Depths of Space:Red Giant IC (Reboot, FT, Open)

[Tagali Federation]

Chapter 1
Hasa


The high pitched hiss of Hasa's sniper rifle echoed throughout the bombed out city. As it did, Hasa's target collapsed to the ground, a middle aged Human woman at the lead of a small group of civilians, most likely scavenging for any bit of food that was left in the city. Once, this settlement was home to millions of humans on the frontier of human expansion, then the Tagali came, killed a third of the population, sold another third into slavery, and left the last third to attempt to rebuild their lives as just another subjugated race of the Empire. Now, the Dominion had pushed the Tagali back from Humanity's homeworld back, leaving only a few occupied worlds left before breaching into the Empire it self.

That was not Hasa's issue, however. He had his orders. For months, he had been operating among the ruins, ambushing patrols and convoys moving through the city to the front. It was a rather dull task for a member of the infamous Imperial Head Hunters. Usually, Head Hunters were dispatched alone or in groups of three to assassinate high priority targets, sabotage strategic locations, or even cripple entire planets of primitive species barely managing to get outside their gravity well before a main invasion.

Hasa watched as the group of scavengers scattered into cover, just as planned. Hasa reached a for a detonator, setting off multiple explosives throughout the area. Three of the scavengers were dead and two others were injured. Only one remained standing. The sole survivor ran for his life, much to Hasa's dismay. He had hoped that the survivor would run into a nearby building. Now it looked like he needed to be "led" to the spot. Hasa tracked the survivor through his scope. With precision, Hasa shot in front of the survivor, forcing him to turn around. Hasa kept toying with the man, guiding him through the rubble until he entered the correct building. Hasa smiled, for he knew that the survivor would find a radio within the bombed out structure. With it, he would call for help and a Dominion patrol would come to his rescue. All Hasa had to do now was wait....

[Skaldia]

Chapter One
Arkaea, Grand City, 0236 LT
House of the Emperor

He bolted upright, palawar* in hand and scanning the darkened chamber with feverish, bright eyes still locked in dream sleep. As consciousness slowly eased in and the dream faded away, Emperor Kar'larst To'nahn III of Clan Jihai breathed a sigh of relief. Returning the humming blade to beneath his pillow, he slid out of the bed and padded naked towards the wall. With a flick of his hand, the wall before him swirled and took on the shining lights of the Grand City before him. It was raining out among the city, as the thunder clouds that floated just beneath his residence attested to, but the lights of her people still penetrated in soft glows that made the night all the more beautiful. In the sky, Til'ea, the second largest moon of Arkaea, was following the wake of her bigger sister as she had done since before the Sacred Laws.

With the sight easing his mind, Kar'larst turned around and viewed his bedchambers with something akin to remorse. Despite the lateness of the night, he knew sleep would not come; the nightmare had seen to that. No, if he was to be awake he would work, and an Emperor's work was never done,"Cerei, awaken the Lord Chancellor. And have the kitchen prepare some musk'ah* for the Lord Chancellor and I." "Yes, Emperor Kar'larst. You have a meeting with Baron U'vah at 0630 and another with Ministers Or'lean and W'uqo at 0730. Would you like to move these schedules up?

At the last word was uttered, a hologram materialized, that of a young Arkaean woman in functional and austere dress uniform who stood waiting patiently with hands clasped infront of her in the ocaste* stance. Cerei was an advanced AISC, in command of the Houses of the Primarch and Emperor, and served as something of a personal assistant to the Emperor. To most AISCs, even assisting the Emperor of the Arkaean Federation would be seen as beneath them, but Cerei had been tailor made for just the role and had served in it's present position since the inception of AISC's throughout the Federation. Kar'larst found her immeasurably useful and doubted sincerely if he could ever do his job without her.

"No, let them sleep. Instead, send a message to Lord Marshal C'aul'far and his counterpoint on Olivear to join me and others in conference at 0900. Anything that interferes with the meeting on my schedule, go ahead and reschedule. Ceres bowed and winked out, off to obey her master's commands and Kar'larst began dressing. He eschewed ritually bounding his hair, letting the golden strands fall where they may. As he dressed, a robo-cart was ushered in past the Emperor's Guards with a simple tray of toast and eggs and a pitcher of musk'ah. Despite being Emperor, as a military man, he disdained elaborate meals and preferred simple and hearty meals just a step up from the food a Federation Marine would find appealing. A smile touched his features, his old Sergeant would sniff in contempt at Kar'larst's 'luxurious' lifestyle now.

The smile faded as he thought of the nightmare once more. Death and blood. Blood raining from the sky. Kar'larst, like most Arkaeans, was a pragmatic and shrewd man, but even he could see an omen when once was presented. There was a reason why he had scheduled a meeting with the Lord Marshals he had, those in charge of the whereabouts of colonization efforts and the frontiers of the Federation. Despite the long reign of relative peace Arkaea and her peoples had enjoyed in the last few decades, the Federation had maintained and promoted a strong and watchful military but even they had begun to ease into their boots as time had elapsed without any major war.

The Emperor's dream might be just that, a dream. But Kar'larst was not prepared to admit that just yet and it would never hurt to drill and prepare the edge of the sword of the Federation for war. If he was wrong, he would look like an Emperor merely making sure the military was on it's toes, as fell under his authority. But if he was right..

Well, nights like this would become all too common.

Palawar: A ritual knife that all Arkaeans are gifted on their majority, the Palawar is a simple straight blade around two hands in length and decorated according to the wielder's taste. Despite the ritual nature of the blade, it is a tool first and foremost.

Musk'ah: A strong, caffeinated drink harvested from the berries of the musk'ah tree in which it gets it's name, it is often drank with honey or milk.

Ocaste: A relaxed stance permitted before that of a superior and a mark of respect.

[Kraicia]

(Illuminated Holtland Protectorates - Paipetera) - (点亮林道的守了国 - 童石)

(1900 Hours) - (亮1900)

(Somewhere in the Mountains)

Paipetera is a mountainous taiga moon orbiting two out of four gas giants in a binary star system. Residences of Paipetera live in proximity of the eastmost edge of the Protectorate borders, effectively becoming the eastmost Protectorate habitable planet. But the average Illuminated Zillion citizen doesn't get so far to live in such a remote place of the Protectorates unless they are of high military clearance and status, or are top scientist and engineers.

Naval sentries from the Navy Of The Order (NHO) would usually stop anyone from coming so close to living outside of Protectorate borders; however, Paiapetera's star system is not under the watchful looming eyes of the Order. The Paiapetera Star System happens to be a top secret star system discovered and colonized illegally by the Protectorates thanks to a rearmament program conducted in utter secrecy by the highest officials of the Protectorates. Paipetera happens to be the current home of the very thing that discovered the star system in the first place.

Down on the surface Paipetera appeared something out of medieval-fantasy world; dozens of traditional spires sprouting out of the mountain tops like finely crafted lances. As a matter of fact, the spires are commonly referred, according to the Illuminated Zillions, as 'Cloud Lances' (雲戛 / クレ) for their tall height and elegant looks. But the spires, however, are only there for both show and stationing military equipment/troops as a means of early warning systems.

Within the depths of those great mountains, there were countless labyrinths of great stone and steel tunnels that which defined every Protectorate settlement. Scientific and technological development and research was the Protectorates' specialty as much as it was the promises that made them the currently special independent nation-state. It was in those mountains that it was really where all housing and facilities were kept safe from any enemy threat outside.

In one of the offices, there was an Illuminated Zillion reading a letter he had received from the Protectorate government. Unlike the Knights of the Protectorates, whom usually wore the distinctive white uniform, this officer was wearing a new black uniform. This uniform in particular belong to a new organization in the Protectorates that would otherwise was considered illegal by the Order: The Armada of the Protectorates.

With his name 'Koronosa' inscribed at the beginning of the letter, he was skimming over the letter and covering the most important details at hand. Holding that paper letter in his white gloved robotic hands, the officer himself was not exactly pleased to the terrible news the Protectorates have been learning recently:

"The Order is not accustomed to being ignored. They provided us the land and trust because we promised them new 'holy weapons..."

You, sire, and everyone as ourselves, have been accused of failing to deliver so much as the spirits in the last decades. Worst of all, we have learned through our Inquisition insiders that we have been 'illegally' colonizing another star system without the Order's knowledge..."

The clergy fears, quote on quote, 'The Protectorates have been indulged long enough'..."

After reading, the officer - Koronosa - bothered no more care into the letter as his left hand crumbled it up and turned around to look at his secretary standing at his office door. The female Illuminated Zillion officer in the room was standing with her arms at ease to her sides, barely flinching to her male counterpart's annoyance from reading the letter. Furthermore, the female officer had brown hair and blue eyes, whereas Koronosa has blonde hair and dark green eyes.

"So fades the great harvest of our freedom." Koronosa murmured, his voice speaking those words dryly and unpleased, belaying the ordinarily mechanical nature of a machine, "And here we thought our achievements have gone unnoticed."

"The navy is in your realm, brother." The female officer optimistically replied back in a stoic voice, "You are the first Lord of Admirals of the Protectorates after all."

That detail occurred to Koronosa quite immediately, recalling his promotion ceremony and the christening of the Protectorates' first ship...

---

"I pledge and swear before the Spirits, Their Mantle of Responsibility and Eternal Souls: To be faithful and ever true to the galaxy as my Homelands. I pledge and swear to serve as the first Lord of Admirals, regarding all life, brotherhood and sisterhood of the Illuminated greater than my own, mindful only of the liberation and succession of the truer Holtland state. Hereby I bow down to the spirits, embracing their eternal breath and guidance to our salvation."

---

"Your optimism is partially unfounded, Rioko." Koronosa coldly argued back without a frown, setting down the letter at the same time on his desk, "The Order would have us turned; our one ship against their thousands. Their speed and armor will prove that for every bright illumination, there is always plenty of thick smoke to snuff them out."

"They rule with an iron fist, cruelly without wisdom, my lord." Rioko remarked, gradually annoyed by remembering the Order's tendencies and demands, "You'll depart for Tigapetera soon?"

"At dawn. The Order is expecting me to stand for my crimes."

"Already there?" Rioko asked, but it sounded more inquisitive than confused, "That time so soon?"

"Indeed, sister. We all knew the time would come where the Protectorates could grow no further in the Order's shadow." Koronosoa agreed while a growl escaped his voice, "The 'Beloved Joy' (最愛喜) would only be under my command until I reach Tigapetera, where she would be eventually destroyed before us."

Even if Rioko, like any other Zillion, whom are nothing but machines, couldn't entirely embrace despair, she couldn't help but close her eyes and let her head slightly crane down. She could not shed tears as a machine, but she can understand the pain of sadness in her heart and mind, even if she is merely metal clockwork underneath the clothing, plastic skin, and plating. Her counterpart, however, disagreed in giving in to such a terrible fate, especially as he walked up to her and gently embraced his counterpart in a hug.

"Do not worry, sister." Koronosa whispered softly, "For I shalt stand by your side once this is over and I am no longer the Lord of Admirals."

"Down to being with the knights once more?" Rioko softly yet steadily sighed in her counterpart's hold as she hugged back.

"I would not be certain of that, sister." Koronosa pondered, though uneasiness was lacking as he saw the lighting slowly turned dark as the suns finally set from his window, "I would not be so certain..."

"Then promise me that'll you'll return as the way you are."

As the last snippet of the suns fell beneath the rocky horizons outside, Konorosa looked straight into Rioko's eyes with a slight smile forming at the sides of his lips, "I promise you. Nothing will stand in our way..."

[Yuenaan]

Sl'Tani Imperial Hegemony
Onboard Solace of Might
Tyrant Zvek'Rvet

Zvek'Rvet, Patrias Tyrant Of The Long Night, Supreme Tactician of the Rvet Clan and His Own Vast Forces, sat quietly upon his flagship, Solace of Might. Before him was a hologram, the only tell that the meeting in front of him was not happening face-to-face being the slight luminescent glow that the images gave off. Around him were the projections of the most powerful members of the Rvet Clan, Master of their Realm. High Elders, accomplished generals and admirals, leaders of key businesses, and governors of core worlds.

However, Zvek paid them little heed. An aloofness rang off of him towards everything that was not at the center of his attention, and for the time being the center of his attention was focused on the other end of the table. Where the Clan Patriarch sat. If the Rvet Patriarch was unnerved by the unflinching stare of the massive Tyrant, then he hid it well. They continued there impromptu staring contest until the Patriarch once again spoke.

"You have been given your orders, will you not submit to them?" The voice carried an edge of hardness to it, but to those listening closely it also carried annoyance.

Zvek's silent stare continued for a while longer, before he spoke with assuredness "It is not my place to be ordered, nor is it yours to order. It may be your duty to lead Clan Rvet, but it is I who sees it through all militant strife it must suffer. Do not subject my role upon yourself, for it is an insult that I tire of being complacent in."

The tension skyrocketed in the room, as many elders turned in their seats and mumbled to themselves. Many took notice of the term 'insult' and the hint of warning that came with it. While an insult was certainly suffice to declare many kinds of blood feuds, feuds between clan members required more than that. The word itself was fine, but the warning behind it carried the implication that Zvek felt there were other words he could have chosen, words that carried enough weight to them to be the beginning of a Clan Feud. Some elders were perfectly aware of the provocations Zvek had suffered at the hands of the Patriarch, many were left in the dark.

Many who were not aware turned to glare at Zvek. The was connotation clear, 'Do not step above your station'. Those that were aware instead looked towards the Patriarch, their eyes telling him to be careful not to push the named Patrias Tyrant too far. The Patriarch met these elders' eyes with a glare of his own, before he relented with a deep sigh.

"The 17th fleet shall meet with Patrias Zvek's personal forces in the Kuno system, before aiding him in the Punishment of the Kto Clan. The Supreme Tactician shall be given full operational autonomy of the 17th fleet, along with its over-strengthened marine attachment, for the duration of the mission. Are those terms acceptable, Tyrant Of The Long Night?" Patriarch finally spoke.

"I require three divisions from the fifth army as well." Zvek spoke quickly yet calmly. Most were certain that he had had this in mind since the very beginning. The Patriarch gritted his teeth, frustration filling him as he knew the meeting had gone exactly as the Tyrant wished, yet he still acquiesced to the demand.

Zvek considered for a long moment, before finally nodding his head. The meeting was adjourned.

[The Orson Empire]

Tagali Border World
Covenant Diplomatic Shuttle 010

Chairman Sor'osha paced the floor of his personal quarters aboard the diplomatic shuttle, as a voice from an encrypted communication terminal in the room carried on. The voice had been modulated, to conceal the speaker's identity should the security of the communication become compromised.

"...Now, enough about the Tagali. The Committee trusts you will represent the Covenant's best interests in this meeting."

"Any further political developments in my absence?," Sor'osha replied, but he was barely paying attention at this point. The quality of the communication was variable, sometimes clear and sometimes choppy, which was part of it; with the ship being so far from Covenant space and reliable subspace communication beacons, it had to rely on its on subspace transmitters to send a message at FTL speeds, making live communication difficult.

However, the Chairman of the Klandulor Congress could not stop thinking about the Tagali Empire and the differences between their nations. While the Covenant had a complex meritocratic political system, with the Central Committee at the top and local governments at the bottom, the Tagali system seemed to revolved around the Empress and the noble Houses. A strange system indeed; monarchies had been uncommon throughout Cho'Dosan history. Even still, they had similarities, such as widespread militarism in both societies; even the Tagali and the Cho'Dosans had similar appearances. Perhaps they were related in some way, or it was just a cruel joke played out by the universe.

"Jan'Am has been elected as the Governor of Aicury-"

"He actually did it?" Sor'osha interrupted, stopping in his tracks. The man was an old political enemy of Sor'osha, having lead the opposition in the Aicury Parliament and had been vying for the Sor'osha's seat as governor for years.

"We know he was a political enemy of yours, but you must respect our position to not interfere. We have studied his career, and we believe the planet is in the right hands."

"Of course you didn't interfere. We wouldn't want to destroy the sanctity of our representative democracy," Sor'osha said sarcastically.

"Appearance is everything, Chairman, as you will learn soon enough."

Suddenly, Sor'osha heard several knocks on the door to his room. "Chairman, I apologize for the interruption! The ship will soon exit warp, and we will hail the Tagali!"

"Understood. You are dismissed!", Sor'osha replied before turning back towards the terminal. "Well, the time has finally arrived."

"Indeed. Good luck Chairman, and may the stars be aligned in our favor. The Committee will be on standby."

[Korhal IVV]

Talaris Station, Saruf, Talaron System

Illuminated by a million lights and inhabited by billions of souls, the space station Talaris stood as the capital of the so called League of Talarian Republics. A gigantic torus ring that surrounded the equatorial ring of Saruf, Talaris was the greatest marvel of engineering that the Talarians have ever accomplished. Built during the halcyon days of the Imperial Dynasty, Talaris was and is still the shining symbol of the League’s military and economic might. Unlike the stations of most of the other races, Talaris was by itself a self sustaining star borne city, powered by multiple arc reactors scattered evenly across the station’s energy nodes. However, much of the shining glory Talaris once had is long gone; some of the halls of the orbital megapolis, ever so filled with merriment and overflowing with gladness, are now places bereft of life save for the occasional patrolling Shamari or Talarian Gen. X. Others would be places of commerce dominated by the megacorps that control the League’s government from the shadows. Talarians and other species would mingle here, and speak of wealth and exchange their riches there. Still more are factories devoted to the production of the goods essential for the nation, and the rest would be facilities for the research of more powerful weapons of war and more efficient farming methods and similar things.

