Gamma Quadrant, Unknown Location
Command Base Kapezi Maso, 2:15 am Galactic Time
Bright lights filled the room, as star systems shot into focus, the old tradeways and network of transport connecting them all like an old decaying system of veins. Parts of it were dark from misuse, being destroyed from raiding and war, or even just the outright vanishing/implosion of the nation that once held it. The Beta Quadrant had seen a lot of decay and destruction in the past decades, where many of its nation had died, move on to other galaxies or destinations or had withdrawn into their bodies and whatever went into their borders never came back out. It was odd to say it, but it was almost like a ghost quadrant, the echoes of the past filling the spaces between systems. Some bright spots remained, old and new that served to keep life in the quadrant and even bring about its resurrection. Akazi Ukondewadiso stared at one of the more prominent and galacticly involved nations, the Imperial and Federal Union of states, colloquially known more these days as the “R.u.B Union.”
It's systems were highlighted in a fluorescent green, outshining its other neighbors and quadrant mates as the Gata'ja zoomed in on this nation; it was one of the larger ones of its fellows, with clear broad frontiers on either side of its territory, extending its reach quite far and providing quite a buffer to what could be called the Union proper. One of these, known as the 'Rheinwacht Line', had been proving to be quite the settling point for the refugees displaced by the galactic conflicts, where they were being given supplies, homes and places to settle down. Intelligence from their network had indicated it was believed that this was the Union trying to strengthen its borders should it come under attack, as well as a response to the increased amount of piracy.
The Bask, and through them himself, were conducting this wide spread network of attacks not only to gain resources, but they wished to test the resolve and strength of potential allies and enemies. They were more likely to gain the latter, but it was felt this was an acceptable risk, with what they stood to gain from the chaos and their plans. The Union stood as a barrier into the Beta Quadrant for future expansionary and operational efforts that were being sounded out even as this operation was underway, and they needed to see how much of a rock this nation could be. Ukondedawiso turned his chair away from the display, which with a lazy flick of his hand, followed him from projector to projector, as he faced the second screen of above him.
The first one depicted their initial raid on the Solar Cooperative Union from their flagship for the operation there, and from what had been relayed back, they were proceeding with great speed and destruction. The second window flashes and a female Gata'ja stood at attention, one brown eye fixed intensely in front of her, the other a milky white with a horrible burn surrounding it, a memento of her service in the Expansionary Sphere where the Homeworld Conflict was still ongoing.
/”Wankhodo Mkwiyo-wa. How may I serve the Ammudzi, *analemekeza.”/
He bowed his head in acknowledgment of the honorifi, and began to speak, holding out a hand to the floating display of the Union beside him.
/”Your object in this operation is to strike at the Rheinwacht Line here, here, here and here,” his fingers caused angry red dots to implant themselves in the spots where they touched on the display. “ with all the might under your command. This is an exploratory strike to get a sense for their capabilities in defense and offense, reinforcement, and ability to respond to an assault like this. Remember, your goal is not conquest and plunder, you are merely to determine their abilities. Should they begin to overwhelm or even make it a long drawn out fight, withdraw. We do not yet have the resources to spare to fight this foe in a such a campaign.”
The Gata'ja elder smiled, a vicious grin that drew out one from the other. /”Should you have the opportunity to inflict a lot of damage or have some fun with their forces, however, feel free to do so. Weakness should be punished in all things.”
Mkwiyo-wa let out a barking laugh, her eye shining bright with brutal amusement. /”Of course, Akazi. I have received your tactical data regarding last known deployments and set up of defenses. I have divided my force thusly, with these Gata'ja packs for command of each, for your approval.”/ She turned and issued a commanding hiss and shortly a projector blinked online with the document for his perusal. He began to look them over; Kuphaonse, he had been a vital component of their initial victory on one of the Atruscan capital, raging through their defensive forces until they had broken and ran, and yet he had still hunted them down. Kuthengo-wa was one of Mkwiyo-wa's lieutenants, he and his pack having pacified many sectors of the Talasiu Union homeworld under her harsh direction. And finally there was Wosakama, whom no prey had ever been able to escape; whether it took days or years, he always found his targets in the end. These were all fine choices for this very operation; he made a mental note to put this into her file as evidence for further command opportunities.
