Siege of New Mesopotamia: Tantalan Civil War [FT][Byz][Open]

[Nationalist Tantalus]

10-11-2712
18:27:32 LST (Local Standard Time)
SoHo-Lutecia Commercial District, Abandoned House; Mesopotamia VI: New Mesopotamia System

---

"We're under fire! Call in the Dragonflies, damn it!"

Grrrn...Thud.

Through the chipped nanotube lattice separating its occupant from the outside world, an internal LED flickered under the stress of Lutecia's unpredictable brownouts as rays of harsh, red light demonstrated the unknown figure's craggy face.

F-Boom - Tatatatatatat!

"Yes, damn it! My men and I are being shelled in the Fibre-optic Relay Post twenty clicks south of the Capital- Damn! Yes, the Turisists have us beat! My men and I need reinforcements, now!"

The droning of air-raid klaxons echoed with Death as litter-strewn streets faced intermittent bursts of HKAR-72 electron fire and AB-71 Dragonfly ordnance; Further up in the atmosphere, gunpowder-like clouds of flak peppered the sky like raisins in bread as ground-based SAMs hurled volley after volley of missiles at crude, mismatched FB-33 Fighter-bomber formations and stray AB-71 Dragonfly rotorcopters which were unfortunate enough to steer far from their peers. Hundreds of feet below, the nondescript troop in cover could only watch in horror from beneath the chipped countertop as an unpredictable SAM impacted against five or so FB-33s belonging to his commanders' squadrons. One of the shock-stricken fighters spiraled out of formation- its hybrid jet-rocket engines failing mid-flight as the pilot ejected just six seconds before a new impact crater formed somewhere amid the badlands of Mesopotamia VI.

---

Grim-faced and haggard in stature, Rebel Captain Aklatzi Zutkin leered from his bridge's viewport in awe at the debris-rich atmosphere of what was Mesopotamia VI: From his vantage point aboard the ATE-2200 Assault Carrier Magnaplex, the Turisist Captain squinted in slight ire at his own failure in distinguishing the Greater Archimedes volcanic zone from what were- simply put- dust clouds intermixed with vast amounts of pollutants from self-destructed oil wells in the Concentrated Sublithic Valley. Eddies of Loyalist and Turisist-Rebel missile fire circulated among such dust clouds in the upper Mesopotamia VI atmosphere in a ballet-like dance for supremacy of the skies: Not only the ground but also the airborne forces were at work in wresting control over this oil-rich gem of a planet. A source of oil which- if properly transported- could spell either the continuity or cessation of carbon nanotube production on either side of the war.

---

((Divergent from this roleplay. Sorry for starting my own thread, but... There is (are) [an] actor(s) which are holding up the conclusion of this thread. If you are non-Byzantine, feel free to TG me to join the thread so as long as you are of adequate roleplaying potential. This may go on from here to become a campaign in my turf, mates.))
((Forgive me if there are any rough patches; I am tired at this hour.))
(( EDIT: Also forgive me for the short introduction! Basically, this is a continuation of a civil war going on within my nation. The Zelickists are the de facto heads of government who have seized power on Tantalus following a bloody coup against our last leader. The Turisists/ Rebels/ Turisist-Rebels are a counter-revolutionary force who seek to restore the Tantalan monarchy and to eradicate the rebelling Zelickist officers from the Tantalan star cluster in the Galaxy. As of right now, the situation is relatively balanced between the two sides- what with the Turisists controlling agrarian systems whilst the Zelickists command the capital world of Tantalus in the Zeusian system. Feel free to influence the outcome of the Tantalan Civil War [No unsolicited heliocide weapon attacks. Have a valid IC reason for WMD usage, if you will.] by providing close-air support- for instance- for either side. If you want, you can even force a third front to open in the war with sufficient roleplay!))

[Nationalist Tantalus]

As the twin red dwarfs fell across the darkening horizon of red skies, smoke and debris continued to rise above fallen husks of lodgings and offices as the fighting continued on into the evening. On occasion, the stray electron bolt or bullet would whiz overhead an empty, scorch-bombed avenue as Turisist and Zelickist soldiers exchanged rounds of projectile and energy fire from behind hovercraft wreckage still teeming with charcoal-like embers of fire- many occupants who had perished in the initial outsiders' invasion continued to stare our into the smoggy streets with glassy, black eyes.

---

"They ain't coming! Move on through the cupboard access!"

At the behest of her Sergeant, one of the female guerrillas slung her HKAR-72 unto her dirt-marred shoulders which stank of sweat as she hastily crawled through the corroded aqueduct drainpipe which had ruptured through the north wall of the shelled-out bar. Suddenly, from the
shadows hastily stood an aged patrol of five women and three men as the soldier-rebels followed suit with their Sergeant- the mud-streaked gentleman professing profanities into his com-system some while earlier- descending into the 2.5-foot thick corrugated pipe still fresh with the putrid odor of decaying flesh. The biofilm-layered sewage pipe torn up through the ground glittered as helmet-borne lighting reflected off of every metallic fold of space, the faintest hints of platinum-treatment evident in protruding sheets of silver projecting at each trough in the fifty-foot tube.

---

A steady drone hummed in the crimson-streaked skies as expelled lepton contrails intermingled with plasma-heated gases at the aftmost portions of Turisist Colonel Arkaye's FB-33 Fighter-bomber: From above, he could barely adjust his vision in sight of various rooftop fires, stray flare shots, and stalled throngs of incinerated speeders.

This is the price of a traitor's spawn.

Gazing upward to the too-familiar sight of a dogfight some twenty thousand feet due higher of his position, the Colonel expelled a glob of spit into his respirator as the gloved fingers grasped about a reclined control stick: Higher, the metal-clad fighter went as the weapon pods poised themselves in anticipation of a fire-release. Taking a sharp bank left from a rising plume of ash, the Colonel grunted as he reached another covered hand for the leftmost button, pressed it, and lowered his voice in a formal report:

"This is Lazuli Eight to the Black Lapiz Squadron; approaching Flight Level 2,400 at 1,600 meters-per-second. Lazuli Eight prepared for instruction."

[The Ottish Empire]

Tantalan Home System

Ottoman 17th Naval Expedition Fleet

There was an eerie silence among the bridge officers of the Hallowed Ground. Comms with the original landing force had only just been reestablished, proclaiming the whole of New Mesopotamia to be nothing more than a war-torn wasteland. This was not how it was supposed to be. Had the Ottoman politicians only treated their allies with the same concern that they now treated the Inquisition with, this all might have been prevented. They could have stomped the seeds of rebellion before they even had a chance to fester, but now they were all too late. The rebellion had blossomed into a deadly flower, spreading its seeds of destruction as far as the wind could carry it. Already, Tantalans in the Ottoman State grow wary of the situation at home, proclaiming allegiances and splitting the long defused minority group further apart.

A loud screech tore the officers from their thoughts. The blast shields had just been opened, allowing the crew of the capital ship to see the devastation outside with their own two eyes. Only a few days ago had they battled the Inquisition's fleets for control of the system, winning a momentary victory, but even now, Search and Rescue efforts were far from over, and salvaging expeditions had only just gotten underway. Yet the higher-ups wanted more and more, they expected fleet wide repairs to be nearing completion, and a strong presence established on the Tantalan world. These were the aspirations of a mad man, it would be another month before salvaging could even become close to completion, let alone a sizable military presence be established. But they moved with as much haste as they might, readily supplying the forces below with spontaneous artillery bombardments where they could, and fresh troops and supplies.

Rear Admiral First Class Octavius Porrexeris III sat alone and excluded on the bridge. His centrally sitting chair creating an unwarranted sense of self-importance, a feeling too much for the humble man. He often took to mingling with the bridge officers, but today he could only bury his head into his palms and force back the tears of a broken man. Only earlier had he found that his superior, the original admiral of the fleet, had hung himself in his room, too afflicted by the pain of poor tactical positioning, and too haunted by the faces of men he had promised to bring home, he found had found life too unbearable. He was a friend to Porrexeris, they had attended the same military academy together and established a strong friendship, it was he who had put in for Baxter to be transferred to the 17th fleet.

He stood, his black flak vest blending in with the dim background of the bridge. The only light he possessed being his RIG, which readily projected his health to the rest of the crew. He stood alone on the main observation platform, taking in the chaotic scene around him. Deep inside a fire erupted, and inaction transformed into action. "I want ready contact with the rest of the fleet, and continuous updates of S&R, and salvage missions. Tactical advisers, begin preparing plans for planetary assault. We have a mission to complete gentlemen, and I'll be damned if I have to go back home empty handed," his sudden outburst had caught much of the crew off-guard, but now they moved with the pace of a well oiled machine, the Admiral's words being enough to push them into overdrive.