Talaris was not the only wonder on Saruf, however. Three superweapons existed in the system as a means of deterring enemies from approaching Saruf should the need arise; namely, they are the Warp Dragon, Suncannon, and Starfire. The Warp Dragon is a large station with several massive turrets on it, and its munitions include relativistic kill engines. Tungsten shells outfitted with warp drives are the most dangerous weapons employed by the Warp Dragon, and are seen as extremely effective at destroying large capital grade ships. The Suncannon in turn is placed onto the moon of Sarkes, and draws power from Sarkes’ very core; its attack is a massive beam capable of consuming a battleship whole. Meanwhile, the Starfire orbits the sun, drawing power from the star’s baleful energies. It then generates a nigh unceasing hailfire of lasers from its many turrets. However, for all their power, they have fallen to disrepair thanks to the government’s nonexistent authority. The Warp Dragon’s cannons have not been calibrated for centuries and would probably nit be accurate; the Suncannon has been gathering dust, and the Starfire’s solar engines have not been checked for a decade. The megacorps may be wealthy and proud of the League’s massive military might, but they have failed to fix problems in the home territories. Many of the Sleepers stir in their sleep, their minds registering reality to have something wrong. Some would awake and find the social and cultural decline of their nation. Hadraza Maerka the poet, who was among the first to awake from the Long Sleep, would thus write,


Oh Talaris, jewel of ten thousand suns,
Forgive thy sons,
And they daughters,
For they have left you to fall

Forgive those who were charged with keeping you,
Forgive those who were called to protect you,
For they all have failed the same.

I now know the shame
That the oligarchs have placed on you.
May we give you your deserving glory,
May our prayers reach the heavens
And may *Theolion give us all a change of heart.

Thankfully, Talaris’ restoration was near. Soon, the three divinely appointed weapons of defence entrusted to the Talarians shall be brought back to life and glory. It is for the oligarchs had a change of heart; the explorations and observations of the Cosmo Navy has brought alarm to the nation’s leaders. Alien powers loom in the horizon, and they battle each for supremacy. There was this Terran Dominion, and another called the Tagali Empire. Corundum was the name of another, and there still is the reportedly morally abject Freelands. The traders of Alavanth returned from foreign territories bearing not only riches, but also bad omen. While most nations were unaware of the League’s existence and power, it won’t be long before they do. They must be prepared. The shipyards of Dalertheron Ultima began the first effort to mass produce Ninth Generation starships; they were far better than the current starships of the League. However, things were slow and expensive, and thus, the Cosmo Navy’s forces began to rummage the fringe sectors, bringing behind them colony ships and science vessels. But there was this wariness for alien incursion, and the desire to keep the League from entering too soon to the galactic stage.

There was little time. They must be ready. The Lords of Saruf know this well.

And yet, trouble brews in home. Supporters of the old Imperial Dynasty lurk in the shadows, and republicans seek the return of true democracy. Extremists and rebels are put down in a daily basis, and het they always seem to appear again.

Such nuisances.

[Turmenista]

Chapter 1 - "Business as usual" - UMC Perspective

Housing Block 111 "Triple One", Mobius City
Kishon, Woorbeck System, Sagittarius Sector | The Freelands
__________________________________

A knock on the door in Triple One could mean one of three things: an "ordinary" visitor probably here to kill you, a corporate agent arriving at your house to either kill you or collect your taxes, or a drone delivery off the Meganet^[1] that had a chance of dropping off a bomb to kill you. As was corporate life in the Freelands. Getting on the wrong side of someone powerful was a guaranteed death. Buying something off the shadiest of Meganet sites with no tracking number was a guaranteed death. Pissing off the megacorps was a guaranteed death, though much more brief and explosive than sending a hitman or dirty bomb. Knowing how an official letter from Freelands Corporate^[2] would come in the form of either an officiated notice in your Meganet inbox or a combat android breaking through the door, the Formican known as Xhar was prepared for anything. Unfortunately for him, the nearest weapon was a mere leap and a reach into the kitchen closet away from him, and a combat android was more than capable of making it there faster than him, no matter how hard he tried. By all means, Xhar knew how to shoot, but that was just a minor reassurance seeing how an android could probably take a sabot to the face and keep moving.

Reluctantly, Xhar made his way to the door and, before he opened it, paused on the doorknob. His bionic compound eyes linked up with the security camera outside and gave him a full frontal view of his visitor, instantly identifying the individual at the door as a "XX#!|*364," or, in other words, a corporate spook from the UMC that was using a RFID scrambler. He obviously didn't want his identity to be blown. It didn't take long for Xhar to identify the man with his own eyes as Rekto, an enigmatic figure from the UMC, and, his worst nightmare. While his managers at the quarry were a big pain in the ass by themselves, an official UMC foreman just scared the shit out of him, and Rekto was no different. It was hard to tell what that Uhtek was thinking, as he switched between friendly and threatening all the time. This was curious indeed. Maybe a promotion to manager?

"Hi, Rek," Xhar buzzed, opening the door for the man with one of his lesser arms. He stared back at the Uhtek, whose face was only visible thanks to a transparent visor over his armor, which briefly flashed a blue light across the lenses in a pattern similar to that of a computer motherboard.

Rekto kept his poker face. "Xhar Xebazz?"

"...That's me."

"Let's go."

"The hell are you talking about, ape? I live here. I'm not going anywhere unless it's to my job to get my promotion."

"I'm not here for the jokes, bug," the Rekto said, bringing out a holographic projection on his armor's wrist for Xhar to view. "Your signature. This is it?"

"Looks to be."

Rekto put away the hologram, nodding. "Section 8, Paragraph 2, line two, of your Class 1 supervisor employment contract to the United Mining Conglomerate, dictates that any and all individuals in employment to the UMC in one given area may be temporarily relocated to a different area of the Sagittarius Sector at any time by orders of the system Chief Miner. As of now, you are being relocated to serve as a crew supervisor for a security project in the Telstar System. Unless you feel like sitting in a cell for the rest of this cycle without pay or protection, you should come with me."

"Fuck you."

"So, that's a no?"

"I want my pay to be doubled—no, tripled."

"Hazard pay ensures it is, plus your position as a crew supervisor already increases it."

"...Alright.. fine. I'll go with you -" Xhar stepped out of his apartment, only to pause before Kekk guided him to the vehicle outside. "On one condition."

"And that is?"

"Give me my promotion to manager. That cuck of a boss I have has been keeping me from that position for a year. I haven't missed a day, came in on holidays, and worked extra. If that won't help you," he reached into his pocket, thrusting a bundle of credit notes into his direction. "Then maybe we can just keep this a secret, eh? And, just as a side note, there's more than just credits where that came from. Buddy."

"...I'll see what I can do. Let's go - don't you utter a word of this, alright?"

Xhar grinned, following his new "friend" over to the vehicle hovering nearby. That was the glory of the Freelands, though. The soup they knew as the Sagittarius Sector was so lawless, so corrupt, and so unrestricted that even the people who posed any semblance of authority — like the corporate agents — could be bribed. Only in the Freelands, Xhar thought, Where you can bribe a UMC spook on one day and buy a planet on another. Business as usual. I love the Freelands.

---

"Business as usual" - XB Perspective

Opus Nightclub
Venture Station, Entropy System, Sagittarius Sector | The Freelands
__________________________________

I fucking hate the Freelands.

This was how Xeno spending his freeday: tracking down and killing a pirate warlord in a nightclub. With loud music. And armed guards everywhere. And big alien genitalia everywhere. And while cramped in an air vent. He hated three of those four things (it was obvious to tell which one was the one he enjoyed), but what he hated the most was the fact that he was called to do such an op on his off day. Yes, XB considered Xeno to be one of their best cyborg contractors, even going so far as to giving him the nickname of "the bogeyman" among many circles, but why did it have to be him who was doing the mission? Why not send an android? Or, better yet, why not just blow up the whole hedonistic shithole that was the Opus Nightclub?

Oh well. So long as I'm getting paid and not living in a shithole slum, life's good. XB treats me well. Let's just get this over with, Xeno.

He dropped down from one of the vents, his body unfurling back into its full size after being squeezed in such a tight space. The black rod to his side clicked and extended as he pulled it out, felling two Uhtek guards nearby in one swipe as he aimed it downrange, blasting a dinner plate-sized hole in the other down the hall with the sword's built in laser weapon. Following this, his figure went translucent as he cloaked, sprinting down the hall towards his objective.

His target, the aptly-named General Anteater, was a strange pirate fellow to begin with. He was the leader of the Blood Pirates, a ravenous gang of simpletons whose antics earned him great clout and notoriety in the Freelands' more lawless zones. Along with having a strange appetite for Formicans, this human was one of the largest Xeno had ever seen, which did a real great job in painting a good picture of the otherwise weak Humanity considering their rarity as a species out in the Freelands. Looking out at the party, Anteater melodramatically smoked a cigar, as if he were unimpressed by the hedonistic raving going on. Xeno thought he must've stepped on something because Anteater turned around to the open door behind him, looking straight through Xeno, who remained perfectly still. According to his file, Xeno knew that it was usual for someone to come by at this time, approximately 1800 hours local time. Here, Anteater's first mate would gave him a summarized report of the day—which he never missed—followed by a meeting from one of his personal concubines. Anteater smiled, lowering his cigar as he gazed at party below. "You can come in, boy, the usual briefing. Today went well?

The "Lieutenant" didn't answer. Anteater raised an eyebrow, still "Christopher, are you feeling alri-"

The glossy object behind Anteater materialized as Xeno's blade prodded his cheek.

Xeno knew Anteater was afraid. He was probably thinking, Whoever this is, if he's an assassin, is definitely not lacking in the money department. I'm gonna shit my pants now. Genuinely frightened by the sight of whatever this was, General Anteater quickly reached for his holster, where he held his trusty— "Wait- Where the fook's my plasma pistol?!" He backed up, his vision going tunnel as he saw the revolver in one of Xeno's free arms. "You mean this gun?" Xeno taunted, flashing his pistol and pointing it at the pirate.

General Anteater frowned and narrowed his eyebrows, reaching into his uniform's front pocket with one swift motion, where he pulled out a large revolver, barrel aimed point blank on Xeno's forehead. "Checkmate. I always carry two guns, dumbass." He said, thumb pulling the hammer back towards him. "I win, bug-boy."

Xeno only sighed, rolling his eyes. Was this guy for real? How was he worth so much if he was so stupid? "Just like my reports told me. All brawn, yet, no brains."

"Reports?" General Anteater pulled the hammer down even farther until it clicked - it seemed as if his thumb was winning the fight against the revolver's hammer. Knuckles nearly snow-white from holding the weapon, the black pirate gritted his teeth, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he growled in his thick accent. "What the hell do you mean reports, you four-armed modafukah? I'm gonna give you five seconds to tell me who the actual fook you are, and who you work for, or I'll blow your bug-brain out of the back of your head and eat you fookin' raw." Noticing one of Xeno's arms lower, Anteater pushed the gun farther into its head, finger itching towards the trigger. "Don't try anything stupid - my finger's always faster. Better speak up or I might accidentally shoot your ass."

"I'm afraid that information can not be disclosed to you at this moment. All I can say to you is this: my employer sends his regards."

Anteater blinked. "Employer?" Shifting his feet back, he held the gun with two hands, aimed straight between the eyes the Formican. "You modafokin demon, mon - who do you wo—"

Anteater's finger instantly went to the trigger as he saw Xeno move. The first shot of the pistol rang out, but Xeno was already out of the way, dodging the mass driver sabot that would've pierced through his shields and blasted through his exoskeleton and brain. Xeno swung the blade down over onto Anteater, who brought his arm up to catch it, causing Anteater to yell out in pain as the blade caught onto something hard. He ripped off his glove, revealing his cybernetic appendage that protected him and pushed Xeno away. Before he did so, Xeno's free arms thrust out at Anteater's sides, sending two smaller blades into the man's sides, to seemingly no effect. In doing so, Anteater dropped the his gun, which clattered to the floor and was kicked away by Xeno towards the wall. The two knifes seemed to do have done nothing to the man, as the pirate warlord ripped them both out from his side, gritting his teeth in rage, but not pain. Fueled by adrenaline, Anteater rushed for his assassin, tackling him and pinning him onto the white painted concrete wall where he attempted to pull off a prison shanking-style stab on his assailant using a long, metal blade that appeared from his cybernetic wrist.

Anteater's eyes then widened as he felt a gust of wind from under his feet bring them up to the air as Xeno's wings took them up, well over a few meters from the ground. He was then was dropped, hitting the table below hard enough to cause it to buckle under his weight and collapse. However, the pirate was back up before Xeno knew it, rolling out of the way of his dive bomb and tackling the Formican, placing him into a Full Nelson and throwing him away, where he hit the floor with enough force to crack it. "You don't fook da Anteata, bug!"

Before Xeno could get up, however, Anteater was already on him, picking the Formican up by his legs and swinging him around as if he were a video game character. "The Anteata fooks you!"

He let go, launching Xeno straight through the glass of the warlord's private quarters and onto the party below.

Well. Fuck.

Xeno quickly unfurled his insectoid wings and stabilized himself into a hover, the glass showering the partygoers below and ensuing gunfire from the guards and anyone who was carrying a gun causing everyone to lose their shit and panic, creating even more confusion in an already botched situation. Xeno dropped down to the ground and took a nearby prostitute as a human shield, using her to soak up plasma and laser fire shot from the crowd, the bar, and the balcony above, before throwing her away and sprinting for the exit of the station, the hangar. His proximity alert was triggered to his left as he rolled away, dodging a Uhtek who swung a large hammer-like weapon down at the Formican assassin, hitting his buddy beside him instead and causing the upper half of his body to be reduced to a mushy mass. He used the hammer's weight to his advantage and kicked it away, running for the weapon that he and the Uhtek were both aiming for. Xeno, however, was on top of it first, sprinting in front of him and sending a powerful roundhouse kick right for the man's section, cracking his energy shields. His target was sent staggering backwards, giving Xeno a window of opportunity to sprint forwards and clock another punch on the Uhtek's face, shattering his visor, then another to his gut, causing him to puke a concoction of vomit and blood onto the floor. Before he could react, though, Xeno had the hammer—slamming it down onto the Abomination's face to let a pulpy mass of brains, blood, and guts spill all over the place.

Can I get out of here now?

Running towards a suspiciously-placed civilian ship, Xeno boarded the craft by its ramp, holding on as it lifted itself up and off the landing pad, promptly exiting the hangar's airlock shields and blasting out into open space. On the bridge, he was greeted by more Formicans, all of whom bore the uniforms of Xeizzaz Bioelectronics, his employers.

"Mission was botched?" One Formican asked him, to which he sighed, allowing his helmet to disassemble back into his armor as one of his mandibles clicked in disgust. "Yep. No wonder the Blood Pirates have such a hefty price tag."

He held on as the ship entered Warp, a blue halo appearing around the front of the ship as the space around them was distorted. As it passed over the ship, it gradually began to disappear, until all that was left (to any outside viewers) was a steadily shrinking blue halo.

Watching the stars blast by them at lightspeed, Xeno gave a sigh. Business as usual. I'm not coming in tomorrow. I need my damn free day.

---

"Business as usual" - UIC Perspective

United Interspace Business Habitat, Pleasuredome Station
Advent System, Sagittarius Sector | The Freelands
__________________________________

Soon after exiting the cramped Arrivals Habitat, Kekk's vehicle had reached a large superhighway, which stretched out towards the seemingly endless horizon of the Arrivals Habitat. By the time the Uhtek was reaching the end of the superhighway, his vehicle reached a large tunnel-like structure, which emptied out into a large terminus with hundreds of thousands of vehicles moving in between the hub areas, all indicated by different signs and portals. His vehicle in particular hovered up and over the traffic, approaching a cordoned off tunnel which had been reserved exclusively for him. After passing through a long series of tubes leading to the artificial habitat, it became evident that a climate change was going on inside the tunnel. The massive station's artificial climate separated each of the Habitats in these large tubular tunnels, one of which—the one that he was passing through now—served as the transition from a dry and cold city into a wetter, foggier jungle climate, specifically reserved for use by the United Interspace Corporation. Here, he exited the gloomy spaceport-like city of the Arrivals Habitat and entered the United Interspace Business Habitat, which itself was worthy of being called a metropolis judging by the massive skyscrapers and other buildings towering into the artificial sky.

Kekk's personal vehicle went airborne as it changed into its flying configuration, soaring towards the tallest building, the United Interspace Corporation headquarters.

In his helmet, a ringing went off, indicating that he had a call incoming. Sighing, Kekk touched the side of the helmet, answering the call from XB's corporate head, Xytriss Xeizzaz. "Yes?"

"Just got off the phone with a client - says that, well, apparently, the previous person that was going to be in this negotiation of ours was killed. Guess I'll have to facilitate the deal myself."

"If all else fails, just put an android in place of you," Kekk replied. "That way, if something catastrophic happens to you during the exchange, you won't be a dead brain in a jar."

"I know how that works, Kekk. I designed the Avatar^[3] system myse—you know what? Fuck it," Kekk frowned as his partner changed tones. "This 'milsim' that we were supposed to be doing now is already taking up the bulk of my time. Cancel it. I'll just have one of my executives do it the negotiation."

"Tch. I could have mine do it for you. You work too much, Xy." Kekk scoffed, reaching into his coat pocket for a lucky coin that he twirled around his fingers. "He wouldn't be that afraid if I had him go to an arms exchange with the Tagali of all people, protected by your droids. He'll be just fine. Matter of fact, I could even do it myself."

"You're ballsy. I guess you're oblivious to the pressures of being one of the galaxy's most powerful men."

"Touché. But, more or less, I'm just basking in my success and my popularity rather than hiding from it," Kekk said, watching the headquarters approach slowly. "Besides, we're the ones making the money here. We can play the entire galaxy into our hands, Xy. The game is ours, and we control who dies and who lives. Everyone else in this world wants each other dead so badly that they wouldn't hardly bat an eye to us when we sell them weapons and ships. We'll be filthy fuckin' rich when they're in war, while we live on like nothing's happened. Business as usual. It's simple, really."

On the other end, Xytriss sighed deeply. "I only hope you're right."

__________________________________

Context Notes:

1 - The Meganet - The aptly-named Meganet is a universal system of interconnected computer networks that use the Meganet protocol suite (MCP/IP) to link devices throughout the Freelands (and countries which use it). It is a massive digital cloud network that consists of private, public, business, and other networks of local to galactic scope, linked by a broad array of electronic, wireless, and optical networking technologies. The Meganet carries a vast range of digital information, resources and media, allowing for almost instantaneous communication and sharing of content across the Freelands, along with the on-the-fly purchase of nearly anything on the market.