/”I approve. Dispense your orders amongst your forces and move out. Your prey awaits. Mwina magazi awo amathamanga mokoma”/
A bow of her head. /”Ndipo mulole ine watithandiza kwambiri paketiyo”/ The screen clicked out to show the force beginning to make its departure. It was a much larger force than the one sent to the SCU; it contained four Paketi-class Battlecruisers, eight Chokwawa-class Destroyers, eight Mkongo-class Cruisers, twelve Mavu-class Missile Frigates, sixteen N'gombe-class Attack Frigates, and twenty auxiliary ships form hired/'convinced' mercenary and pirate forces, including a force from the Vahkirans in tow. Over sixty-eight vessels in total, to hit the Line in hopes of stirring up a response. They split up into four groups, and proceeded, convoy style, into the massive gate, its static-filled energy pulsing with every entry until all were sent to the staging ground on the edge of Gata'jan space. As they gathered on the other side of the gate, Mkwiyo-wa spoke.
/”Get me voice to all ships.”/ Harsh, blunt and the point, she was one of the most representative of her race to any outsider. One of the command pack around her gave an assenting growl and opened up the communications, all three of the other commanders and their forces pausing to hear what the over-commander had to say.
/”You all know your missions, what the Akazi has given us, what the Bask has given to us for us to do. You have all shown great discipline and sacrifice in serving me on the Homeworlds, and I have honored your service by picking each and every one of you for this task. With this burden, we cannot fail, for it is to fail the Ammudzi. Get in, insert the knife and twist it as much as you can before ripping it out as you leave. I want bodies floating in space, I want guttering flames on orbital wrecks, I want ships filled with screams tumbling through the void. Do this for me, and we shall feed like we did when we took the homeworlds.”/
A cascading roar of approval and bloodlust sounded across the communication line three times before she motioned for it to end. With the signal given, the four forces split off and began their jumps to get to R.u.B. space.
*************
The stars along the Rheinwacht glittered with opportunity and hope for Dewaysn, captain of the freighter Imperial Wake. A former member of the Culdoran Imperium, he had once been a veteran military officer in the Imperial Navy, protecting its borders, and crushing rebellion where it reared its ugly head, as their Emperor continued to bring them towards a brighter future in the galaxy. He'd had had command of an battlecruiser, a bastion of their might; yet when it had mattered most, it hadn't been enough. That bloody scourge from space, those damnable lizards that had been their neighbors, they should have worked out the coalition that had been proposed almost a century ago for all three nations to work together to root them out. Their constant raiding had become an accepted norm, the loss of life, ships, and resources merely a tax they meted out in return for being left alone. True, their expeditions had met a high casualty rate going into their territory, but if they had united, they could have smashed them with an iron fist, have them be the ones scattering, their planets overrun with rampaging military forces, their leader brought down and consumed on live broadcast.
Dewasyn jerked his head, fighting back the spill of emotions that accompanied that image. He was no longer a Culdoran man; he had brought his family after the fall of Culdoran Prime to the Imperial and Federal Union of States, after being handed a flyer on one of the many refugee stations he had been to that had spoken of the Rheinwacht Line and the opportunities there. He'd had to work almost three jobs at once, doing some of the most back-breaking physical work and disgusting jobs he'd ever had to do, but he earned enough money for fare to the R.u.B. Refugee Acceptance Zone and to start a new life there. He was contracted with one of their companies in the zone, handling freight with the rest of his family. His sons, Haschka and Duran, were handling the repairs and cargo transport while he piloted and dealt with the company and his wife, Aska, handled inventory. It was rough sometimes, budgets got tight depending on demand, but with the recent rise in tension, cargo was needed everywhere yesterday and they were running back to back shifts but their bank account was filling at a rate he hadn't seen in a long time.
A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie and he looked up into the face of his beautiful wife, the angular lines worn but still part of the woman he had fallen in love with.
“Getting lost in the stars again, Dewasyn?”
“Hmm, you know me so well. Just...remembering how we got here, and our recent fortune.”
She laughed and swatted him on the head. “Get back to work, old man. You're not that far gone to be lost in the stars.”