Ottoman Forward Operating Base

Upon discover of the terrible state of affairs on the planet, the soldiers of the first invasion wave found themselves under constant conflict, being targeted as an enemy by every sole they came into contact with. Even now, with mission parameters being updated in favor of loyalist forces, they still found themselves under fire. The temporary FOB was set up in what used to be an international airport in SoHo-Lutecia, now it was reduced to nothing more than ominous holes and scars of a battle long forgotten. The soldiers here wore a lighter armor than they were supposed to be, ditching their heavy Mark VI combat skin for a meek Mark II environmental protection skin. The reasoning being that they especially were more threatened by the atmospheric conditions of the planet itself rather than the warfare around them. Not to say the Mark II couldn't withstand combat, quite the contrary actually, it was just better equipped for environmental hazards than combat.

Their mission was set, help the loyalist forces keep control of their planet by whatever means available. Move any and all civilians to FOB's for immediate evacuation, relay a steady stream of combat information to soldiers bogged down in fighting via a secured HUD channel, establish a medical station, and allow an area for vehicle repair. For the first time in too long were they actually doing something to benefit people other than themselves. This was certainly a move in the right direction.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

"Lapiz Leader to Lapiz Eight: Acknowledgex. Maintain current heading and altitude at Mach six. Weapons hot: We've got a Zelickist convoy traveling between Sheridan and Memphis. Try not to damage the oil fields..."

With a deep sigh, Sevos Celor Rutherford sat herself rigid as if any movement would cause a bodily stroke- her eyes dug like an emaciated gentleman's eyes into the horizon for signs of incoming vessels.

"This is Lapiz Leader to Black Lapis Squad- Oh shit..."

---

The Turisist-Loyalist squadron pilots veered off from one another as an influx of motion-detections exploded within the cockpits of the Turisist-Loyalist FB-33s: Above and below the fighters' altitude were what appeared to Lt. Colonel Rutherford as the familiar outlines of Ottoman vessels. Biting her lip, the brown-eyed woman's aerospace craft banked left along with two of her wingmen as she uttered one, concise order to her subordinates:

"Lapiz Leader to Black Lapiz Squadron: Bank left ninety degrees to heading 275 degrees, over."

---

Zelickist-Revolutionary Outpost Sigma-Phi-Gamma, Main Gate; Mesopotamia Vi: New Mesopotamia System

Grrrrn...

The bass-like drone of seven A-40 Assault Tanks' repulsor engines filled the smoky evening skies with exhaustion as the armored vessels emerged from spire-casted shadows into the main speedway system. Polished, plated Tesloid cannons let out intermittent bursts of cloud lightning as the A-40s hovered across the roadblocks which gave pitiful resistance against the onslaught of carbon nanotubes grinding against ceramic tiling. The forth vehicle in front and behind of the sortie, Gamma-Theta Patrol Leader stood out from the other six as a truly frightening monster of an already-deadly hover tank: Two retrofitted Surface-to-Air missile pods lined the DU-plated command tank which were fed ammunition from an internal ammunition cache. Higher up in the center, the Tesloid cannon had been swapped out for an SZX-3200 Muon Projector , an experimental prototype battery Field Marshall Fenwic Zephir Aksam figured would provide for defending the Zelickist regime from these insurgents' illegally-obtained FB-33 fighter-bombers...

"Captain, guide left onto Demophilis Lane: We've received reports of an attempted break-in at the country courthouse. Maintain current obedience with these ridiculously impeding speed limits..."

Colonel Averik X. Wren folded his arms inward as he gazed up at an overhead thermal-imaging panel detailing a 360-degree panorama of the patrol's environment: These newfangled sensors integrated into the hulls of newer-model A-40s provided inferior image quality... But they did succeed in eliminating roadside bombers from being able to take point-blank shots at the landships of these vessels. Forty-something years old and wearing a mud-caked BDU of monochromatic grey tones, Colonel Wren gave a sly glance to one of the four passengers whom fell asleep just three minutes ago: His ass was going to be whooped for insubordination!

"Sylvis," began Averik as his eyes settled upon an incoming bridge received from the foremost A-40's video sensors- his fingers pressed firmly upon a transmission button. "Activate the fluorescent lights until after we cross that bridge, over."

Outside of the mobile-command A-40 Assault Tank's security, the ambush-soliciting darkness died in sheer agony as the convoy's illuminators shone down the two-thousand foot cantilever bridge: Below winded a river as its heavy metal-rich waters lapped against the planet's summer riverbanks. One false trip in the bridge's spars, and the whole convoy would fall into that heinous gorge intoxicated with the toxic planet's soil...

[The Drone Empire]

GS32 Observation Deployment Unit No. 50000241209

"//Attention, sustained conflict detected within localized system, planetary body; "New Mesopotamia", according to archived databanks. Deploying specific observations units from local installation 0487_Regent Genesis."

The account was logged into the observation unit's records and dispatched to Regent Genesis, a Drone military installation. The enormous array of ODU's above the Galaxy were tasked with monitoring events and alerting their corresponding A.I, who then acted upon it within not even a second, in this case, the deployment of units to New Mesopotamia.

From Regent Genesis, a single ship left it's interior, quickly entering into Ghost Space. Within a minute, perhaps, it appeared near New Mesopotamia, the conflict detected coming into view as the ship neared the planet under the veil of light-distortion and thermal suppression techniques. Of course, this was only useful at a distance, the shroud would be moot if they came too close.

The reconnaissance vessel halted at a safe distance, not constructed for military engagement. It would rather dispatch a myriad of Series-686 O-Probes. In great number, they left the Recon ship, using their impulse drives to sail rapidly towards the scene. While this may seem rather pointless, they could efficiently observe the battle safely without significant loss if any. Interaction with this event might become necessary, and thus, these probes would effectively observe the situation completely for an appropriate response. This conflict was most interesting, the rebellious Tantalan forces were frowned upon highly within the Empire, the Ottomans were in opposition to the Inquisition, of which the Empire was currently working with in preparation for the re-capturing of Constantinople.

This was most unpleasing, whether or not any interaction would be had at all was uncertain. As the probes approached the planet, they would come into the visual sight of these two entity's detection systems quite easily, no such systems of stealth were held by O-Probes, not that they were expressly necessary to begin with.

[The Ottish Empire]

Ottoman FOB

It's amazing how much work a dedicated naval construction force could do in the matter of a day. With limited supplies, and limited times, the large contingent of workers managed to construct a network of defenses, living quarters, command operating rooms, and other assorted general needs buildings. A sort of half concrete, half holo-field barrier protected the soldiers inside from the chaos outside. Surprisingly, however, not a single offensive action was taken to the new arrivals. Not one foiled invasion attempt, not one investigation, not even threatening messages and letters graffitied on the wall. It was odd, to say the least. One would expect nonstop attacks, and potshots at exposed soldiers, but not a one presented itself.

Now, in this dull silence, was the time to shore offensive capabilities and assess the situation at hand. The Tantalans knew they were there, or at least the loyalist pilots who routinely preformed fly-by's to, suspectingly, judge the Ottoman progress. Needless to say, they had to be fairly impressed. Not only by the quick progress, but by the armadas of soldiers, large crates of provisions, and extensive motor pool. At a moment's notice, the forces within could whip out and take half the countryside overnight, but yet they sat dormant. Why? Simple, that was not their job. They were to assist Loyalist forces where needed. To slash casualties and losses. And to allocate all lost or missing supplies and soldiers. Not to wage full-out war.

Suddenly, the large metal gates, which had stood foreboding for so long, opened, and from within a regiment of soldiers emerged, followed by troop transports, IFV's, and fast moving mechs. Their goal was to move quickly, this was clear enough to all who could see. The burning city was their destination, to assess the situation, harbor allies, save civilians, rescue lost soldiers, everything that needed to be done to gain full knowledge of the current state of the war really. What they expected to see varied from soldier to soldier. The most common perception was that of total devastation, with littered bodies and burnt out vehicles everywhere. The type of devastation one could expect from a prolonged and extensive insurrection like this.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

"Lapiz Leader to Lapiz Eight: Acknowledgex. Maintain current heading and altitude at Mach six. Weapons hot: We've got a Zelickist convoy traveling between Sheridan and Memphis. Try not to damage the oil fields..."

With a deep sigh, Sevos Celor Rutherford sat herself rigid as if any movement would cause a bodily stroke- her eyes dug like an emaciated gentleman's eyes into the horizon for signs of incoming vessels.

"This is Lapiz Leader to Black Lapis Squad- Oh shit..."

---

The sudden, abrupt entry of Ottoman forces in a matter of minutes scared the shit out of several Turisist-loyalist pilots just as a few Ottoman fighters whizzed trough the Turisist vector at a sharp angle of inflection. 