2 - Freelands Corporate - Freelands Corporate is an umbrella term used to describe sections of the Freelands geographically, and Freelands life in general, which are primarily run and operated by the three megacorporations contributing to its upkeep: Xeizzaz Bioelectronics, the United Interspace Corporation, and the United Mining Conglomerate.

3 - Avatar - The Avatar was a program pushed by Xeizzaz Bioelectronics, which has recently become one of its most popular and successful products. Effectively transferring an individual's consciousness into an artificial body of the user's choice, the Avatar allows for one's life span to be extended and for interface to the Meganet on the fly with a variety of cybernetic suites and augmentations. It has also found its use in private security and military roles as a means of giving soldiers a powerful, durable new body, giving politicians a "proxy" if they are scared of assassination, or making entire Avatar armies, if possible.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

SW Ning'tao (Fevo'sa Class Battlecruiser) - Nue Dresden IV - Honecker System
37th of 'Sasov in the Era of Brotherhood 999 (November 15th, 2486)

In the Honecker System, numerous damaged Slav'nam warships were warping into the system. All of them had battle damage and some of them quite literally falling apart as they entered real-space. The recent engagement with the Tagali in the Ostian Maw Nebula was costly for the 'Nratan Clan and their allies. Many ships and warriors were lost as several battlegroups simultaneously engaged each other in the titanic nebula fighting for their right to control this section of human space called the Ostian Republic. Ostian secession from the Interstellar Treaty Organization and their appeal to the Slav'nam Territories for the protection of their space from the Tagali, has brought the 'Nratan Clan and many other Slav'nam Clans to pounce into the Ostian Republic to fight the Tagali. Aboard the Slav'nam Warship Ning'Tao, Cosan N'ratan, patriarch of the N'ratan Clan, was assessing his losses inside his office. Inside the mid-sized rectangular room, the large Slav'nam sat on his chair gazing at his computer console. "It will take awhile to rebuild our strength. But reinforcements are underway. With those reinforcements, we will be able to push into the Tagali holdings. What a glorious war awaits us." Just than a buzzing sound came from a device on his desk. He pressed it, "General Cosan, several warships are warping into the system. They are the 57th Assault Fleet of the SDF. Their Commander, General Keva 'Sarom, would like to speak to you."

"Excellent. With the aid of the SDF, we are sure to secure our holdings and bring the fight to the Tagali. Put it through." After he said this, the screen on his computer changed to a live feed of another Slav'nam wearing SDF Officer Armor. The armor was chinked in several places and there were numerous markings on it signifying battles fought, enemies killed and honors awarded. Something which every Slav'nam does to his/her armor. "General Keva 'Sarom, it is an honor to have your presence in this system. With your might, they shall sing songs of our victory over the Tagali."

"Yes the Tagali," General Keva mused. "General and Patriarch Cosan, the High Council has ordered that you, your clan and your allies are to stop your advance towards the Tagali. They are currently negotiating with their leader to end aggression between our two powers. The Defense Forces have arrived to ensure that we keep to our side of the border and them to their own."

Cosan choked when he heard those words. He stared intently at his counterpart with dagger-like ferocity. "The High Council wishes that we simply return to our space! Are we to abandon our new conquest? What kind of an order is this?"

"Cease your vain glory seeking. We all know that you are trying to regain your clan's seat on the Council. But that is unrelated to why the Council has decided to seek a peace with the Tagali. In fact, it is because of your recent actions that the Council has decided to not pursue a war."

"A minor setback, but with proper reinforcement we shall insure a victory against these honorless Tagali. Perhaps the Council is misjudging the capabilities of my clan and our allies."

"Likely." Keva mused and chukcled. This caused Cosan to snarl at him. "But I have arrived to ensure that you do not foolishly waste all our new gains. Curb your aggression, Patriarch Cosan. There will be another day to satisfy your need for glory. But not today, and I will ensure that. If you continue this path to the Tagali, I will have no choice but to fire on your vessels and consider you and your clan renegades to the Territories. Dishonor will come upon your Clan and who shall be left to follow you after that?"

Keva clenched his fist and nodded slowly. With clenched teeth he said, "Clan 'Nratan and our allies will have our forces maintain their positions within the Maw. We will update you on our positions and gains."

"I hope you do. Any deception will weaken your influence and your clan's standing within the Territories." The transmission was cut off and Cosan was left sulking in his chair. He clenched his fist and threw it at his computer console. The screen cracked and sparks flew from the broken screen. Reaching behind him, Cosan grabbed one of his hanging blades and began to break apart the computer console. After a full minute of fury, the console which was on his desk was destroyed. He pressed the device on his desk. "Cosan to Engineering, I request a replacement console to my personal quarters. Cosan to Bridge, send a message to our ships and our allies. We are holding our position. Do not antagonize the Tagali any further."

[Zanera]

Raxin Corporate Union
Union Station
Above Raxus Prime

---

"We will not and can not give you military powers as the president of the Council, but you will be given special economic powers for whenever there is an economic crisis, as is the purpose of a central bank. The chairman of the Raxin Central Bank now being placed into the position as the president of the Shareholder's Council is because it is logical to give your institution some honorary powers because your institution is important to Raxin society. The military is for self-defense against pirates and petty wannabe empires that don't know they're going to be bought out by the Union yet. The military is not paramount to our society, and to give the presidency any control over it besides a double-weighted vote would be silly and unjust. You are not the head of any branch, you just sit in a special chair during Council meetings. Do not forget that we get to hold some stock in the Central Bank, chairman," said Glax Akar, CEO of AstroCorp.

"I do not like your tone," said the chairman of the newly-established Raxin Central Bank, Glar Jakron.

"His tone is fine and even appropriate, since you have been pushing this extra power for the president the entire Central Bank Convention. You have been repeatedly told that that power cannot be given to the president of the Shareholder's Council. I vote that we take an adjournment. I personally request that the current fellow members of the Shareholder's Council come to my quarters during the adjournment," said Asar Yox. She was chairman of Fruits of Labor Incorporated, a company that produced and sold produce and meats, and who owned millions of square miles of land across multiple worlds for industrial farming and agriculture. Glar Jakron did not have a nice look on his face. His countenance was a knowing one. The Shareholder's Council didn't care. Their authority was thorough.

---

"As shareholders of the Raxin Central Bank, we have taken a vote of no-confidence in your leadership of the Raxin Central Bank. We take it again to prove to you that this is so," said Asar Yox. They all said "Aye" and raised their hands. The senior members of the RCB sat and watched through various screens around the Council chambers. At first Jakron was just displeased, but when he slammed his fist on the table his persona broke down entirely. "I WAS PLACED AT THE HEAD OF THIS TABLE AND YOU DISCARD ME AT A WHIM. I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS!" he howled.

"You already attempt to exert excess powers. You howl in an outrageous tone at a formal meeting of your shareholders, and furthermore, of the Shareholder's Council. To prevent further embarrassment, I suggest leaving immediately, and to not commit any more disturbances," urged Asar Yox. Jakron tried to say a few things, but each time he shut his mouth. He stood up and grabbed his briefcase, and walked out of the Shareholder's Council chambers. Through the telescreen the vice chairman of the Raxin Central Bank took a deep breath. "i'm sorry if that upset you. It was necessary," Glax Akar said.

"Worry not, I agree. He was vastly out of line. As vice chairman, I believe I am now the chairman?" asked Glax Kelen.

"Indeed you are. Chairman, I want you at Union Station in the next two days to attend the Central Bank Convention. I will send you what we currently have hammered out for your review. To prove to you that we did not fire him strictly out of simple disagreement, we propose further economic powers in place of any military power you desire," said Glax Akar.

"That will not be necessary, if my current understanding of the agreement is correct. I will be at Union Station tomorrow, as I am not very far away. I will be happy to attend it. This is a historical convention for the Union," grinned Kelen.

"That is why we are taking this with the utmost seriousness. And given your record, we know that you will, too," nodded Yox.

"You will have nothing else from the chairman of the Raxin Central Bank, and hopefully the first president of the Shareholder's Council!" declared Kelen, before the transmissions upon the telescreens were self-terminated one by one.

"While we're here," said Yox, turning to Akar. "We have a land dispute to settle over your continued mining operations into my farmland?"

[Brendislav]

The Dromack Conderderation
Hormuz - - In the Halls of the Warlords

The sounds of shouting and rhythmic drumming was deafening the air in the massive room, nearly no sound could be heard over the cheers, growls, and roars of the crowd. However, even with such a ruckus, Azlmac could still hear the faint panting and the heartbeats of his opponent. They were both exhausted from the 2 hour fight, a few bones were broken and blood was spilled. His adversary reached down to the ground below him, soaking his hand in blood, he then lifted it up to his snout and sniffed the crimson liquid. “I smell the weakness of your pod,” the opponent grumbled, “soon when pod Gricah rises to the throne all Dromack shall be strong!” This taunt was greeted with shouts of approval. Azlmac spat on the floor, “The weakness you smell is from your own body!” The fighter cried out in anger and charged at Azlmac. Azlmac knew it would be unwise to try to overpower his opponent, he was of a newer spawn, meaning his genetic tailoring was better. But Azlmac was older, and knew how to win fights, and to win this one he would have to outmaneuver and wait for a moment to strike. He blocked and dodged the others wild flailing, taking some moments to sneak in a few quick strikes.

Another 10 minutes had passed, and still Azlmac was on the defensive. His adversary had not let up, and was not tiring. Then the perfect opportunity opened up, as the other fighter lunged at Azlmac he slipped on the blood covering the floor. This gave Azlmac the moment to reach in and gouge out one of his eyes. As it was ripped out the opponent howled in pain, and while it would be honorable to give his enemy a chance to surrender, Azlmac didn’t want to take the chance. He proceeded to lift the one-eyed Dromack into the air and slammed him down. Azlmac started to punch, bite, rip and tear, the screams of his victim intermixed with the cheers of the audience. Once he heard the bones of the other’s skull fracture, and saw all of his blood spill did Azlmac finally stop. He stood up with arms raised, and basked in the admiration of the crowd. Azlmac had done it, he was going to be the next Dro-Kahn, he had brought pod Azlmac to glory and greatness.

Inquisitor Hango, slim Dromack with an abnormally large head, walked to the center of the fighting ring, “As is decreed by the ancestors, the Tablets of Tradition, and by the Avatars themselves, I pronounce this Dromack to be the winner!” Hoots and hollers erupted from the crowd, feet were stomped and horns were played. The Inquisitor gave some time for celebration, but ordered the crowd to settle down. “What do they call your people mighty Dromack?” The Inquisitor asked.

“I am of pod Azlmac, I lead my men and guide them.” Alzmac responded.

“As is tradition, he who has risen through hardship and strife may be free to choose how they will be named, be it a new name or the name of their people.” The Inquisitor continued, “What will the Dromacks call their new Dro-Kahn?”

“I shall be named by my pod, my birthright, I will be named Azlmac.” Azlmac responded.

“Dromacks! Let it be known, the reign of Dro-Kahn Azlmac shall be formed! Who will give their chains to our new Dro-Kahn?” About 8 members of the crowd lifted up black chains, they all shouted out “He shall bear our weight” as they slowly walked to Azlmac. One Dromack walked over to a small chair, which was owned by the now deceased fighter, and took the chains on the chair, “As new prime of pod Gricah I proclaim that our previous qualms of succession now forfeit.” He lifted the chains, “He shall bear our weight!” The nine Dromack take their chains and drape it over Dro-Kahn Azlmac’s shoulders. He walked over to his new throne and sat in it, the entire room bowed to him, and he hoped that he would bring them glory.

Summary: Dro-Kahn Azlmac has been chosen as the new head of the Dromack Confederation

[Kraicia]

(Illuminated Holtland Protectorates - Paipetera) - (点亮林道的守了国 - 童石)

(0600 Hours) - (亮0600)

(Somewhere in the Mountains)

The ultra large hangar that contained the Protectorate battleship, 'Beloved Joy' (最愛喜 / アガピカラ), was about as big as the monstrous 7km long Megāngya Class Battleship, which was more than plenty of space to contain the 6km 'Beloved Joy'. This ship of the Protectorate, however, was otherwise referred to officially as, Agapikara (or simply referred as the 'Agara'). Unlike the heavily armored industrial-esque ships of the Order, the Agara was sleek and angular, resembling nothing like its Order counterparts in every way.

But just like its industrial-esque counterparts, the Agara was propelled by four ion engines; however, these ion engines were a new generation of Zillion-built propulsion, exclusively researched and developed by the Protectorates in utter secrecy. Built as the next generation of Zillion sublight propulsion, these new engines mounted on the Agara used tidal gravity generators, which created asymmetrical gravity fields that push and pull a ship through space in a desired vector. There was no need to use the typical cryogenic or hypergolic fuels to ignite and propel the xenon fuel into space, especially since the only thing the tidal gravity generators needed was electricity via in the form of superheated plasma being drawn from the reactor.

The Agara largely retain the design requirements of armor, and especially speed given its new propulsion system. While the armor wasn't as thick as the 10 meter thick armor plating on the Megāngya Class Battleships, The three meter thick armor of the Agara was compensated both for its new propulsion system and one of the greatest innovations in the ship's design. The biggest difference the Agara had was its implementation of energy shielding, the very same technology that gave the Knights of the Protectorates their personal energy shielding emitters.

Just like the personal energy shielding emitters worn by the knights, however, the energy shielding provided no protection against slugthrower/mass-driver weapons; that job belonged to the three meter thick armor plating of the ship itself. Despite the thinner armor plating unlike the Order ships, the energy shielding allowed the Agara to shrug off the large plasma cannons wielded by all Order ships (except frigates and destroyers), though it should be noted that the shielding will shatter once it takes enough damage, leaving the ship vulnerable for five minutes as the shielding recharges. Quite frankly, the large plasma cannons on the Order ships may have been crude yet incredibly effective and dangerous; however, the Agara had an answer to that as well.

With the giant leaps in technological advancements for the Protectorates, one of the things the Protectorates had researched and developed was hardlight technology. This technology involves turning light into a solid state, capable of bearing weight and performing a variety of tasks via interplay between coherent, high-energy light and gas particles, such as air. This technology - while still in the development stage for firearms like the Fotopaisimatoko (light bow) and the Fotobata (light gauntlet) - has been used for generating structures (e.g. stairs and bridges) and especially the Agara's main armament; the Fotokian (亮枪 / フトキアン; lit. "Light Rifle").

Functionally, according to top secret Protectorate design, the weapon employs componential particle acceleration to fire a beam of hardlight at a high speed and with pinpoint accuracy. Using the diffused combination of particle acceleration and hardened photonic matter, the Fotokian is capable of putting a serious strain on energy shields akin to the Agara's own (triple-layered energy shielding; same as the Knights' personal shielding); however, the Fotokian shuts a few seconds after firing to avoid overheating and acquire a new target. Otherwise, the Fotokian can surgically cut its way through the heavy and thick armor of the Order ships like a water torch on steel.

If the Agara was put side by side with its Order counterpart, it is essentially like comparing a Concorde supersonic jetliner to a B17 bomber aircraft. For Koronosa himself, Lord of Admirals to the Armada of the Protectorates, amazement nor amusement was not what came forth to Koronosa's mind. As the captain and admiral of the first and only ship of the Protectorates, this was both his flagship and the pride of the newly founded Armada of the Protectorates - an organization that Koronosa stood strongly for as one of its founders.

Dressed in the same officer uniform, he was additionally adorned with a wide brimmed hat, which had a cleft front peak with a bit of a flare and a rolled back. Matching the same black color as his navy uniform, alongside a red and gold trim on his hat, today was the day he left for Tigapetera to face his 'crimes' and the beginning of the Protectorates' absorption back into the Order. The hat he wore looked like something a certain tentacle-bearded captain of a flying dutch ship would wear in the olden days of sails, except it was made with modern cloth materials instead of leather or cotton.

Underneath his navy uniform was his personal shield emitters, a piece of fine equipment worn commonplace by the Knights of the Protectorates, whom gave him confidence and plenty of reason to fear naught against energy weapons wielded by the enemy. That was the definition of the Illuminated Zillions: a well-built machine with efficient functionality in conjunction with extraordinary beauty. The original Zillions had the same idea, but silence, simplicity, and functionality seemed to be more important to them than beauty ... at least according to Koronosa himself as an Illuminated Zillion.

On his left hip, fastened by the white belt around his waist, the scabbard of his energy sword gave off a reflective mirror shine. His black shoes also had an identical polished shine, unlike the night before where his shoes had gotten worn from all the walking, marching, and the environments of each planet. At last, accompanying the other gold decorations on his navy/admiral uniform, the handle of his sword had a golden crossguard and a regal red chain swinging from the pummel of the sword.

So here he was on his journey to begin his trial at the hands of such primitive masters, a humorous thought that briefly summarized the differences between the Protectorates and the Order. Peace and order were all important to both sides indeed, but to hold back upon the prospects of harnessing the spirits and their powers combined was heresy. This was the Protectorates' point of view and beliefs of the Zillion faith, concurrent in their quest to develop new 'holy' weapons and wonders for the Zillion machine race.

Upon the hardlight bridge towards the frontal section of the Angara's bow, there was a platoon of 200 officers on each side, totaling up to 400 officers. These particular officers, however, were the highest ranking officials of the Armada that stood at attention for Koronosa himself, the Lord of Admirals. The last eight officers awaiting for him at the end of the bridge towards the bow were the admirals of the Armada; 24 of the other officers were captains; and the others belonging on board the ship as stewards, lieutenants, Protectorate marine officers, and etc.

Unlike Koronosa, the admirals, and the captains, everyone else wore the same uniform and equipment except for their headwear, which was instead simple peaked caps with a red-black-gold cockade in the frontal center of their hats. They too carried swords on their hips, whom prior to Koronosa arriving at the bridge, all the officers momentarily withdrew their blades, with the forearm parallel to the ground (40 degree angle with the deck) and the blade 6in out of the scabbard. No command had to be given for the formal sword salute as the officers fully drew their swords, drawing their elbows straight, and the sword and scabbards forming a 40 degree angle with the ground before the sword is flicked in to the shoulder and the hand going to the pencil grip.