His grin at her words was stopped short when a burst of static announced an incoming message:
“Orbital Defense Command to in-system traffic. We are reading unknown FTL signatures inbound. Please halt all activities and move to your pre-assigned defenses stations. I repeat, unknown FTL signatures inbound...”
Concerned eyes met each other even as the comm buzzed with inquiries from Haschka and Duran. “Get below, tell the boys and get strapped into the secure suite. I'll get us moving.”
She nodded and kissed him briefly before rushing down. Dewasyn's hands moved over the console, bringing the ship out of its automated course, engaging the engines as far as they could go and began the turn to head to the NAV point indicating the station they were assigned to. It was too little, too late however. Alarms began to blare as ships began to enter into the system. The sensors began to profile them as they entered, pirates of various clans and affiliations, several mercenary company tags, it looked to be a regular, albeit strange raid. Mercenaries and pirates did tend to team up but only when it suited them both, which usually meant both were being paid a lot of money. It was the entry after that cleared up everything and sent bile rising up in his throat.
That was the Gata'ja; he knew that signature profile too well, the screams and blood associated with that massive hulk, the odd indefinite outline of the ship with its strange lumps all over the vessel. He had run all the way to the Beta Quadrant to get away from them, and they had followed him here. He could already see the lumps beginning to disengage and move off the ship, increasing the force that had arrived from five to seventeen ships, more than what little defenses they had here could handle. The comms squealed, causing him to shout in pain until he shut them off. They were using the same tactic they had in the 'war' he had fougth with them; blasting static, recorded messages of calls for help, commands to fight, all from previous engagements, along with every tortured method of broadcasting signals. Ships would eventually get through, but it made things difficult for the initial strike and thats all they needed. Already, his sensors were beginning to jam up and become useless.
“Dad! We're secure in the bunker, but something's going on. We've lost all sensor and comms to the outside! Mom's freaking out over here and won't tell us whats wrong!”
Dewasyn ignored it; telling them would only send them into a panic too. The fact that they hadn't caught on was a blessing as he tried to move the ship towards the NAV point, struggling with an overloaded navigation system. The ship suddenly rocked as something hit the side, screams sounded from the comm and he smacked his head off a monitor, the bright red flash of pain signalling his head had burst open, and the warmth of blood began to run down his face blinding him. More strong jerks moved him to and fro, and he could hear crunching from all over the vessels. They were being harpooned, they were all over them. Lurching to his feet, he slammed the alarm and opened the gun locker on the far end of the room.
“Hascha, Duran! We're getting boarders. Load up and don't let anyone in until I give the all clear!”
“Can do. But what about you? Dad? DAD!”
Dewasyn ignored it, hefting his heavy shotgun, clacking safety off, before tying some clothing around his head wound so he could stop wiping the blood from his eyes. Stumbling down the hall, he could hear clanking tubes were put into the open holes in his ship, boarders ready to pile into his ship. He set himself up in one of the service corridors that led to engineering, as standard raider tactic was to take the heart of the ship and move on from there. Soon enough, the jangling of chains and various bits on armor and the thumping of boots came towards him and he prepared himself when one squad turned the corner. Loud thooms filled the hallway as he blasted into them with his shotgun, blowing part the pirates body armor and spilling flesh and blood all over the floor and walls.More kept coming, and he kept blasting; thankfully the gun was clip not single shot fed, so they couldn't rush him while he reloaded.
His attention was finally distracted when he could the signature whine and hiss of the Gata'ja energy weaponry and the answering cracks of the guns his son's were no doubt using. Fear clenching his heart; how had they found his family already.? Dewasyn realized his mistake and turned to continue the fight when he was tackled to the ground by a pack of what he could only describe as humanoid cockroaches, he had been firing into them as well when they showed up after the pirates retreated, mixing their blood with the pirates, making a very Pollock-esque painting of the corridor. They pinned him, even as he struggled and gnashed, finally only stilling when he could hear the pitter patter bone on metal enter the doorway. Through one of the hands clamped down on his face, a single eye could see the green and black mix of armor and ritualistic clothing; the figure paused, reaching down to touch a bloodstain, rub it between two fingers, as if contemplating something. Then he could hear the slick rasp of a tongue cleaning off the fingers, and shuddered. The figure made its way over to him, a hiss-growl causing the pack to haul him up to his knees. He struggled to charge forward, but a strike to his exposed head wound sent him reeling and retching onto the deck. A throaty chuckle filled the air as a clawed grip seized his throat and moved his gaze upwards.
