Radaitan Space
The probe had sat upon the edge of the system, all systems dead except for the scanning equipment and one-way FTL comms. The sphere that was the probe was encased in the dead remnants of an asteroid, a hollow carved into the far larger bulk to allow some measure of protection from prying eyes like its own. It had sat and watched the Radaitan world for a matter of months, letting the light lag send it information hours old. The data was then coalesced into packets and sent to the Imperium where many minds could pore over any and all relevant information. This was in concert with the other probes that spread across Radaitan space, a constant vigil over a young empire.
When the empire began to show cracks, fractures, and decay the Imperium would swoop in to save the day, at least in their own minds. The battle-fleets had long sat at the ready, patrolling between Imperial worlds while they waited for the word that would send them to blood and glory. The admirals waited with baited breath for that dramatic order which would send them and the legions to battlefield once more. There were six fleets in all, each eighty ships and headed by a capital ship. Each fleet was tied to a secondary fleet of freighters and massive troop transports that made up the legions, each one sitting comfortable in the orbit of a world so that the troops could have some shore leave before the big day came around, if it came at all.
The soldiers would soon wet their fangs, the nation of Radaita was showing the signs of weakness. Weakness was a drug for the Imperium, they couldn’t resist the temptation it presented them with no matter how much their senses told them that it would eventually come back to strike them.
The probes had watched, aloof and uncaring, as Radaita fell into anarchy. Radaitan vessels had begun to open fire on one another, and not in mock battle as was common in training exercises. Deadly fire poured down as several presumed factions formed over each and every world. In a way the chaos was beautiful, so many different sides forming and shattering, confusion and fear ruling the hearts and minds of men. One could only assume that the same was happening on the world’s surface below, and such loss of life did not sit well with the Imperium. Every moment that passed more died and the Imperium lost that many more future subjects.
The wolves of the Imperium, ever hungry, began to ready themselves as soon as the order was given. Shore leave was dismissed, the fleets organized and refuelled after a quick jaunt to the nearest Imperial system, and the commanding officers were brought up to speed on the situation. All in all the mobilization took twenty-eight hours, and even then some legionnaires were either too drunk or simply not fit for combat due to extenuating circumstances. The fact that the loss of a few soldiers to drink and women was a blessing in disguise; far worse issues could have reared their heads.
With no more time to waste the fleets departed their home system, leaving in massive generated wormhole apertures that were becoming common practice in fleet movements. Of course by this time the fighting was beginning to stall out over the planets, factions either dying out entirely or being absorbed by the more successful groups. Burned out hulks and the damaged remnants of the fleets hung throughout all six system, hardly a force to present a challenge to the invading Vipran fleets.
Alpha Quadrant
Radaitan Space
Nowem System
Each system put up varying levels of resistance, but by far the Radaitan capital system of Nowem put up the most resistance. The factions there had quickly consolidated, crushing those that tried to flee or were foolish and resisted. As was the case in civil conflicts the force was still disorganized, spread across the system in roaming bands that barely managed to get along let alone work together. They balked at accepting orders from those they perceived as wrong, only held in their place by brute force.
The force of one hundred and fifty-two ships were spread throughout the system in disarray when the wormhole aperture opened only a dozen light minutes from the world of Radaita. The battle-fleet of eighty-two Imperial vessel manifested in a multiple layered V half-sphere formation with a Golgotha class Dreadnought, the ISV Armeterus, at the tip. Each Vipran vessel spread at least one thousand kilometres from one another, destroyers and frigates buzzing through the formation as the ships began to open fire on the unsuspecting Radaitan forces before the light delay caught up to them and the Vipran forces became exposed.
The first band of Radaitan defenders was a rag tag group, still beaten and battered from the fighting that had ended only hours before. It did not stand a chance, the ten vessels felled into fragments as the Vipran fleet unleashed concentrated fire on their position. They only had a half a minute to realize that the Vipran forces had arrived before the energy weapons laid their deadly fingers upon the already beleaguered vessels. Their destruction was glorious, the ripples of oxygen and other gasses as they fled through a plethora of new openings fed flames from the vessels ruptured reactors for but a moment to create a flash of morbid beauty.
At least that is what Admiral Vaichalli thought as she watched the scene from her seat in the bridge of the Armeterus. The image had been captured by one of the vessels high resolution cameras, and she stared at it for a moment before deciding to have it painted and mounted on a wall in her mansion. She flicked aside the image as the ship-mind of her vessel began to organize more concentrated strikes while propelling the fleet towards the world. The holo-display before her highlighted all known enemy positions and her own fleet’s movements.