"This is Lapiz One to All Receivers: Identify yourselves immediately, or risk being shot down."

Her grey eyes strained from hours of staring at IFR panels only seemed to droop slightly just as the female Colonel's FB-33 detachment reformed in a squad.

Fifty kilometers until target is reached.

Warning: Afterburner overload- Warning: Low cabin pressure...

Shaking her head with disgust, the anxious Colonel set her hands upon the missile-control stack as her eyes trained upon the graviton-reception radar which showed a plethora of Turisist-Loyalist and Ottoman troops intermingling amongst one another: They seemed alright, at the very least... But just what, exactly, was going on in the minds of the Heir's Cabinet-in-exile? Did the dead Kaiser anticipate the need for foreign intervention against the would-be Zelickist regime, even though his closest advisors spoke out in private against any foreign aid?[/i]

"This is Lapiz Leader on behalf of the Black Lapiz Squadron," began the female
colonel as her gloved fingers adjusted a rotary altimeter knob to account for an increase of air pressure. "Disregard our last request: We've got a Zelickist-Junta convoy five deka-kilometers north of our position between the towns of Sheridan and Memphis. We need somebody to bomb out three telegraph lines to keep the Zelickists from coordinating their shipment channel. Expect heavy AA/SAM coverage by the Junta's 'loyal' factions... Even though the new government is, itself, treacherous against the name of a once-Terranized monarchy."

---

Field Marshall Aksam's convoy met up with a row of five Junta SAM rocket launchers and two Tesloid Cloud flak guns as the seven new vehicles guarded the southern flank of the preexisting convoy's cargo. At each quarter-kilometer junction in the road stood hefty SAM launchers bearing the Zelickist flag- their silvery rocket tubes pointed south and northward in anticipation of any possible bisection. Periodically, two A-40s or so would form an armor triangle about the SAM launchers where dozens or so saboteurs lurked amid the shadows of the evening roads: Roadblocks at major intersections had also clamped down on the already-minimalistic traffic flow as Zelickist-Junta gunners manned major checkpoints from within plate-shielded troop trucks still bearing wheel-and-axle designs.

The convoy was now two-thirds across the bridge when the Field Marshall's telecommunications prompt lit up in a sea of luminescent green glow- So lucid, in fact, that the dark characters contrasted sharply and clearly from the backlit background as a string of characters appeared across the screen:

From the desk of Admiral-General Horatio Nelson,
Intended for the new Tantalan Construct
The Imperial Navy would like to extend it's congradulations to the new construct of Tantalus. We have heard the plight of rebellion from your nation and would like to offer our support to your forces. We are prepared to begin a police action and assist you in affiriming your new government's postion of power. Please feel free to request any other special action by my forces. I stand at the ready to begin deploying the 118th Cadian Home Legion, our finest new Regiment of 10,000 fresh and ready troopers. Our hats to you.

                                                                                                              Thankyou, 
                                                                                                                                Horation Nelson
New Zepuhan Embassy Program

---

"Shit," began the Field Marshall as his grey eyes flickered with vitality and excitement: This had to be relayed to the New Jericho Generals' Council! At last, someone with an apparent regard for human sovereignty appeared to be willing to extend a hand of gratitude for the Tantalan heritage! Without further ado, the Field Marshall merely relayed the message back to the supply depot, whereafter the sole ground-based antennae transmitted the megabit-encrypted signal toward the Zelickist hub some two-hundred kilometers northwest of the depot.

"This is Field Marshall Aksam to the Northern Sectoral Authority of New Mesopotamia: We've sent forth an encrypted message only for our Sovereign General's eyes and is thus to remain so unless the Honorable Zelick offers to relinquish control over its contents."

A brief pause filled the spaces between Aksam's words as the gentleman stared ahead into the thermal-imaging display, his voice still focused on forging contact with the receiver.

"Yes. We will proceed to sack a guerrilla camp in the Valley of Atonement after the supplies are delivered."

[New Zepuha]

Imperial Fleet of the 118th Cadian Home Regiment
High Orbit

The first of the ships to begin the disembarkation process was the mighty Carrier NZSS Blitz with her twin loading bays carrying 5,000 of the new green troopers. Rookie pilots had been warming up thrusters as the troopers ran through final sacraments and loaded their equipment in an orderly fashion. Rows of olive drab rifles lined the holding compartments on each bulldog dropship, their magazines secured in place for quick deployment. It was a glorious sight the mobilization of the Imperial Guard. But really, here it wasn't so glorious for the men they would be supporting.

Being as this regiment was conscripted out of teenagers from Cadia to support the invasion of the UTE as cannon fodder. Now they would be thrown into a guerilla war situation. But this was really no problem, the Imperial Administration has been fighting insurrectionists for over 5 years now. The posed little threat but gave great live fire training for other urban situations. Seeing as this was so it was prompt that they at least be given semi-competent officers to lead them into battle Horatio was already a disgraced General, he may aswell throw his power into this.

__

With final prep completed for drop the Bulldog's began to rise and send themselves out of the hangar bay one by one for drop. Heading nose-first into the atmosphere trying to pinpoint their immediate drop location. A small town that seemed to be out of the way was the initial target. 200 men came with the first wave to secure the town as a FOB at any cost. Hopefully if the Loyalists occupied the town they would let them take control without incident. None the less the drophips showed their flat udnersides as the pair made entry into the atmosphere.

[The Ottish Empire]

Turko-Tantalan Convoy

The convoy hadn't made it more than a few hundred yards outside of the makeshift camp before their orders had been scrapped and restructured. With limited air support. They were now charged with the task of intercepting a renegade convoy, and bombing out their communications. As easy as the task may seem, it may prove all the more challenging by the sudden appearance of Zepuhans, who had made no prior indication of their involvement. Hopefully, these new arrivals would keep out of their business for the time being, command was going to be hard at work establishing rules of engagement should the Zepuhans be here to aid the enemy.

The convoy now proceeded on its new task, drawing ever nearer to the two small towns, and the mass of enemies detailed to be hidden between them. A series of airships, and low-atmosphere fighters streaked by regularly, perhaps testing the rumored AA capabilities of the convoy, maybe even ripping off a few pot-shots. Not all these fighters came back, and the ones that did trailed long streaks of black smoke. The Tantalans were seemingly well-equipped for anti-air operations. Hopefully it was only the Tantalans, and not the Zepuhans making intercepting air raids.

A column of smoke appeared in the distance, some of the ill-fated air raids must have hit their mark. The convoy grinded to a halt, now was the time to consider their approach. Orbital bombardments followed by intense ground fire might just do the trick. Coordinates were radioed in, and soon a series of explosions lit up the region. The time to strike was now, infantry charged forth, picking off stragglers on the way, while tanks and IFV's backed them up with intense cover fire.

[New Zepuha]

OOC: So it seems I read wrongly and the guy I meant to support are the rebels. Woops.

As the pair of dropships hit ground burning huge black circles in the local plant life and grass in the field. Drop ramps fell with the running sound of chains with a great dry smack as they hit the ground. Clanging sounds could be heard from not far away, the sound of pounding boots on metal running on down ramps. The troopers fanned out into a large semi-circle around the back end of the dropships facing the town. A pair of men stood surveying the field and the troops filed out, the man had a peaked officers cap and a green dress tunic and belt holding an officers saber and laspistol. The man standing to his side was carrying a large vox-caster radio set on his back and a las-carbine with skeleton stock folded around his waist. The officer was Lieutenant Johannes Berg, newly minted officer.

"Cpl. Hardinger play that last radio communication." Lt.berg motion to the radio operator to his side. A slight crackle of static came and new orders came over the line
"Forward unit be advised, Zelicksist troops are the insurgents, be advised, engage Zelicksist troops and secure the town as FOB, over and out."
Berg nodded and looked out across his troops and selected out the scouting party. "Sgt.Placof take your fireteam and move into the town, I want you ontop of the first building you can get into and provide overwatch, the rest of you mean man the ditch line and prepare for engagement, we have no clue what is around here, marksmen team to the treeline, move!" with a quick shout Berg took his post with his mean in the ditchline as the dropships rose up towards the fleet. The Zelicksist's still thought they were there to support them, this could play out well in Horatio's hands.

