pinging like hail as they struck the satellite in their thousands, all bouncing off. The Grav torpedoes arrived soon after, the detonation reaching so far that the frigate began to accelerate towards the satellite. Even through all this, and even the ECM pulses, the satellite was still walking. To be sure, it was injured, but still in fighting shape, and to demonstrate this it fired a pinpoint burst at the side of the frigate. On impact, silence found it's way into every corridor, every person sitting in their combat-seaters, and even the CIC. Suddenly, the entire starboard side of sensors and energy pylons crumpled. The starboard vesparum hangar rocked the ship with secondary explosions, and every crewmen working there was shot into space. Only three survived the explosions, and two of those were shredded by the high-speed shrapnel.

The Autarch looked white; he didn't know if he could win.
"Power up the cannons. Full stream, as long as you can give me. Exarch, get me a lock now."
The engineer scurried off to his console and the Exarch began transmit a launch trajectory.
"Target acquired and cannons powered Autarch." The XO said.
"Fire everything!"

The two remaining plasma-pulse cannons fired a stream of plasma bolts using magnetic coils to a fraction of the speed of light, lighting up the front of the ship with a blazing glory like none other. The stream continue like a machine gun far longer than what it had ever been designed for. The blue-white flashes subsided as the induction chambers exploded and the coils melted. The front of the ship glowed red-hot and a few explosions rocked it's orbit. The stream hit the satellite like the Hammer of God. The pulses ripped through the hull in weaker spots and broke the orbit of the satellite entirely. It's weak RCS-analogues it had used for so long were too pitiful to stop it's inevitable fall from grace. It fell to the golden land below, breaking apart to merge with the debris field around it.

The frigate had lost nearly 45% of it's inert mass, and was barely chugging along, but a mission was a mission.
"Resume data-harvest. Someone bring me a SitRep. Send out a rescue-boat to survivors."
"There are none, Autarch, they're all dead from the pulse-blaze." A shamefaced demi-exarch whispered.

It was a day of infamy.

[Caecuser]

Emergence
Zalihad System

---

The ISVR-120 recon probe emerged into realspace with an explosion of tightly-warped space, bleeding off its excess velocity with sprays of high-energy photons. An artificial singularity, smaller than a pinhead and as massive as a star flicked on and off billions of times a second just ahead of the slightly bulbous nose, its surface was a deep mirror-finish black and smaller than a VG-10 Krait missile meaning that it would be nearly impossible to spot apart from the gravitational disturbances left by its AGM. At its current rate of acceleration of five thousand gravities, the probe would be approaching the speed of light in a hundred minutes. The probe was far too small for any organic sentience to be on board – in fact, the resident AI of the ISVR-120 was packed into the solid-state circuitry threaded throughout the entire body of probe so could be said to take up no space at all. It reviewed its mission parameters in milliseconds as it fell toward the distant star.

The AI was not a distinct individual, it was a loaded submind of a far greater intelligence named “Jerusalem”, a rather enigmatic System AI from the Navarchy faction of the Omnocracy. As an identifier though, it had highlighted itself as J-1128. No clear targets of interest had presented themselves yet but J-1128 was still early in its mission and it had emerged on the far side of the star, opposite to Solomon so that hostiles would not be able to detect its emergence signature quickly. The massive velocity that J-1128 was not traveling it performed two different, and odd things; light from ahead was compressed into a starbow, a circle of light dead ahead and most of it was infrared light being blue-shifted into optical visibility, the AIs sensory correction software was sufficient to resolve this inexplicable image into something recognizable though. Time, also was affected, being slow down for the AI such that seven seconds objective was only a second for the AI giving the impression that it was moving through the system much quicker than it actually was.

Roughly two hundred minutes after entering the system, the recon probe was skimming the stars photosphere, nano-technic currents redistributing intense heat and projecting it behind the probe – and then it was through, and the light from the star suddenly red-shifted into near-invisibility. The planet lay ahead now, numerous EM signatures and grav anomalies being detected by sensitive sensor equipment extruded by the probe for this occasion. It flicked past the planet, passing within two hundred kilometres of the orbiting frigate and collecting data on all of it in a fraction of a second before ships, defences or missiles could scramble to catch the probe. They’d have to accelerate first and they'd never catch J-1128.

[Omegus Corp]

Captain Derrick Hale looked into space as his ship neared the planet Solomon. While he was sent in one of Omegus Corp's largest ships, he was ordered not to attack any possible enemies. It was his job simply to analyze the situation and send message back home requesting backup based on the situation. The more alien nations looking for the same thing as he was, the more backup. The ship had slowed from FTL travel before even entering the Zalihad system in order to avoid flying straight into a place he did not want to be in.

After several minutes of flying, the ship was nearing planet Solomon. Now, they had to do some scouting. From the hangar in the ship, a dozen scout class fighters were released. These ships flew out around the orbit of Solomon. The unmanned scouts were fast, but they were scanning over the entire orbit of a planet, and Derrick wanted to make sure they went a few times over to make sure they didn't miss anything. If anything was there, eventually the scouts will run into it.

Not long after the scouts had been released, one of them was reporting a anomaly on the planet. The scout's view of the anomaly was brought up on a screen in front of Derrick, and his right hand man, or, well, robot, walked up to inspect the video with his commanding officer. Moments after the view was brought up on the screen, a laser came up from the location of the unknown object, destroying the scout. After a few moments, Derrick's right hand officer spoke up. "It appears as though some of the planet's automated defenses are still operational. This should be included in the report back to base." Derrick was visibly annoyed by the last comment. "Yes, I know we should report the lasers."

[DuThaal Craftworld]

Angel's Tithe

---

"Seer Counsel; a nearby high intensity energy exchange has disturbed the webway. Should we investigate?" A Warlock asks, treading softly upon the wraithbone floor.
"We shouldn-"
"But to ignore-"
"The eventualities-"
"Are uncertain, however-"
"That is no reason to be hasty-"
"Agreed."
"True."
"Indeed."
"So we should-"
"Definitely."
"I see no reason why not."
"Okay." They converse, settling on a decision.
"Deploy three corsairs to the disturbance, have them report back." The senior counselor orders. Bowing the Warlock retreats
-Four hours later-
"Hostile orbital defense system active!"
"Battle stations! Arm six disassembly warheads, fire at station on count."
"Arming warhead one-"
"Laser strike, port side!"
"Grazing strike, dorsal engine down!"
"Warhead two armed!"
"Warhead three armed!"
"Incoming strikes!"
"Warhead four armed!"
"Hold on!" The captain of the lead corsair shouts before twisting a knob upon the control panel, sending the craft into a spiral.
"All warheads armed!" The cry comes, the still gyrating ship now set upon an exceptionally unpredictable orbit.
"Fire all at station." He growls, midnight eyes locked upon the enemy ship as six blue streaks arc towards their target. A flash of yellow light annihilates one streak before the station itself is destroyed, a flash of grey light before various molecules float away from the impact point.
"…Casualty count, all report."
"…Two Exarchs, one Dire Avenger squadron."
"Too many." The comment hangs in the air for a moment as the ship slowly rights itself in a geostationary orbit, along with the rest of the fleet.
"What the hell?" The navigational officer asks as his scanners pick up several ships of unknown origins.
"Unknown ships on other side of horizon, sir."
"And?"
"They seem to be recovering from a similar combat situation, sir."
"… Reorganize on the other side of the planet, helio stationary orbit. We wait for them to make the first move."
"Sir." The response comes, the three bone white ships retreating once more behind the horizon.

[The Commonwealth of Steel]

In orbit about Solomon, Two hours after satellite forced de-orbit

"Alert alert, multiple alien contacts present in-system. Shields online. Weapons online. Alert, aler-."
"Elevate to red alert. Re-route weapon power to PD turrets and send overflow to the Reactor. Cannibalise non-essential systems for shields and engines. Everyone at battle stations!"
Everyone hurried about the CIC, flicking switches and tapping icons as the emergency reverberated about the ship. Once the message was clear, lights began going out, to be replaced by the soft glow of bioluminescent walls, bathing the scene in a sickly green light, which was both plentiful and dim. Engineers were scrambling to fix the redundant reduncies of reduncies from the previous battle as the SysOps grew frustrated at the unresponsiveness of the ship.

Crew were either SysOps and analysts, who sat in the CIC, and engineers, who fixed broken components with their pet biomechanical bots, as the CIC was literally the brain of the ship, where everything was controlled. Thankfully all fires were out, but there was allot of energy being spent on keeping atmosphere within the broken hull. ServoBots, as the biomechanical rodents/engineers were called, began to create makeshift bulkheads using their quick-setting spittle composed of silica and biological adhesive. As the ruined power matrix received the reinvigorating surplus power from all superfluous systems, the frigate darted away from the scene of battle, expanding it's orbit so that it was at escape velocity away from the new hostiles. Already more alien systems were re-activating as the frigate raced away, reaching appropriate jump-terminus range. The Singularity Core activated, and a small blue spark darted from the back of the ship. Slowly it multiplied until a blue ocean sat in space made of bubbling energy of the most pure sky blue. Suddenly the frigate darted backwards into this cloud, like it had been abruptly stopped by a tied leash. The cloud was sucked away as well as though it hid a cosmic plug-hole. As the stars stopped spinning, a background of explosions stood stark against the Black...

[G-Tech Corporation]

"A face, a mask. A hidden path behind a secret gate. A whispered cipher in hours late. Silent signals that seal their fate." - Unknown, Datalinks

BelowSpace Coordinates 1324:72D:7610
Timestamp: 2836:126:679:19.45 MPA
Havanian Group, Milky Way Galaxy, System 387:329:001-a (See attch. Res. Survey 4508.8366)
Ascendancy Fist Gyri, Techsin Vernius Ys'Ameral Commanding Ascended
Mainframe Upload warr. Pt. Asc. Conf.

A slight shimmer suffused the void only a few hundred kilometers from the surface of the world called Solomon, and with a burst of prismatic light in colors that shook their fists at sanity the Ascendancy vessel reentered RealSpace. Her form was long and sinuous, a mobile piece of high art that betrayed her master's inclinations, while maintaining a cutting lethality of function that bore ill for those that would oppose her. In the core of the Fist, the pulsing heart and nervecenter of her psyche, a still silver-black figure sat motionless upon a smoky glass throne. No sound passed through the interior of the vessel, for indeed no sound could pass; the deadly vacuum of the space between stars graced her halls and filled Gyri's corridors. For long minutes the silvery ship hung in quiet orbit above the world, sensors drinking from the bouquet of a new planet as the master of the ship watched patiently.

And his patience was rewarded. From the closer orbit of the planet below a shape emerged, its energy signature betraying charging weapons of aggressive design. It was what could be termed a defense satellite, and the sensors aboard the Fist pinged it instantly. Fascinating, but not an issue. Scans continued of the system below, but the Ascendancy vessel began to power up its Omega devices and Fabricant for planetary descent.

[Steel Confessors]

Legio III Opprimendi Victoria
Assault Detachment Philotus
Errant Battleship Nocte Venator; 3 Crusader Cruiser; 5 Templar Frigate escorts
Command Station: AI Construct Ala

Solomon's Orbit
System 494-492-6113 (Refer to Surveyor report: D03851)
3 Light-Seconds from surface
Maintaining Position
Co-ordinates: 875:559:124:2358

Space itself seemed to tear and scream, suddenly coming under assault by some sort of unknown and inconceivable horror that seemed to attack the very plane of existence itself. The void rippled and distorted, convulsing violently like an epileptic suffering an episode. Then, in a sudden moment that seemed to still the very breath of the onlookers it all stopped. It totally ceased it's movements, ceasing reality's death throes before the final cataclysmic disruption of physics in a controlled region. Unexpectedly the entire region blew up in a bright cascade of blinding blue hued light, erupting forth in a sudden outburst of energy. Exotic particles and radiation that would otherwise be nonexistent spewed from the wound of space-time filling the void with their energetic bodies.

Out of the gaping wound drifted nine massive shapes, all built in the same pattern of a giant monolith placed upon it's side with the only differences being the size of the behemoths. The smallest, Templars, were a kilometer and a half long, nearly three quarters of a kilometer width and one hundred fifty meters in height. The step-up, Crusaders, were two and a half kilometers in length, the same in width, but two hundred meters tall. The largest was by far a monstrosity. It was roughly equivalent to two Crusaders in height and length but again maintaining the same width.