It was hazy as he saw the Gata'ja remove its mask, faceless and black, with only a one-way visor to for its eyes to show any indication of something alive underneath. The tattooed and ancient blood signs woven into the flesh told him who it was, an impossible member of that impossible race to be here.
/”Ssssss Lieutenant Dewasyn Morgann of the Culdoran Navy, commander of the Remnant forces on Culdoran Prime afters its government's surrender and execution. You sought to escape me and my victory there. It has been a long year of tracking you down...but as you know so well, as your former compatriots know in death now, that Wankhodo Wosakama always finds its prey in the end.”/
It was him; he had chased him all across the galaxy just to find him. He had been worried at how his friends had stopped sending him messages like they used to, other than happy birthdays and very basic things. But he thought it had been drifting off to new lives; not sick puppets for the hunter they thought they had escaped. His thoughts were jostled when the hand moved up to his hair and yanked him back, shining teeth already opening up to show his oblivion, blood already dripping from them.
/”Worry not, Lieutenant. Your family has already been tended to. You will join them shortly. I wanted to have our reunion be more festive, but I have cleanup to handle.”/
Rage pumped into his veins and he screamed, just what Wosakama wanted as he bit down in his throat, blood and torn flesh filling his mouth with the pleasure of satiation. Food rationing made beggars of them all and while he had tasted of this man's family, as was his right, he had given the rest to his pack. But this...this was one was all for him, the adrenaline and chemicals of his rage making his blood taste all the sweeter. Gurbled shrieks and cries from the man died off as the snapping of bone and sinew and the meaty slaps of teeth ripping flesh filled the now quiet air. In what felt like only a few moments, Wosaka had consumed the man utterly, dripping with gore and viscera of his meal. It had been satisfying and he was more satiated than he had been since his tour on the Homeworlds, but it was back to business. A growled command in his comm unit informed all forces they were leaving the ship and to return to the fight. The bodies of the fallen, both ally and crew, were brought with them, for later consumption and rationing, and the vessels attached to the Imperial Wake withdrew, leaving a haunted wreck that was set to explode shortly after their withdrawal.
All around the system, chaos and slaughter reigned. The defense fleet was engaging the Gata'jan and allies forces, kinetic strikes lashing out with shells to explode against shields and metal, spraying bodies and super-heated shrapnel into space, but it wasn't enough. The counter barrage of missiles, kinetics and the Gata'jan energy weaponry was just too much, lancing apart their hulls, and cracking them open like eggs, with the rest of the forces hunting down the civilian traffic that remained, out of foolishness or inability, with a group turning its attention to the orbital infrastructure. Fighters shot over the orbital stations, energy cannons and missiles wiping out vast chunks, sending screaming sections of people tumbling to earth, fireballs of death and despair as they continued to ravage the system. The planet was open for conquering, those on the surface, panicking as their enemy returned and they had no way to fightign back, were preparing to be slaughtered. However, much to their surprise, once the system was nothing but corpses and echoes, orbit ringed with shrapnel and debris of their satellites and stations, the forces would reploy back to their commanding vessel, where Wosakama had returned to, after a brief shower to clean his last meal of of him, and then jumped out. It would appear the planet had been spared...for moment. All across the Line, this sight would be repeated three more times. Destruction visited, orbital rendered a graveyard and then retreating away, waiting for a response. Any response.
After all, the Gata'ja were wanting what came next, what response this Union had to offer.
”Are you prey or predator? Come show us.”