“Ship-mind, when we arrive send the frigates into orbit over all the major cities,” The admiral’s voice was plain, her age evident in the creaks in her words, “And send out the offer of amnesty once we have taken down a few more of these squadrons.”
The ship-minds on Vipran vessels were always watching, always listening, so it came as no surprise when the androgynous and metallic voice of the AI crackled through the speakers in the bridge, “I have already prepared everything in advance. While I appreciate your advice, those orders had already been given by yourself prior to the invasion. It is likely best if I handle all fleet movements and actions from here on in, I have a calculating capacity far beyond any organic mind yet discovered and can handle the situation with minimal loss of life.”
A bored sigh left Vaichalli’s lips, she longed for the days when she actually had to give orders, these machines took all the fun out of being a CO. The AI, while it had a constantly even tone, liked to make its mental superiority known. She could hardly argue with it, the ship-mind was the latest in AI technology and thought on levels beyond the crew aboard the vessel. A sly smirk spread across the admiral’s face, while the AI did take the fun out of the job it also took the work out of it.
Vaichalli simply watched the holo-display, watching as more red shapes indicating enemy vessels disappeared. She cringed every time a blue dot faded from the map, one of the fleets own disabled or destroyed. While she could neither feel nor see the fire heading towards the fleet she knew it was great, as time ticked on more and more ordinance was being brought to bear on fleet. She was glad of one thing though, the enemy was using MAC guns instead of energy weapon, making dodging the incoming fire that much easier. Of course it did make the rounds that did hit that much more forceful, depleting the shields faster than an energy beam.
Over the course of forty minutes the battle ensued, and then it stopped. The fleet had arrived in orbit, gaining supremacy over the world. Those few vessels that continued to fire at them were obliterated by concentrated fire, the rest knowing they had lost as soon as the first frigate entered the atmosphere. Shooting a ship in space and destroying it was simple enough, destroying a ship in orbit or, gods forbid, the atmosphere was something else entirely. If the Imperial forces so decided the world would die, and if the Radaitan forces thought they could fight off the fleet now they were sorely mistaken. Shooting down even one of the frigates would mean at least one dead city, maybe more depending on how much fuel it still had after the fighting.
The bridge of the Radaitan flagship was probably the most orderly place in the system, captain Bartholomew, simply called Bart by his friends, was strict about order, keeping everything in top condition, and having his crew disciplined to the extreme. That was practically the only reason his ship was still in one piece right now, the rest of his coerced fleet in tatters from the sudden attack while his crew had kept their cool and attempted to coordinated proper retaliatory strikes. Nonetheless more than half of his forces had disobeyed his direct orders and had gone to confront the hostile forces only to be destroyed. He had been more successful, managing to down at least six destroyers and even two cruisers with his squadron before being forced to cease fire when the foreign force entered the atmosphere of his beloved homeworld.
To say he was angry would be an understatement, but like all military men of stature he was able to put his emotions aside and look at the situation objectively. The hostile forces had managed to mangle half his forces while he had only managed to disable or destroy a quarter of theirs, leaving him badly in need of reinforcements he knew would never come. He poured over the display of the system, the hostile forces already beginning to strike down at the surface at what he knew were military installations. They had simply arrived and struck out in one terrible strike, their motives obvious.
“Comms, get a channel open with them, I want to know who the hell these bastards are and how they think they can get away with it,” his voice was like gravel, the years of smoke and cigars taking their toll on his throat, “And for the love of all that is holy get the FTL comms going. I want reinforcements ASAP, even if it means bowing down to those scum that think they can defy the king.”
The comms officer gave a curt reply and began to work upon his duties, opening the link to the invading forces far quicker than had been anticipated, almost as though they had been waiting. The display Bart had been staring at shifted to the face and upper body of an alien woman. She was humanoid, practically human really except for the five head-stalks that flowed down her back and her dark teal skin. Her lack of ears was no surprise, aliens were supposed to be alien, but her lightning blue eyes added a sort of surreal humanity to her appearance, as did the lines denoting that age was taking its toll upon her.
“I assume you are the commander of this merry band of misfits?” the xeno’s words bit into Bart’s pride, “You must be, you are still alive and smart enough to talk with words instead of guns.”
Bart had to bite back a snappy response, his pride demanding it but common sense telling him not to tempt the beasts that held his home in their claws, “Yes, I am captain Bartholomew of the Radaitan Space Force. I want to know exactly who you are and what you are here for.” Bart already knew the answer to the latter, but simply desired affirmation.
A light laugh lilted through the speakers to Bart’s ears, “That is simple, I am Admiral Vaichalli of the Imperium of Vipra and all these worlds are now the sovereign territory of the Imperium.” She smiled a wolf’s smile, teeth a deadly shining white.