All of them were black as the void, with the only distinguishing colors on the bow of the ship and to the aft as dull blue energy coursed from the giant engines pumping away. They were all formed out of jointed composites and alloys, forming seamless shells that gracefully caressed the void. The distinguishing marks were planted on the bow of the ship, differentiating them from one another save for one identical mark.

Among the colored banners describing the campaigns and genocides a ship had participated in, joining the pennants inscribed with enemy ship's detailing the victims of the monolith, and residing beside the skull portraits of previous Command-Hydras was a single identical icon. Emblazoned was a massive skull. It was human in origin but misshapen and deformed as well as edited in a more mechanical way. A bulbous section of ocular equipment, looking like someone welded together several hundred cameras into a single box was bolted to the left eye socket. What could be identified as behind the camera-abomination were a set of antenna that melded to the back of the previous monstrosity. In place of a nasal cavity and mouth was a massive rebreather like apparition, bolted to the bleached surface of the skull. tubes from it ran back along the curve of the jaw before suddenly dipping down and off field. Behind the skull and its various augmentations was a field of white and red set in party per saltire.

All of them declared the mortality of all, the persistence of humanity and the flesh, but fused with the means of constant preservation, determination, and the way a species could truly leave it's mark upon all who ever reside within the galaxy.

---

Within the floating monolith, Ala sat, in a faintly glimmering shape of a woman of the Old Americas before Columbus made his journey, on a projected chair. Deep within the ship she waited. Confessor ships were built with utility and ease in mind, rooms often times being simple rectangles with hallways leading on to branch from on another or simply being totally cut off from other portions, such as the troop bays on the belly of the craft. The Navigation 'tomb', as it was affectionately called, was no different. It was a ten by ten rectangular room with unadorned slate grey walls, cables and wires draping from them. In the middle of the room was a metal casket that hummed gently with energy. Before it were three humanoid shapes idly staring off at the wall.

Within the casket was a squirming, wrinkled human form that was more skeletal than anything. Cables bulged from underneath its skin, its sex no longer determinable, before running out to join to the box housing it. Implants jutted from its frail form like iron tumors that distorted or broke the skin. Cables and wires streamed from the skull and neck forming what could easily be mistaken as a cyberpunk take on dreadlocks before linking to the casket. The figure floated within a clear fluid that helped sustain it's undeath.

It was Hydra-Domines Valerius, the XO of the vessel. Ala in an uncommon display was actually the CO of the vessel when so many of her kind served as secondaries, but as far as she could tell the human had no resentment for her appointment over him. He was a singular mind dedicated to the purpose of the Confessors in this world.

The three figures before the duo were the moderati crew, hydras (The mechanical savants of the Confessors,) tasked with mantaining the implants and neurological hook-ups of their Hydra as well as being hard-linked to the ship to provide their own processing power in designing firing solutions, communication streams and navigating the massive vessel. They were more machine than man, bulging with implants and wires, their figures blocky and distorted. Black robes covered their bodies, hiding their frame from sight but leaving plenty to be guessed at from the obscene outline.

/Real-Time entrance complete. Distortion shields coming off-line./ The helm moderati called out in the high-density audio packets to its captain. Binaric, as it was called, was the prime language of the Confessors. It was composed of high-density audio, visual and text packets that were quickly transmitted in garbled sounds of static or grating machinery. It was quick and simple, making communication simple but at the cost of severly disorienting anyone without implants.

/Excellent Helm. Bring us onto full flanking speed into orbit over the planet. Bring us along the southern hemisphere. Sensori, give me an update on system presence. Weapons, begin charging sequences on the spinal arrays and ready a firing solution to wipe a chunk of planet out. We'll need a landing sight untainted by the creatures if we are to do this. Valerius, relay those orders to the rest of the formation. Also, make sure they prepare at least one third broadside. I want to be ready to wallop whoever decides we're a threat off the bat./ Ala called out to the bridge crew. This of course was done in reference to the task she had been tasked by the Triumvirate. A planet was discovered with massive deposits of alien archeo-tech and it was made immediately apparent by several others who wished to seize such.

That of course couldn't be permitted. The planet's technology was schedualed for demolition by planetary scouring from orbit. The foul remnants would be purged from the galaxy, its harmful influence wiped clean from the galaxy. The chance would also be seized to destroy a few assets of the more xenophilic civilizations of the galaxy as they were of course going to find some fault with this plan. As it stood though, the Confessors were used to being seen as the bad guy even if they did everything to benefit all and were prepared to sacrifice themselves as such.

As they gradually eased over towards their destination Ala began filing briefs for the 1st and 2nd Cohorts that would deploy to the surface. While they had the intention of scouring the planet clean, a ground presence would need to be made as well, ensuring that enemy nations didn't get the opportunity to ferry off-world xeno artifacts.

[Omegus Corp]

Eta Class Destroyer
Orbiting the planet Solomon
"The reports from the initial scans are in, captain." Stated the robotic voice belonging to the second in command of the ship. "What were the results?" Asked the Captain. The android taped on a screen a few times. "We have reports of five alien vessels. One appears to have been a small probe, though we are uncertain as to whether or not it belonged to one of the previously discovered ships. A more detailed report will be forwarded to the main screen." With some more taps on the screen, a larger screen in front of the captain came up. While some things like the volume of the ships were more easy to tell, the exact armaments were unknown. The reports included everything visible about the ships, along with a few estimations. Captain Hale began reading through all the information provided on the screens in front of him.

After evaluating the situation, Captain Derrick Hale came to a conclusion. He began writing out his message back to the guys in the homeland. Captain Derrick Hale, Commander of the Eta Class Destroyer serial code J-R-X-4. After initial inspection of the situation we have discovered the presence of ships belonging to four, possibly five alien races. We would like to request that a Lambda class carrier, two delta class frigates, and a single Epsilon cruiser. End of report. The captain pressed the send button and watched as the machine did it's work. The machine preformed the standard Omegus Corp encryption before sending the message. If any of the aliens picked up the transmission, they would have no way of knowing what it said anyways.

[The Commonwealth of Steel]

Tara SpaceStation, In high-orbit over Ferrum
"What is your assessment?"
"My assessment? We nearly got obliterated by one measly satellite! Now we've got Lux-knows how many alien factions in the system. What can we do but go in guns blazing ?"
"Be tactful for starters, we need to know what we're up against. I am prepping BattleFleet Perennis Ventus as a contingency to your mission. As it stands, your command is now for the Illustrious, a Raven Stealth Corvette."
"But sir, the crew of the Razor...?"
"They will continue to serve on their vessel. They have proven themselves for ship and I see no reason to upset that."
"What about me then? Have I not shown my specialisation?"
"No, you have shown grace under pressure. As of now you are part of VSO. I suggest you say your goodbyes, you're going out tonight."

VSO stood for Vanguard Special Operations, the branch overseeing everything clandestine. Autarch Taillte was now the property of the Commonwealth, and he was now on an assignment which marked a turn in his career.

---------

The Illustrious floated aimlessly through space, having powered down long ago, not even showing heat through the hull. It slunk past flying blocks of what seemed to be metal, missing the painted skull by millimetres as it cut underneath and headed for Solomon's East Pole.
Autarch Taillte stood in front of the Ca'Vitrum bow-window, staring off towards the golden planet getting larger with each passing minute. Ships moved about in their unknown dance, in what seemed a stalemate for the planet below. Eventually the corvette reached it's holding orbit, and halted all movement.
"Autarch, readings indicating five separate ship designs present in-system."
The Autarch paled, this was going to get messy.
"Alright, on my mark, begin level 4 intensity data-harvest. I want to know armour, weapons, shields and engines. Give predictions. We are the mission-intel, so blaze them like the sun. You have thirsty seconds after mark. Upon cessation, activate Arcturus Warp-Initiator for the fleet. Steady..."
Everyone in the tiny CIC was hastily building subroutines and protocols to make the process faster. The shipboard AI would compile assembled data and prep it for Battle Management transmission .
"Mark in 5-4-3-2-1."

Any detection gear in the vicinity of the corvette was dazzled by the EM emissions emanating from what was previously empty space, before they could erect filters. Pings came across the board, as hundreds of wails filled the cabin. 15 seconds in, someone started shooting, and the corvette was forced to retreat to the Terminal Zone early. At exactly 30 seconds, a massive purple spark erupted from the back of the ship, slipping a EM filled vapour trail across the ship's hull. When it reached terminal-distance from the craft, it seemed to detonate, causing a rip in space bigger than a city.

---------

The High Autarch stared at the Fixed Terminus as though it would open just from his gaze. He was aboard the CSS Saber, a battlecruiser at the head of the Strike Fleet. When his gaze faltered from the wait, he turned to fetch himself some Tanu Drink. But with his back turned, the huge ring sitting in space at some distance from Tara activated, spewing exotic particles in every direction. A jump-terminus has opened and was being fed by Warp Perpetuators built into the Fleet-Ring. As the blue tear tried to close, it was yanked back to the edges of the city-sized ring and turned a deep purple.
"Full ahead!"
The High Autarch could feel the engines of the ship through his bio-synthetic synapses, not needing an acknowledgement from the Helmsmen, requiring only to feel for the signal as it whirred through the ship.
"All systems go, Amber Alert, defensive harbour on Terminal, see you on the other side."
A set of similar farewells were broadcast through the SlipField Network. Everyone was strapped in for the jump.
A SysOps gave the countdown,"Jump in 5-4-3-2-1...Mark!"
The world stopped. Bits of dust froze on their way to the filter-pores and a piece of paper paused on it's way to the bin. A thousand things happening in tandem, all paused as time itself became immaterial to the passage of the fleet.

---------

Autarch Taillte watched with trepidation as enemy hostiles began pinging the hull. Soon there would be shooting. His spirits lifted as the first peaking bow of the Saber nudged through the Terminal. It was accompanied by frigates, heavy frigates, destroyers, cruisers and most importantly, troop ships. As soon as the CommsArray of the Battlecruiser showed through, a tight-beam laser arced from the rear of the corvette to hit the reciever dish, in order to carry the condensed data-harvest of the corvette to the fleet.The fleet began powering for the planet, in the hope to reach orbit before they come under attack...

[The Nuclear Fist]

Womb-Ship of the Great Swarm of Damballah,
Solomon System

From the depts of the cold void, calm and peaceful, erupted only chaos. It was an anomaly, a ball of excitable energy the size of a large asteroid, a kilometre in every direction, unnervingly spherical and blindingly bright even to the hardiest of sensors. It was both in and out of focus, both in and out of colour, some unnatural thing that was not meant to be and yet was. It moved far faster than light and, in an instant, did not. The sphere swirled across its surface and crashed in upon itself when it stopped, seeming to burn through the fabric of space-time as molten metal would burn through bedding. In the sphere's ruins was a hole many times its size, spewing forth countless seas of light and radiation, seemingly determined to bring light to the darkness of the cosmos itself. From the swirling, nuclear chaos of the white hole something crawled forth. It had no defined shape, a writhing mass of chitin and metal and appendages. Four kilometres in each direction, it drifted out from the Realm-Beyond-The-Gate.

When its full body had escaped, the gate behind it collapsed in on itself at all once, snuffing the light in the darkness of the void. It was hideous in appearance and definition, millions of individual eyes and antennae darting in all directions, scanning and mapping the area. They did not seem to be fixed, and indeed the ship itself seemed to be a black, tar-like sea where eyes and weapons and needed apendages would bubble to the surface at a whim. Deep in the space of the Great Swarm, the Prophet-Of-Kings told tale of an ancient and powerful weapon in the heart of a far off world, one that would work to bring the good news and the glory of the God-Consciousness, Damballah, to the universe. A great power that would help spread Its glory to the stars and beyond.

Deep inside the heart of the Womb-Ship, through the twisted and fleshy bowels and pseudo-metallic machine corridors, the Hive-Prophet sat in pitch darkness. It made no sounds, its unblinking eyes glistening with protective ooze that dripped to the patchwork floor, only to be soaked up and repurposed moments later by the sea of hive larvae that coated every surface. They were fleshy, leech-like organisms covered in writhing, sucking, teeth-filled maws. The things constantly slithered along the surfaces of the ship, cleaning it and repurposing any matter that seemed to go to waste. Should an unfriendly being step foot inside, they would serve their secondary purpose. Acting as one, they would swarm upon the unknown creature and consume them. What armour the formidable jaws of the larvae could not strip off, their more evolved cousins, the hive beetles, most certainly could. It would be a gruesome death, yes, but a small mercy would be afforded in that it would also be a quick one.