Command Base Kapezi Maso, 2:15 am Galactic Time
Bright lights filled the room, as star systems shot into focus, the old tradeways and network of transport connecting them all like an old decaying system of veins. Parts of it were dark from misuse, being destroyed from raiding and war, or even just the outright vanishing/implosion of the nation that once held it. The Beta Quadrant had seen a lot of decay and destruction in the past decades, where many of its nation had died, move on to other galaxies or destinations or had withdrawn into their bodies and whatever went into their borders never came back out. It was odd to say it, but it was almost like a ghost quadrant, the echoes of the past filling the spaces between systems. Some bright spots remained, old and new that served to keep life in the quadrant and even bring about its resurrection. Akazi Ukondewadiso stared at one of the more prominent and galacticly involved nations, the Imperial and Federal Union of states, colloquially known more these days as the “R.u.B Union.”
It's systems were highlighted in a fluorescent green, outshining its other neighbors and quadrant mates as the Gata'ja zoomed in on this nation; it was one of the larger ones of its fellows, with clear broad frontiers on either side of its territory, extending its reach quite far and providing quite a buffer to what could be called the Union proper. One of these, known as the 'Rheinwacht Line', had been proving to be quite the settling point for the refugees displaced by the galactic conflicts, where they were being given supplies, homes and places to settle down. Intelligence from their network had indicated it was believed that this was the Union trying to strengthen its borders should it come under attack, as well as a response to the increased amount of piracy.
The Bask, and through them himself, were conducting this wide spread network of attacks not only to gain resources, but they wished to test the resolve and strength of potential allies and enemies. They were more likely to gain the latter, but it was felt this was an acceptable risk, with what they stood to gain from the chaos and their plans. The Union stood as a barrier into the Beta Quadrant for future expansionary and operational efforts that were being sounded out even as this operation was underway, and they needed to see how much of a rock this nation could be. Ukondedawiso turned his chair away from the display, which with a lazy flick of his hand, followed him from projector to projector, as he faced the second screen of above him.
The first one depicted their initial raid on the Solar Cooperative Union from their flagship for the operation there, and from what had been relayed back, they were proceeding with great speed and destruction. The second window flashes and a female Gata'ja stood at attention, one brown eye fixed intensely in front of her, the other a milky white with a horrible burn surrounding it, a memento of her service in the Expansionary Sphere where the Homeworld Conflict was still ongoing.
/”Wankhodo Mkwiyo-wa. How may I serve the Ammudzi, *analemekeza.”/
He bowed his head in acknowledgment of the honorifi, and began to speak, holding out a hand to the floating display of the Union beside him.
/”Your object in this operation is to strike at the Rheinwacht Line here, here, here and here,” his fingers caused angry red dots to implant themselves in the spots where they touched on the display. “ with all the might under your command. This is an exploratory strike to get a sense for their capabilities in defense and offense, reinforcement, and ability to respond to an assault like this. Remember, your goal is not conquest and plunder, you are merely to determine their abilities. Should they begin to overwhelm or even make it a long drawn out fight, withdraw. We do not yet have the resources to spare to fight this foe in a such a campaign.”
The Gata'ja elder smiled, a vicious grin that drew out one from the other. /”Should you have the opportunity to inflict a lot of damage or have some fun with their forces, however, feel free to do so. Weakness should be punished in all things.”
Mkwiyo-wa let out a barking laugh, her eye shining bright with brutal amusement. /”Of course, Akazi. I have received your tactical data regarding last known deployments and set up of defenses. I have divided my force thusly, with these Gata'ja packs for command of each, for your approval.”/ She turned and issued a commanding hiss and shortly a projector blinked online with the document for his perusal. He began to look them over; Kuphaonse, he had been a vital component of their initial victory on one of the Atruscan capital, raging through their defensive forces until they had broken and ran, and yet he had still hunted them down. Kuthengo-wa was one of Mkwiyo-wa's lieutenants, he and his pack having pacified many sectors of the Talasiu Union homeworld under her harsh direction. And finally there was Wosakama, whom no prey had ever been able to escape; whether it took days or years, he always found his targets in the end. These were all fine choices for this very operation; he made a mental note to put this into her file as evidence for further command opportunities.