Clearing up the air waves fleet was transmitting back to high-command on Armageddon that a base of operations was established and a reinforcement proceeding should not be in order. Though a request was sent to bolster the air presence on the planet.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

(( First, the Turisists were the preceding regime. Then the Zelickists, fearing that their country was selling out to aliens, killed Alyxis "Alexyl" Turis and instated Zelickist control over the homeworld and urbanized sections of Tantalan holdings. The Turisist counter-revolutionaries are seeking to usurp the Zelickists and reinstate the Kaiser by working their way inward towards the Tantalan system. Sorry for my poor elaboration! D:

On New Mesopotamia, the Turisists are fighting using Guerrilla tactics to retake the cities whilst the Zelickists are fighting it US-Vietnam style. Y'know, with those gunships and crap. ))

(( Guerrilla-hunting music ))

---

Zelickist Armored Personnel Convoy

---

Roadside AA flak guns under Zelickist control released a barrage of exploding shrapnel into the oncoming wave of Ottoman fighters just before several shots began to pound away at the Zelickist defense. Behind the perimeter of flak cannons, several dozen SAM launchers and chemical lasers began to shoot at incoming Turko-Turisist fighters as SAMs, shrapnel and stray energy bolts filled the convoy's airspace. Despite several hardening procedures via hastily-engineered earthwork structures which solidified the anti-air defense network from sorties, at least a good fifth of the SAMs were transformed into scorched craters; two-fifths of the flak guns were utterly annihilated in several flashes of blinding light as their ordnance spontaneously reacted with the influx of thermal energy, effectively collapsing several partial caverns in the mountain face as Zelickist guns exchanged fire with Tantalo-Turkish planes.

---

"Scramble for the SAMs! Scramble! Now, now, now!"

"Yessire. Assigning weapon pods to oncoming vectors at two o'clock," came a stilted voice as the Zelickist gunner flicked several switches suspended from the overhead console. Iridescent LED lighting filled the con as the reinforced quantum processor embedded in the engine began to run several swift calcul-

F-BOOM!

"Sir, we've just lost one of our transport trucks!"

"Damn them all," shrieked the Field General just as his scrawny form jostled upward from several impact zones: That Turisist bast-

---

Grrrn.....

The seven-vehicle convoy erupted in flames just after Lapiz Leader and two of her fellow counter-revolutionaries bombed out the pylons supporting the masonry-constituent bridge. A gut-wrenching, earsplitting groan reverberated throughout the valley and neighboring townships as the sickly sound of thousands of duracrete struts disintegrating into fine dust preceded a plume of ash rising into the air as the one-kilometer stretch of bridge collapsed into the bloody earth below. Fire from the Zelickist side ceased just long enough for Lapiz Leader's eyes to survey the damage to the infrastructure:

"Yep. That bridge is gone."

Charred segments of nanotubes, brass and discarded uranium cells littered the area surrounding the bridge's pylon-stumps. Blood-soaked earth fumed with burning fuel vapors as the acrid aroma of naphtha-kerosene condensed along the lifeless ground of the barren steppe. Removing her flight goggles for the briefest of seconds to wipe her tear-stained eyes, Colonel Sevos Rutherford joined with the main flight as she spoke into the intercom.

"This is Lapiz Leader to Black Lapiz Squadron: Proceed to reconnaissance point Sigma-Null. We've got a town to retake."

---

Sheridan. That backward country town still being wired to the Planetary Network was held at gunpoint by the Zelickist Junta as various Zelickist platoons marched through the streets to meet the Ottoman onslaught. It was unknown to the Platoon commander how many Ottoman IFVs and infantry were killed, yet it was painstakingly familiar to Zelickist Brigadier Sovereign General Ernest Rutherford-Curie Chekik to see mincemeat of Tantalan soldiers strewn about this cute little oil town: His 322^nd Interception Battalion was engaging Ottoman troops either north or south- he could not think with this recent tragedy- and that damned convoy should have arrived seconds ago... Clutching at the matte-black nanotube desk's right edge with four bony fingers and a weathered thumb, the General stared off into vacant space as his eyes appeared to lose contact.

Get your ass here, Wren. We've got a fucking-

"Sir!" Interjected one of the soldiers as he held up a slip of electronic paper, his brown eyes filled with fright as he brought in the paper closer. Sighing with ire, the Sovereign General leaned in his head and widened his eyes as his sole response.

"Dead? Colonel Wren... Is dead?"

"Aye, sir- Gah!"

"Give me that report, Sergeant-at-arms!" Growled the General as he snatched the OLED sheet straight from Sergeant Lancaster's hands as the latter backed into the wall. "Shit. I want the interceptors scrambled. Get those Rebels out of my damned airspace! Immediately! No more bridges of ours will fall as long as I am in charge- Get the Young Lady in here. I need her presence to coordinate an attack upon the Turisist stronghold in Verdan-Thierry.

---

The brief victory at the bridge would be short-lived, however, before sensors would be able to pick up twenty kinetic-motion disturbances on an airfield one hundred and twenty kilometers northwest of Black Lapiz Leader's position. Aiming her eyes only for the urgent second, Turisist Colonel Sevos Rutherford jammed her finger into the comms button as she spoke.

[b]"Attention to all Turko-Turisist forces: We've got company, eleven o'clock!"

---

In the faintest distance, all would be able to see the outline of twenty black FB-33s bristling with an array of modular weapons pods and bomblet-canisters.

"This is Major Duke-Sav Lightwalker to Alpha-One-One-Three: Maintain arrow formation due one hundred-fifty degrees to the southeast. Weapons hot, engage Mark II Thermal Shields: Train your eyes to close range."

And thus the black-haired, brown-eyed gentleman commanded as his angular fighter-bomber detachment juked right and left in anticipation of Turisist-Turkish resistance, opening fire below as his fighter squadron dropped from the stratosphere and sun to meet the outermost bands of Turisist resistance with a flurry of rocket fire, plasma-explosive shells, and spatial-distortion torpedoes as the second-tier of defense targeted not just Turisist resistance but also the Turkish aircraft and infantry forces. War had just been declared between the Tantalus-based Zelickist regime and these pesky Ottoman troops conspiring to bring down the Tantalan culture as did aliens generations ago.

[The Ottish Empire]

Turko-Turisist Assault Force

Colonel Damian Polt

Damian winced as an odd assortment of limbs and flesh erupted from a bombed out shelter, this area was zeroed in. Ottoman command, to determined to impress their allies with their great morals and shiny equipment, forgot to factor in home field advantage. This is alien soil, and until the fleet could deploy proper GPS satellites, and configure them within the soldiers' HUD, they would be nearly blind. He pushed his squad out from the opening and into a large complex, likely some pre-war housing project. Outside a fierce engagement rattled on, with either side sustaining heavy gains and losses. For most of the Ottoman ground force, this was a new reality. They had spent most of their military career serving little more purpose than glorified doormen to the Empire's fleets and stations. Sure they had all had their share of combat, maybe a pirate raid here or there, or watching as the fleet pounded away at some poor Inquisition ship, but ground warfare was a whole new beast.

Damian and his squad pushed further and further into the building, they surely weren't its only occupants, but the contrast from the intense fire outside to the near dead silence inside was was diluting to that factor. Slowly and carefully the team made its way to the rear of the building, escaping sure death in the streets, and allowing a possible flanking position. Suddenly, within his helmet, a ping of sorts rung and a blurry map appeared the far left corner of his visor. This action was near simultaneous with all forces and equipment linked to the HoloNet. The fleet engineers had finally primed a satellite. Sure it was likely only a temp, and a poor one at that, but it was at least something. In an instant, all Ottoman artillery fell silent. With this more accurate information, the guns began to recalibrate, allowing for more militarily effective round placements.

The skies above were littered with black smoke and falling debris. Air forces from all sides of the conflict were now locked in a frenzy, darting to and fro firing off missiles and pulse rounds as they went. It was a scene of pure chaos from the streets. In the cockpit there was certainly more organization. With all the allied forces linked up to the HoloNet, beacons determined friend from. Missile guidance systems and weapons lock-on procedures all based themselves on this feature cutting back on wasted ammunition and friendly fire. The squad broke their gaze from the flight above and refocused on the mission at hand. They moved cautiously down the slum behind the complex, moving closer and closer to the sounds of war.

Damian flashed a sensor around the corner of the building. Perfect. They were behind the enemy front, likely not too far, but just enough to stem the flow of battle. He now primed a grenade in unison with his team and hurled it around the corner. Following the explosion they then angled their pulse rifles around the building, picking off stragglers and survivors who had been forced from cover, they quickly followed this up with an advance, boxing Tantalan soldiers in, and forcing the front back some.

[The Drone Empire]

GS32 Sys. No 0022345534, 19343/2/3/14
/07/13/19/21/.58. [C.T.rtu]
Archived system; "New Mesopotamia", Tantalan Space.

Distant from the collection of vessels above the major scene of battle upon the planet, in the more southern regions, literally dozens of Ghost-Space portals opened miles above the planet's surface. A comparatively small Drone fleet exited their respective portals before they collapsed and established immediate awareness of their current surroundings. The ships reformed to a more defensive alignment while the inside ground fleet prepared for departure; they were here to support the Tantalans but only because they were against the Ottish as of late, in an unfortunate but necessary change of tune as such so often arrives.