The Hive-Prophet itself was testament to the glory of Shamballah, a gargantuan being made almost entire of extremely powerful brain matter, acting as the heart of this fleet's communications and its leadership. The body itself was inconsequential, its consciousness was transmutable, infinite. When the body died, it would be replaced. For such an important specimen, death meant nothing. Before its unblinking eyes it saw, at once, what the ship saw, what the species aboard saw, and relayed that information to the Prophet-Of-Kings on the homeworld, and to the relevent communications nodes aboard the ship. The Hive Prophet had no name, as no member of its species did. There was no need for one, they instinctively knew each other, as they were all all connected. Many faces of the same god, the Hive Prophet caught itself thinking. Its golden eyes looked forward, no longer at the psychic aether but at the mass of wombs before it.

Begin.

The Great Swarm had no true language, it had no need for one. The species communicated to each other by willing their thoughts and feelings to each other telepathically. And so, to all the minds of the Womb-Keepers, it willed the pictures of the precious eco becoming new ships and individuals. And so, in a moment, rubbery intestinal tubes zigzagged from the walls and ceiling and floors, connecting themselves to the chambers themselves. They quivered and writhed as the tar-like eco oozed through them, filling the thousands of wombs in mere seconds. The temperature rose rapidly as the wombs contracted and expanded, the eco within excited and molded by tendrils seething life energy. They gripped and streteched and massaged, forming organs and limbs and weapons. Metal and flesh seamlessly blended together. Moments later, the relative quiet was pierced with the agonizing screams of birth as new souls from the God-Consciousness flooded the newborn bodies, giving them life and intelligence. As new things formed, the born were pumped to the surface.

In the Dark-Before-The-Light, faith is the bridge between nothing and everything.

That simple message, that cryptic warning, echoed like radio waves across the planet's solar system.

As many of the eyes began to sink permanently below the surface, new mounds of flesh and metal rose, like rolling hills. These mounds split upon themselves, revealing steaming birthing orifices. Tendrils alongside them reached deep inside as the mounds themselves quivered and wretched, giving birth to thousands of seeds, each large enough to hold twenty humans in comfortably. The hand-like appendages tossed them in at Solomon, their biomechanical insides correcting their direction and giving them a fixed area. Other orifices birthed ships of all shapes and sizes, mostly forming a protective cloud along the seeds to ensure safe passage, while others were ships meant to harass potential enemies and protect the Womb-Ship itself. Of course, said command vessel was not defenceless. Tens of thousands of cannons and weapons platforms broke the shimmering surface, each of varying power and ability. Deep inside, the Hive-Prophet did not yet give the order to attack. It would be beneficial to wait and see if peace was a possibility.

[The Tavan Race]

As a race advances, barriers that were once absolute start to weaken, until eventually they collapse entirely, rendered mere inconveniences by the inexorable march of progress. Oceans, once vast, impassable voids, subordinate themselves to vessels' hulls, carrying multitudes across their expanses with ever-frailer protest. The sky, once a ceiling, becomes naught but a membrane, to be passed through with an ease that mocks the tribulations necessary to break it. Even the fabric of spacetime can be breached and molded to an industrious species' will. No distance, no obstacle, no law or violence of nature can prevent the dedicated sapient from getting where it wants to go, given time.

There are even civilizations to whom their very plane of existence, to which their physical forms are bound, all that others know and will perceive in their short lives, is really more of a suggestion. The Meritocratic Hegemony was not yet one of these civilizations. But it had met one.

Of course, the Hegemony was capable of manipulating the fabric of its reality with an enviable precision. Merely getting to a planet, as their objective was at the time, posed them no particular trouble. So why go to the trouble of obtaining and studying such a technology as would allow them to venture outside the reality they had so subjugated? The answer is surprisingly simple. They didn't want to bother landing.

Perhaps this requires a bit of explanation. While the vast majority of spacetime was a potential destination for the enterprising Tavan ship, a small percentage of it was yet out of reach. This percentage, something that had plagued military strategy for many years, was that which hosted matter, specifically, enough matter to surpass a certain frustratingly low threshold of gravitational pull. Or to put it more bluntly, a part of space that housed a planet, or a star. Or an atmosphere. Their existing methodology simply could not send them there; whatever device they built to force spacetime to curve to their whims would inevitably be torn to pieces when something with significant mass was nearby. It would, in fact, be destroyed so quickly that nothing could be sent through in the interim; the newly spawned wormhole would collapse back in on itself immediately. Technically, this limitation could be gotten around, but not easily; one had to possess an almost impossibly complete knowledge of the matter one would be attempting to jump within range of. Years of research were required in advance, and even then, there wasn't much room for error.

More pressingly, sometimes years weren't available.

Such was the case on the day when the planet of Solomon came to the Hegemony's attention. A rare gem, a planet capable of habitation within the decade, this world was, but the knowledge of its existence came attached to the knowledge that others had already found it. The aliens didn't have much time on them, but neither could the Hegemony afford to be leisurely in its efforts.

Another way would have to be found.

Because nothing could be warped by traditional means directly to the planet's surface, the colonization resources and facilities, along with the almost certainly necessary military presence, would either have to be flown through the atmosphere and manually landed, or warped in by means other than the usual.

Which is where that new technology came in. Once perfected, it promised to get the tavans wherever they needed to be without them having to worry about what was on the other side. It would render their previous method, of reshaping space to shorten their paths, all but obsolete, a developmentally important but subsequently outclassed relic. And, as the Gods would have it, the first operational version of the device was finished the day before the first reports of Solomon's existence came in.

As usual, there were concerns voiced about proper testing procedures, but as usual these were given no credence. If there was a time to delay implementation of this technology, it wasn't the day a potentially life-sustaining world had been discovered.

So the facilities, huge Y-shaped complexes, filled with machinery capable of both fabricating weapons and modifying an atmosphere, their many rooms attached to one another with thin corridors, were built, filled with crew, and sent on their way. The ships were updated and deployed in massive numbers, 8,192 to a fleet. Those on board were briefed on the nature of the technology, on how, in order for it to work, you had to hold an image of yourself and everything around you in your head at all times. If you failed to do this, if you didn't remember what you were, and when, the universe couldn't be expected to do it for you. And if that happened, there was no guarantee you would come back in one piece.

Or at all.

The whole process of updating, briefing, and sending off, normally sluggish and bureaucratic, was hastened considerably by the desire to lay claim to this new world.

They would be there within the hour.

---

An indescribable compression and a jarringly loud siren dragged Okunet back down into the reality he was used to, the one in which his perceptions made some kind of sense. He had only the vaguest idea what the compression represented, but he knew exactly what the siren meant: the facility was losing air, and fast. The slight, bony tavan hurriedly ran a mental systems check, demanding to know what was going on. In response, a blueprint of his facility sprung up in his mind's eye, the voice in his head that traveled along the wires stuck there telling him, unhelpfully, that there were multiple hull breaches in all sectors. More useful were the locations and severities of these breaches, laid out in a brightly contrasting shade of infrared across the display. All sectors was right.

Stomach aching, Okunet realized that of all the wounded areas, a good portion of them would not be salvageable; the damage was too severe. And of those portion that were unsalvageable, almost all of them were inhabited. By whom, the tavan did not know specifically. He hadn't known anyone in this deployment before it was sent off. But it did not matter.

Alarm shrieking in the background, made quiet by the horror of the situation, Okunet consigned his fellows to death, a single thought forcing the secondary airlocks shut, over what he could just imagine were their terrified, frantically gasping faces. He forced the image out of his head.

Sensors.

That was the next thing he had to get up and running. He had to see where they were, if the new device had done its job. A few silent commands and the walls displayed an image of their surroundings. Well, they were on a planet, almost perfectly aligned with the ground, too. Whatever had caused their hull to get torn up, it certainly wasn't landing stress; they hadn't really landed at all. It was as if the roughly Y-shaped structure had just appeared there out of nowhere. Which, in a sense, it had.

Communications were next. The methodical nature of the process served to calm Okunet, by giving him something to fixate on. He opened up a link to the rest of the building first, then to the fleet which, by this point, should be in orbit around the planet. They, like his facility, had been upgraded to utilize the new technology, bypassing the familiar process of warping spacetime for one wholly more experimental. Something to do with trans-dimensional transport; Okunet wasn't sure of the specifics. By way of testing the link, he sent out a blanket transmission requesting a reply from all who had made it.

780 responses in total, 43 from the facility and 737 from the fleet. A fraction of the original deployment.

Almost immediately after communications were established, Okunet was bombarded with messages, far too many for a single string of consciousness to process no matter how fast it was. The voices simply sounded in his mind, traveling from the communicator in the panel in front of him down a wire that led directly into the tavan's head, bypassing his ears entirely. Fortunately, if Okunet could hear them, they could also hear each other, and the voices quickly partitioned themselves off into groups to discuss what had just happened. Finally, one remained with Okunet, and, the facility now more or less under control, he allowed himself to strike up a conversation with his fellow.

Their talk painted a grim picture.

---

<I presume you managed to keep your segment in your head?> Okunet asked, his voice sounding strange when reduced to nothing but a neurological stimulation. It sounded hollow, since he was used to hearing his own voice through the muffling flesh and bone of his own skull.

<I think so; my room looks like I imagined it would. But I'm not so sure about the connecting corridor. Before the airlocks closed, it seemed like there was a space between my room and the next one over.>

<Same here. I'm just glad I remembered to picture the airlock before we jumped back in.>

<Did you see that odd distortion? You must have been paying attention if you made it back alive.>

Pause.

<You mean that line of images stretching off of everything? Like someone dragged us off in a line and made a series of copies along the way?>

<Yeah, that.>

<I don't think that was a distortion. I think that was time. If my studies serve me, in the fourth dimension, time basically exists in the same way a spatial orientation does. Like an axis on a graph, x, y, and z, time can be perceived in the same way, stretching off to the future in one direction, and to the past in the other. That line of near-exact copies was your life, as it has happened, and as it will. Each of us had one, just like every object around us did, and now that we're back down here, we're all just traveling down that line of copies. Of course it doesn't seem that way, but-->

<Mine ended.>

Pause.

<Well, you weren't expecting to live forever, were you?>

<I was expecting to live long enough to sleep again.>

This brought only a long and troubled silence.

[DuThaal Craftworld]

Bridge of the Requiem
"Council! Enemy ships scanning, more warping in!"
"I'm sorry?"
"High power scans; likely from a scout."
"How high?"
"Higher than even the Tau can summon."
"Okay. Send a message to Fleet Wing 4, ask for mobilization of the Indifference fleet."
"Indifference, sir?"
"Yes. Now."
"Of course."

---

Fleet Wing 4 Command
"Ma'am, there's a request from the Council of the Requiem."
"And…"
"They're asking for the mobilization for the Indifference fleet on their coordinates."
"The entirety of it?"
"Yes."
"That's an eigth of Iyanden's navy! Surely they can't be serious."
"They are, Ma'am, and with good reason it seems. Several possibly hostile factions have also brought in fleets."
"How many?"
"Three at the least."
"Ship in the Indifference immediately. I'll message the Fleet Commander."

---

Indifference Fleet Command Flagship - Aurora
"We've received commands to warp in on a set of coordinates, sir."
"The entire fleet?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well then. Open up comms." The helmeted Eldar orders, taking a seat and opening up channels. Instantly, hundreds of holographic comm-screen open in front of him.
"Warp in on the following coordinates on Mark. The coordinates are A; -5321, B; 8310, C; -90126. On me." He orders, each helmet in front of him nodding.
"Navigator, warp in on coordinates."
"Sir." The Navigator replies, typing the coordinates in and depressing the warp rune. A second passes. Two. And then everything flashes a brilliant white-ish blue as they enter the Webway, racing through time and space.
"Exiting Webway in three, two one, EXITING!" The Navigator informs the bridge as another flash heralds their arrival around Solomon, all two hundred and fifty ships warp into orbit, each gleaming a brilliant white.
"Scan for hostiles."
"Section 1; scanning."
"Section 2; scanning."
"Section 3; scanning."
"Section 4; scanning."
"Section 5; scanning." They Section Commanders report. A few moments pass.
"Sir, this is the place."
"Assemble, Formation Resolve."
"Assembling, sir."