The cutting edge of the swords were then promptly turned the other way and pointed down at the ground very close to each user's shoes/boots, while their free right hand were placed behind their waist. Moments later, Koronosa came into view and stood for a moment to watch his fellow officers raise their swords 6in from their necks at a 30 degree angle, before the swords were then raised high at a 40 degree angle. This was how a ship and its officers greeted their grand admiral, or should they call him, Lord of Admirals.

With a light smile forming on his face, Koronosa began to walk forward with all 400 swords raised above his head; however, it was as he was walking passed each officer that he began to speak, "Brothers and sisters, so very many years have we grew too long in the Order's shadow."

Walking ever so slowly, looking both right and left at the same speed, his voice echoed in pure clarity to everyone around him, embracing the context in his words, "Our final defiance, in the name of pleading and swearing before the Spirits, the mantle accepts those who'll live, defend, build, and lead, fiercely with wisdom."

At that moment, he was only a quarter of the way towards the ship. But for every officer he passed, they would flick their swords back into their shoulder and the hand going to the pencil grip, slowly lowering their swords, march forward, and turned towards Koronosa's back. The brief clapping of boots followed for every pair of officers marching into their new place, that which Koronosa never flinched as he continued to walk towards his ship.

"But for all of us," He continued, his voice gradually grim and dark as he approached his ship, "In this hour of victory, we are welcomed in shame."

Every Illuminated Zillion who embraced his words knew exactly what it meant to be considered inferior to their Order counterparts. The Order looked down upon them as inferior machines or even heretics in the most dire scenarios. Nothing was more infuriated than centuries of unwelcomed achievements and progress that the Protectorates had worked tirelessly and rigorously, with insult to injury added in the form of their research and development often declared as blasphemy and foul magic.

"We ask why?" Koronosa murmured loudly, yet remaining clearly audible to his fellow officers as he was halfway towards the ship, "Only then we are either brushed aside like dust, or we are branded as sinful materialist."

By now, 200 of the 400 officers were looking directly as his back as he approached the ship, standing at full attention awaiting his commands. These brothers and sisters of the Illuminated Zillions were the finest and brightest of the Protectorates, privileged to join and found the Armada of the Protectorates, falling under the command of Lord Koronosa himself. The Armada was small compared to the Order, but it was both the finest honor and privilege to sail the galaxy for the Protectorates, regardless of the fact that a navy was considered illegal in the Protectorates.

"We are the Illuminated; the true guardians of the spiritual realms. The roots of the galaxy have grown deep, under the spirits' bygone tending. Where there is life, the wisdom of countless generations have saturated the soils. Our strength is a luminous sun, towards which all intelligence blossoms. And the impervious shelter, beneath which life has prospered." 300 officers were now at attention, approaching the remaining 100 officers; 32 of whom were the highest ranking members of the Armada. Eight admirals and 24 captains awaited loyally and confidently, unwavered by the heavy and grim weight of the Lord of Admirals' words. They too knew very well that they were facing their 'execution' at the hands of the Order along with the Lord of Admirals, accused of crimes that branded them as terrorists.

"In neither joy'n fanfare," He breathed slowly as he passed the last remaining officers. Like the lesser officers before them, the admirals and captains lowered their swords, stood at attention, and marched within the ranks of everyone else.

"I stand before you," Koronosa stopped the moment he completed that sentence, with all his fellow officers and commanders standing at attention and looking straight at him, prompting him to turn and face them.

"Accused of the sin of advancing our finest ascendancy, attempting to save us from this fate where we are forced to..." Koronosa gradually paused, forming a brief yet light snarl on his face before it recomposed into that light smile, whom bared vengeance this time, "...recede."

Pausing momentarily to view the many faces of the Armada's officer corp, Koronosa's smile remained as he preached once again:

"The Order stands as the greatest threat to our noble faith. Refusing to stand against them is a fool's gambit. We squander for centuries in the darkness, while they seize our triumphs for their own. The Mantle of Responsibility for all things belongs to us the Illuminated. "Let the Order think of our acts as they will, but do not fear of our efforts in vain. Brothers and sisters, protectors of faith, defenders of wisdom, we shalt take the first step towards a new chapter in our kind's history. Once the Order sees our newfound powers and their backwardness, they'll embrace our illumination."

"My brothers and sisters, do not be afraid." Koronosa concluded softly, promptly followed with the Zillion battle cry in a stoic voice, "Hanako! (万古日! / ハナコ！; 'Forever Lumnious!')"

"HANAKO!" All 400 officers shouted in unison, saluting with their right arms fully extended, facing forward, with the palm down and fingers together.

"Hanako!" Koronosa saluted back, sternness becoming of his stoic and gentle smile, "Return at once and to your stations!"

"Aye, aye!" All 400 officers - brother and sister alike - boomed as they promptly sheathed their swords in perfect synchronization; unsurprising given their mechanical design and nature. With a collective metal 'shink' of everyone sheathing their swords, the admirals turned to face each on either side of the bridge, and marched backwards to make way for everyone else. The captains and the other officers took off with a swift march, defined with grace and function in their footsteps as they entered the ship; however, the four admirals standing on each side of the bridge remained where they were until it was only them and Koronosa himself.

"Lord of Admirals," The frontmost right admiral - a black haired and blue eyed Illuminated Zillion - spoke, whom his very action alone made the other admirals fall at ease and regroup with Koronosa, "Our reclamation is a dauntless journey as much as that will be our resolution."

"Pardon such irresolution ever so kindly, Admiral Guren." Koronosa nodded curtly, "The Protectorates need heroes, and the knights can only do so much."

The other seven admirals remained quiet as they followed Guren and Koronosa into the ship; however, the Lord of Admirals had one more remark to say before the doors closed and the hardlight bridge vanished:

"So smile, gentlemen." Koronosa took off his hat and brushed his left hand across his hair once before putting his hat back on, "For once this is all over, we got plenty to smile about."

As if he spoke with perfect timing, the door to the Agara's bow closed behind the admirals and their lord with a loud clang, followed with a brief series of mechanical clicks and electronic beeping. Moments after the doors locked, the Agara was enveloped in a white aura before it then turned to green, and finally orange, only to momentarily fade from the ship just as the hangar doors behind the ship slowly opened. All remained quiet aside from the loud whirring of the hangar doors up behind it, followed by the sound of three smaller ships outside arriving to the hangar.

These small ships were Protectorate hardlight sloops, built with strength and compactness in mind using the newly developed tidal gravity generators as their means of thrust. No more than the size of a destroyer (1km), the hardlight sloops were largely built around the reactor and thrusters, sacrificing weapons, shielding, and crew comfort for a small ship with incredible strength. From bow to stern, there was a tractor beam on each end that can grab hold of a ship with weak yet steady strength.

In a triangle formation, the hardlight sloops focused their tractor beams at the stern of the Protectorate battleship, gently pulling and guiding it out from its 7km long hangar. Once the first few kilometers of the Agara was out of the hangar, four more hardlight sloops came along (two on each side of the Agara) and helped guide the ship outside into the mountainous morning. Hovering thousands of feet off the rocky and forested terrain, the Agara gently came to a stop once the sloops fully towed the ship out of its hangar, slowly turning away from the mountains as it ascended into the sky beyond the all the summits.

Finally, not a moment too soon, the Agara's four engines (tidal gravity generators) slowly whirred and lit to life, gradually propelling the ship forward into space. For one last time for the onlookers down below, the Agara's hull shined against the sun as it swiftly vanished into the depths of space, heading on a great journey into the abyss. And in its thrust into the unknown, where it thus disappeared into warp space, it itself would spark a new age for the Zillion machine race...

[Zanera]

Raxin Corporate Union
Union Station
Above Raxus Prime

---

"The Central Bank is setting a pegged exchange rate that will fluctuate within the horizontal bands I am now sending to your datascreens, since the Central Bank is instituting its economic regulators and balancing the economy. It will help us stabilize the value of the yok. Once stabilized, and trade begins to look favorable for the Corporate Union, we can float it. However, I will leave that decision up to the Council, when I propose it," said President Glax Kelen. The corporate heads of the council looked at their datascreens and did their own complicated maths on their own datapads. They were knitting their eyebrows over the amount of calculation involved. The problem enveloped the entire Raxin economy and its trade with foreign states. Though the Central Bank had already done the math, the Council wanted to check up on it themselves to come to an agreement with him. The decision looked right, by all means.

"I don't disagree, President Kelen," said Hroxor Killon, head of Automatics and Robots Corp., a company that manufactured manufacturing assembly line robots and robots that currently had a limited scope of resource collectability. Basically, they were working on mining robots at the moment, and there were several companies very interested in what A&Rc would proffer next.

Like Hroxor Killon, most agreed, though a few asked extensive, sophisticated questions. In the end, they were all satisfied. Glax Kelen was younger than Jakron, yet he displayed more eminence, more conviction, and more social manners. For the first time in a long time, not only was the yok being stabilized, but the Shareholder's Council was quietly satisfied. It was pure excellence on Glax Kelen's part, and Asar Yox wanted to celebrate it. "I will be throwing a celebration on my station, probably in my arboretum, where I can supply the finest foods my company has to offer. This will be to celebrate Kelen's ascendancy to the presidency. The entrance fee will be roughly twenty yoks for each person, and will be a couple days from today."

Everyone in the room politely clapped, and Kelen looked embarrassed, but he accepted his role in the party and promised to bring some Gormok wine. There was much happy discussion, though a few said they could not come due to important business, which wasn't surprising in the slightest given they were still the heads of vast companies. It was a common excuse to not to come to a party. But, among the excitedness in the room, Kelen still had it in his head to conduct the business of government and economy instead of partying. When everyone was silenced again, he requested that the Shareholder's Council buy currency notes from the Central Bank, and the Central Bank could buy bonds from the Shareholder's Council. There was much thought and Hroxor Killon said," I suppose a new package of government bonds can be drawn up for the Central Bank to purchase, and we can purchase the Central Bank's currency notes in return as a part of a program. It will take a few days to decide the optimal exchange package program and then to implement it."

"That sounds excellent. The party might have to be pushed back since duty yet calls, Mrs. Yox," said Kelen.

"This is momentous, so of course there will be celebration, I promise everyone that. I'll push the party back another week maybe, to compensate for any new developments," said Yox.

"This talk of a party is not for these chambers, anyway. Stabilizing the economy will take much time and many new regulations," said Glax Akar. "If you have any more concerns, President Kelen, voice them now. We will determine a date where we will address the issue."

Kelen looked at his datascreen, swiping at it and pressing buttons. He looked back and forth at the datascreen and the Shareholder's Council, and then said," It would be pertinent to stabilize interest rates, namely at the banks, though it may be difficult to enforce these new regulations. Interest rates coincide with inflation, and maintaining interest rates depending on the mood of the economy would also greatly aid in maintaining the economy. I propose an arm of enforcement, with the authority to enact sanctions on banks that are non-compliant."

Akar responded quickly," This the Council can handle. Sanctions, asset seizure, freezing of assets. The Shareholder's Council has the authority of the law, and when these regulations become law, we will be able to enforce it. The Council can make a new branch of law enforcement, so if there are non-compliant financial institutions, President Kelen, the Central Bank could alert this law enforcement branch and it will respond properly. Ideally. The details may take some time to get right, but I think this is manageable."

"Possibly. Let's discuss when we'll address each of these issues, then," said President Kelen. "I was thinking that..."

[Tysklandia]

WIP

Chapter 1
Hasa


The high pitched hiss of Hasa's sniper rifle echoed throughout the bombed out city. As it did, Hasa's target collapsed to the ground, a middle aged Human woman at the lead of a small group of civilians, most likely scavenging for any bit of food that was left in the city. Once, this settlement was home to millions of humans on the frontier of human expansion, then the Tagali came, killed a third of the population, sold another third into slavery, and left the last third to attempt to rebuild their lives as just another subjugated race of the Empire. Now, the Dominion had pushed the Tagali back from Humanity's homeworld back, leaving only a few occupied worlds left before breaching into the Empire it self.

That was not Hasa's issue, however. He had his orders. For months, he had been operating among the ruins, ambushing patrols and convoys moving through the city to the front. It was a rather dull task for a member of the infamous Imperial Head Hunters. Usually, Head Hunters were dispatched alone or in groups of three to assassinate high priority targets, sabotage strategic locations, or even cripple entire planets of primitive species barely managing to get outside their gravity well before a main invasion.

Hasa watched as the group of scavengers scattered into cover, just as planned. Hasa reached a for a detonator, setting off multiple explosives throughout the area. Three of the scavengers were dead and two others were injured. Only one remained standing. The sole survivor ran for his life, much to Hasa's dismay. He had hoped that the survivor would run into a nearby building. Now it looked like he needed to be "led" to the spot. Hasa tracked the survivor through his scope. With precision, Hasa shot in front of the survivor, forcing him to turn around. Hasa kept toying with the man, guiding him through the rubble until he entered the correct building. Hasa smiled, for he knew that the survivor would find a radio within the bombed out structure. With it, he would call for help and a Dominion patrol would come to his rescue. All Hasa had to do now was wait....

History of Markesh

2355 - An explorator ship discovers Markesh, a garden world that is deemed to be a Class A colony opportunity with near earth levels of viability with only 1 or 2 centuries of terraforming. Habitability was even deemed enough for immediate ground habitation
2358 - Colony charter for Markesh is bought
2388 - The Colony ship "Markesh" is launched and commissioned. It is a sleeper type vessel, taking into account the longer travel times of the less effective FTL drives of the time.
2395 - The Markesh arrives with attending support and supply ships intact. Colonial progress is remarkable.
2431 - Markesh Officially joins the ITO as an independent member Colony.
2432 - Oxygen stability allows the surface habitation without constant use of oxygen masks. Weather patterns do sometimes lower the ogyxen levels to dangerously low levels, enforcing the use for oxygen masks on occation.
2477 - Exploration and mining expeditions launched from Markesh and surrounding colonies start to dissapear. IDI presence is increased.
2477 - official start date of the Tagali war
2479 - Orbital Defense Platforms are deployed around Markesh and other colonies in a desperate bid to fortify the frontline.
2480 - A nearby Colony is discovered after 3 years of painstaking effort by countless IDI warships fighting off what would later be considered mere scouting raids with minimal enemy effort. Contact with the Colony of Jurnheim is lost mere hours after A large Tagali fleet enters the system.
2481 - A Tagali fleet discovers Markesh. The largest IDI fleet ever assembled, comprising of nearly three hundred warships aided by orbital defense platforms manages to fight off a Tagali fleet of only 24 warships for nearly three days in on and off engagements. A reinforcing Tagali fleet then crushes the IDI fleet on the third day and destroys hundreds of evacuating civilian ships in the process. The last known broadcast was sent by ground forces, claiming the planet was lost, a mere 2 days later.

...

2530 - The Invicta campaign results in an unprecidented recapture of former territory by the Dominion Navy. Either the Tagali were busy elsewhere or simply not paying attention, but reinforcing Tagali fleets failed to halt the Dominion's advance before they reached what the Dominion called "Midway". The extent of ITO territory when the war started. And for as far as the Dominion was concerned, only half of their intended journey into Tagali space.
2533 - Increasing Tagali presence and the stretching of supply lines and a single humiliating loss in orbit of Jurnheim marked the end of the first phase of the Invicta campaign. Defensive lines have been drawn and the Dominion begins deploying ODP's and refueling stations in nearby systems, mere hours warp travel from Markesh.
2533 - Markesh is deemed of limited importance to the Tagali by Dominion naval Intelligence. Whilst other Tactical strikes are performed on far away stretches of the border. An Invasion of Markesh is attenmpted. If planetary control could be achieved in time, orbital defenses could be transported from nearby, less important systems to defend the recaptured Colony. Operation Blind Faith is performed with a hastly assembled battlegroup

Operation Blind Faith

July 2533 AD
The Dominion's Battlegroup "Lucky 21" has Commenced a swift low orbit pass of Markesh, suprising Tagali defending warships who were expecting a frontal assault. During this low orbit pass, the Dominion's Fifth Army, Orbital Drop Infantry and their support divisions were succesfully deployed planetside with minimal losses. The 23rd fleet then commences to engage the Tagali fleet in orbit, but failed to gain a clear advantage. The dropships of the Fifth army left the system to resupply and the battlegroup moved into High Orbit, before systematically pushing the battered Tagali fleet out of planetary orbit, allowign for the full scale invasion of Markesh

2533 - 25th of October
Terran Dominion
System Tir-6 - Colony of Markesh - Ruins of Mar'Sara
24th Dominion Army, 16th Corps "Hell Rats", 441th ODI Division - 2nd Regiment - 4th Brigade (Mec.) - 1st Company

Booting . . .
Neuro-link connection achieved
Neural Uplink active

Connectivity check . .
CSS Connection achieved
PCE link achieved
ICS Connection achieved

Status check . .

Combat Surivability System status : Marginal : Lifesigns within acceptable parameters for combat duty.
Powered Combat Exoskeleton Status : Acceptable : Mark-VII unit reports full operation capabilities intact.
Intigrated Combat System Status : Acceptable : CIN connection stable, input lag 250ms

Checking fo-...

CIN Updating with operational Information
CIN reports active combat mission in progress

Updating mission parameters...



"AL! wake up, ya wanker!"

In a swift soundless motion did the blue-tinted HUD dissapear, shaking Alan out of stupur as the flash screen slid upwards, retracting inside his helmet. Through the transparant reinforced visor, ensuring the seperated atmosphere inside from the cold winter air of Markesh, Alan could see the ruins of what used to be Mar'Sara. It was difficult to see what was the result of the past weeks of fighting or what were still scars of the Tagali invasion, decades earlier. The cracked dura-crete streets seemed a reminant of the colonial days, but the series of collapsed buildings and piles of rubble, marred with the remains of ruined Domion and Tagali war machines seemed to be of a more recent make coinciding in a sight that could only be described as apocaliptic.

"I told you that my HUD was acting up, I was just rebooting it to be sure."