Within the handful of fairly-sized starship, a massive force stirred with the capability of, at least, increasing the odds of Tantalan success at withholding the system. Field bases ready for immediate deployment in stock across the ships, legions of Drones ready for combat, and a suitable variety of fighter-bombers and armored units at hand to stage a decent assault, the means which were necessary to aid their estranged ally were all available, with a surplus at the ready far off waiting for but a simple order to ship in and deploy. The A.I overseeing the forces was generic and replaceable, but every bit worthy of his position as general and commander of the units alloted to him. They would fight and fight hard, fear and panic were absent from the Drones, but their enemy too was formidable a force, but prevalence was foreseeable.

--

As soon as all forces were deemed at the ready, the drop ships took off, a swarm of them emerging from within the bowels of each ship as their metallic surfaces glimmered in the sunlight of the distant star. They assembled into neat groups to land in a preselected region where hostile activity was low to nonexistent in complete comparison to those where battles currently waged. They breached through the atmosphere with no effort at all and established a region of deployment. Any civilians in the area would either flee or stay and see what happened as the enormous fleet of Drop ships fell upon the area and either into fields, parks or plazas, force rolling out of the house-sized ships en masse as they organized. Though the fight was far away, they'd need a place to operate locally from and this currently unknown town in the lesser-populated countryside was perfect.

For better or worse, the Drones were here to fight now, and they were not bound by any moral standard to uphold for there was none left to be held. Whatever potential obstacle, physical or mental, stood in their way to fighting the enemy would be removed and destroyed. The Drones were machines of Warfare, and like all machines, they did what they were made for better than any man.

[New Zepuha]

The Imperial Cruiser Emperor of Justice sat looming over the planet watching its dropships as they fell in waves towards the established FOB just behind the Ottish lines. The cruiser had already noted the arrival of drone warships into the area and noted the threat to high command. With this disturbing new event the board of commissars was being convened on planet Omega. Meanwhile General Horatio decided from his quarters on the ground at the center of a moving little tent camp with a few assault guns rigged up as perimeter defense. Meanwhile the moving patrols had returned back to camp to form up in a mechanized convoy. 6 Deuce 5 1/2 ton trucks had loaded up with 200 riflemen and was revving to set out for the ottish combat zone to aid in surrounding the enemy troops. With final checks and a few last minute prayers and fueling the convoy set out from the camp across a small road bound for the frontlines.

Meanwhile in the skies above the combat zone there flew a group of 6 aircraft high above the explosions and gunfire on the ground. This formation was four marauder bombers being escorted by 2 thunderbolt jet fighters. They flew just above the bombers to provide the best overall control over the bombers to make sure they made it out safe. The bomber crews sat rattling inside of their hulking aircraft waiting to pass over the ground forces.

"Lead flight to formation we are over the Zelickcist lines, prepare pay loads for drop." came a crackle over the flight command vox.

Cogs whirred and revved as the bomb bays opened showing out their loads. Under each aircraft carried a mix of concussion and napalm bombs to maximize the flesh and organic death on the ground below them. When the final green light popped on in the tight bombardier quarters the bombs fell, whirling and whistling on down towards the troops on the ground in their positions.

[The Ottish Empire]

OGS First Light; Private Military Fleet

The Old Gods, a private military organization, whose members and contractors were recruited from retired soldiers, sailors, and marines from all over the Imperial Armed Forces. They held considerable military might, and political sway, and mostly operated with, or in the Ottoman military's interests. So it is no wonder that the Old Gods would find there way into Tantalan space, and on the front lines of New Mesopotamia. Their fleet, revolutionary in design, and even more so impressive in the collaboration efforts behind its construction, held the technological, and military capacity to go toe-to-toe with any conventional fleet.

Their contingent in this system, with no real conventional fleet to face, took part in more blockading and scouting missions while the Ottoman fleet hammered away at the planet's surface. It was these ships that first witnessed the Drone warp into the system.

-Intelligence Officer Garrus Istani

*BEEP* *BEEP*

Garrus' eyes bolted open, and his body jolted as the sudden alarm sent him flying from his cot, and onto the cold, hard, metallic floor of the crew deck. Groaning, he wiped his eyes and steadied himself, noting the laughter surrounding him. He smacked the small alarm clock positioned by his bed, ceasing its incessant beeping. He glanced at his wrist watch, 0500, his shift was to start in approximately 15 minutes. Garrus rushed off to his locker, ignoring the laughter and hoots along the way, here he replaced the footy pajamas he had worn to bed with more appropriate clothing. A distinct yellow and black checkered combat uniform, a solid black utility belt, and a CentrArms M-XXIV pistol, which he promptly loaded, cocked, and shoved into the utility belt's built-in holster.

Running down a mental checklist, he made sure his cot was squared away, and that his uniform was put on properly, and not done haphazardly in the haze of his sleep, followed by routine health procedures, brushing his teeth, washing his face, etc. then finally picking up his full-head helmet and ducking it under his arm as he proceeded out of the room, and towards the deck's tram station. The tram station was usually pretty crowded, and finding a seat in one was beyond impossible, even at 5 in the morning, the tram was crowded as soldiers, pilots, and technicians all rushed to the respective stations to do whatever in god's name they do at 5.

He found a spot straddling an upright pole in the tram, originally intended to support passengers as they entered or exited the tram, the pole was now a luxury seat, the person who found it was among the select few who would have a nice, steady ride, the rest were forced to stand, and be jerked forward and backwards as the tram moved along its route. Finally the stop for the command deck came up, and he uncomfortably pushed through to the deck. Stepping onto the reinforced glass that made up the deck, he took a deep breath, and looked back momentarily to watch a marine and an engineer wage war over his old spot. He smiled, and proceeded on, into the hive-mind of the ship.

He saluted the OOD, stated his mission, and relieved the man on duty. Taking a seat behind one of the huge holo-screens that encompassed the deck, he dawned his helmet, and tapped into the ship's sensors and data. A wide range of data flooded his sensors, his eyes began to sting as he motioned through one, after another. All systems were code green, and thus the images and screens of text stopped, and he was allowed to do his job. He now pulled up flight logs, and radar/sonar data and monitored the progress being made outside the thick metal ship.

All was well, and unusually quiet. Every now and then, he'd watch a turning pilot's cam and catch a glimpse of the burning planet, it was a sight when he could do it. Like seeing a shooting star, or watching a planet implode in on itself. Unlike Odessia, his homeworld, this planet was not a deep dark green, instead it was turning red, a bright red, likely because of the intense shelling, or fierce combat on the surface. But then something unusual started happening. Energy fields became disrupted, an odd distortion was being projected, it was almost as if something big was trying to warp into the system.

This strange effect continued on for several more minutes, only becoming more and more intense, until finally it happened. Everything stopped, where the distortion field once was there was nothing noticeable, no pilot streams could detect anything on their radar, it wasn't until a few went in for further inspection that the severity of the situation was revealed. There, cloaked, but still visible, was a fleet of epic proportions, matching all the descriptions of the Drone's. This made matters all the more worse, as the Drone's were notoriously hostile to the Ottomans, and now here they are, in the middle of an Ottoman conflict.

All alerts were on full blare now, the fleet was now mobilizing to engage the drone's and several messages of high importance were sent immediately to the Ottoman flagship. Though they were hampered by the rules of engagement, they were not to engage in hostile activity until the threat is noted as hostile and begins taking part in war-like activities. This, however, didn't stop the fleet from creating a no-entry zone around the allied fleets. Slowly, they watched the lumbering massed proceed around the planet, and stop. Then suddenly launching masses of ships to its surface. If this wasn't war, then they didn't know what was. They too followed the fleet to the rear of the planet, exercising extreme caution the whole way.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

Somewhere behind Zelickist Lines; Zelickist Command Outpost of New Mesopotamia, Memphis

---

Situated between three mountains and carved into halves by a sludge-contaminated marsh, Memphis was one of seventeen closed cities where the former Turisist Kaiserreich conducted open-air testing of the regime's surrogate bacteria and viruses which were to assist with warhead design; as a matter of caution, several corroded nanotube drums were scratched open to allow various toxic compounds to settle in the High Memphis Valley, a desolate stretch of clay-capped desert interrupted only by sarin-laced roads which could kill a human soldier lacking proper auto injectors within seconds.

Of particular dominance loomed a basalt-brick structure mired in scorch marks as dark as dried blood: Two HAZMAT-garbed Zelickist troops stood at the position of attention near two CNT-plated double doors, their HKAR-72 rifles shouldered in pristine precision and condition. Stretched out before the two Red Berets was an expanse of dessicated, ochre-brown Terran grass which was to teem with weeds thanks largely due to the deployment of all Privates, Airmen and such to the Sheridan frontier several hundred kilometers away. As such, numerous infrared-detection auto turrets stood upon where, previously, two legs stood. Further down the courtyard toward the entrance, some motley of AA laser cannons, flak guns and multiple-charge autocannons watched the orange skies for fighters without transponder signals.