[G-Tech Corporation]

"We step once more into the holy void, the workroom of the Omnissah. His tools and creations are on display for all to see, His majesty unveiled before the wondering eyes of the cosmos. We fall together through oceans of air, our bodies wreathed in halos of incendiary incandescence, as optics stare unabashed at the glorious palette of our maker spilled across the surface of verdant worlds uncounted. In a single transcendent moment together we impact the firmament, metal and flesh joined with earth in theological ecstasy. This is planetfall." - Accounts of the Rising Ascendancy, Techsin Giljoss Vis'ameral

BelowSpace Coordinates 1324:72D:7610
Timestamp: 2845:126:679:19.45 MPA
Havanian Group, Milky Way Galaxy, System 387:329:001-a (See attch. Res. Survey 4508.8366)
Ascendancy Fist Gyri, Techsin Vernius Ys'Ameral Commanding Ascended
Mainframe Upload warr. Pt. Asc. Conf.

The sound of a fiddle came twanging from directly behind Vernius' throne within the Nexus, the jovial tones hardly coherent in the face of the corruption that was rapidly entrenching itself within this system. The Techsin sighed internally, his smooth mirrored faceplate displaying no emotional features, and he rose from his chair and shook his head at the young girl that sawed with great enthusiasm and no small skill upon the rustic instrument. Her face, heart-shaped and set with two dazzling emerald and aquamarine eyes, fell for a moment into a pout, but then Gyri brightened and struck into a sea-chanty. The yawling notes scraped their way around the chamber, and eventually Vernius laughed outright.

"Okay, okay, I'll take this all less seriously. It really is a simple exploration and reconnaissance Exfil op, hardly worth getting worked up over." The Ascended's voice was as deep as the oceans of the stars, a booming bass that rumbled in the room. It came from no apparent source upon his form, but the small girl merely shrugged. A pillar of silvery-black rose from the smoky obsidian floor of the chamber, and with spritely hands she placed the burgundy wooden fiddle upon it. The two then stepped forward to the front of the Nexus, the child taking four steps to every one of the looming Techsin. Behind them silvery-black crept over the surface of the violin, consuming it, and the pillar retracted again into the floor even as the walls before the pair kindled into light. Before Vernius' optics a layout of the system was superimposed with geographical datum and observable ship placements. Dive sensors spoke too of a small stealth ship hovering a few thousand klicks away, betrayed by parallax errors in the sensors of the fore and aft segments of the massive Fist. The conspicuous hole in the otherwise slightly massive void had been picked out by sweeps as a point of interest upon entry into the system, and now that interest was affirmed. Pulsing waves of e-m spam rushed off of the object, seeking to blind any observers, but the Fist did not observe in the electromagnetic spectrum. As the packets of energy and active scans bathed the skin of the formidable Ascendancy vessel the surface roiled and became rough, a curious phenomenon where the innate absorptive nature of the flowmetal layers slurped up the energy like a glass of water.

Vernius looked with the sensors of the ship at this ship that had been trying to hide.

"That wasn't very friendly, now was it Gyri?"

The girls auburn curls tossed as she snorted in disdain.

"Not in the least."

Her form shattered, like a pool into which a rock had been thrown. Shards of glinting color fell with the sound of tinkling glass to the floor of the Nexus, where they were rapidly subsumed.

Her voice- the voice of the ship- sounded in the Techsin's uplink.

Time to say hello properly.

On the port exterior of the giant vessel four blisters appeared in the otherwise perfect smoothness of the surface. Each was guided by the omnipresent hand of the Cognatus herself, and conduit battle-projectors picked out the stealth ships location rapidly from the background radiation of the stars. At precisely five times the speed of the universal limit prismatic streams of primordial energy leapt across the vacuum towards the ship, wide-band beams primed to catch any evasive maneuvers on the part of their quarry. Not of the physical universe where these flowing weapons of disorder- their origin was in BelowSpace itself, and as they hastened to their prey they dipped in and out of the Dive, lending them speed greater even than the velocity of light by far. One struck where the target was even as the other three aimed for predictive patterns of evasion. The algorithms were currently imprecise, despite the vast neural nets behind them; a new enemy could think different than an old one, and adaptive matrices would take time to account for new variables of behavior. Even so, if the beams struck they would eat into any mass the target possessed, latching onto the signature and dragging portions of it down into the maelstrom of the Dive. It would be as if an invisible stellar god of times ancient were chewing upon the enemy craft, and with each bite a burst of thought-defying colors impossible to comprehend showered the cosmos.

Vernius looked out of the Nexus, and his optics espied the satellite moving closer to the Fist's orbit. Manipulators clacked on the wall as he thought, and then he turned and retired rapidly to his throne once more, sinuous metallic form moving rapidly and languidly to seat itself upon the obsidian dais. In a trice his internal nets meshed with that of the vessel, and his suspicions were confirmed; the defense system was exhibiting rising energy levels, consistent with weapons being charged. It was time to- but no, Gyri had everything in hand. Even as a beam of light started its crawl towards the Fist answering spurs of energy consumed the construct, licking up even the emission of its armaments in a glorious cacophony of radiation and light. The streams of the energy of the Dive played over the satellite for a few seconds, and then it was gone, its matter shunted out of this reality in favor of one with far less favorable conditions for the continued existence of baryonic matter.

The Techsin nodded. This vessel indeed was a competent partner. Scans were reading myriad Potential forms around this world, and even some humanoid life-signs clustered on the planet, but for now contact would have to wait; it was necessary to catalog the secrets of this world before the Potentials mucked up anything with their well-intentioned but slightly dense motives. He turned his mind to the bowels of the Fist, and through his link with the others gathered there only a few impressions passed. Words would be a misnomer, since language was merely a cloak that thoughts wore to express themselves, but the feeling was much like this: Drop is clear.

In the heart of the massive Fist two other Techsins stirred, Jarn and Sythia, and they smiled at each other, forms reminiscent of their original organic visages. She was a tall willowy lady of what a baseline human would call the age of twenty, her hair as dark as the night sky and her eyes vermillion and crimson. He was a sturdy blocky fellow of similar apparent age, sandy-haired and in possession of a stolid physique. From his eyes shone an icy-white and a deep near-black indigo. Before them a rift opened in the underbelly of the Ascendancy vessel, and they cast themselves without hesitation into the void. With them leapt numerous other beings, silvery-black constructs in their thousands, and dozens of larger Exiliths the size of buildings. No Vetrats had been deployed yet; they would have to be constructed on-site, due to anticipated atmospheric defenses, but for now the thousands of Servitors fell like chaff upon the wind towards the shimmering marble of the world below.

[The Nuclear Fist]

The continent of this planet, upon vast oceans of the planet Solomon, as blanketed by civilization. Humans had long ago populated it. The coastal cities were luxurious in size and appearance, grand in depth. Marvels of their history of success and peace and wealth. Their beauty was not unlike a necklace of pearls, the system of tunnels and road networks the twine that connected them. The governors of the metropolises had long ago resolved themselves to the coming war. One after another, strangers from beyond the stars had arrived, most definitely for the ancient relics left by beings long since dead. Relics that Solomon had always been home to. These particular cities had been spared the glassing, the nuclear apocalypse, being thrust upon their breathren solely by their position on the opposite side of the globe. Out of pure luck, they had avoided a fiery death sentence thrown upon them solely for having been born on the wrong planet.

But for a world under siege, Solomon's Throat (as this area was known to be called) was remarkably peaceful. The upper classes, those who could afford to pay for salvation, sat in the cold darkness of reinforced bunkers hidden deep in the planet's bedrock, where they could cower in fear of the orbital bombardment in peace. The last final gift the opulently wealthy could afford was to ride out the apocalypse in relative comfort. For the poor and the middle class, as many were, they were forced to take shelter where they could. But shelter was a finite thing, and once it had been taken, the millions in the Sultan's Throat who could not find shelter simply resolved themselves to death. And yet, it seemed death was taking its sweet time getting to them. Truly, the world was a strange place.

Oh, how the gods have blessed us, giving us one final day of peace before they usher us off to the next life. Cyras thought. No other pace demonstrated this paradoxical peace and war quite like the beach Cyras now stood upon. His dark skin shimmered with sweat as he felt the sand upon his feet, the gentle waves cascading upon his legs. He breathed in deeply, sighing contently at the smell of the sea air. He watched his young daughters play in the waves, but his eyes drifted up to the sky as it began to grow dark. What's this, it's only just passed morning? Cyras thought, worryingly. He began to wade out to his daughters, the water suddenly feeling cold as realization began to dawn on him. Thick, black clouds seemed to appear from nowhere, blocking the sun and choking out its dying rays of light. Soon afterwards, it began to rain. The raindrops that came down were thick and black, as if it had begun to rain tar. It came down in sheets, blanketing the ocean and beach as far as the eye could sea and all those within it and upon it.

Reflexively, as he had done so many times before, Cyras brought up his hands to shield his eyes from the rain. It was only then that he noticed it was becoming harder to move, it was only then that he noticed his skin begin to tingle and numb. It was as if he walked through glue. His daughters screamed for his help as they frantically spashed, trying to remain above water. "My children!" Cyras screamed, wading deeper into the water in an attempt to save their young lives. His ears began to pop repeatedly and his vision became blurry. He felt his skin begin to bubble, as if it was boiling off. Cyras brought up his hands once more and nearly wretched, seeing the flesh twisting and writing, the black substance seeming seeping into his body. It was in that instant that his body seized and he crashed into the water, seemingly frozen in time. He began to float down, feet first, into the water, the horrible sounds of bones shifting and popping filling his soul. He tried to scream and found he could not, he was in a previously unknown agony, one that left him paralyzed. The last thing he heard before his head went under, and he blacked out, was the sound of his children drowning, and the crashes of orbs slamming into the ground.

---

The seeds struck the ground with tremendous force, sending all manner of dirt and debris into the air, covering the area in clouds. With a series of wet rips and pops, they opened, horrid, corrosive mist spilling forth. The local Planetary Defence Force garrison had already arrived to investigate, their protective armoured suits keeping them safe from the eco raining from the sky. It had not been a long trip, these were the better trained and equipped troops of an incredibly wealthy city, and the city's gates could be seen in the horizon. Not wanting to take a chance, they raised their various laser and kinetic weapons and opened fire, hoping to kill off anything that might be contained in the seeds. As the miasma corrosive miasma lifted, the first to reveal themselves were the hive beetles, who scurried in thick blankets across the ground as if acting as the waves themselves.

Those unlucky fools who found themselves too close were consumed in mere moments, broken down into base elements and left as puddles upon the ground. The hive leeches would pick them up momentarily. Next to charge from the seeds were the hive guards, heavily armoured and highly mobile insectoids that acted as the equivalent of light tanks and walkers combined, meaning they served the armour niche necessary to keep casualties down. Their chitin plating was somewhat weaker than their purely mechanical counterparts in other forces, as were their shields. However, their bodies were lined with arteries and bladders of precious eco, which could be pumped to wounded areas that could be healed in a matter of moments. Additionally, fleshy sacs along their body carried hive beetles, which could fly off and attack enemies to harass them. Many were dedicated melee units, with scything, bladed appendages and mandibles harder than diamonds. Those without said mandibles had, instead, biomechanical cannons that could fire super-hardened blasts of plasma that radiated x-rays and caused fusion reactions when they came into contact with things.

The PDF troops who had not yet been eaten by the hive beetles were quickly destroyed by the hive guard, who either ripped them to pieces with their mandibles and blades or blew them to pieces with their cannons. What few survivors were left scrambled back into their transport and took off, only to be destroyed by a blast from one of the living tanks themselves. It was at this time that the seeds began releasing transports and the basic hive troops, armed with pulse rifles which, effectively, were simply scaled down versions of those mounted on the hive guards. Others carried warp bolters, which fired explosive rockets that opened, for a few nanoseconds, fired microscopic white holes that projected tremendous energy and light when struck. Against most targets, the resulting force could tear a soldier in half, or at least put it down.

The forces of the Swarm, in their transports or on foot, ran with all due haste towards the city's walls, running amidst a sea of hive beetles. As they ran, new troops joined the fold. What had once been humans were now merely drones, equipped with powerful jaws and diamond-hard talons. It would take some time for their newly formed psychic lobes to mature, and so their link to the God-Consciousness was strained at best. As a result, they could barely tap into the collective knowledge of the species, and could only be trusted operating whatever they could find. Many simply used their talons or other melee weapons, others picked up the fallen PDF forces' laser rifles. The knowledge the drones had had before being turned was absorbed into the Great Swarm. Their footsteps were wet and loud, splashing through puddles of thick eco, even as the stuff continued to rain down. What eco that didn't bond with bodies would form hive webbing or natural defences, or otherwise bond with the local technology and form it into the biomechanical industry the Great Swarm depended on.