Several giants of dura-steel and Titanium-alloy walked along the street, surrounding the young boy from Mars. It was a disconnect to recognise them as human in a way, even if he himself walked in the same towering armoured exoskeleton, he was still somewhat intimidated by his fellow "Iron men".

"Don't do it in the middle of the street then ya dickhead. If the sergeant saw you doing that, you'll be running point for the rest of the god damn campaign! Now do a combat check, HQ wants us to check out someone yapping on the coms about a sniper."

Alan nodded sheepishly, the Hell-rats of the 16th corps were brutish, but fair. No time for curtusy if you are hundreds of lightyears from home and only chance kept you from being glassed by a Tagali orbital fleet.

"Someone?"

Another member of their fireteam commented in a rather sarcastich tone as Alan raised his large MAR-14 so he could see the ammunition count, as long as his HUD was still booting, he was required to check it the old fashioned way. 222 round left in the magazine, it seemed about right.

"Some local apparantly. Someone shot up the rest of his scavanging crew and he is hold up in some building waiting for us to come save his ass. I'll bet you 20 credits its a god damn sympathiser and we are running into a shit storm."

As the Corporal and the rest of the squad quarreled and quipped about the possibility of impending doom as they allways did, Alan fiddled with his suit as the "checklist" demanded. The Dura-steel combat shield that covered nearly his entire left flank, remained firmly affixed to his Massive shoulder pauldron. Both the explosive bolts and release lever seemed to be in order.

"Alan, you ready? Its across the district, we are taking the Box up to the hotzone."

Alan nodded and followed the rest of the squad as they remounted their bulky armored vehicle, massive 8 armoured wheels moving what the crew lovingly referred to as the "box". Themselves and the 5 other men in their squad mounted the vehicle and the corporal quickly began stipulating how they were going to perform the patrol.

"I am having Box deploy its drone to check the perimeter and we will dismount before we enter the reported hit zone? The drone will then provide its overhead scan and the heat map of the street. Depending on that, we'll change our approach, but normally fireteam A takes right, fireteam B takes left. Watch for killzones, and scan the overhead windows. The drone should give us some early warning and as soon as you spot an ambush, pop a grenade and smoke em out, understood?"

Alan mimicked the rest his squad as they all murmered their "Yes sir" agreements, whilst feeling the massive-suspension of the apc shifting underneath. The Box was rushing through the street in good order, its size, momentum, suspension and armour meant that it quickly crushed the small rubble and even small civilian vehicles with ease as it drove through the ruined streets of Mar'Sara. It took a small seven minutes to reach the kill-site and the apc ground to a halt on an intersecting street, out of sight of the reported bodies. The hind quarter flipped upon and the crew dismounted quickly without an order being given. They spread out across the street, rushing for viable cover as they scanned the area. The roof of the vehicle shifted as metalic clamps released, allowing a reconnesaince drone to lfit itself up in the air and calibrate its engines to deal with the local atmosphere and focus its sensors on the surrounding Area.

The Corporal walked out last, leasurely stepping out in the open as he gave the drone the command to scan the next street over. The drone quickly zoomed into the street at a height of only a few meters and quickly performed a swift pulse scan of the area, live feeding its results to the squad nearly instantaniously. Ruined vehicles, rubble and buildings were outlined and the corpses of the terran scavangers were quickly identified. The drone maintained speed and manouvering as it began a more methodical scan of the area, performing thermal imaging of the area, and peeking swiftly through windows as it zoomed past. With the initial scan of the street complete and a 3d mapping of the street projected on the huds of the entire squad, the Corporal ordered his men to begin checking the streets.

Alan followed his fireteam leader as they leaned against the wall of a cornerbuilding that stood at the edge of the intersecting street. The other four marines rushed across, checking the street and windows as they moved into cover, with one of Alans team pointing his heavy rifle across the street and scanned for movement.

Operation Blind Faith -
Terran Dominion – Alan's ODI squad

Campaign timer
00:00:00:66:15:22
Years:Months:Days:Hours:Minutes:Seconds

---

---

---

Exposition of used weapons and vehicles :

MAR-14 - Martial Military Contracting - Magnetic Accelerator Rifle - Mark 14
Nicknamed the "Mar-14", it is a large guass-assisted ballistic rifle that uses a ferromagnetic ballistic round that is propelled by both ballistic proppelant and the electromagnetic principle of gauss technology. The Mar-14 is a heavy and bulky weapon, designed for extremly reliability and firepower. Its size and weight ensure that only Terrans wearing a PCE suit can operate one in any effective way. It is the primary weapon of the Orbital Drop Infantry.

PCE-6 - Fyre-Nietz Defense Contracting- Powered Combat Exoskeleton Mark 6
Nicknamed the "Iron man suit". the PCE-6 is worn by nearly all the active combat and battlefield troops of the Dominion. It is the backbone of most Terran forces. Everyone from grunts to support (heavy weapons, medics, techs) to company officers are apt to be wearing some kind of powered, environmentally-sealed, armored combat suit. A cybernetic exoskeleton greatly augments strength and mobility, and advanced laminate armor resists small-arms fire and indirect battlefield hazards (explosions, shrapnel, etc). All battlesuits come with an intigrated dumb AI and advanced combat awareness programs, with output to the visor's HUD, and input via helmet-integrated neural input receiver. All include standard power and data jacks, as well as secure wireless, allowing connections to compatible computerized devices.

https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starcraft/images/1/1a/Marine_SC2-HotS_Rend1.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20131103013836

GTK-23-3 - Rheinmetal-BMW gepanzertes Transport-Kraftfahrzeu - Model 23 Mark 3
Nicknamed the "Box", the GTK-23-3 is a 8 wheeled armored and armed transport vehicle engineered for mass-production and cheap production cost. This allows it be deployed on mass in nearly every division in the Dominion Army. It fields both passive and reactionary plating and a modifiable turret armerment.
These can range from high caliber coilguns, gauss-assisted rapid fire small caliber twin-linked autocannons, miniguns, missile pods, a plasma turret or even a direct energy Lance beam cannon. (The model depicted here is mounted with a twin-linked autocannon)

ARSD - Yaskawa Engineering Type 3 Automated Recon and Surveillance Drone
A simple, cheap 4 proppellor surveillance drone fitted to almost every ground vehicle in the Dominion military. It houses an expansive set of sensors and communication capabilities, allowing it to scan areas for movement, thermal imaging and even levels of radiation and the presence of magnetic fields.
Once in the field, it can send map and sensor information to all troops within sight via wireless communication, either via constant updates, systematic packages or via tightbeam uplink.

[Kraicia]

(Illuminated Holtland Protectorates - Tigapetera) - (点亮林道的守了国 - 三石)

(1000 Hours) - (亮1000) - (Six Days Later)

(Orbit)

Stationed on Tigapetera was the 15th Fleet of the Order, comprised of three Megāngya Class Battleships, along with 15 - 20 modified Yoiso Class Cruisers per battleship. At 7km long, compared to the 1km long Yoiso Class Cruisers, the Megāngya was the pinnacle of modern ship designs in the Order for its speed and heavy armor. Armed with four large fixed-mounted plasma cannons in the bow like other Zillion-built ships in the Order, the Megāngya can launch salvos of superheated balls of plasma downrange that can brutally explode and smelt its way through the heaviest of armor and overload energy shields; however, such speed and armor comes at a cost.

Like all ships in the Order and native Zillion arsenal, the Megāngya did not have much room for weapons aside from its main armament, hence the reason for carefully armored gun emplacements. From 20mm-40mm flak guns and 57mm autocannons to 120mm-355mm cannons, the Order saw it necessary for ships to emphasis structural integrity, armor protection, and speed over anything else other than armament. Crew comfort and maneuverability were the last things that Order Zillion-built ships had in mind, given that they had no electronic parts, and everything either relied on mechanical computers/automation, large crew, or a combination of both.

Spread out in a loose triangular formation guarding the planet, the fleet was tasked with demolishing the Protectorate battleship, Agara, once its captain, admirals, and crew were extracted, and the ship was analysed by the inquisition for future ship designs. What can go so wrong with three battleships and their escorts going up against one battleship with no escorts? Not that the fleet was overly confident or arrogant, but they would only see it as blasphemy for their mighty ships to be defeated by one ship alone.

Speaking of which, it wasn't long until the the eastmost battleship and its escorts experienced a sudden brightness in lighting, indicating an approaching ship coming from warp space. In a brief blue flash in the distance, there approaching in the distance was none other than the Agapikara (Agara), the one and only ship belonging to the Armada of the Protectorates. Compared to the grey and industrial appearances of the Megāngya Class Battleships, the Agara was white and beautifully angular, sleek and artistic that clearly reflected the Protectorate/Illuminated Zillions' greater emphasis of aesthetics and functionality.

According to the inquisition's findings, this was the one and only ship among the Protectorates' arsenal, and its basic design and layout was already briefed ahead of time. Such a shame that the Agara appeared more like an artistic masterpieces than a functional warship, or at least that's what the Order Zillions thought as they watched the Protectorate battleship glide into view before the battleship and its 20-ship strong escorts of Yoiso Class Cruisers. The Illuminated/Protectorate Zillions were incredibly creative, and there was a high chance that if things went south, the Agara would target the battleships and capture them, hence the larger escorts for the Megāngya Class Battleships than their usual 15 ship count.

---

(On board the Agara - Bridge)

(Lord of Admirals Koronosa Haitoko Sango)

The Agara's bridge was cramped like its Order counterparts, with the only differences being the superior technology, comfortable seating, and digital computers. As opposed to the industrial architecture of the Order ships both externally and internally, the Agara was modern and high-tech, betraying the native clockwork design and ambiance to the usual Zillion-built ship. For the Illuminated/Protectorate Zillions, it was like being inside a sacred temple than a metal coffin.

Koronosa and the eight admirals of the Armada were watching a holographic screen, regarding the Agara approach the distant Megāngya Class Battleship and its 20 Yoiso Class Cruisers. The holographic AIs on the digital war room in the center of the bridge promptly showed up the battlefield and the ships, and it was only moments later the planet (Tigapetera) showed up alongside the two other battleships and their escorts. Those two other battleships were farther out, forming a wide triangular formation around Tigapetera once they and the other battleship were considered; however, there was something upsetting in the details according to Guren.

"The escorts are larger than usual, my lord." Guren crinkled bluntly to Koronosa, though upon looking at the Lord of Admirals' face, Guren could not fathom as to why Koronosa was unhindered by this update, "You don't seem surprised."

"The Order responded orderly, Admiral." Koronosa smirked lightly, "Mind you, that confidence, however, is not on their mind with that many ships."

Admiral Kureto, whom had black hair and brown eyes, was no stranger to the Order's naval ethos and psyche. Having served on a Yoiso Class Cruiser himself a long time ago when he was one with the Order, he could only contort his lips slightly as he took upon the sight of Order ships on screen and the digital war room. But then again, such overwhelming numbers in the Order's navy had its good reason, thus prompting Kureto to speak up, "They aren't afraid either, my lord. Then again on our part, we could only insert so many insiders and followers on those ships as well."

"Ah, make no mistake, Kureto. Every good worker needs good managers after all, I don't expect you to do more than helping our followers get within. Any more, and the Inquisition would've had you." Koronosa chuckled back, though not before he then took a step forward and then faced his fellow officers,

"This is it, brothers and sisters. Embrace your arrests and remain according to your stations. I assure you, we'll all be back here once this is all over. Any final thoughts?"

"My lord, the knights." One of the other admirals, a blonde-haired female Illuminated Zillion, spoke up without hesitation, "Vice Marshal Euson had failed to report in yesterday."

"Oh?"

"My lord?"

"At ease, sister Sangu." Koronosa assured, looking back at the digital war room and the holographic screens displaying the incoming battleship and escorts, plus Tigapetera in the distance, "Brother Euson's silence is justified, otherwise risking his cover over protocol."

Suddenly, one of the communication officers nearby on the bridge alerted Koronosa of an upsetting detail, "My lord, the Order is hailing us! They're requesting your presence alongside the other admirals."

"Tell them to hold their insults until they come face-to-face with me."

"My lord, with all due respect, that's not your decision. That's a direct order."

"By whom, leftenant?"

"The clergy, my lord."

---

(Tigapetera - Capital City of Dekafisuruna) - (三石 - 第十恋スル心)

(Knight Leftenant Mikaela Hyakuya)

(Recreational Radio Signal 98.8 - Protectorate Blues Entertainment)

Dekafisuruna is the fourth largest city in the Protectorates, spanning more than 10,700 km2 in metro area. It's name derives from the words "Deka" (第十; lit. "Tenth"), "Fisuru" (恋スル; lit. "Loving"), and "Na" (心; lit. "Heart"); thus translates in English to, "Tenth Lustful City". Such a voluptuous name, however, characterizes the city for its ecological beauty and home to the tenth most sacred temple of the Zillion species, the Ankara.

The mountain ranges to the southeast of the city (56km) isolates Dekafisuruna and other neighboring urban areas from the Saint Anna River; however, no city or port runs along the other side of the mountains. Two rivers from the south snake their way through the heart of Dekafisuruna and connect together to create an abstract upside-down letter of 'Y'. Hundreds of years ago during Tigapetera's colonization, the rivers had divided Dekafisuruna in two halves, effectively rendering Dekafisuruna at the time into two separate towns as a result of the rivers' large widths.

By the time Tigapetera was fully colonized, Dekafisuruna was eventually bridged together into one city via ten massive double-decker steel 'through arch' bridges. While the bridges were of the Order's design and architecture, the regal decorations and flouring foliage later added to the bridge were of Protectorate origins. Rail traffic is serviced on the upper deck, while cars/buses/lorries and pedestrians were serviced on the lower deck; however, all the bridges had four lanes on the upper deck, while the lower deck had six lanes (three lanes each for going in or out).

Dekafisuruna was originally a small town for the scientist and workers (plus Order diplomats and politicians), and combined with the taiga forests to the western hills, Dekafisuruna had became one of the first major military centers of the Protectorates. Acting both as the barracks for the Protectorate Knights and expeditionary forces from the Order, Dekafisuruna was one of the most militarily active places on Tigapetera for its strategic location and religious importance. Until recently, Knights and Order soldiers used to work alongside each other, with the Knights covering the ground, while the Order handled the skies and seas.

Despite the tension and controversy with the Knights' disbanding, not all soldiers and citizens of the Order entirely obeyed the efforts of disbanding the Protectorates' military. Some of those soldiers and citizens actually helped the Knights go into hiding throughout the last two years, including some soldiers from the Order outright shooting their own officers to save the lives of fellow Knights. But in doing so, this has placed both the police and the inquisition on full alert and awareness, looking out for any defectors or spies from within; however, that only can do so much when the Inquisition throughout the Protectorates are corrupt.

On board one of the metro trains in the most central bridges, there was an Illuminated Zillion with blonde hair and red eyes reading the newspaper. Dressed in a brown coat with a long-sleeved white turtleneck, blue trousers, and black shoes, sitting next to him to his right was a raven-haired and green eyed Illuminated Zillion. This raven-haired Zillion was wearing a black and white sweatshirt (zipped up), black shirt, pants, and shoes, bearing a troubled gaze on his face as his partner was reading the newspaper.

These were Mikaela Hyakuya (blonde-haired Zillion) and Ryu Amane (black-haired Zillion), recently 'discharged' from the Knights and brought into civilian life four months ago. But in actuality, despite the Order disbanding the Knights, the Protectorates ignored the Order's commands and threats, deciding otherwise to keep the Knights active. To do that, the Knights were forced to embrace their gradual disbandment, but through the assistance of the Protectorate-aligned Inquisition members, the Knights were kept busy, especially on Tigapetera and other planets neighboring near the Order-Protectorate borders.

Three fifths of the Knights had been disbanded so far, with the other Knights throughout the Protectorates having yet to receive the executive order and disband as well. For the past four months, Mikaela and Ryu were tasked in finalizing the preparations for the first and most daring military operation in the Protectorates. This was none other than Lord of Admirals Koronosa Haitoko Sango's ambitious plan to defeat the 15th Fleet of the Order, and prevent the Armada of the Protectorates from their disbandment, otherwise known in secrecy as: Operation Hurricane.

Lord of Admirals Koronosa himself was going to be imprisoned at Tigapetera's infamous Parkhill City Prison, held in isolation until his trial starting at midnight. Any prison escape requires three things: Knowledge of the Layout, Understanding the Routine, and Help from the Outside or Inside. If one knows the layout, then the weaknesses are obvious, which in Mikaela and Ryu's case, it was the inside/outside help.

Mikaela and Ryu were tasked with impersonating military police officers, with their faces hidden by gas masks and standard-issued brodie helmets used by the Army of the Order. According to information passed down from the Protectorate-aligned Inquisition members, Koronosa was scheduled to arrive between 12:00pm and 4:00pm; however, security measures had been partially altered in secrecy by the Inquisition, where Koronosa was to be given a multi-stage escort. The first stage was Koronosa being transported from the Agara to the surface of Tigapetera; the second stage was Koronosa being transported by bus to the prison; and the final stage had Koronosa escorted to the prison using military police.

The first and second stages were handled by the Inquisition, but it was up to the military police at the final stage to escort Koronosa to his cell. This was because the Inquisition's appearance in public would stir unrest and leering among the populace, since it was no surprise to the Protectorates that they had foreign spies in their ranks. It was only fair that the military police finished up the arrest and transportation at the prison, since the military police were far more welcomed than the Inquisition out in public.

This was why Mikaela was reading the newspaper both to read the news and also finish studying the layout of the prison for one last time. Normally, reading something like a prison layout plans would be highly suspicious to other bystanders standing around using common sense; however, Mikaela and Ryu didn't have to worry about that. Because behind them in another seat, there was a pair of undercover Inquisition members in civilian cloths, particularly with a hood over their heads to mask their faces.

Fifteen silent minutes would go by before one of the agents nonchalantly tapped the back of Mikaela/Ryu's seat to stop reading the newspaper, since the train was now nearing its stop just five minutes after crossing the bridge. Their destination - once they were off the train - took them to a nearby hotel building situated next to the Dekafisuruna Inquisition Headquarters. There, Mikaela and Ryu could sneak into the headquarters, subdue the military police officers meant to escort Koronosa later on, dispose of the original officers, take their clothes and equipment, and impersonate them.