/”I approve. Dispense your orders amongst your forces and move out. Your prey awaits. Mwina magazi awo amathamanga mokoma”/
A bow of her head. /”Ndipo mulole ine watithandiza kwambiri paketiyo”/ The screen clicked out to show the force beginning to make its departure. It was a much larger force than the one sent to the SCU; it contained four Paketi-class Battlecruisers, eight Chokwawa-class Destroyers, eight Mkongo-class Cruisers, twelve Mavu-class Missile Frigates, sixteen N'gombe-class Attack Frigates, and twenty auxiliary ships form hired/'convinced' mercenary and pirate forces, including a force from the Vahkirans in tow. Over sixty-eight vessels in total, to hit the Line in hopes of stirring up a response. They split up into four groups, and proceeded, convoy style, into the massive gate, its static-filled energy pulsing with every entry until all were sent to the staging ground on the edge of Gata'jan space. As they gathered on the other side of the gate, Mkwiyo-wa spoke.
/”Get me voice to all ships.”/ Harsh, blunt and the point, she was one of the most representative of her race to any outsider. One of the command pack around her gave an assenting growl and opened up the communications, all three of the other commanders and their forces pausing to hear what the over-commander had to say.
/”You all know your missions, what the Akazi has given us, what the Bask has given to us for us to do. You have all shown great discipline and sacrifice in serving me on the Homeworlds, and I have honored your service by picking each and every one of you for this task. With this burden, we cannot fail, for it is to fail the Ammudzi. Get in, insert the knife and twist it as much as you can before ripping it out as you leave. I want bodies floating in space, I want guttering flames on orbital wrecks, I want ships filled with screams tumbling through the void. Do this for me, and we shall feed like we did when we took the homeworlds.”/
A cascading roar of approval and bloodlust sounded across the communication line three times before she motioned for it to end. With the signal given, the four forces split off and began their jumps to get to R.u.B. space.
*************
The stars along the Rheinwacht glittered with opportunity and hope for Dewaysn, captain of the freighter Imperial Wake. A former member of the Culdoran Imperium, he had once been a veteran military officer in the Imperial Navy, protecting its borders, and crushing rebellion where it reared its ugly head, as their Emperor continued to bring them towards a brighter future in the galaxy. He'd had had command of an battlecruiser, a bastion of their might; yet when it had mattered most, it hadn't been enough. That bloody scourge from space, those damnable lizards that had been their neighbors, they should have worked out the coalition that had been proposed almost a century ago for all three nations to work together to root them out. Their constant raiding had become an accepted norm, the loss of life, ships, and resources merely a tax they meted out in return for being left alone. True, their expeditions had met a high casualty rate going into their territory, but if they had united, they could have smashed them with an iron fist, have them be the ones scattering, their planets overrun with rampaging military forces, their leader brought down and consumed on live broadcast.
Dewasyn jerked his head, fighting back the spill of emotions that accompanied that image. He was no longer a Culdoran man; he had brought his family after the fall of Culdoran Prime to the Imperial and Federal Union of States, after being handed a flyer on one of the many refugee stations he had been to that had spoken of the Rheinwacht Line and the opportunities there. He'd had to work almost three jobs at once, doing some of the most back-breaking physical work and disgusting jobs he'd ever had to do, but he earned enough money for fare to the R.u.B. Refugee Acceptance Zone and to start a new life there. He was contracted with one of their companies in the zone, handling freight with the rest of his family. His sons, Haschka and Duran, were handling the repairs and cargo transport while he piloted and dealt with the company and his wife, Aska, handled inventory. It was rough sometimes, budgets got tight depending on demand, but with the recent rise in tension, cargo was needed everywhere yesterday and they were running back to back shifts but their bank account was filling at a rate he hadn't seen in a long time.
A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie and he looked up into the face of his beautiful wife, the angular lines worn but still part of the woman he had fallen in love with.
“Getting lost in the stars again, Dewasyn?”
“Hmm, you know me so well. Just...remembering how we got here, and our recent fortune.”
She laughed and swatted him on the head. “Get back to work, old man. You're not that far gone to be lost in the stars.”
His grin at her words was stopped short when a burst of static announced an incoming message:
“Orbital Defense Command to in-system traffic. We are reading unknown FTL signatures inbound. Please halt all activities and move to your pre-assigned defenses stations. I repeat, unknown FTL signatures inbound...”
Concerned eyes met each other even as the comm buzzed with inquiries from Haschka and Duran. “Get below, tell the boys and get strapped into the secure suite. I'll get us moving.”