Even as they charged the city, though, its massive gates had closed. This effectively turned the conflict from a battle to a siege. But the seeds had bombarded the city itself long before its energy shields were brought up. Already, troops inside would be advancing to open up the gates. Already, there would be chaos in the streets as the psychic presence of the Swarm turned mutants into willing drones. What little PDF forces inside would rapidly be overwhelmed as the city became a hive unto itself, and the beating heart of the Swarm's presence on this planet. It was only a matter of time. And time was on the side of the righteous, on the side of the followers of Damballah.

[The Commonwealth of Steel]

Strike Fleet Saber, headed for Solomon, just before shit hit's the fan
Sirens were blaring in the background, warning against contacts and ship arrivals. Warnings through the SlipField urged crewmen to go where they were they needed, as orders from the CIC directed engineers to systems in need of help. The whole ship was like a nest of ants, panicking at the discovery of six other nests of ants at their front-door.
Without warning, a ship like a shard of shaped ice fired on the hopeless stealth corvette, out in front of the jump-corridor. This was only apparent when a dent appeared on it's starboard wing just prior to the ship being ripped apart by some invisible god with the munchies. The corvette flew evasive maneouvres but was clipped on the wing by what seemed to be another shot. Slowly, the ship entered a flat spin and careened towards the bow of the Saber.

---------

"Shit, shit, shit! What was that?!"
"Mayday, mayday, this is corvette Illustrious, CSS. Under attack from unknown aggressor. Request immediate assistance." The CommOp muttered in the background, despite the enthusiastic panickings of one Demi-Exarch Callahi.
Suddenly, the wing of the craft disappeared and the craft began a flat-spin in the direction of a battlecruiser, as Autarch Taillte watched with cold horror as the port engine block floated serenely off into space, free of it's functional bonds.
"Immediate Diametric Shunt. 60 degrees and 14G's. Mark"
On the starboard side of the ship, a small panel blew away from the hull to reveal a small cone sharp as knife pointing away from the ship. A small spark flew from the cone to hit a interminable wall not 200 metres from the ship. When the spark expanded for the briefest of moments, the entire ship was shoved towards it, accompanied by its now free-drifting engine and all the presently dislodged debris. Cracks snaked all through the ship, as being shoved sideways was like karate chopping a block of wood with the grain of the said wood; lots of cracks and snapping. An explosion came from the engine block and suddenly the crew were free from the confines of corridors and flight cabins. Thankfully, apart from the two already killed by prior hits, all AtmosHelms activated in time, to save their shipless lives.

The Saber sped overhead, passing down seven MagLock Harpoons to drag the derelict crewmen into the Battlecruiser on it's way to planetfall.

-----------

"Deploy Heavy Frigates on that ship" The High Autarch ordered, pointing to the alien shard-vessel lit on the HoloPodium.
"Aye, sir, frigates burning to combat intercept now."
The frigates sped towards the ship, breaking formation from the rest of the Strike Fleet to engage the evidently hostile alien ship.

The Autarch aboard the leading heavy frigate, CSS Caracatte, was now in active command, and as such was the one shouting the command to attack.
"All ships, all ships, bring up firing lanes on Battle Management. Fire at will."
The heavy frigates traced loose orbits about the craft as their spinal mounted particle cannons assailed the alien hull. Striking at a good fraction of the speed of light, the small bursts of emanating from the guns of the strafing frigates would forcefully rip to shreds any alien hull they met, like taking multiple small meat-carvers to a live pig. Sooner or later bits were going to fall off, and it was going to rupture most of anything else long before that happened.

-----------

The sirens which were constantly whirring in the white noise were thankfully muted, giving the High Autarch some room to think. With his brow furrowed, he read the Data-Harvest as it was decompressed. It was worrying to say the least, especially of those xenophobic robomen. The High Autarch was broken from his activity by a SysOps monitoring the planet:
"Sir, the bugs have landed on Solomon. They've established a foothold over the temple, in one of the Human settlements."
"What bugs?" He asked, the question being echoed through his artificial synapses to the SlipField, where a report excerpt popped up as an icon on the edge of his vision. With a thought, it was open and he was growing paler and paler as he read on, about the findings from the corvette.
"We need to get there now." He smoothly ordered. Suddenly the world had become a lot simpler as the mission objective formed in his mind.
"Alright. We're going to deploy planetside, and I want us in Shield formation. Flat-burn over to the night-side of the planet. I want the Fire Caste Autarch with me in the conference room now. Ipcress, takeover."
"Aye, sir."
With that the High Autarch smoothly strode out of the room, with the airs of a man who knew what to do.

-----------

"I don't like this plan." The Fire Caste High Autarch announced, his voice being absorbed by the anti-acoustics foam lining the walls.
"Which part?" The Air Caste High Autarch responded, the furrow in his brow deepening.
"All of it." To this he was met with a banal stare, forcing him to continue,"We're going to be deploying in a very small Drop Zone, at a very high-altitude, against bugs that have already overtaken the Landing Zones and the Drop Zone, who excel at being in close-quarters. This is very, very bad Ju-Ju." Ju-Ju of course being the Armitage's version of luck.
"You'll be supported by the Air Caste, and we'll have dropped chemicals on them by then."
"What else have you got that can guarantee the safety of my men?"
"Well, we can't do much, with them sitting on one of those temples like that. Maybe we can loan some Thor Heavy Gunships to the forces. I'm not keen on it, because of the fragility of the temple."
"We have a ground Command Vehicle. It will not be a problem. With this, we may stand a chance."

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

The fleet was heading on a straight line through the upper atmosphere of Solomon to the night-side of the planet. In the small window when the ships are passing through the upper atmosphere, drop pods holding countless legionnaires will be dropped onto the living hell below, in the city of Solomon's Throat. There, the plan was for a beachhead to be formed in the CBD, but as all great military commanders know, no plan ever survives contact with the enemy.

As the fleet approached the mission start time, the ships were flying in the Shield formation. This involved having the warships placed on top, where they could defend against any enemies attempting to prevent planetfall, standing over the quick but toothless Albatross-Class transports, carrying 5,000 troops each.

"Mission:Establish secure beachhead in Solomon's Throat CBD at GR 643 123. We will not fight for the Commonwealth. We will fight for each other." The monotone voice of the legionnaire commander echoed in the SlipField to each of his 100,000 charges. When a criminal is sentenced to death, or when someone would choose death, the Fire Caste accepts them into the legionnaires. They are mind-wiped, implanted with a personality persistent with bravery, obedience, loyalty and tactical prowess. They are bolstered with cybernetic implants, then improved biologically. They are mindless abomination meant only for war. It's all they ever know, in living memory. When the commander's speech ended, these dour warriors stepped into their drop pods, ready for one of countless battles that they've fought and are bound to fight. If they were capable, most would be afflicted with chronic depression and PTSD, but then again they weren't capable.

With them would be jumping the Iron Marines, ready to receive the life-giving transports carrying Legio Ferrum.

[Steel Confessors]

Legio III Opprimendi Victoria
Assault Detachment Philotus
Errant Battleship Nocte Venator; 3 Crusader Cruiser; 5 Templar Frigate escorts
Command Station: AI Construct Ala

Solomon's Orbit
System 494-492-6113 (Refer to Surveyor report: D03851)
3 Light-Seconds from surface
Maintaining Position
Co-ordinates: 875:559:124:2358

Deep within the bowels of the ship, Ala continued to recline on her virtually created chair, a glass of wine swirling in her hand. The trip into position over the Eastern Pole had been rather uneventful until the Sensori called up in his burbled binary. <My Rex, we have multiple contacts that have jumped within system! Several factions, several hundred pings. And.. I'm reading a Level III swarm carrier. Repeat a Level III swarm.> The man was turned in his podium, facing her with alarm etched on his scarred face.

Ala smiled faintly, leaning up from her chair. The glass disappeared into segments of code as she willed fresh streams from the sensor decks. Streams of red characters filed down her vision while she made neural contact with the Hydra entombed next to her. <I want all cohorts within the formation to be on full alert and prepared to go ground side. This will turn into a slug-fest up here and I don't want them getting butchered up here. Especially when there's a swarm to fight on the ground. Inform all ships to prepare full broadsides and prepare firing solutions on targets of the enemy that are the closest.>

She turned and faced the weapons moderati, who turned to face her. <Fire when the spinals are ready on the largest deposit of xenotech within range. Send orders as well to divert most power to spinals. We'll need their firepower during the engagement.>

<Understood my Rex.

She again turned to the Hydra, <Valerius, send down our ground teams to establish a base of operations as soon as the weapons make landfall.>

<Understood my Rex>

They spent a nano-second in silence as their minds departed to file out her orders, sending packets of data to each other in a continuous stream of continuity checks and relayed commands. Deep underneath the legions of mechanical warriors would awaken and begin to file down into the ships, loading the Acolytes into racks with attending Hydra running diagnostic checks. Sentients could manage themselves and began their own preparations before planet-fall.

<Weapons Ready. Firing... Now>

---

On top of the Errant Battleship was a small deviation from the typically rectangular design of the Confessor ships. It was a small ramp that lead to another blocky turret before joining to the rear of the ship. Three massive barrels protruded from the ramp, forming inky black cylinders that drifted dormantly with the rest of the ship. Until power from the reactors filtered into them, vast conduits filling with and glowing the typical blue of the Confessor's equipment with the tips gradually emitting a faint glowing halo.

Each of those barrels was the doomsday weapon of the Confessors. Officially named the Super-Luminal Plasma Conduction Liner Accelerator, SLPCLA, they functioned off a two fold system. The first relied upon the generation of a toroid of plasma roughly twenty meters in diameter and contained in a stable environment within the firing chamber of the weapon. Then, negative energy would be filtered into the barrel and channeled into the body of the projectile. The immediate effect of such a device was the destabilization of the Higg-Boson field within that mass of ionized particles decreasing the mass of the particles until they reached zero.

Then the toroid would be launched into the suddenly energised rails, repelling the ionized particles of the mass again and again in a compounding effect until the projectile was sped past light. If calculations were done right the toroid would lose the negative energy just before the moment of impact suddenly regaining its mass and kinetic energy before slamming into the target at the speed of light. This was done of course with the assumption that the proper rates of entropy based upon the envionment had been taken and the distance properly read. If too much energy was put in the toroid would simply speed past, too late and it would stop and disperse from the shock before even hitting the target.

The cannons adjusted to compensate for the new target vector and started to power up. The light building within and along the barrels soon hit a crescendo. Three massive columns of pale-blue light that scaled the eye and burned the retina that managed to gaze at the specific point in time. The projectile was faster than the muzzle flash as the devastation was wrought before anyone even saw the discharge of the weapons. The trail of the toroid was highlighted with a thick column of light and a superheated atmosphere.

Where the barrels had pointed, a new crater of molten rock and slagged metal formed, the very fist of God having struck the surface.

Now the barrels grew dark and the ship sputtered and died in its orbit, the engines draining away before their halo flicked out of existence. The spinals, as magnificent as they were, were incredibly power intensive and the entire system was rendered offline by the firing. It would take several minutes to recharge just the engines and thrusters holding them in orbit and little over an hour to recharge the rest of the ship.

---

<We read full impact before the system cut out. Target has been annihilated.> The weapons moderati spoke up, breaking the awed silence of the crew. They had seen the firing of spinals hundreds of times before, but each time was as amazing as the first, a cord of their soul stirred by the display of power. Luckily they had augmetic eyes so as to not burn out their retinas but they would need some receptors replaced.

<Understood. Well done Weapons. Valerius divert what power you can and tell the cohorts to deploy.> Ala responded, her wine in hand again. So far the day was going well. Once deployment was completed though, they'd need to engage the immediate threats of the alien craft floating all around the planet. Especially the more numerous ones.

If they were going to wipe this planet clean of filth, they'd need some room to do it and so the aliens would have to be eradicated first. At least though they'd be getting well enough on the ground.