---

"This is fucking war, ladies and gentlemen! This is war!"

No amount of protection- however dramatic and dangerous it could be above ground for the enemy- could placate Vice Sovereign General Anna Jaax Powers or her staff who assembled around a radial holotable encrusted with dried vodka stains and caffeinated soda water.

"Ma'am," interrupted a drab, dour-faced Lieutenant as she nervously typed incalculable volumes of classified materiel into her segment of E-paper; given the dwindling amount of supplies, there would soon be a need for cellulose and graphite among the Zelickist delegation. "We must evacuate this planet. Though the Drone sect has arrived, it is already too late for their assistance to be of any use-"
"I disagree-" began another gentleman as he stood.
"Take your- Everyone, take your damned seats! Room attention!"

All but the Eldest Rank popped to attention in the stuffy, stale basement air.

"Maintain proper discipline and respect for rank. Captain Oswald and Lieutenant Davy, leave this room. Under no circumstances are we permitted to abandon this planet, Farah Davy"

Lieutenant Davy tensed up her shoulders before the drawn Captain pulled on her shoulder. "Let's go." Without yet another word to say, Lieutenant Davy and her CO disembarked the war room, leaving the Vice Sovereign General to clutch her forehead.

"Mister Rohl, you said something about the Drones coming in?"

"Yes, ma'am. That, and the fact that they are countered by masses of unknown vessels. We are trying every theoretical transponder channel-"

"Send this to the Drone flagship," the aging woman held out a holodisc a moment before Rohl snatched it with a nod.

"Yes, ma'am."

---

To: Frq. 186.66797.230
From: Mesopotamia Command of Memphis
Encryption: High

This is Vice Sovereign General Powers to the Drone delegation: We know not of your full motives (Nor might we want to know), but let's cut to the chase: My men are fucking dying from Turisist insurgents, Zepuhan ground forces and Turkish air forces. We not-so-humbly request assistance in liberating the Sheridan District so that we may reclaim the Lutecia District. Zepuhan, Turisists and Ottomans are very much likely marching on to our HQ if not exterminating towns of their choice.

We ask that the Drones expedite their decision. We've got Turks marching in and choking off vital supply lines between buildings in one certain city quarter; a bridge collapsed... It is hell down here.

Be careful.

Klaxons within the dug-o

[The Drone Empire]

Somewhere behind Zelickist Lines; Zelickist Command Outpost of New Mesopotamia, Memphis

---

Situated between three mountains and carved into halves by a sludge-contaminated marsh, Memphis was one of seventeen closed cities where the former Turisist Kaiserreich conducted open-air testing of the regime's surrogate bacteria and viruses which were to assist with warhead design; as a matter of caution, several corroded nanotube drums were scratched open to allow various toxic compounds to settle in the High Memphis Valley, a desolate stretch of clay-capped desert interrupted only by sarin-laced roads which could kill a human soldier lacking proper auto injectors within seconds.

Of particular dominance loomed a basalt-brick structure mired in scorch marks as dark as dried blood: Two HAZMAT-garbed Zelickist troops stood at the position of attention near two CNT-plated double doors, their HKAR-72 rifles shouldered in pristine precision and condition. Stretched out before the two Red Berets was an expanse of dessicated, ochre-brown Terran grass which was to teem with weeds thanks largely due to the deployment of all Privates, Airmen and such to the Sheridan frontier several hundred kilometers away. As such, numerous infrared-detection auto turrets stood upon where, previously, two legs stood. Further down the courtyard toward the entrance, some motley of AA laser cannons, flak guns and multiple-charge autocannons watched the orange skies for fighters without transponder signals.

---

"This is fucking war, ladies and gentlemen! This is war!"

No amount of protection- however dramatic and dangerous it could be above ground for the enemy- could placate Vice Sovereign General Anna Jaax Powers or her staff who assembled around a radial holotable encrusted with dried vodka stains and caffeinated soda water.

"Ma'am," interrupted a drab, dour-faced Lieutenant as she nervously typed incalculable volumes of classified materiel into her segment of E-paper; given the dwindling amount of supplies, there would soon be a need for cellulose and graphite among the Zelickist delegation. "We must evacuate this planet. Though the Drone sect has arrived, it is already too late for their assistance to be of any use-"
"I disagree-" began another gentleman as he stood.
"Take your- Everyone, take your damned seats! Room attention!"

All but the Eldest Rank popped to attention in the stuffy, stale basement air.

"Maintain proper discipline and respect for rank. Captain Oswald and Lieutenant Davy, leave this room. Under no circumstances are we permitted to abandon this planet, Farah Davy"

Lieutenant Davy tensed up her shoulders before the drawn Captain pulled on her shoulder. "Let's go." Without yet another word to say, Lieutenant Davy and her CO disembarked the war room, leaving the Vice Sovereign General to clutch her forehead.

"Mister Rohl, you said something about the Drones coming in?"

"Yes, ma'am. That, and the fact that they are countered by masses of unknown vessels. We are trying every theoretical transponder channel-"

"Send this to the Drone flagship," the aging woman held out a holodisc a moment before Rohl snatched it with a nod.

"Yes, ma'am."

---

To: Frq. 186.66797.230
From: Mesopotamia Command of Memphis
Encryption: High

This is Vice Sovereign General Powers to the Drone delegation: We know not of your full motives (Nor might we want to know), but let's cut to the chase: My men are fucking dying from Turisist insurgents, Zepuhan ground forces and Turkish air forces. We not-so-humbly request assistance in liberating the Sheridan District so that we may reclaim the Lutecia District. Zepuhan, Turisists and Ottomans are very much likely marching on to our HQ if not exterminating towns of their choice.

We ask that the Drones expedite their decision. We've got Turks marching in and choking off vital supply lines between buildings in one certain city quarter; a bridge collapsed... It is hell down here.

Be careful.

Klaxons within the dug-o

The Drone flagship received the message, and swiftly prepared a response, both in communication and force. The Drones had organized their units into individualized battlegroups and squadrons, loading them in for deployment at a large scale while above frigates and battleships were pairing up to form an assault and provide orbital support to the forces below at the frontier. This battle would not be easily won, the forces against them were well established and comfortably settled in, but with appropriate usage of the units provided and minimal error, things will go along in their favor.

The message from the Drones was dispatched to the command.

//ecry? :100.0%
-re-dest: sign. 5764.9901.22

We are aware of the deteriorating situation you and your forces have encountered, and are in progress with providing necessary support to your region. You will be expected to maintain your territory until we arrive to alleviate the threat to our greatest extent.

Estimated Time of Arrival: 00.15.20 minutes...

We thank you for your patience.

The message was certainly uncomforting in it's rather emotionless nature, but it gave solid notice that aid was coming none the less. In a now flattened section of forest, Drone dropships took off again, this time loaded with only forces meant for war. Their thrusters scorched the ground as they lifted away into the skies, traversing across the clouded skies towards the area of battle. Ahead of them, S.D Fighter Bombers streaked at high speeds towards the battleground, flying at velocities which shredded holes in the dense clouds they burned through. The Drones were on the way, ready to state their position in this fight.

[The Ottish Empire]

OGS First Light

For the past three hours, Garrus watched in horror as the Old God's fleet drew closer and closer to the drones. So far no hostile action had been taken, but from what the scanners could pick up, they were moving tons and tons of military equipment, and what he could only assume were assault drones, straight to the surface. And now the radio room was picking up encrypted messages, they couldn't be cracked, at least not the drone response, but that was not needed, their maintained radio silence, minimal contact, and their message sharing with the Tantalan rebels was enough evidence that this was no peace mission. This was war.

The Ottoman fleet was too preoccupied providing orbital assistance to their troops, so no ships could be spared, but they weren't needed. The Old gods could more than handle themselves, they just needed the orders to do so. Finally, after long awaiting them, the orders came through. The drones were hostile, all ships in their vicinity are weapons-free. Immediately as the message hit the fleet, the rail accelerators and ion cannons which came to dominate the fleet's automated weapons systems unleashed a hellish barrage on what they could hit. Albeit, not a whole lot, they weren't about to risk taking on the fleet's entirety, but any outlying ships were under fire, heavy fire at that.

Garrus cut out from his visual feed, and tapped back into the data network, setting up firewalls and virtual defenses against the cyber war the drones were likely to launch in response in retaliation. His job was to protect the systems, others were ordered to launch viruses of their own. Though he couldn't physically see the battle raging outside, the rumbles and vibrations jolting about the ship were enough to give some hint as to how the battle was going.