The military police in the Order wore a blue color scheme to their uniforms as a way to affiliated themselves closer to law enforcement units than actual military combatants. On the other hand, the Inquisition among the paramilitary branch of the Order's military wore all those robes and cloaks just like their Illuminated/Protectorate counterparts (Knights); however, when in the field as spies, they wear casual clothes or any attire that makes them blend in with their environment. Thankfully, the Protectorate-aligned Inquisition members did the same as well, combined with maintaining their original identities with the Order so that they could help keep the Knights of the Protectorates safe and running.

The objective of impersonating military police escorting Koronosa is to walk him out on cue of a prison riot just happening at the 'wrong' time. The prison riot would force the the Order soldiers/paramilitary units to redirect Koronosa to a safer yet classified facility in the city, which so happens to an Order-affiliated embassy deep within the Dekafisuruna political district. Mikaela and Ryu would be with Koronosa the whole time as his military police escort, defending him from rioters and any soldiers/paramilitary units of the Order that stand in their way.

Once Koronosa was within the embassy, the people of the Protectorates would waste no time in gathering outside of the embassy; however, it would be surprising for the Order to find that the people would eventually turn on each other. Angry protesters either supporting or opposing Koronosa's freedom would clash with each other in no time, resulting in massive confusion for the Order and native police officers alike in trying to mend the situation. During the chaos, Mikaela and Ryu, alongside with some of their other fellow knights undercover or followers, would escort Koronosa out of the embassy and to the airport.

Concurrently, the riots would cause the Navy of the Order to send down reinforcements via dropships. These dropships would doubt be landing at the airport outside of the city, since in a matter of hours, the streets would be filled with clashing rioters, police, and paramilitary units fighting for control over the city, not realizing until it was too late that Koronosa had escaped. This outrage would spark riots and uprisings across the planet, allowing the second stage of the operation to go underway until then.

The Navy of the Order normally would have used orbital bombardment to squash such rebellions and chaos; however, diplomats, politicians, and major religious figures of the Order would be trapped on the planet. Therefore, the situation would force the navy to deploy dropships down to the surface, reduce as many riots/rebellions as possible, rescue the Order's major political and religious figures, and then have the dropships return to allow the ships to start orbital bombardment. Until that stage of the operation goes underway, Mikaela and Ryu will need to rescue Koronosa first before they could get into the real action.

So when Mikaela and Ryu - plus the undercover Inquisition agents trailing behind - disembarked from the train with their brown leather luggage, they knew that they were on a one-way trip to igniting what would become the Great Order-Protectorate War. Their actions in the next 24 hours would define the first/opening battle of the war, and forever change both the Zillion machine race and the two galactic nations. This was to be the Battle of Tigapetera...

[Yuenaan]

Fringes of Arkaean Federation Space
Onboard Labors of Glory
Patriarch Liket'Cumo

A child sat in the CIC of the battlecruiser Labors of Glory. An oppressive silence hung about the room as many simply glanced about, unsure of what to say and hoping someone else might be able to disturb the awkward quiet that had settled. The child, while ornately dressed and certainly looking of some importance, seemed out of place among the much older military men, all dressed in combat uniforms. For many it was the first time they had met each other, for the child it was his first time sitting at the head of such a meeting.

"So it has come to this." One of the eldest, most veteran officers finally spoke. His voice was a mixture of reluctance tinged with resignation. Most in the room turned to stare at the old man as soon as he spoke, many turned away again as soon as his words settled in.

"There must be an option other than this. Sl'Tani space is vast, surely there is some place we can hide that will go unnoticed by the Rvet as well as let us build our strength in secret." A younger officer spoke out in denial. Those present couldn't help but feel a spike of anger as soon as the word 'hide' had been said, but they couldn't hold it against the young man. He was unused to the stress of his position. In truth, merely three months ago he would have never dreamed of attending such a meeting. In fact, nearly three quarters of them were recent promotions who barely held the qualifications to sit at this table. Alas, the Three Days War had taken much of their senior officer corps, and the holes in command needed to be filled whether or not the younger generation was ready or not.

"You underestimate the reach of Clan Rvet, boy. They are not called the "Quasi-Hegemon" without reason." The first man to speak replied through gritted teeth. Whether the anger was directed toward the Rvet or the young officer that spoke out of turn, most were unsure.

"Well what of the others in the traditionalist faction? Surely not all have abandoned us, after all we have been through and the evils we stood to oppose." A third voice entered the conversation, this one was also quite young. The same veteran officer made to reply, this time not even attempting to hold back the anger in his voice.

"Those wretches have abandoned us! As distasteful as it is to turn to the xenos, the longevity of Clan Cumo stands above al-"

"What does the Patriarch think?" A mediating voice asked, quick to try and avoid a pointless argument. All eyes turned to the child.

Of all those who were recently promoted, it was easily Patriarch Liket'Cumo who was the least prepared for his position. But as the eldest son of his father, and with the death of most his senior ancestral generation, the burden to lead Clan Cumo fell upon the eight year old. While eight would be considered pretty young by nearly every species in the galaxy, the Rv’Lonat, who typically lived up to 300 years, considered it practically infantile. Yet regency had never been an accepted practice in Rv’Lonat culture, so the child's words would always be final on any decision made. Liket barely knew what they were speaking about, yet he knew several of the older, more experienced officers in this room from when his dad introduced them to him. It was for that reason he agreed with the old veteran.

"Send the message."

---

A message played out on nearly all frequencies in the immediate space, directed towards a few nearby Arkaean space stations and fringe colonies.

"We are Clan Cumo, of the Rv’Lonat species hailing from Sl'Tani space. We have come as refugees, fleeing the great despot that is Clan Rvet. We seek sanctuary in Arkaean space, along with a suitable planet to call our own. In return, we offer all technological knowledge we have at out disposal, and our unending loyalty."

If you are interested, take whatever preparations you need to prepare a suitable delegate to partake in negotiations. We shall be waiting at the following cooridinates for your answer."

The message repeated itself.

---

Sl'Tani Imperial Hegemony
Onboard Solace of Might
Tyrant Zvek'Rvet

Zvek sat upon the bridge of his flagship, Solace of Might, overseeing the Punishment of the Kto Clan. They had arrived in the Kuno System scant few hours ago, and already the space battle for the Kto Clan-Homeworld was coming to a close. The Kto had gathered the majority of their fleet to defend against the Solace of Might and the Rvet 17th fleet, yet despite both sides being nearly the same in terms of tonnage of ships, it was the Kto fleet that was quickly becoming a burning wreck. Zvek was certain that his flagship alone would have been enough to gain quick victory in space. Nearly 88 kilometers long, the Solace of Might was one of three Titan-class ships in Sl'Tani space. It was also the largest and most technologically advanced of the three, being built the most recent. The Kto, while great in number, lacked the one-shot firepower necessary to truly damage the behemoth. Despite this, Zvek had good reason to request the 17th fleet be loaned to him for the mission.

The Three Day War had drastically shifted the balance of power in Sl'Tani space. Now the Rvet Clan was closer than ever to truly earning the title of Hegemon. Yet a few key clans and sects stood neutral between the Unionist and the Traditionalist factions, and with recent developments these clans were scrutinizing the Rvet now more than ever. Under the watchful eyes of potential allies, Rvet had to act with far more restraint then it has before, yet at the same time it had to capitalize on its successes in the Three Days War. It was for these reasons that Zvek's personal forces had been stretched to their limits these past few months, as they could act for the benefit of the clan without actually bearing the clan name.

Zvek had always supported the clan in anyway possible, and he, perhaps most among all his brethren, wished to see them take their rightful place as Hegemon. Yet he felt that the Patriarch and clan elders had gone too far in their demands of him. His personal forces were not theirs to command in the first place, and he was quite certain they held their fleets back far more than necessary to force his own to take the brunt of the casualties in many battles. Zvek understood that his growing influence was frightening them, yet to make his own men bear the cost of their fears enraged him to no end.

Getting the Patriarch to lend him the 17th fleet was a small victory, but it bought some much needed respite to his forces, along with the time needed to train some men in the more specialized positions whose casualties were often difficult to replace.

It was as Zvek finished these thoughts that the final Kto ship was wiped from existence in a blaze of plasma. He ordered all fleets forward and for the troopships to make for landing. It was time to take the fight planetside.

[Skaldia]

The Su'l-tan System, Edge of Federation Space
Orbit of Su'l-tan
FSL Morningstar

"It's authentic?"

"Yes sir. Arrived nearly eleven hours ago. The message has been relayed to every System Governor and no doubt has reached the Emperor and the House of Primarchs." Spoke the young aide as she swiped through the data being relayed to her PAN*.

Lord Marshal Marlix Or'tapo of Clan Ur'esh turned around from viewing the globe of Su'l-tan. Aboard the FSL Morningstar he commanded the 69th Federation Fleet, comprised of the Morningstar herself, a Phaenon Class Dreadnought. He also had with him the FSL Defiant, a Xaoc Class Battleship, two Ourean Class Battlecruisers (the FSL's Arkaea's Fist and Spear of Triumph), four Fenur Class Destroyers, three Aither Class Frigates, and six Heston Class Corvettes. The 69th Fleet had been on perimeter patrol for the better part of a year, making a habit to arrive in Fringe Systems on a convoluted schedule kept with other Fleets assigned to System Defense.

The fact that the 69th Fleet had been in the Su'l-tan System when the message had been relayed to communication relays orbiting in the Oort Cloud of the Su'l-tan System and around her capital world had been serendipitous. They had almost made the jump the next System on their schedule, instead Lord Marshal Or'tapo had recalled all of his scattered Fleet to begin orbiting the capital world and to await orders from his superiors, namely the House of Primarchs. Technically, a Lord Marshal was equal to that of any other Lord Marshal. In reality, those who sat in the House of Primarchs were the epitome of the Federation and deferred to as such.

The message itself read as followed:

"We are Clan Cumo, of the Rv’Lonat species hailing from Sl'Tani space. We have come as refugees, fleeing the great despot that is Clan Rvet. We seek sanctuary in Arkaean space, along with a suitable planet to call our own. In return, we offer all technological knowledge we have at out disposal, and our unending loyalty."

If you are interested, take whatever preparations you need to prepare a suitable delegate to partake in negotiations. We shall be waiting at the following cooridinates for your answer."

It had taken moments by the shipboard AISC to translate the message from it's native language to that of Common Arkaean. Once translated, the message had been relayed throughout Federation space. The AISC was also busy compiling an index on the Rv'Lonat language, analyzing the message and using it to extrapolate even more of the language that had not been in the message. That cogitation was being shared on the CogNet as well, aimed at AISC's that were not limited to the martial functions of a Warship AISC. It was academic work mostly, as the translation devices used by the Federation were advanced enough to do the job on the fly and they were LAI. But it never hurt to have as much information as possible when dealing with potential threats.

Confirmation of orders returned as the Lord Marshal turned to viewing the world below him once more. The orders were piped from his PAN to his eyepiece over his retina.

Interdict unknown fleet and escort them to orbit of Su'l-tan Minor. Delegates from both Rv'Lonat and Arkaea will meet on the surface of Rv'Lonat. Instruct Rv'Lonat to allow boarders to inspect and secure their ships for potential passive and active threats. Ambassador T'ir'on will be on site in three hours.

---

The 69th Fleet had approached the Labors of Glory slowly, cautiously, spread out over several thousand kilometers to avoid ambush as much as possible and maximize their firing potential. At the center of their formation was the Morningstar, it's massive rail cannons loaded and prepared, the laser batteries fully charged and awaiting a single word from their Lord Marshal. Before approach at Sub-Light speeds, a message had been relayed back to the Rv'Lonat:

"Welcome to the Arkaean Federation, Rv'Lonat. This is Lord Marshal Or'tapo of the 69th Fleet. We are inbound to your location. Upon arrival you will allow inspection teams to board your vessel and scan for potential threats. Refusal will invite firing upon your vessel. Any harm to a member of the inspection teams will result immediate firing upon your vessel.

Once inspection is complete and verified you will be escorted to these coordinates and meet with a delegation on the surface. Failure to comply will result in immediate firing upon.

[The Moscow Metro Red Line]

SDFW Qo'kang (Fevo'sa Class Battlecruiser) - Outskirts of the Honecker System - Honecker System
36th of 'Sarom in the Era of Brotherhood 1009 (July 17th, 2496)

"We, the people of the Honecker and the Pieck Systems, declare our independence from the Ostian Protectorate! Our cowardly leaders have chosen to stay with these bloodthirsty and barbaric Slav'nam occupiers than to return to the Dominion! We appeal to the defenders of the Terran Dominion to come and liberate us from these beasts! As we speak, the people rise against their oppressors and take their arms to be used in our defense! People of the Protectorate, the time is now to regain our rightful independence!"

"I can't stand listening to these fifthly traitors anymore!" Patriarch Cosan yelled aloud and smashed his fist against the table. Around him were several other Slav'nam Generals and Officers, of N'ratan Clan, of 'Sarom Clan and of the SDF. They were focused on a interactive table in front of them which showed various images of the rebellion occurring in the Honecker and Pieck Systems: Dominion flags being raised, Slav'nam corpses being piled in the streets, public officials being executed, Slav'name being lined up and executed, and more scenes of wanton death and destruction.

"We are as displeased as you are, Patriarch Cosan," General Keva spoke aloud. "The fact remains that these systems need to be made an example of. Should we allow these systems to continue in their rebellion, it will invite the Dominion to our borders. And the High Council would not want an open war with them."

"It seems to me that the High Council is growing soft," Cosan said with a smirk causing a stir among the SDF officers present except for one. "Perhaps they are afraid of war?"

General Keva rose from his seat and flicked out his personal dagger from its shoulder holster, "Watch your tongue you-"

"Enough!" Yelled the previously silent SDF Officer. This particular officer wore a shoulder cape over his left shoulder armor. Two of his mandibles were missing as well as an eye. He placed his right armored prosthetic arm on the table along with his other one still of his flesh. "The Council has made its decision. As much as you wish to spill each other's blood over past grievances, let me remind you of your duty to the territories. A duty which we are all obligated by. Have I made myself clear?"

The remaining officers in the room looked at each other and then back to him. One of them began to speak, "We are yours to command, Joro, Son of Rore, of the 'Sarom Clan."

"Now that this dispute is resolved. I shall now tell you the battleplans for the quelling of this uprising." He began typing into the table and the images changed to a display of the two star systems. "The objective is to utterly crush this rebellion and make these traitors an example for those who wish to follow them. As a gesture of goodwill to the Ostian Government, we will allow a window for these traitors to surrender. A window of three hours. We will give them the option of surrender and of those who wish to escape before we begin. Once that window closes, no mercy will be given to those who reside in the system. Those who do not fight with us are our enemies. Those who refuse to fight are guilty of doing nothing to stop these traitors. Therefore no one shall be spared." Several battlegroups are at the border to prevent the Dominion from intervening. The officers gathered here will be the force of which we crush these dissidents."

Joro changed the image to that of the ships assembled. "Raider Formations will evade the main brunt of the enemy force and will directly engage their surface installations and population centers. They will soften up the ground forces to make way for our planetary assault. Meanwhile, we shall commence battle along our standard doctrines. We shall have a main battlegroups, two strike groups and several heavy raider groups along our flanks. We can't allow any of their ships to escape from the system. Therefore once we have a secure orbit around the planet we shall blockade it and deploy the ground troops. Reserve raider groups will patrol the system, intercepting any ship that attempts to leave the system. Meanwhile our two Heavy Strike Fleets will be tasked with engaging any enemy space stations. Any orbiting station is to be destroyed. We will have two days to crush all opposition in the Honecker System. Then two days to crush the dissidents in the Pieck System. We must strike swiftly and without hesitation. Any questions?"

"Yes, which of our groups will be participating in this engagement?" One of the 'Sarom Officers spoke aloud.

"The elements of the SDF which will be participating in this Operation: 433rd Heavy Strike Fleet, 901st Strike Group, 877th Strike Group, 245th Strike Fleet, and the 821st Battlegroup. The elements of the 'Sarom Clan: 323rd Heavy Strike Fleet, 122nd Strike Group, 131st Strike Group, and several of its heavy raider groups. The N'ratan Clan will have their warships in reserve in case any ship tries to leave system. The 'Sarom and the N'ratan Clans will handle ground operations. The SDF will provide orbital support, call upon them when needed. Now, go to your commands and lay out your battle-plans. This operation shall begin tomorrow."

---

Office of the Headmaster - Ostian Academy of Sciences - Nue Berlin - Ostia - Ostia System
36th of 'Sarom in the Era of Brotherhood 1046 (July 17th, 2533)

Ostia. The blue and green jewel of the Protectorate. The political capital of the Protectorate and the scientific center of the Territories and the Protectorate. In capital city of Nue Berlin was the Ostian Academy of Sciences. A prestigious university which essentially took over the city due to its importance to both governments. It has research bases and facilities across the Protectorate and the Territories. An example being the Storkow Historical Archive which catalogs the histories of both the Territories and the Protectorate. The position of Headmaster is as politically powerful as the position of Chancellor of the Protectorate though without the usual strings which the position of Chancellorship is tied to the Slav'nam High Council. The current headmaster of the Ostian Academy of Sciences was Karl "Sieghard" Engels the Seventh. Though he preferred to be called by his other name, Sieghard, rather than his full name. Sieghard is well-versed in the fields of history and archaeology, both being his professions before taking the position of Headmaster.

It was a quiet afternoon on the campus and the Headmaster was entertaining a guest, General Joro 'Sarom of the SDF. The Slav'nam was stretching out his prosthetic arm to grab the large glass mug in front of him. The Office of the Headmaster was rather simple in decoration. The only decoration being the craved wooden desk with basic chairs at his desk. On his desk was a computer terminal, a data-slate and a holographic picture of his family: his wife, two sons and two daughters. A humble room for such a prestigious person. "I take it that the new prosthetics are working to your tastes?" The Headmaster inquired.