---

Myrmidon Lucius stepped into the troop carrier, his heavy boots thundering on the metal deck along with hundreds of others. He and his brothers and sisters in arms were going to war, the sensation rippling across every neuron and processor. It was a mix of fear and elation, varying in degree for each soldier, but present nonetheless. For Lucius they blended together into a mostly even mix, his nerves bouncing and jittery but his arm steady as cybernetics replaced his weak flesh.

He tried to take comfort in his armor, trust in his gear and rely on his training but it didn't do anything to quel the rising tide of uncertainty. This could be the mission that was it for him, that final one where his information would be scattered into the universe to be reused randomly. Death was coming for all, for the Confessors it was more of sprinting, but one could never predict it. Here, he didn't want to but found himself guessing.

His arms came up and he slammed down the harness onto his shoulder, pneumatics hissing as the cage came in tightly to seal around his hardened exterior. He reached up and gripped onto the handles, wringing them slightly with anxiousness. Most of them were chomping at the bit for time planet-side, finding a fighting death on the ground preferable to the waiting escape in orbit. Lucius had to agree but he still couldn't help but finding it worrisome to be deploying against a faction that just appeared and a swarm.

<Oh, relax. You've done this hundreds of times. You know what to expect and know that you'll come out of this like always. We haven't gotten nailed yet, have we?> Terus spoke with a teasing tone, or at least what counted for one in binaric. Terus was the AI implanted within Lucius' head. He, like all other myrmidons, was equipped with an AI core in the hopes of better blending them with the new armored body they were given as well as produce better combat results. It was easier to react when you had two heads dictating your actions. Lucius originally found Terus' humor grating and dull but overtime it became routine and simple, present almost as his breathing once was.

<Perhaps, but that always means getting one step closer to the guy with your bullet.> Lucius replied.

<Jeez, you are morbid. Think you would've lightened up after all these years, like those lads.> Terus chuckled, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards a rambunctus group of Manticores. Terus wasn't projected onto the world around him like Ala was, but he existed with Lucius' vision. The manticores out of vision were howling and pounding their chests with the barrels of their autocannons creating a dull, metal sound. They were warriors from a feral world within the Confessors control and they certainly showed it, chanting the warcry of their people in binaric, covered in light blue designs.

He chuckled faintly, before resting back into his harness. Soon enough the entire ship rocked and shuddered, the body of the aircraft seperating from the battleship. It drifted for a moment, a sudden feeling of weightlessness creeping into the soldier's bones. They jostled against the harness a the engines suddenly flared up with a whining engine, letting out a blast that rocked everyone in a clanking mess. The Manticores across from him shouted out, roaring in binary to the roof of the craft.

The ship shook and rocked as they descended, the atmosphere buffeting them like a typhoon. Atmo deployment was always somewhat nervewracking, never knowing if the ship just might detonate or suffer catastrophic damage to only explode. However, he allowed himself to settle into the waves of chaos feeling a faint shudder of adrenaline as combat stims flooded into his system. He let out a roar to the sky, his voice modulating through his helmet in a staticy scream.

---

A massive boxy craft landed into a crater of cracking and burning rock, slapping against it with a resounding thud. The massive turbines on it slowly died out, the heavy thrust from them dying down as ashes and pieces of burnt rock flew away. A massive slab to the fron released with a hiss before slamming into the ground, throwing up a cloud of dust. Several figures marched out from within, stamping with a determined and straight-forward approach.

The lead figure was a massive, broad-shoulder soldier in white armor encasing his entire form. The ablative plates seal around himhiding any previous trace of his humanity, leaving him a single towering slab of armor. His right hand was a jagged cylinder with faintly glowing conduits, that sparkle and shift as power fluctuates within them. A spidery, silvery hand stuck out from underneath the barrel, flexing periodically. The other arm was another more straightforward cylinder, seamlessly created as a barrel of iron. The face of the man glowered, lit from the faceless plate by a red-cross that shone through the darkness of the dust swirling about.

His boot came down and crushed the carbonized skull of a native animal. The Confessors were here.

[Caecuser]

Ignore this post.

[Strykla]

Artakleombres
Planetary Assault Warship
Assault Flotilla, 6 Warships
4.7 AU from Solomon
Approaching on inertia

---

The Mind awoke.

There were many Minds. This one, 'Artak', was the overall commander of this expedition. Though the Minds were little more than biological computers, that was no reason to not fear them; on the contrary, they were free of anything recognizable as life.

The Planetary Assault Warship, PAW, was not a small ship. Nearly two kilometers from stem to stern, it looked like one immensely large needle gliding through space. The skin was completely featureless, coloured stark white. It was not normal by any means - no superstructure, bridge, engines, anything on the outside. It slid through space stealthy as a rock, for it relied upon 'faked' gravity to propel itself, or rather to bend space in front of it and simply go into the warp field like being pulled by a planet. The tidal stresses were immense - a fact that allowed the device to double as a weapon. And because it gave off no emissions other than cosmic backround radiation which bounced off it, it was stealthy where stealth shouldn't exist. Nothing short of a miracle would make them detectable.

Inside the PAW, more Minds were awaking. Their communication was through quantum coupling; that silly electromagnetic or audio communication could be intercepted or blocked all too easy. His reports to the Divinity would go instantaneous despite the fact that the distance between them was not to be described it was so great, and the ability to reach into the Dirac Sea allowed nearly unlimited energy, anytime, anywhere. But of course, they weren't going to simply obliterate the universe - that would yield no results, and anyway going into the Quantum Field took nearly as much energy as was gotten out.

Artak was not sure whyever he had been ordered to take this star system, but who was he to question the will of whatever it was directing the Minds. His shell started to power up; shells were the personal robots of Minds, commanded through quantum entanglement. The shell was a real piece of work, protected by strong iradite alloys. Each arm mounted claws, blades, and metal darts the size of a man's thumb at hypersonic speeds; plus, the shell was plenty expendable. Each Mind controlled a number of shells at any given time; the real workhorse on the ground, however, was the pinger, an AI-controlled machine which led any Charybdis ground assault and was, in a word, dangerous.

But first it would have to get there - and to do so, the PAW announced itself. Or rather, a decoy announced itself.

One of the warships made a hard turn to go 'up' relative to the current trajectory and gave off large amounts of EM emissions; of course any attention directed that way would be toward the decoy, and it was hoped that the decoy would simply lead them away.

Artak prepared. And the Minds were wondering just what was actually important here.

[Omegus Corp]

Eta Class Destroyer
Orbiting the planet Solomon
While Captain Hale was waiting for his reinforcements, he realized somethings. One, he didn't know if this thing he was here for even existed. Two, he didn't know how the hell he would operate it. Three, it was more likely that one of the other alien races here would get it instead of him, and there is a good chance that after everything is said and done, they won't be so happy with Omegus Corp. It was a risk that Captain Hale didn't want to take, and the answer to this problem soon came from one of the scout ships.

One of the scouts caught a rather interesting scene. One of the alien ships launched a number of projectiles at the planet with rather devastating effect. That gave Captain Hale and idea. These people obviously wanted the device destroyed. If he could work with these people, he could get Omegus Corp a new potential ally, and prevent any of these potential enemies from getting the machine, if it existed. That seemed to be a much better idea to Captain Hale. "Take us over to that ship."

That ship quickly made it's way over to the alien ship. "Now, lets see if they can speak English. Or at least translate to and from it. Bring up the voice software." The android second in command tapped on a screen and a holographic blue screen came up in front of Captain Hale. This little screen simply captured the Captain's voice, and sends the hail. "This is Captain Derrick Hale of the Omegus Corp Navy. After witnessing your bombardment of the planet, I have come up with a proposition. Please, respond if you are interested in hearing me out."

[The Commonwealth of Steel]

The air was heavy with expectation, and all persons aboard the transport were keenly eyeing closed-circuit holograms, watching for the jump-notice to rear it's ugly head. They were approximately three minute from the jump zone, and everyone, even the ship's crew, were going about everything with enthusiastic, almost hysterical vigour. Soldiers were checking and re-checking their Pulse Rifle, ammo, Sword and Armour. Their implanted glands were going at full-max to keep heartbeats at resting 60. All the shuttles were already loaded onto the launch rails leading out through blast-doors to the planet below. The High Autarch had given them their orders, and a truly heart-sinking speech about how they were hero's. No hero would ever have to face what they were about to face. The stage was set, the lights trained on the spot where the play was to be acted out. The actors, though brave, were scared.
The ship began to rumble as it hit Atmo', the guidance software struggling to match the course set by the pilots. Suddenly, a siren cut through the gloom, and a countdown marker with "PLANETFALL" ,Written below it. Every soldier immediately dropped whatever it was they were doing and rushed to their assigned shuttles, marked by a small icon from their helmet HUD. A ten-man section to a shuttle, five to a side, they all sat down and pushed the button which magnetised their suits to the seat and brought down the hydraulic "cushioners".
"Launch!", The ship VI echoed through dozens of hangars just like the one Exarch Lobo was prepared to leave. The shuttles were launched at exactly 13.5 G's, which only meant 6.5Gs to the troops in the back when the Inertial Dampeners kicked-in. It flew down the rails like hundreds on the ship, the next wave being loaded into the tube as they left, and like thousands of others from the fleet. It looked as though the wasps were flying from the hive, and boy were they angry.

The square shuttles flew like bricks through Atmo', thankfully free from flak which could have been theirs had they waited but a few hours more for the enemy to become entrenched. Whoever that enemy was. Like the vengeful Angels that they were, they unleashed their hatred on the city before them. The Thermal Induction Canons ripped buildings to shreds, just before the shuttles burrowed their way through to the otherside. The city was engulfed in a wispy miasma like a particularly wimpy fog, which swirled and rolled as the dropships made their landing. The troops in the back felt a 6G stop as the shuttle slowed marginally before slamming the ground like a well aimed canon shot. Dirt flew from the crater into the mist and the troops inside burst from the ship, already knowing that the enemy was all around. Beastly things, like bugs left to evolve far from a regulating civilisation, these things attacked and dissolved the first troops from the hatch. But, more dropships were landing even now, like a flash of dull metal before an explosion of dirt and asphalt. The remaining squad unleashed a torrent of pulse-rounds which melted and steamed away the carapace of the aliens.

Many hundreds of missiles exited the Thor heavy gunship as it lowered itself onto the maelstrom below. These warheads arced gracefully through the air, weaving through buildings and over walls, to meet their intended target. What this did, however, was very conventional; it didn't explode. Well, I suppose it did it in a way, but not like a normal, happy-go-lucky missile, no; this was a chemical warhead, spewing forth a mist so thick that all caught in it without suits simply blistered and drowned in their own fluid. All around, the aliens burned, pushed back by the small force of troops. The legionnaires were decimated, but they had held long enough for planetfall to be achieved; there was no turning back.

[The Tavan Race]

...

<Do you guys know about wavefunction collapse?>

A third voice inserted itself into the conversation. From the pitch the communicator assigned it, Okunet knew instantly that it was a female. She had probably been listening the whole time, unwilling to make her presence known amongst two males. This was perfectly understandable, given the social stigma surrounding a female scientist, but Okunet wasn't disgusted or indignant. He was merely impressed that she had earned herself a place on this facility, despite the competition and pressure she would have no doubt been subject to.

<Sure, of course. Who doesn't?>

<I never studied it.>

<What do you mean you never studied it? How could you not know something so basic as that?>

<It's not instrumental to my job description. I'll speak no more of it.>

<Well, uh, anyway, I was just thinking... to our perspective, there was only one way those images, you know, stretched out in front of us. As if it were already predetermined. But of course that isn't the case... right? Quantum events influence the course of our lives all the time. There should have been a lot of ways those lines of images could have gone, since there are a lot of ways our lives can turn out. So how could the events of our existences already be set in stone, when down here they haven't even happened yet?>

Okunet's respect for the newcomer dropped a notch.

<I'm surrounded by idiots, aren't I.>

<Not everyone here has a degree in mental masochism, dear fellow.>

<Right, well since you honestly don't seem to know, I'll explain. The observer effect, wherein perceiving a state or event influences its behavior, isn't just limited to our dimension; it affects all but, by necessity, the highest one. Obviously, in the highest dimension, every possible course of events is true, so you couldn't affect anything no matter what you did.>

<Yeah, obviously.>

<Moving up a level, which is what I'm fairly certain we just did, means you're observing time just as much as left and right. By observing a variety of timelines from an objective standpoint, namely, outside them, you force the universe to pick one and stick to it. That's why you only saw one timeline.>

<Weren't you all wall-eyed about seeing that effect just a moment ago?>

<It's just not what I was expecting, is all. You can't prepare for that.>

<Well you sure spent a lot of time trying, didn't you?>

<Fellows. Do you not understand the implications of this? It wasn't just one of us whose life cut off so abruptly. Mine did too.>

<I saw the same thing. What happened at the end of yours?>

<Well, there was a spray of blood, and it seemed like my body blackened and sort of... crumbled.>

Pause.