-Captain Kenneth Florence; Ottoman 117th Assault Squadron

The skies above the small town were not surprisingly void of Tantalan fighters. It seems the rebels either lacked a sufficient air wing, the means to launch them, or perhaps they'd all already been wiped out. Whatever it was, he counted it a blessing that he was not constantly engaged in combat, unlike his counterparts down below. He'd just refueled, and refitted, and was mainly just monitoring the scene, it was amazing to watch the fight below, it reminded him of the games he'd play back home. The small figures running back and forth, making significant advances and subsequent withdrawals. In the blink of an eye the battle could change.

So far, the Ottomans were in a significant advantage. Holding both the technological and numerical advantage, they made significant advances, taking large tracts of land in a minimal amount of time. It was a one sided battle, but he'd seen this kind of battle a thousand times over, the battle he really wanted to see was the storming of their headquarters, from the reports he heard, they were heavily armed, and the small amount of entrances eliminated the numerical advantage. But he wasn't allowed anywhere near that place, the amount of AA guns guns packed into that place keep him, and every other atmospheric fighter miles away from that place.

*BLEEP*

Kenneth's eyed dashed back up from the battle, and towards the top left corner of his HUD. A series of new dots popped up along the border of the screen, where did these new fighters come from? They couldn't be the rebel's. Hell, the whole Tantalan air force couldn't pump out these fighters now. That's when the message came through, these were Drone fighters. "All fighters, break off. We've got incoming. " with that, the entire air coverage above the small town, and nearly the entire region, converged on the new dots. Within sheer moments Kenneth caught the first glimpse of his adversary, it'd been days since his last air engagement, and these new fighters were certainly intimidating. But he held fast, and locked on to the nearest blip. Noticing the income fire, he, and his entire squadron, took evasive action, breaking formation, they each went on to take down a fighter.

[The Drone Empire]

[Hostiles have engaged, Initiated counter-offensive measures..]

The Old Gods had taken the first swing, naturally. Fear was something humans were known for and it many times saw irrational action. Then again, what they did preceding the Drone counter attack was entirely irrelevant. The first shots fired at the outermost ships of the fleet were well accepted by their shields, while targets were established among their foe. The initial approach would be a systemic assault on their ships in an attempt to disable them, allowing for easy eradication and immediate superiority. Of course, their foes were quick, and many of the general assaults were absorbed by their firewalls. Never the less, these consistent broadcasts of lethal system-disabling viruses, programs and codes would continue until doing so was impossible or unnecessary. To give their enemy a moment of relief would be foolish, no doubt.

Now came violence, to breach this one-sided battle and force into something of more substance. Drone M.A.T's across the fleet locked on to various points of their adversary's ships, charging up for a kinetic strike followed by a sweep of Hard-Light beams. When the M.A.Ts fired their first volley among the nearest Old Gods fleet, thousands of tungsten rods were slicing through the fabric of space, it seemed, on their short journey towards the Ottish vessels before them in a counter-kinetic assault. They would smash into the shields carrying a terrible force behind the full length of their structure, while in the meantime, C.H.L projectors warmed to fire. This battle would be the first against the Ottish forces, so categorizing their technological capabilities and assessing their total military strength and effectiveness was key in future battles sure to come.

--

The Drone fighters scrambled, detecting that they had been targeted as they fell into strategic action against these combatants. The initial squadron of fighters were followed up by a great number of others, tasked with either aiding in the effort to establish air superiority, or bring terror upon the forces beneath them. Some fighters ducked below the dogfights above to systematically drop a large payload of Kilo-98 G-Impact Bombs, leaving behind a mess of debris around a crater where a target once existed.

In the far distance, the Drop-ships began preparing for a landing. Their drop-zones were selected based upon both factors of combat stability and strategic positioning, both of which were changing regularly, and was only certain once it was absolutely needed. The Drones would establish a primary force to push back hostiles and bring a sense of stability to the region for further expansion later onwards. Failure was most definitely not an option.

[New Zepuha]

Fleet master Roth looked across his holo display in front of his golden command throne on the Super-Carrier Totenum. Little red blips were streaking towards the Old Gods ships, a PMC group from the Ottish Empire. PMC groups on New Zepuha ruled much of the political space jockeying in wars on distant planets with each other for more influence. But this was no group of rabble, but a group of friends that came to put down this rebellion. With a hiss he turned to look across the command deck of monitors and mindless robots doing basic tasks. "God damn son-of-a-whore, where the hell did the drone come from!?" he said spitting a glob of chewing tobacco into a spittoon. "Turn the left arrow out, protect the supply ships!" he said pressing a few golden button on his throne.

Out in the void of space four Emperor class battle ships turned their lumbering gaze upon the Drone ships firing on the Old Gods. Klaxons wailed on each ship as the stubby little guns along the sides sighted up for a volley. Gun crews wailed and toiled in the sweaty heat of the Gun Deck on each ship. Hefting the high velocity 500mm shells into place. With final preparations they opened fire. Twenty white hot shells streaked out across the void of space towards the Drone ships.

A secondary target was noticed by the fleet sensors. With quick movements and a sharp command a fighter wing was dispatched out to deal with the dropships. Sixteen thunderbolts raced out in arrow formation towards the drop ships falling towards the planet. "Wing leader to all birds, you may open fire." the order crackled. No sooner did many 60mm cannon shells struck out to slap the dropships as the went down. A torrent of thick lasers flushed out to wash over the drone ships, piercing the void with bright red laser. Meanwhile ground batteries at the main HQ made the sky above bracketed with 45mm flak shells and large 30mm rocket pods waiting to open fire.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

"I'm hit! I'm hit-"

Static

---

Duke-Sav Lightwalker fought hard to keep tears from rolling down his face as the screams of his wingman, Lieutenant Chaucer F. Ferdinand, abruptly ended in static.

"Alpha One-one-three, retreat! Deploy all available chaff; secure the route to Bryden County. We've lost Sheridan to the Turisists..."

The blasts of high-explosive white phosphorous and electrically-primed C4 concussion missiles seemed like faint splashes in a great underwater cavern to Lightwalker, who frantically thrust out on the flight yoke to perform a ninety-degree climb to escape an awry AAM and it's subsequent bursts of directed energy: From above, the clay planet appeared eerily surreal, what with an LSD display of oranges, reds, yellows and pinks swirling in rising dust plumes as Zelickist artillery, tanks and infantry retreated before the onslaught of violence. Just hopefully, by drawing out Turkish infantry from the protection of their IFVs and exoskeletons, Duke could get a clear shot at several tank detachments... But that was too risky for the surviving half of his flight who, for the most part were already dangerously low on deuterium fuel and ammunition. FB-33 debris floated amid the smoke plumes like stray paper as Duke-Sav's fighter-bomber and his seven wingmen concealed their positions amid the bedlam-induced smoky skies.

"Afterburners off. Turn north due 15 degrees along the Xia airway. We are to return to base sixty deka-kilometers to the north. Direct backup power to ECM systems."

"Zzz- Roger that, Alpha-113 Leader. Turning north, engines cool. Initiating cloaking measures."

---

From above, the fighting looked grim. Down below, it was worse.

Bridging the two township steppes was a dead, scorch-marked forest where surviving 112nd Zelickist Red Berets set up shop so to speak in the preceding two hours. Numbering no more than 1,200 men and women using fallen spore-leaf trees as cover, this garrison would be especially weaker had not two flak turrets guarded the main dirt road just five kilometers behind the retreating lines; already, mud-caked Tantalan snipers set up volley lines from behind standing trees whilst Gatling-type rotary cannons provided point-range support against any melee tactics exacted by the invaders' troops. What few men and women knew, though, was that this was the second-to-last defense against the Turisist assault: One. Reach in the Zelickist lines, and soon the entire Memphis province would be swarming with hornet-like Turisist soldiers enacting revenge on the holed-up Vice Sovereign General...

Until the Drones were fully operational and ready to repulse the Turisist-Zepuhan-Turkish onslaught, these Zelickist soldiers were to rely on guerrilla hunt-and-hide tactics in this daring last stand against the armored brigades down the road.

[The Drone Empire]

The Drone forces were seeing the first, true tastes of resistance, it was bitter, but bearable no less. Available, excess air forces not already engaging Ottoman units changed course and began targeting these new arrivals. Even though dropships were being shot down or severely damaged (Of which various units were able to survive the crash landings), the immense numbers of these troop-holding vessels allowed for casualties. Soon enough, they marked their zones and descended upon the area rapidly. Each landing was matched with an enormous, near-ground shattering quake. Seconds following this, the doors entering opened swiftly, while the Dropships themselves locked into place, drilling into the ground to serve as operation centers and other such niceties that would allow for quick establishment of a general region of control.