She nodded and kissed him briefly before rushing down. Dewasyn's hands moved over the console, bringing the ship out of its automated course, engaging the engines as far as they could go and began the turn to head to the NAV point indicating the station they were assigned to. It was too little, too late however. Alarms began to blare as ships began to enter into the system. The sensors began to profile them as they entered, pirates of various clans and affiliations, several mercenary company tags, it looked to be a regular, albeit strange raid. Mercenaries and pirates did tend to team up but only when it suited them both, which usually meant both were being paid a lot of money. It was the entry after that cleared up everything and sent bile rising up in his throat.
That was the Gata'ja; he knew that signature profile too well, the screams and blood associated with that massive hulk, the odd indefinite outline of the ship with its strange lumps all over the vessel. He had run all the way to the Beta Quadrant to get away from them, and they had followed him here. He could already see the lumps beginning to disengage and move off the ship, increasing the force that had arrived from five to seventeen ships, more than what little defenses they had here could handle. The comms squealed, causing him to shout in pain until he shut them off. They were using the same tactic they had in the 'war' he had fougth with them; blasting static, recorded messages of calls for help, commands to fight, all from previous engagements, along with every tortured method of broadcasting signals. Ships would eventually get through, but it made things difficult for the initial strike and thats all they needed. Already, his sensors were beginning to jam up and become useless.
“Dad! We're secure in the bunker, but something's going on. We've lost all sensor and comms to the outside! Mom's freaking out over here and won't tell us whats wrong!”
Dewasyn ignored it; telling them would only send them into a panic too. The fact that they hadn't caught on was a blessing as he tried to move the ship towards the NAV point, struggling with an overloaded navigation system. The ship suddenly rocked as something hit the side, screams sounded from the comm and he smacked his head off a monitor, the bright red flash of pain signalling his head had burst open, and the warmth of blood began to run down his face blinding him. More strong jerks moved him to and fro, and he could hear crunching from all over the vessels. They were being harpooned, they were all over them. Lurching to his feet, he slammed the alarm and opened the gun locker on the far end of the room.
“Hascha, Duran! We're getting boarders. Load up and don't let anyone in until I give the all clear!”
“Can do. But what about you? Dad? DAD!”
Dewasyn ignored it, hefting his heavy shotgun, clacking safety off, before tying some clothing around his head wound so he could stop wiping the blood from his eyes. Stumbling down the hall, he could hear clanking tubes were put into the open holes in his ship, boarders ready to pile into his ship. He set himself up in one of the service corridors that led to engineering, as standard raider tactic was to take the heart of the ship and move on from there. Soon enough, the jangling of chains and various bits on armor and the thumping of boots came towards him and he prepared himself when one squad turned the corner. Loud thooms filled the hallway as he blasted into them with his shotgun, blowing part the pirates body armor and spilling flesh and blood all over the floor and walls.More kept coming, and he kept blasting; thankfully the gun was clip not single shot fed, so they couldn't rush him while he reloaded.
His attention was finally distracted when he could the signature whine and hiss of the Gata'ja energy weaponry and the answering cracks of the guns his son's were no doubt using. Fear clenching his heart; how had they found his family already.? Dewasyn realized his mistake and turned to continue the fight when he was tackled to the ground by a pack of what he could only describe as humanoid cockroaches, he had been firing into them as well when they showed up after the pirates retreated, mixing their blood with the pirates, making a very Pollock-esque painting of the corridor. They pinned him, even as he struggled and gnashed, finally only stilling when he could hear the pitter patter bone on metal enter the doorway. Through one of the hands clamped down on his face, a single eye could see the green and black mix of armor and ritualistic clothing; the figure paused, reaching down to touch a bloodstain, rub it between two fingers, as if contemplating something. Then he could hear the slick rasp of a tongue cleaning off the fingers, and shuddered. The figure made its way over to him, a hiss-growl causing the pack to haul him up to his knees. He struggled to charge forward, but a strike to his exposed head wound sent him reeling and retching onto the deck. A throaty chuckle filled the air as a clawed grip seized his throat and moved his gaze upwards.
It was hazy as he saw the Gata'ja remove its mask, faceless and black, with only a one-way visor to for its eyes to show any indication of something alive underneath. The tattooed and ancient blood signs woven into the flesh told him who it was, an impossible member of that impossible race to be here.