<Yeah. Same.>

<As here. Why does it matter anyway? The information isn't useful.>

<Well, we collapsed our own wavefunctions, but that doesn't necessarily mean we collapsed those of our environment, right? None of us could see or perceive outside this building, so those events are still governed by probability. They're not set in stone, is what I'm saying. Maybe if we just went outside, we could change the course of events enough that the universe would, I don't know, reverse its decision. We could force it back into a state where it doesn't know what's going to happen in advance. We could-->

<You're hurting my head. Stop it.>

<That's not how it works anyway. Anything we come into contact with has to conform to the one timeline we observed. There's no way to revert it back to probability like it was before. It'd be like trying to un-cook a piece of meat.>

Pause.

<Are you sure?>

<I've spent my life on this. I know.>

<That sounds like worm spit to me. What, so suddenly the only option is for us to lay down and die? All of us? One thing if it were just me, but there are a lot of us on board this mistake of a deployment. And I doubt they'll all die in defense of anything, let alone the common good. How can they even fight when the fucking universe has it out for them?>

<I know it doesn't sound fair, but it's well-established physics. There's nothing we can do.>

<Fuck your well-established physics. Her idea makes just as much sense as yours.>

<Now hold on just-->

<If this dimensional transport business is going to get a bunch of thin-limbed researchers killed without even a chance at martyrdom, I'm going to try to counteract it. And if I can't do that, then I'm at least going to make sure nobody gets sent out with it again. It's abhorrent.>

<Someone has to go out with it; it's the only way the vessels have a chance at descending back to realspace.>

<Keh, and what's that chance? Nine percent? And even us, the lucky ones, don't come back green-scaled. Our fate is sealed now, whatever semblance of free will we had before rendered completely irrelevant. You would force that on others, many others, for a bit of living space?>

<The program is volunta-->

<They prepared you for this, did they?>

<I knew.>

<And that's great for you, but nobody fucking told me.>

Pause.

<Nobody told me, either.>

<I thought not. Tell me, would you put, what was it, eight hundred souls through a machine that effectively stripped them of their agency, assigning them an afterlife based on factors that, to them, had yet to happen? Oh, and let's not forget the eight thousand of us who just didn't come back. Who fucking knows what happened to them? Would you okay this?>

<I... I...>

Pause.

<When you put it that way, I couldn't possibly.>

<What about you? Did you ever think about it that way, huh?>

<Let me ask you something. Do you think what we're doing here is just for this planet? Do you think that, if you get your way, the only thing we'll be sacrificing is this one world? Trying to stop progress is like trying to stop a dragon. You won't succeed, and in the end there will be far more unnecessary fear and death than if you had just let it pass by.>

<One of those types, are you? Been to one too many Unrestricted Science meetings, have you?>

<Oh! Types?! Really now? Let's not descend to petty insults.>

<You know I'm right.>

<Nobody will listen to you anyway. The loss of a few hundred lives, or even a few thousand, is nothing in comparison to the power this technology will bring once perfected.>

<Let me ask you something. Do you think what I'm doing here is just for a few thousand lives?>

<Clever.>

<Keh! All the power in the world is irrelevant when one has no power over himself. Notice how ubiquitous the wormhole key is, and think what would happen if your new technology found that kind of appeal. The tavan race would remember the last day in which they didn't know how they would die, how the race would go extinct. All it would take would be one day. A few dozen people on each world, maybe less, who decided they didn't like the few-second landing delay either. And suddenly our lives are holograms, displays that we know how will end but have no choice but to sit through, day after agonizing day. What kind of power is worth the death of surprise, of discovery, of the knowledge that you can do something about your fate? If there is such a strength, your device does not offer it.>

Pause.

<Now. I am going to reopen communications with everyone. I'm sure a good portion of them, like you, already know what's happened. They'll be happy to listen to me. They'll count their own souls as a worthy cost, to ensure that the rest of our species does not suffer this fate. We'll talk it over, but you know they'll agree with me. To do otherwise is abhorrent.>

<Do your worst, Luddite.>

---

Report on the Condition of the Deployment to Solomon

Greetings, friends and fellow scientists.

We have arrived at the input destination as expected. However, some problems have cropped up that we feel should be addressed before the Ekyo-class Dimensional Transport Unit is activated again. The problems will be stated, along with our speculations on the possible causes and suggestions for how they could be rectified.

Firstly, approximately 90% of the initial fleet deployment has been lost to unknown phenomena. We speculate that the natural tavan observatory prowess is, for whatever reason, insufficient to direct a vessel of the necessary size back to realspace. Suggested solution is a neural modification implant, something that will force complete and undivided attention on the immediate surroundings.

Secondly, though the ground-based deployment has suffered fewer losses, the individual rooms have quite frequently returned unattached to their neighbors, resulting in loss of air and life, along with structural integrity and a few vital portions of the facility. We believe this is because the device separates and then rejoins the disparate parts, imperfectly due to the multiple consciousnesses required to transport the entire building. Future deployments of similar size will have to be memorized by an entity of considerably higher capacity, so memory augmentations will probably be necessary.

It is with some chagrin that we note a perfect solution to these two problems: the development of a specialized artificial intelligence. Despite our long-standing fears, we believe it may finally be time to put all the relevant knowledge we've accrued on the matter into a functioning prototype. Do not take this suggestion lightly, nor dismiss it lightly.

Finally, on an unrelated note, a second ground-based deployment will be necessary if we wish to remain competitive. The damage sustained to ours has rendered it largely incapable of performing the necessary functions. We are, for all intents and purposes, helpless on the ground until a second, undamaged deployment can be delivered. Additional fleets may also become necessary, though for now, our ships have gone uncontested, and we find it unwise to initiate conflict at this time. Note that the heavy losses to the fleet will render a more traditional deployment method superior in this case. After all, there is no atmosphere to prevent a wormhole key where they'll be operating.

We look forward to your quick response,
Okunet di Kekune Sal

---

Adistyek read the report with an aching stomach and a burning skull. Thousands were dead because of the mistakes of his team. What should have been an intimidating entrance had turned instead into an embarrassing tragedy. Worse, the problems with the system described by his fellow would not be easy to fix; a tavan mind could be sped up and given more memory almost to no end, but its perceptual capacity was pretty much limited to what nature had given it. From what Okunet had said, even the relatively uncomplicated warships were too much for it to handle. The cube-shaped rooms that made up the building were laughably simplistic, and yet they seemed to be on the very edge of what a tavan could take into the fourth dimension with it.

As much as he hated to admit it, Okunet was right. The only option that would allow them to transport a second facility was an AI, a full-on, sapient, perceptually endowed artificial intelligence. Something the tavan race had avoided since forever, due to the deeply entrenched fear that once created, an AI would be out of their control. And handing it weaponry of this magnitude, well, that was practically asking to become obsolete.

And yet, this was exactly what Adistyek was about to approve.

The Hegemony had actually known how to create a functioning AI for quite some time now, it had simply avoided doing so. This knowledge came with being a space-faring empire; it was almost impossible not to come into contact with AI of various kinds in their interactions with other species. Some, they studied with the machine's consent, but more often their knowledge was ripped from enemy warships, the onboard AI ruthlessly deconstructed to learn its thought patterns and, by extension, its weaknesses. Making one would be the easy part.

Voyajet, as it was self-deprecatingly named, would soon be ready.

May Omenuetilin have mercy on our souls.

[DuThaal Craftworld]

Onboard the Aurora a single rune lights up a blood red; ENEMY PLAENTFALL ACHIEVED. Without the democratic, lumbering burden of the council behind his shoulder, Grand Pheonix Exarch Twa'le grins.
"I want Howling Banshee Exarch sections five through ten mobilized, as well as Howling Banshee sections forty through seventy. Dire Avenger sections eighty through one hundred and twelve, Dark Reaper lances one through nine." He leans forward, eagerly awaiting the reply that would acknowledge his commands. Through the visibility screen, the surface of the planet glimmers.
Ready yourself.
"Sir."

---

Recompense class Shuttle Compensate
"And Dark Reaper lances one through nine enter your drop pods and await drop order. I repeat, Howling Banshee Exarch flocks five through ten, Howling Banshee flocks forty through seventy, Dire Avenger sections Eighty through one hundred and Twelve, Dark Reaper lances one through nine enter your drops pods and await drop order." The broadcast system blares, a neon green light casting ghost-like shadows upon the hustling forms of the Eldar warriors. The Howling Banshees, anti-gravity harnesses strapped, their Exarchs only separated by their larger size, Dire Avengers in uniform rows, grey armor plates and fusion blasters at the ready, Dark Reapers with black cloak and Shuriken Launcher, saddled up on swift jet bikes all file into their respective entrance methods. Before, they were unique, with different talents, hopes, dreams, ideals. Now armored with the clothing of their war god, they are heroes. Their armor, passed down through millions of generations wakens once more, keeping the wearer calm, their movements precise. Most barely blink when they drop, when they start speeding towards the planet. Smooth as a raindrop passing through a tree's leaves they enter the atmosphere, inner temperature rising ever so slightly. Here the pods of the Howling Banshees burst open, scattering the warriors into the skies, their harnesses in the shape of wings leaving them to dart towards the surface at a more controlled pace, their pods on courses to bombard the enemy's heavier troop concentrations. The Dire Avengers and Dark Reapers both experience several prolonged moments of nausea as the air is replaced with a shock absorbing gell. Then; impact, jet bikes racing out over the landscape, some riders blasted back by heavy hits, and stomping boots marching towards what will be for some certain doom. The first few out die, true. But after that in a flurry of radioactivity fusion blasters, shuriken blades and dropped grenades from the Banshees, though still dancing around up in the air as if suspended by hidden marionette strings combine to allow the force to consolidate a staging area, though small, it is a start.
And now the fight may begin in earnest.

[Oogium]

Jg'yr'tak Sector
Solomon System
Supercarrier IOS Divine Intervention



Admiral Ky'styt Sdlkamni strode into the bridge, a hotbed of activity. The 11th Fleet was one of the Empire's best and largest, and it was rare that it was deployed so far on such little basis. He watched on his console as the final few ships- battlecruisers Regret, Revenge, Radiance, Invincible, and Indestructible exited slipspace and fell into battle formation. The system was already bustling with dozens, if not hundreds, of ships, all of whom could be enemies. Clearly some had landed on the surface, and what appeared to be a Tyranid/Flood army was ravaging the planet. He waved a hand and his personal AI, Chy'rra, appeared. She looked grim. "Sir, those aliens Vhi'hmt just sent a report about appear to be here as well."
He sighed. "Of course. Because I don't have enough on my plate already. Weapons and shields are charged?"
"And fighters have been launched. The fleet is in battle formation and our computers are also prepared for cyberwarfare."
"I suppose that's something. We will glass that infectious monstrosity down on the surface, but only after we either destroy or negotiate with the other enemy fleets here. I want us to have a constant link with NAVCOM, so they know what's happening." He shakes his head. "I've only seen readings like this on a Treasure World and our Halo. It's absolutely bizarre. Those relics are almost certainly Predeccesor."
The AI nods gravely. "I will send the message you prepared."

To: all ships in system
From: Oogish 11th Fleet

All of you aliens, hear us now. We are the ships of the Oogish Empire. Please do not interfere with our operations, and we will not interfere with yours. Our mission is a peaceful one.

Ky laughed. A peaceful one. Yeah. Like hell.


The Oogish fleet had jumped in unusually close to the planet, which could seriously disrupt the magnetosphere with the exotic and powerful particles that had spewed from their slipspace portals. Their weapons were pulsing with barely controlled power, an implied threat menacing those around them. The fleet moved steadily towards the planet, moving into an orbital position, preparing their ground troops and finalizing several dozen target locks on the enemy ships in weapons range. One cruiser, however, vanished into slipspace again, crumpling the planet's magnetosphere like a paper ball.