Each one had multi-decked levels full of SecuriDrones, armed with the most recent weaponry, (In relative to what Drones consider recent within the range of the past 95-100 years or so, with minor updates.), SDCW-802 Condensed HL Assault Rifle. They marched out in neat squares alongside the 979-GAUs (Generalized Armored Units, also known as a tank). They quickly spread outward and away while other equipment exited behind them, such as anti-air batteries or interior support vehicles. Around each drop ship carrier, these small bass would quickly unfold. However, the battle was but only heating up. The Drones began to engage ground forces now directly with their own units, and there would be no mercy. Nothing was sacred, no one unit was important over the greater force, and sacrifices would be made.

--

Far above, the Drone military fleet split into two groups, one to engage the Ottomans, the other the Zepuhans. Of course, this did mean a decreased effective force, but again, the mix of the right stratagems and technology would prevail. This wasn't to say casualties were non-existent, they were outnumbered and slightly out gunned (The lack of interior space means for greater weapon capacity), a handful of smaller vessels having already been disabled and a few larger-sized vessels suffering above acceptable levels of damage. Reinforcements were at the ready for deployment, as was expected, and as it would be.

Drone MAT's (Magnetically Accelerated Trajectile) returned the favor the brutish Zepuhans while CHL (Condensed Hard Light) Projectors delivered a nasty swipe. The Drones would not allow any side to leave this battle unscathed, if they left at all. The battle group engaging the Zepuhans approached them steadily, also leading the attack with Cyber-Assault front holstering various viruses and system-disabling programs designed for numerous system designs the Drones could think to encounter, sort of like approaching a locked door with too many keys to count - one will eventually do the trick. This attack was rather vague, and was more of a constant feature in any battle against the Drones since at least 2467 SDT, so the more substantial warfare would be ship-to-ship engagement. Not only would this battle prove where they stood in all of this, bu it was a good test against formidable forces.

[The Ottish Empire]

OGS First Light

"Shit."

The lights on the command deck flickered then powered down, for a few moments, the room was engulfed in complete blackness, the only illumination coming from within the engineers' HUD. The battle raging outside seemed even more magnificent with this added atmosphere, floating debris, accelerating slugs of metal, fires, every little detail seemed amplified. The lights flickered once more, then cut back on, forcing many crew members not wearing protective eye gear to avert their eyes for a moment to let them readjust. A small virus managed to sneak through the firewall, knocking out power and lifesupport in three decks, luckily it was quickly remedied before something more came out of it.

Garrus quickly got to work patching the firewall, and adding extra defenses, like a virtual game of castle defense. Feeling his defenses were more than adequate, and noting a sudden lag in assaults, he took time to hack into the main battlenet. He may be a desk jockey, but he'd be damned if he missed the battle of a lifetime. Several flaws in the Old God's approach were noted blantantly on the feed. They had severely underestimated the Drone's range, and firepower, believing the could wither away at the outermost ships and work their way in, the Old Gods set up just outside the Drone's fleet, unbeknownst to them, in complete range of every ship in the damn fleet.

Their strategy would have to be restructured, the Drone's held a distinct advantage, heavy firepower, engaging them from a distance would be a total loss, as their lack of an organic crew allowed for more weapons to be stacked onboard. The general census was to bum-rush them, move the lower class ships in, with heightened shields, pump out boarding ships and deal as much damage as possible with everything the had, the heavy ships would stay just outside of the fray, lowering their shields and averting more power to weaponry, the really big ships would abandon their hull defenses altogether and instead charge up their main cannons for added effect. A risky move, and certain to result in a hgih amount of casualties, but a necessary one.

-Planetside; Ottoman Forward Operating Base; Corporal Dianna Spheltz

Dianna fought to keep her balance as a wave of shocks rolled through the base, the Drones had landed. Now was the time to send out the heavy guns and let them know that they were a force to reckon with. Tanks, Mechs, railguns, Power-assisted armor, all the stops were pulled for this fight. After a few awkward moments of stumbling, Dianna continued on towards the engineering building. Already a line of soldiers had formed, itching for their chance at the new suits being handed to them. After several more minutes, it was her turn. She stepped into the building, immediately being grabbed and thrown onto a lowered platform, this platform raised, and a wall of bits and pieces of armor raised behind her. Dozens of robotic arms lowered from the ceiling, grabbing the armor pieces, and attaching them to her body with added proficiency.

In the matter of an hour, she was cloaked in the latest of battle tested hardware. The C-90X, the latest development of Power Assisted Combat Suits. The platform lowered once more, the engineers around her nodded, and plugged all manner of circuitry into the suit. Suddenly, a HUD appeared, followed by a suit synopsis, and even a brief tutorial on how the suit worked. She raised one hand in front of her face, and moved it, flexing her fingers and muscles. The suit followed her movements without a hitch, she was now a new form of combat elite, the result of generations of testing and modifying. Adorning the walls of the building were row upon row of Railguns and Lightning Rods, a weapon which utilised immense amounts of electric shock to disable its target. She had no trouble picking out a Railgun, and rushed out to join her team.

Outside, the base was in a state of full militarization, turrets were powered up, shield barriers were in place, and row upon row of military hardware awaited its time to flood from the base and greet the assaulting drones. Finaaly, the barriers holding the forces within opened, and out rushed the most advanced, most effective combat force in Ottoman history. Hopefully, the extra measure they'd gone through would be enough to stem the oncoming onslaught, but only time would tell.

[New Zepuha]

The Zew Zepuhan Navy took the lashing with ease, most void shields on the largers vessels held up, flickering momentarily. The smaller Frigate and Cruiser class ships were not so lucky, having much smaller void generators on board. The NZSS Carrion Bird had severe burn marks across it and the loss of the ability to fire their forward lance, the frigate escort beside that crumpled and blew up in a silent mushroom cloud as it's nuclear arms went off. The Remaining arrowhead narrowed in on the drone ships selecting targets. Unleashing hell fire of Lance batteries. A lance was a singular laser that drew power from it's own nuclear source enabling it to deliver a punch capable of turning any ship to molten slag. A salvo of nuclear missiles trailed behind that to peck at ships that survived the lance beams. The Imperial ships looked like hell from the drone attack, but very much functional.

A computer virus had been detected attempting to enter the ship. The thing is Imperial ships gunnery didn't run off of computers, the only automation on board were the record keeping cogigators. These had little importance the ships and could be scrubbed with ease. Tech-Priests began work easing the machine spirits and reclaiming data files from the lost network. Meanwhile the Admiral in charge sat upon his golden command throne watching things play out on the Space fortress he commanded.

[Nationalist Tantalus]

"Ma'am, things are not looking too good."

Bzzzt!

Another communications satellite disappeared from the looming OLED war screen.

"I am well aware that we lost contact with Backup Point Null-Alpha-33. What else do you bug me for?"

Initiating Backup Satellite AS-401.

A flareup of red light sprayed the two occupants- three, if one counted the primitive GSD-2 non-humanoid robot situated at the mission support desk- with a concert of klaxons in the background; above, a hyperbolic LED light blazed like the fires of Hell. Sensing the tension in the cubicle, A.J. Parker's attendant hardly withheld an expletive as he lowered his holopad to a neighboring heap of mess.

"This is our last chance to escape; the BFI holds that the Turisists will reclaim this city in half an hour. Your aides already left, you know..."

Those fuckers, Anna wanted to curse in the face of the high-cheeked lieutenant as she gave a slight double-take. Then again, she did order all available reserves to the defensive line... Choosing instead to bare her jaws as they locked up, the woman gave a second gaze over the lieutenant's head.

"My subordinates?"

"They speak of desertion, ma'am."

---

Senior Master Sergeant C.M. Jarvis looked behind to her fellow shock troops as the six-troop band glared down at the sand-crusted speedway stretch which would soon be swarming with advancing Turisist Coalition forces. At the far end of the line crouched a titanium-plated gentleman brandishing a dated AAR-21 Microwave Projector; right of him, another fellow comrade wielding the same weapon who also manned a field-portable tachyon relay transmitter.

"Onward. Task Force 114-257 should not see the streaks of shit on your uniform, Private Milus."

Behind SMS Jarvis, a ruddy-cheeked scout silently blushed in frustration as he sprinted ahead to an outcropping of salt crystals which formed grotesque, crystalline spires.

Tssssssssssssewwww...

"Get down!" Jarvis shouted as all six personnel scraped their chins against the desert rocks; barely 500 meters above the surface groaned an AB-71A Dragonfly with its six weapon pods trained on a spire-cluster.

Woosh-BOOM!

Jarvis could feel a pebble scratch her right cheek as the impact of a "warning" shot tore down one of the several dozen mineral spires scattered along the road.

Shit!