/”Ssssss Lieutenant Dewasyn Morgann of the Culdoran Navy, commander of the Remnant forces on Culdoran Prime afters its government's surrender and execution. You sought to escape me and my victory there. It has been a long year of tracking you down...but as you know so well, as your former compatriots know in death now, that Wankhodo Wosakama always finds its prey in the end.”/
It was him; he had chased him all across the galaxy just to find him. He had been worried at how his friends had stopped sending him messages like they used to, other than happy birthdays and very basic things. But he thought it had been drifting off to new lives; not sick puppets for the hunter they thought they had escaped. His thoughts were jostled when the hand moved up to his hair and yanked him back, shining teeth already opening up to show his oblivion, blood already dripping from them.
/”Worry not, Lieutenant. Your family has already been tended to. You will join them shortly. I wanted to have our reunion be more festive, but I have cleanup to handle.”/
Rage pumped into his veins and he screamed, just what Wosakama wanted as he bit down in his throat, blood and torn flesh filling his mouth with the pleasure of satiation. Food rationing made beggars of them all and while he had tasted of this man's family, as was his right, he had given the rest to his pack. But this...this was one was all for him, the adrenaline and chemicals of his rage making his blood taste all the sweeter. Gurbled shrieks and cries from the man died off as the snapping of bone and sinew and the meaty slaps of teeth ripping flesh filled the now quiet air. In what felt like only a few moments, Wosaka had consumed the man utterly, dripping with gore and viscera of his meal. It had been satisfying and he was more satiated than he had been since his tour on the Homeworlds, but it was back to business. A growled command in his comm unit informed all forces they were leaving the ship and to return to the fight. The bodies of the fallen, both ally and crew, were brought with them, for later consumption and rationing, and the vessels attached to the Imperial Wake withdrew, leaving a haunted wreck that was set to explode shortly after their withdrawal.
All around the system, chaos and slaughter reigned. The defense fleet was engaging the Gata'jan and allies forces, kinetic strikes lashing out with shells to explode against shields and metal, spraying bodies and super-heated shrapnel into space, but it wasn't enough. The counter barrage of missiles, kinetics and the Gata'jan energy weaponry was just too much, lancing apart their hulls, and cracking them open like eggs, with the rest of the forces hunting down the civilian traffic that remained, out of foolishness or inability, with a group turning its attention to the orbital infrastructure. Fighters shot over the orbital stations, energy cannons and missiles wiping out vast chunks, sending screaming sections of people tumbling to earth, fireballs of death and despair as they continued to ravage the system. The planet was open for conquering, those on the surface, panicking as their enemy returned and they had no way to fightign back, were preparing to be slaughtered. However, much to their surprise, once the system was nothing but corpses and echoes, orbit ringed with shrapnel and debris of their satellites and stations, the forces would reploy back to their commanding vessel, where Wosakama had returned to, after a brief shower to clean his last meal of of him, and then jumped out. It would appear the planet had been spared...for moment. All across the Line, this sight would be repeated three more times. Destruction visited, orbital rendered a graveyard and then retreating away, waiting for a response. Any response.
After all, the Gata'ja were wanting what came next, what response this Union had to offer.
”Are you prey or predator? Come show us.”
***************
analemekeza- honored one, honorifc for beings in and outside of the Ammudzi who have proven their worth. Elders/Matrons have this as a default, veteran Mlenje and members of each caste earn this for deeds or great works, and foreigners have the potential to earn it.
Mwina magazi awo amathamanga mokoma- May the blood run sweetly.
ndipo mulole ine watithandiza kwambiri paketiyo- And may I bring food home to the pack
ORBAT:
1x Paketi-class Battlecruiser
2x Chokwawa-class Destroyers
3x Mavu-class Missile Frigates
2x Mkongo-class Cruisers
4x N'gombe-class Attack Frigates
5x Mercenary/Pirate Vessels
Total: 4x Paketi, 8x Chokwawa, 12x Mavu, 8x Mkongo, 16x Ngombe, and 20x Pirate/Merc, (68), for the entire frontier attack, divided into four groups.