Deployment:

6 Incorruptible class supercarriers
8 Divine Judgement class battleships
15 Misery class battlecruisers
31 Zealot class destroyers
58 Divine Comedy class corvettes
65 Archer class missile cruisers
89 Singular Ascendance class cruisers
15 Magnanimous Allowance class transports
1 Stargazer class experimental frigate
12 Missionary class carriers
100 Sentry class patrol craft

[Old Sarthal]

First Consolidated Expeditionary Fleet, RSV Pathos, High Solomon Orbit

On the spherical holographic display at the center of the bridge of the Pathos, a dozen or so green flashing ship icons blinked in and out of existence every few microseconds as theomnidirectional dipole radar scanned for recognized vessel signatures to compare with the shipboard database. At this distance and wave resolution, the planet below appeared only as a fuzzy ball, with a few barely visible indigo dots depicting detectable ship-sized objects in lower orbit, mostly concentrated in a small area on the sunward side of Solomon. Second Consul Tenim Isilai da Kavelai leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Get me directional LADAR at grid seven-five-three and project the scans on the geophysical base map."

Just as the improved resolution LADAR scan illuminated the coordinates the Consul had specified, referred to in the mission briefing as Solomon's Throat, in a brief flash of light, the image suddenly fizzled into static in a hundred-klick radius. The commander abruptly sat up, and before his lips had formed the first word of the obvious impending query the chief sensor officer chimed in. "We're getting massive magnetospheric interference from fairly low altitude. Looks like multiple FTL signatures, three times as big as anything we've got."

Tenim looked puzzled, a not unusual occurrence for a not exceptionally bright man. "No one would be crazy enough to try a jump that deep in a gravity well. The gravitation flux forces would rip any known ship apart, and if you didn't die trying you'd probably warp right into the planet, ten kilometers deep."

A briefly irate expression flashed across the crewman's face, but he adopted an appropriately respectful, if mildly condescending tone."We have no idea what kind of xenos we could be dealing with, Master Consul. I'd wager their jump drives are much more accurate, or their captain is feeling lucky today."

This was the moment to look the part of the daring commander, then. "Take us in, then, sound the general quarters, and get the crew to battle stations. I want twelve 800mm gauss rails inside any hostile vessel that strays within thirty kilometers of this ship."

"Of course, Master Consul." As the order to dive was relayed throughout the fleet, the twelve assorted vessels activated their maneuvering thrusters and, in accordance with the data file received from the Pathos's main navigational computer via hyperwave transmission a few seconds past, burned retrograde and "down" so as to place them on an intercept course with the recently warped in fleet's location within about four minutes, give or take the field tolerances of the massive fusion torches used for intrastellar propulsion.

[The Nuclear Fist]

The sky was thick with clouds and rained that familiar black tar, not so much in the sheets as it had been earlier but rather a light sprinkle. Much of the city was already covered, turning its surface into webbing that formed the fleshy lining of a hive. Thanks to a seed crashing into an energy generator, the locals had been unable to bring up their energy shield in time to adequately defend themselves. By the time it was brought up, the gates had already been broken down by heavy artillery fire, the frontline bunkers rapidly overwhelmed by artillery cracking their shells and then cooking the innards with promethium. In the streets, the poor and homeless did not fight. Not because they had surrendered, or because they were weak, but because they were drones. What had, hours before, been the friends and family of the city were now loyal gears in the greater mechanism of the Swarm.

The few police and paramilitary units were rapidly swarmed and overwhelmed by the drones long before even the first hive guards, who were known for their surprising speed and agility, arrived. What few forces had not been slaughtered wholesale and either consumed or turned into drones had been forced back again and again. Initial artillery bombardments had ensured that buildings were now swarming with drones, meaning that the staple of urban warfare; building to building combat, was not applicable. The last remaining units of the city's Defence Forces, paramilitary units, and police were making a last stand near the city's centre, not far from where the super-hardened bunkers the wealthy and ruling classes had barricaded themselves in. The majority of the defenders were held up in those few abandoned buildings that hadn't been destroyed, others behind makeshift cover outside. Their exosuits and powered armour ensured that the rain did not effect them, although the tar did stick to their visors and make movement difficult. Heavy flame and energy weapons had mostly kept the hive beetles at bay, although the frontline was slowly being pushed back towards the hardened buildings which held the massive elevator tunnels that led to the bunkers. They had been detonated earlier.

---

The city was cloaked in a thin fog, a choking, poisonous mix of the natural pollution of a city burning and the spore gases the aliens were using to corrupt anyone without a proper respirator. The thought caused Auris to shudder. He had seen what happened to men who inhaled the spores. For a while, they were okay. Then they began to get severe headaches and became extremely irate and volatile. Eventually, their eyes began to bleed and they turned their own weapons on their comrades. That was how the bugs had advanced this far, many of the lightly armed police and military units were corrupted and overwhelmed. What remained all had respirators. The ragged line they were at now was the most heavily defended so far, the use of heavy flame and chemical weapons, as well as the reinforced buildings, giving them a way to stem the terrible alien advance.

The line itself was a sort of V, the opposite ends pointed towards the east at the enemy and the point itself towards the rear. Before them lay the city's square, a large, barren opening that the entirety of the defenders could focus their fire upon. The bugs had launched a few attacks, but were forced back every time. At first they sent some of their heavy walkers to act as a foreward guard to push them back, but they'd lost too many to do it again. Whenever the bugs were forced back, they carried the dead and the wounded with them. He could hear the horrible buzzing sound as those damned beetles consumed the dead and the walkers. When the walker's cockpit, protected by a thick, super-reinforced glass was cracked open, the beetles ate the corpses in seconds. He had wretched the first few times he heard the screams from the pilots that weren't quite dead yet being eaten. Others were not so lucky. Some of the walker cockpit hulls were cracked open by enemy fire, which let in that horrible, black rain. He, and many others, had stained the ground with vomit and tears at hearing of their misfortune. The cries of the infected were the worst of all. They were normal at first, agonizing. They became gurgled, and finally beastial. The sound of the hull being slashed at by diamond-hard claws sent shivers down Auris's spine. By the time most clawed their way out, weapons were trained and the drones were put out of the misery. Others got away.

Those ones worried him most of all.

"I don't frakking understand." Auris said, not really to anyone.

"Understand what?" Asked a soldier, Auris knew not who he was behind the mask.

"The quiet. I mean, those first few attacks were pretty damned close together. I mean, these are stupid bugs. Frakking insects. Why haven't they attacked us yet?" He said, looking down the sights of his rifle as if that was some sort of cue.


"We ain't really heard much, maybe they're planning something?"

"Oh gods, don't frakking say that. Last thing we need is those insect bastards thinking."

"Pretty damned obvious they're pla-" The anonymous soldier's sentence was cut off mid sentence. "We're saved!" Someone shouted, pointing towards objects falling from the sky. It didn't take long for Auris to notice they were drop pods, and not the type the bugs were using. A joyous cheer was yelled by the defenders, many raising their fists and rifles into the air. This cheer, however, was rather forcefully deflated by the sudden destruction of many of the buildings they were using by the new ships' beam weapons. The soldier Auris had conversed with was torn in half by the force of his cover exploding and the resulting shrapnel. Being somewhat farther away from it, Auris was merely knocked flat. Everything was dizzy and blurry, seemingly moving at a slow crawl.

He saw a blurry, black mass moving at the line. It seemed as if the bugs were seizing the brief moment of chaos to charge. All around him, men were cut down by enemy fire.All around him the ground quaked from the combined impact of their artillery shells and the landing of the drop ships. The shells were terrifying, covering the area in a thick, corrosive fog that burned away any exposed flesh and could slowly dissolve armour. Many of his comrades had their visors eaten through by some sort of living shrapnel, a tiny, winged bug that burrowed through their visor and ate into their faces. From their individual screams, he assumed through their eyes. The shells killed many and collapsed buildings, killing or wounding more. By sheer luck, Auris remained okay. He felt something warm tricking in his helmet. When he tried to stand, he became dizzy and fell to his hands and knees. The oncoming alien horde got closer and closer.

It was odd. In what he knew to be his last moments, Auris's thoughts turned to his husband, Cyras, and their daughters. The last he had heard, they were enjoying the day on the beach. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he found himself praying to the gods not for their survival, for he knew it was impossible. He prayed only that their deaths were quick, that they had not been turned into one of those things. He looked down, his beam rifle had been lost. Having no other recourse, Auris removed his sidearm, steadying it with his shaking hands and taking several shots. He saw several drones go down, not sure if it was because of him or someone else. He kicked the ground, pressing his back up against the remains of a wall. As he fired into the swarm of oncoming drones, his last thoughts were of Cyras, of his husband's eyes and their golden hue. He did not dare think of what they may be now. He silently prayed, interrupted only when a drone had flanked him, gripping his arm and wrenching it so hard he heard bones splinter and pop. Auris cried out in agony, looking into the drone's eyes. He saw some sort of raw emotion, almost like regret. It took his sidearm in its hand, clumsily holding it in its malformed fingers. He looked into its eyes once more, saw their peculiar golden hue. Before he could contemplate this, though, he heard the hiss-crack of the weapon. A split second later, all that had been Auris ceased to be, smoldering chunks imprinted upon smoldering stone.

---

The Swarm had charged the last few defending lines during that brief chaos of the drop pods landing. The drones had led the charge, followed by the hive guard and then by the more cautious troops, all of which ran ankle deep in a living sea of beetles, many of which took to flight at the sight of new targets. They were blindingly fast, that was one of their greatest attributes. The first wave of enemy soldiers was cut down nigh-instantly by waves of nearly light speed blasts of plasma and seas of scything claws and teeth, the corpses rapidly reduced to nothing by the beetles, many of which now swarmed on the drop ships and began to consume them. But the dropships kept coming, many simply crushing dozens of Swarm individuals under their weight. Pulse rounds turned drones into pieces and wounded many troops, although the hardier hive guard simply shrugged off the small arms fire and swarmed in groups of three, each individually attacking dropships. Troops maintained their distance, instead choosing to use their plasma rifles to inflict damange, blanketing the air with the stuff.

Hive Platforms, which acted as mobile siege breakers and often as some form of artillery platform, lumbered into battle. Many had massive, biomechanical cannons build directly into their backs, dropping onto all fours and acting as mobile mortars for the enemy dropships in the rear. Others, more heavily armoured and strength rivaling a titan, charged brazenly at the enemy, shrugging off enemy small arms fire and choosing instead to engage directly into melee, hoping to smash the enemy into pulp with their fists and clubs, impale them with their tails, catch them in their jaws, and use their freakish strength to simply toss the dropships at enemy positions.

The drones, however, shared no such luck. They had almost no armour, only weak chitinous carapace armour that provided safety from shrapnel. They were killed en masse by enemy fire, but this was their purpose. They would persevere. At least, this was the assumption until the gunship showed up. Raining down missiles, they exploded, covering the already incredibly foggy area with a chemical mist that seared flesh and innards. Many drones died choking on their own liquified insides. The drone horde was being decimated. In the chaos, the sudden increase in the level of how the ground quaked went unnoticed. Under the surface, a newborn beast slithered. In an instant, it exploded upwards, sending men and alien alike in all directions. It was a hive worm, a madman's amalgamation of a worm and a lamprey. It was as heavily armoured and a creature could come, capable of surviving fire from just about everything. On Solomon, it was one of a kind. The Swarm had not had the time to breed more. Its massive, triangular jaw opened wide, dozens of heavily armoured, thrashing tendrils erupted from its maw. Each covered in a corrosive slime, they attacked the gunship, hoping to ensnare it, pull the thing into the worm's jaws, and crush it as the worm burrowed back into the ground, deep into the bedrock from whence it came.

---

Above the planet, the Womb-Ship watched as the newly arrived fleet, the 'Oog' fleet as the God-Consciousness made the Prophet aware, pointed several of its weapons at the ship itself. In response, the Womb-Ship began to shiver, its surface rippling. The vaginae that gave birth to the seeds split wide as ships screamed out of them, dozens of them. Several were two kilometre long dreadnoughts, equipped with similar weapons not unlike that of the Womb-Ship itself. Others were smaller, equipped with weaker versions and multiple batteries of various sorts. The ships themselves positioned to take aim at the Oog fleet, just as the aliens took aim at them. If it was an engagement they wanted, they would receive it. But unfortunately for the Oog, the Great Swarm could afford to train all its force upon a single fleet, no such luxury afforded to them.

Let them attack us, we shall show them the fury of Damballah.

From the Hive Prophet's mind that simple message was uttered, spreading across space near instantly.