"I must admit I prefer wearing Ostian prosthetics over Slav'nam prosthetics," the Slav'nam General spoke candidly, his mechanical mandibles moving in unison with his remaining ones of his flesh. "Losing limbs and functions are expected in combat and my people have no problems using prosthetics. Yet, our engineers learn more and more from your Academy than vise versa."

"I am simply glad that your people have taken my own into your protection. We are able to enjoy more rights and freedoms than those who dwell in the Dominion. Such commodities and living standards were achievable since your people gave us their protection," Headmaster Engels replied and took a sip of his tea. "In return, we are able to pursue many different fields of study. It is a symbiotic relationship."

"Please, Sieghard, You and I have known each other for too long to use such empty words. I consider you my friend and for that I will not betray you. We rely too much on your people to handle for our many deficiencies. Too many Slav'name are too prideful to admit that we are behind in many fields of study. There are too many warriors. Too many warriors. Your developments in energy control and manipulation have led to the creation of our energy weapons for our starships from our particle arrays to our anti-ship torpedoes. Even our energy shielding for starships."

"Correct. Though for the time being, I consider our relationship beneficial for my people. We will prosper more under your rule for the time being than under that of the Dominion. Most likely these assets will be taken into the Dominion Military where we are subjected to their schedules and demands. Space and time is needed for development and we can't always work under wartime conditions every year."

[The United Remnants of America]

Saulara, Juraxi System, Vresh Dead Zone

No one traveled in the Dead Zone.

That was the saying anyways. But of course people traveled through the Dead Zone. Vresh traveled there. So did smugglers, pirates, bounty hunters, refugees, and anyone else who wanted to avoid a major interstellar faction. Of course, anyone who went into the Dead Zone risked life and limb by crossing paths with a Vresh ship. Such encounters rarely went well for an unprepared passerby.

The Dead Zone was just that: Dead. Devoid of life almost everywhere. But of course there were important systems. Eridantas, Digaya, Platunus, Rekonda, Eidara, Juraxi, Irra, Rely, and Caeli. In the swath of Dead Zone, there were a dozen or so systems that were always circled in red. If you just had to go through where the Vresh went, then no matter what, you avoided those systems. Most of them contained the Hive Worlds, the places where the Vresh lived, bred, and originated. Others were important systems because they had livestock in them that the Vresh frequented. Even others seemingly had nothing in them save for Vresh appearing for no reason there.

The Juraxi System was two-fold. It was a small system, but two important planets orbited that main sequence star that were of importance to the Hive's function. On the far side of the system was the planet Thyrox. All things considered, Thyrox was a small Hive, but it was a Hive nonetheless. Hundreds of billions of Vresh lived there, and hundreds of ships scoured the star system, spreading out from that planet.

Saulara was a slightly larger planet by comparison, but it was dry. Vast swaths of desert and savanna stretched across Saulara. Of the two big environmental types of Vresh, stylized as Vresh Frigus and Vresh Calidus, neither liked warm and dry. Saulara, then, was a hard planet for the Vresh Frigus that originated from Hive Thyrox to visit, and they only did so when necessary. The dry heat made them weak, and it could be deadly. The Frigus were bred for cold climates; their carapaces heavy, concealing biologically-formed and chemically-charged thermal glands that kept them warm. On the hot plains of Saulara, that made them slow and quick to burn up if left out too long. They had to work quickly.

The Hive Mind referred to it as Savage. It was a self-chosen name, and the Vresh guarding him could necessarily ask about it. Savage was a Hunter. Hunter Vresh were small, fast. Since names of the various Vresh phenotypes were described by others, they tended to be direct. Hunters was an accurate term, and Savage wasn't just any Hunter. Savage was an Outcast, one of those few, precious Vresh born devoid of the Hive Mind. In old times, they were killed by the Hive on the spot, seen as abominations. But now, after it was decided they were more a benefit than a mutation, they were used for special jobs. Ambassador work, assassinations, trade. The Outcasts did it all.

Savage was on assignment to Saulara. Saulara, despite it's poor environment for living, was useful because it held life. And the large, slow, and dumb bovine species that had populated the planet were useful as livestock for how much food they produced. It was a veritable garden world for the Vresh, hence why they kept these livestock alive when the Hive would usually eradicate all biology in one go to use the material. Savage was here to check the bovine species, though. The Hive had come up with an amazing, genius idea: What if these creatures could be transported elsewhere to create more livestock? What if other dry, hot worlds could become breeding grounds for these fat food sources? A tremble of excitement had roiled through the entire hive when the idea occurred, and Savage had been summoned and dispatched immediately to Saulara with a small dropship and a half-dozen Soldiers and Workers as well as a couple of Engineers to assist the old Hunter Outcast. Savage had a simple job: Figure out if the creatures could be moved to create an offworld population, and if so, what would they need to survive?

It was a simple task. Savage would need to acquire one of the livestock, separate it from its herd. The Workers would help retrain it, while the Soldiers would provide security. The Engineers would study the creature. Savage was just in charge. The Outcast wished it wasn't working with just Vresh. Savage's fellow species provided little in the way of chit-chat barring simple messages unless the Hivemind spoke through them in them in those guttural shrieks, clicks, and growls the Vresh vocally made. If the Hivemind didn't need to speak, it was mainly just noises that amounted to "hungry, thirsty, tired." Savage found this humorous, as even when the Outcast worked with non-Vresh, one could really just simply all their words down into those simple messages, the same ones that individuals of a eusocial hivemind species with only one self made. Maybe other civilized species and Vresh weren't really that different, after all? Savage wanted to share this insight with others, but Savage was always stuck in the Dead Zone nowadays.

And no one ever traveled in the Dead Zone.

[Zanera]

Edge of Raxin Corporate Union Space
Outer Ring of Ghanas III
The Pirate Ship Roxy

---

"Well, I cannot imagine a more successful raid then that one," said the propulsion bridge expert, Jak Sox, a lean Raxin with a narrow face. They had hit another belt mining facility. The rings of Ghanas III were uglier than the ass of a Raxus Secundus baboon. No wealthy Raxin would bother making it their private space reserve. The material the belt contained was too profitable to go untapped, anyway. Ghan gems, named after Ghanas III, made prime tips of drill bits. They were harder than diamond and lasted as long as the titanium drill bit it was attached to, and even longer if the ghan gem was reattached to a new drill bit. Basically, they lasted for as long as you needed them. They were a cloudy grey, not very good for jewelry, but screw jewelry when even AstroCorp was interested in ghans.

Security around Ghanas III wasn't exactly bad, necessarily, but it could be better to say the least. It could do with tighter windows and faster reaction times, but that was fine for the crew of the Roxy. The small crate of rare and expensive gems would make for a third consecutive month's worth of profits for them. There was a danger that Shareholder's Council authorities would arrive and make the runs too risky, but until then, they were going to make runs day after day. "Me neither, they managed to upgrade their mining schedule but not their security one. With all this capital loss it's only a matter of time until AstroCorp smells the weakness and proposes a merger. Ha, if only the Council hadn't outlawed privateering in Raxin space!" remarked the captain, Hoxl Ghax, broad-shouldered and of average height.

"Maybe we could get a bunch of sponsors and paint the ship to look like an asteroid racer," joked the defense expert. The ship neared the asteroid belt circling the star Gha. A rough ride and they would be able to enter warp. However, someone else had other plans. The Bandit's Hand emerged from the asteroid belt, systems fired up and their shields online. Ghans were a very lucrative material, and the Uhteks on the Bandit's Hand would have no problem taking it from the Roxy so that they didn't have to trouble themselves with stealing it from private security. Hoxl Ghax ordered the Roxy's own shield be brought online, though it could only take a few hits until it was useless. The Bandit's Hand has a superior shield, and from what Ghax knew about it, it had better laser weaponry and even a torpedo tube. The only chance was the asteroid field.

---

Hostile Takoever

"Ghanas III reports a raid on a shipment of ghan gems. They report the ship went galactic east into the asteroid belt," reported the communications officer aboard the Arms LLC destroyer, the Hostile Takeover. AstroCorp and a couple of other mining companies had successfully appealed to the Shareholder's Council for a military presence in the Gha system. The Hostile Takeover had been deployed there, but the captain wanted to not only deter the pirates, but to destroy them. The ship hung just outside the Gha system so that the pirates wouldn't get cold feet from sensor readings. It would take just under a minute to arrive, but the captain was confident the pirates would receive their justice. "Take the ship to warp, exit at the last-known location of the pirates," the captain ordered, looking on his navigational officer, sitting before him, and then looked at the wide visiscreen arrayed before the whole bridge. In a few minutes, it would show his query.

---

Roxy

"A destroyer just jumped out of warp, just outside the belt," said the sensors expert aboard the Roxy. The ship weaved in and out of asteroids flinging through space, the Uhteks still on their tail after every turn. Collisions with small asteroids stressed the shields, and the apes had already gotten a couple of successful shots off. A destroyer, with more firepower and better shields than either pirate ship, was trouble. "It's pursuing us into the asteroid field, assuming a steady pace with shields at full. It's blasting at whatever's in its way, and it'll only be a matter of time before it gets to shoot us!" said the sensors expert. The navigational expert, meanwhile, could barely scrape the ship past an asteroid. "Loxa condemn these rocks, we have to break the heat!"

The captain ordered," Search for a huge asteroid and dive behind it. When we're there, power down all our systems. Even the life support."

In the next few minutes the destroyer was already engaging the Bandit's Hand, but not before the Uhteks had broken the Roxy's shields and damaged the warp core of the ship. The fire was brought under control and the ship's technicians were mortally working to bring it back online. At least now the Bandit's Hand was firing back at the destroyer. A successful torpedo shot rocked the Uhteks' ship, making it shudder to a stop. An asteroid walloped against its port bow, taking a chunk of the ship out. All the Roxy saw of the two ships was a laser show before the sensor expert reported the destruction of the Bandit's Hand. The captain ordered the navigational expert to find a suitable asteroid to hide behind as soon as possible, now that they didn't have to worry about being shot at, at least for the moment.

The inertial dampeners strained as the ship flew up one side of a massive asteroid, dodging a collision with a smaller asteroid as the ship then sailed over the zenith of the parabola and then began landing measures on the other side. The landing gears roughly connected with the surface of the asteroid as systems powered down, one after another. Passive sensors detected the destroyer obliterating asteroids as it moved around the massive revolving asteroid, the Roxy never getting a visual of the destroyer as the asteroid turned. Which meant, luckily for them, they had a chance to not get detected. The air was already getting hot and stuffy from the lack of circulation and all the hot computer systems having only just powered down, and the sensor expert suddenly thought about the destroyer's thermal sensors. The asteroid might block a thermal signature...hopefully.

By the time the destroyer exited the asteroid belt and then left the system, the ship was getting disturbingly cool.

---

Hostile Takeover

"No warp's been detected. The pirates must be hiding somewhere in the asteroids still," reported the sensor officer.

"Their ship's been damaged and they've been taking those ghans somewhere. They must take multiple warp jumps to reach their base, though. We'll have to track them for days and a few crates of ghans might go missing, but it'll be worth it. We can end piracy in this sector altogether. Deploy a probe, then steer the ship clear of the asteroids and warp half a lightyear out of the system," ordered the officer. "Now I'll need to contact a few people," he said, pondering those who he would have to contact. The sensor officer deployed a probe, and then the navigational officer steered the ship clear of all the asteroids altogether, and warped.

---

Roxy

"Cap'n, the destroyer's warped out of the system," reported the sensors expert, huffing for breath.

"Turn on the life support and then everything else," gasped Captain Hoxl Ghax. The airvents, filters and reoxygenator hummed back to life. It took a few minutes for the crew to quit their repose and to fire up the rest of the systems. The warp core was worked on for twenty minutes, and then it hummed back to life too. The ship lifted off the asteroid a few minutes afterward, steering harshly through the asteroid field. When it came out clear on the other side, the Roxy warped to a barely-populated system, the Haz system.

---

Hostile Takeover

"I'll destroy them and everyone else remotely related to the sector's piracy, I promise you. It means as much to me as it does to your profit margins," assured the captain. The communications windows blinked off, one after another, until the visiscreen was blank. He had requested some sturdy freighters help him deploy probes where the pirate ship usually warped to and from. The probe from the earlier end of the chase had been brought back into the ship and its data analyzed. So far, the Haz system was on the list as their first stop before they warped again. Freighters would be unassuming. An Arms LLC destroyer, was. But, when the time arrived to raid their base, the Hostile Takeover would head a fleet to destroy it. As for now, the Ghanas III miners couldn't pack their crates with anything but ghans, or the pirates would be deterred to raid them. It would be unfortunate, but perhaps salvagers would be able to pick the gems from the wreckage of the pirate base. After the pirate base raid, perhaps the miners won't have to worry about security again for a long, long time anyway.

[True Refuge]

Arrivals

The Order of the Winged Eye

---

W͚͙̼̖͡ͅe̖̟̳̼̥͢ ̮̯́a͖͙̫̝̤̮͘r̦͖̹̬e̠ ̜͙̲̤͢y͇͉͇̯̠̹͟o̷̫̠̣u̬͓̣̹̥͠r̗̗͙̟̤̲ ̜̦͓̝̮̺͠s̵͖̮al͡ṿ̜̞̱̙̱a̬̞͠t҉͇̬i̹ợ̼̟̦n̰̮.̤̤̣̹͇

]

A̹̼̼̮̖nd̼͝ ̱̣y͕͉̣o̮̬̙̭͙ṵ͉͔̲̙̼̭ ̬͘ͅw͕͚͖̳̘i͓ḽl͇ ̠͞ͅso̙͘o͙̟̪̗̣͍̦n̩͙ ̴̟̬͔͕͇j҉o͚̩̬i̻̠̟̕ṇ̪͔͎͎͠ͅ ͏̰̮̫ṷ̻̙̲̮̞̠s.̻̠̱̦͙

---

Read this notice in private.
Report to your closest Senior Squire if you find any unauthorised observation devices or persons reading or tampering with this message’s contents. This includes members of your assigned household.

You have been selected. Congratulations on the recognition of your exemplary loyalty and faith by our leaders.

You will report for preliminary instruction at 0500 tomorrow morning in the Training and Sparring Centre. Lateness or failure to attend are unacceptable, and will be punished harshly.

You will not discuss the briefings that follow with anyone under the rank of Senior Squire not present, even other disciples of the Seven, unless otherwise stated by your superiors. Contravening this order constitutes high treason against a direct affiliate of the Seven via active endangerment of their activities and will be punished with an apostate’s execution.

The Order of the Winged Eye and the Hands of the Seven thank you for your upcoming service.

---

CELL ONE
Sophia
The Terran Dominion
T̲h͉̜̤̙̜͚̜ḙ ̜̰͙̹̫So̤͈̤̪͇ͅl̙̫̜͉̗ͅͅd͏̻i̧̮̣̞e̲̣r͏̹͇̦̗̹͇͙
Albakin Station, Orbit of Haradim, XTN-10889 “Vjolkmar” System

The deployment of the cell had been surprisingly smooth so far. All five members had gone through their preliminary movements accurate to the very minute, reported in at every stage, and kept hidden. In truth, the frequent reports were unnecessary. Their travel was uneventful and they had shown their adequacy long before this last, critical stage, or at least their fellow believers had decided so. Both the announcement of future infiltrations and the cells’ departure were met with thunderous applause and favourable prayers back on Verdigris, even if the identity of the devoted believers departing them were kept secret for security purposes.

Sophia was part of the deafening crowds assembled in the Order’s grand assembly halls, applauding and cheering for herself to the letter of her instructions. She had offered prayers asking for the cell’s with her household with a straight face when her colleagues unwittingly heaped hero-worship upon her. For weaker believers, maintaining the ruse may have been difficult, but not for Cell One. Their assignment was a blessing from the Seven and their servants. That holy gift transcended all doubt, but that mattered little, for the Order had already purified her of indecision long ago. The Winged Eye offered only surety, and she revelled in its gaze.

It was cold in the passenger barge. The pilots had clearly neglected to adjust their malfunctioning climate control modules. At least twice a minute, someone nearby would shiver violently, though whether it was from the cold was difficult to tell. Sophia’s own muscles lightly spasmed on occasion. There was little point in stopping them when her clothes had no chance in protecting her against the embrace of the air cyclers set too low. Only an unadorned fabric jumpsuit, a pair of thin trousers and her underclothing, all worn by time and material scarcity, protected her against the elements. She didn’t complain in words or thought. To do so would only be ignorant of the people around her all suffering equally, if not worse.

Some of the ships in this spaceport had a special story, one Verdigris’ tacticians found easy to adopt for their own. Sophia had memorised the details of many of them, ready to combine details from any of them in improvised stories if needed. They were returning from the Dominion-Corundum border, full of once-hopefuls. They, the worst failures and dissidents of the former, had dreamt of fleeing the gruelling requirements of Terran meritocracy. They probably envisioned their future lives in the Federal Republic to be on of endless liberty and opportunity by law that enshrined such above all else. Their original government let them go without restriction, seeing little value in them. Yet, when they finally touched down and the culture shock set in, these uneducated, second-class people raised according to strict military discipline were overwhelmed. They were lost without the Terran citizenship ranks and obvious life plans. Here they were, resigned to a life of dutiful but arduous national service and filled with self-hate for their ‘treachery’. Their government then took their profitable investment back and reintroduced them to the general population. They made no complaints, and no blame was laid on them for their toxic society.

The Order of the Winged Eye had studied them, questioned them, and even recruited the most anguished and listless. They were a precious few, snatched from wayward traders, rescued from pirate bases and liberated from hidden places of depravity and debauchery. They revealed much about the workings of their home’s society, but the words of hateful expatriates weren’t as objective as the Order hoped for. Sophia had read their stories and her superiors’ analyses as part of their culture immersion training. They showed that the Dominion and its conforming culture shared several characteristics with the tenants of the Winged Eye, although the connection of ideologies was rather loose and rooted in extremely different reasoning. Regardless of the cultural differences, the similarities were pleasing enough to the Order and a key factor in its decision to arm this mission with its finest.

Sophia had already talked with some of the distraught aboard, if only to pass the time. She looked into their eyes and their skin deemed unworthy of even acknowledgement by their government, and found them wanting so dearly. There was the tiniest urge then, easily restrained, to regale them with the holy truth of the Seven and their benevolence right there and then, for she knew that the Winged Eye was the answer to their desires. That muffled voice weakly suggested she say she was there to fight for them, to enlighten them, and save them from themselves. However, she was disinclined from giving grand speeches, and the Order’s instructions had discarded such direct action without even a need for acknowledgement. They would see the light, eventually. Perhaps some sooner than later, considering that she had obtained contact information from the most promising passengers.

A landing announcement filled with fake brightness and encouragement sounded out over the intercom, and the light buzz of eager conversation and clicks of seatbelts began in the passenger holds. A screen high up on the wall, covered in wire mesh likely more maintained then the climate systems, showed their destination from the perspective of high orbit: Albakin station, hovering well above the planet’s reddened atmosphere. Sophia reached for her luggage and nestled it between her feet, always wary of those around her, although the contents were not of any particular significance. Clothes, journals, currency, all replaceable. Her most important possessions were in the palm of her left hand. She held the e-passport, ID and immigration documents, all masterfully falsified by one of the many talents of the Order, tight, and always in her vision.

Eventually, the ship docked and people began to file out through the airlock. Thankfully, it was spacious, and the unloading was quick. Even with the dockyard’s flashy lights, bright advertisements and the station guards’ kinetic rifles, the walk to customs left her unfazed. Little of the station varied from the profiles they had memorised so viciously, be it the soldiers’ inflated arrogance to the looping recruitment ad on the walls or its utilitarian steel in military colours.

As she joined the winding queue to a restless border security agent’s booth, she glanced around, taking in the people around her, assessing the situation as her training had drilled into her. Three lines away, she caught a flash of hair, a unique shade, and the familiar face under its collar-length. For a moment, their eyes met. The man returned with a neutral look and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Sophia had just enough time to spy the half-faded scar alongside the left side of the squire’s neck before the queues shifted and he fell back into the thrall of customs. Old questions still unanswered questions surfaced again, and she quashed them once more. For some reason, she felt a strange sense of pride after the figure disappeared into the thrall of customs once more. Never mind that he did not choose her to care for his weapon in its transit. The thought was fleeting, for she remained focused on the task above all else, even the rumours about that man, their leader. The others had already arrived or were on incoming ships. There was no reason to think about them, for two flights, infinitely more pressing, remained before their cell met again and was ready to operate. One by shuttle to the surface to scout out the economic centre of the planet, one back up to their accommodation. In both they had prepared the disguise of commuters, partaking in the drudgery just like any other day. Their leader would make the decision then: The station or the planet. They were equipped for both, but in the long term, it mattered little. Haradim depended on the station’s port. If one fell, the other followed in lockstep.

After a time, the agent called her forward. The Order’s forgers did their jobs and she was waved through after only the standard interrogation. As she went past, the station administration programs sent her communicator the folders of propaganda and titbits of useful information the Dominion had deemed necessary for new workers. She gave them a cursory glance and put the thin device away. The inside of the station was a far sight from the docks. Street vendors hawking basic supplies and tools preyed on the vulnerable and naïve with their price gouging, but they soon learned that Sophia and the man walking fifteen steps behind her were lost causes. It wasn’t that they were in any wa reflective of the station’s wealth. That measure was off the charts. The sad reality was that scum like them were everywhere.

The preliminary rendezvous was just a few sectors away from the docks. As they passed by in the crowd, she and the others would exchange several code words in passing, full of meaning affirming their undetected passage. A ship was waiting if their veil was pierced, but Sophia was certain that it would be unneeded. The alternative wasn’t pleasant to extrapolate. A lapse of judgement was no excuse to the trainers back at Verdigris after months of explicit protection against that except failure. ‘No tolerance for inadequacy’, they would intone gravely before they carried out their punishment. It would certainly be disappointing in the eyes of their squire, no matter how many times she or the others proved themselves,

In her peripheral vision, she spotted the crucial handoff. A courier, paid and threatened well, dropped a long, metal box in a nook of an alleyway, hidden from cameras and prying eyes. They timed the drop-off so well the man with the scar turned into the alley in a perfect curve, never out of step. He picked the box up and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Sophia by herself in a station. Sophia’s muscles relaxed a little, although she didn’t even realise they were tensed in the first place. Compared to that box, remembering the way to the rendezvous was a triviality. The path was so familiar it might have well been the path back to her household unit from the assembly hall after a sermon. She walked off, dodging passers-by and worming her way through the station’s imposing vastness.

Cell One’s infiltration of the Terran Dominion had initiated without a hitch. The Order would surely be pleased.

---

CELL TWO
The Federal Republic of Corundum
Mognandor, Karelia Minor, Karelia System

Life may not have been great on Karelia Minor, but it sure was comfortable. It certainly was for someone living on the edge of its capital urban area, away from the frantic business of the central districts and the industry surrounding the spaceport. Here, one could see from the balcony the faint, thin line of the planet’s space elevator, disappearing into the clouds in the distance. Many a night was spent there, looking out onto the horizon, enjoying their carefully purchased luxuries and disposable incomes, small as they were, and dreaming of the oceans’ blue. It was a nice way to live, and for the man in apartment thirty-four, it was shame. He had the burden or perhaps the privilege of knowing that it wouldn’t last forever.

He’d set up a nice lifestyle here. A managerial position at one of the AI markets, overseeing the programs as they dispensed weekly groceries. As monotonous as it got sometimes, the technical certificate it required meant the salary was decent enough. He had enough to buy a new bunch of clothes every once in a while from a very capable local textile manufacturer, enjoy the rare bottle of mid-level liquor, and immerse himself in the neighbourhood. There were a few friends close by, most of which were support technicians met during more serious maintenances.

Apartment thirty-four was sleek, with all the necessary screens and dispensers of a modern Corundum worker. The national news channel played softly on one of the former, supplying background noise to break the silence. There were no markings out of the ordinary anywhere in its two somewhat spacious room; his standing orders forbade it. Praying felt strange without the familiar symbols watching over him, but he was never one to break routine. Even with all the comfort of his household, he found some nights he couldn’t relax. Sometimes, he’d just sit down on the couch and stare at the door for a while, wondering when it would all change. A month, two, tomorrow? He’d been told sometime soon. Nevertheless, impatience was out of the question, and so he waited, sticking to the drudgery day after day, placid and patient.

Late at night, the man was perusing some software edits sent from his employing corporation, checking for worryingly common typos and mistakes. A cheap pre-packaged dinner, one of many over his months living here, laid half-eaten on his workstation besides the terminal and its keyboard. He tip-tapped away on the keys, absorbed in the task, but light tapping tore his attention away. It repeated a knocking on the door. Rapid, rat-a-tat, in a suspiciously rhythmic fashion. Memories stirred, and in seconds, the man was on his feet and at the door.
“Who is it?”
A male voice, muffled by metal, emanated from the other side. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for a Mr Deke. Lives in the building.”
The man in thirty-four frowned. “I don’t know a Deke,” he said, slowly and measured. “First name?”
“Samel.”
The man continued, speaking words he’d revised for months: “Where’s he from, brother?”
“A system called Wonderland. Heard of it?”
The frown deepened, fighting with a sense of near elation deep within him as they moved down the checklist. Was this it? “It rings a bell, but I still haven’t met a Deke. Have you got a picture?”

The operative on the other side of the door slid a folder underneath it. “If you see him, please “contact me. I have some friends arriving tomorrow who need to meet him.”

The man bent to pick up the folder and heard the quiet footsteps of whoever it was walking down the hallway on its cheap carpet. In a few seconds they had disappeared entirely, leaving him and the paper, an archaic messaging method, alone. In a fluid movement, he ripped open one side and a piece of paper slid out, printed with a short, neat message.

Six Circles-Ubiquitous-Pax-Red Wave-Song-Wager-Severence
Follow the beaten path.
May the Seven save you, protect you, deliver you.

Along with the message, the folder contained four photographs. They were barely the size of his palm, but the man could see the faces plainly. Two men: one in his twenties, one older, and one woman. He stuffed these in a horizontal slit carved into his desk, where they would be waiting for memorisation. Next, the pages of the man’s old codebook, locked in a slender safe in the wall with data-destruction protocols enabled, came to mind, easily supplanting his now so insignificant work. So, nothing had changed. The main plan was still in effect. A list of procedure was drawn up in his head. He had two days to assemble his intelligence reports and culture studies for those lucky enough to join him here. After that, waiting at the rendezvous every day in the afternoon after his shift for his subordinates.

A drawer was opened and a liquid-based fuel lighter retrieved. The ash was swept into the room’s garbage disposal panel. For the rest of the night, the man was up with his communicator, making calls and preparations interspaced with invocations and rehearsed phrases. He moved with a new spirit, but stayed quiet, never loud enough to be heard from outside. There was no fear now, no worry. The Hands of the Seven had deemed his work fit to continue, a grand achievement. He now had the ability to bring the Seven’s holiness to Corundum, and he would not fail. After all, the Order of the Winged Eye expected nothing less.

---

CELL THREE
THE VRESH HIVE
Saulara, Juraxi System, Vresh Dead Zone

Two and a half hundred thousand kilometres away from where the Outcast Savage deliberated, two compact stealthships languished in the shadow of Saulara’s sole, barren moon. Their hulls were oddly shaped, with highly sloped armour of a jagged design suited for deflecting radar and other detection methods or even low-calibre kinetic slugs, if it came to that. Their fusion reactors, stolen from merchant fleets some time ago, ran at minimal capacity and heat radiators remained within the ship, fooling sensors that constantly threatened to reveal them.

Within their fuselages, forty-five operatives and twenty-three crew sweated in the light heat, an inevitable discomfort of their choice of stealth. A few of the latter were recent recruits but the rest were hard veterans highly appreciative of the gift they had been given. To members of the Order, even consideration for a mission such of this was a high honour. Those who made the shortlist excelled in everything the Order valued in its soldiers. The men and women aboard all exhibited the perfect mix of loyalty, faith, and marksmanship. No speech longer than a snappy instruction or two had drifted through the ships’ corridors and quarters for many hours. A few weeks prior, rifles of many kinds had weighed down racks on walls all around them but this time they were absent. On this outing, the quartermasters had replaced them with specialised arms, the result of remarkable innovation back on Verdigris’ weapon labs. They hung alongside body armour and dozens upon dozens of long, thin magazines just as specifically designed as their compatible weapons. The soldiers sat on hard, utilitarian rests, methodically rehearsing battle plans and forming prayers, waiting for instructions from their ship’s bridge.

Just like all the other missions forming a part of the Order of the Winged Eye’s grand plan, preparation of this expedition had been long-term and exhaustive. Placing scouts deep into the Vresh’s territory, an operation nervously observed by the rest of the Order, had taken many weeks to produce results, but the wait was more than acceptable. The tireless loyalty and precise methodology of the Order’s Lenses on several Vresh worlds had yielded a rudimentary ability to listen in on the Hive’s local communications. It was unreliable and inconsistent at times due to the inevitable dangers of scouting preventing more thorough research, but the Hive’s distaste for their Outcasts was great enough that the constant mentions of the subclass’ lowliness were more than enough to track one down. The Order had shadowed their routine with other scouts for a week now, refining their predictions and profiles.

The Order’s tacticians had devoted much time to the problem of bringing the Seven’s influence and grace to a hive mind. There were no frustrated dissidents to coax, no impoverished proletariats to persuade, or divides to exploit when the Hive could easily keep track of everything within it. The rewards of success were great. Indeed, perhaps even greater than the bounties of a more regular nation. After all, serious dissent was hard to find in such a unified populace, a wonderful quirk if conversion could be achieved. Yet, the road to acquiring them was long and dangerous. That much was sure before the meetings even began, and it was a theme constantly revisited in their cost-benefit analyses. The omniscient nature of hive minds among their components meant one careless mistake would likely undo the entire plan at great offence to the Order and the Seven who they served. The usual method of infiltration and proselytization would never work, and so a different, far more aggressive endeavour was chosen. It was the first real test of the Order’s trained forces, and its elite were eager to prove their loyalty.

For many, their soldering careers had consisted of uneventful guard duties or perhaps raiding remote stations for supplies while masquerading as common pirates. The Order’s leadership found the enthusiasm with which they’d performed those tasks to be an acceptable display of faith, but as pleasant as it was assisting the Hands of the Seven in spreading the ways of the Winged Eye in such a direct manner, the itch to make a real difference in their battles never went away. They were the first to leap at the chance. None would even dare to think of speaking out of turn and disgrace themselves before the Seven’s gaze for the miniscule chance They observed them now.

Unlike the soldiers, silence had failed to seize any ground within the bridges. Astrogators and technicians kept a close eye on sensor data and giving meticulous reports to their captains with crisp deference. A Senior Squire led the platoon from a position by his ship’s captain, alert and absorbing the information as soon as it came. Despite the somewhat cramped conditions, he wore his rank’s signature plate armour streamlined to his form. The fine metal was heavy with its wearer’s history, etched with the Order’s favour, and spotless. Faint light from panels and consoles danced across its polished surfaces and the hilt at his hip. At their departure from the Order’s home, the sight had drawn expressions of awe from the bridge crew and even from the captain herself, but the squire had dissuaded it. Focus was paramount. He and his second-in-command, who was in almost the same position on the platoon’s other craft, maintained a low chatter through tight-beam, low-strength radio.

He saw the report before his technicians called it in. He saw the subtle muscle contractions, little intakes of breath and apprehension in his subordinates. They could only mean one thing: their target had been located.

“Sensor array shows Vresh activity on the surface, four hundred thousand klicks out, and communications indicate the target is present.” one technician said, never looking away from the data scrolling on her personal screen. “Standard security escort is present on the surface.”

Only seconds later, the squire’s voice echoed through the quarters with a call to action. The soldiers tensed. Eyes drifted to their weapons, but ever-disciplined hands stayed by sides, patient. Crewmembers scrambled to their pre-mission posts, waiting for their proud moment of service as the squire worked through his checklist.
“ETA to our landing site?” the squire asked, only as loud as was required.
“Approximately one and a half standard days using thrusters only sir.”
“Very well. All personnel begin equipment checks.” Others quickly relayed the order to squad leaders and their subordinates, and those patient hands suddenly leapt for their firearms, now eager.
The squire continued with a new focus. “Faraday cage?”
A few seconds passed and the assigned engineer gave their approval.
“Containment cell? Cloaking equipment? Rations?”
Rapid conversation between squire and crew battled for a while, a war where one side sought errors and the other proved itself many times over. Dozens of greenlights later, the checklist was finished and a gentle silence settled, waiting once more.
“All personnel prepare for acceleration. May the Seven bless our expedition.” the squire said before turning to the captain and nodding. “Take us down.”
Almost simultaneously, the crew mouthed the words, “Winged Eye watch us, measure us, judge us.”

The thrusters’ tiny jets flared on the sides of the ships, beginning their invisible journeys to the surface.

ACTIONS:

• Order agents arrive on planets within the Terran Dominion and the Federal Republic of Corundum.
• Order platoon mobilises and prepares to land on Saulara, part of the Vresh Hive’s territory. The Hive is unaware, for now.

[Tagali Federation]

Chapter 2
Yaliza


Yaliza pushed aside the door curtain to her childhood home. The orange glow of Todval setting below the horizon. The house was exquisite but small. One of many houses designated for the secondary mates of the Tagali Emperor and their offspring within House Sajana's Imperial Estate. Servants had come and gone since she left Jakala and the Core Worlds behind for the Frontiers all those years ago, but it otherwise remained untouched. The small kitchen was fully stocked as it always has been, filled with exotic ingredients from around the Empire, from freshly cut Selgo meat from the vast plains of the neighboring planet, Keshiga, to decades old bottles of Wine from the occupied human worlds, either taxed from a vineyard or more likely looted during an invasion. The large round bed where she, her mother, and her five siblings had slept was cleaned recently, smelly of fragrant perfumes from the planet Marsola.

Yaliza entered the communal area of the house. Years after she left, her mother passing, and her siblings either marrying into other Houses or dying on some far off human world-

WIP


Chapter 3
Leonard


"Ivara una moor, Keisa?" Leonard heard as he listened in on two tagali soldiers talking from the comfort of his hammock. Normally, Leonard would have found himself busy in the engineering sections of ships he served on, checking on any systems or parts that required maintenance on the fly. But by fortune or misfortune(he couldn't tell which) decades of warfare had made the Tagali weary of a human skulking about their ship, even if they were a comrade of the current Empress of the entire Tagali Empire. For the entirety to the journey, Leonard had nothing better to do but lay in his hammock, listening into various conversations.

<"Fuck these rats, how did they even get on the ship!?">

<"Whole Frontier is crawling with them now. Fuckers sneak their way aboard

Chapter 4
Eo


WIP

Chapter 5
Hassa


WIP


Chapter 6
Endura


WIP

[Kraicia]

(Tigapetera - Capital City of Dekafisuruna) - (三石 - 第十恋スル心)

(Knight Leftenant Mikaela Hyakuya)

(1021 Hours) - (亮1021)

(6th Floor Hotel Building)

Mikaela was sitting on the couch in the lounge room putting the last 13x35mm bullet into his six-shooter revolver, already reassembling the entire gun piece by piece from his luggage. The Protectorate-aligned Inquisition had issued both Mikaela and Ryu standard-issued paramilitary service pistols ahead of time, allowing them to shoot the targets in one shot to the head once they got inside the Inquisition Headquarters. The only things they should be destroying is their targets, and no one else, or it would be extremely suspicious on the Order's side.

Not long after Mikaela swung the cylinder back into the revolver, Ryu walked in from the library of their hotel room, peering out the window of the hotel via from the lounge room. For a moment, there was silence, with nothing more than the metallic sounds of Mikaela checking his revolver. For some time, Ryu was looking through a pair of binoculars in his left hand out the window, only to momentarily set them down and get Mikaela's attention with a bored sigh, "For the record, this was not exactly my idea."

"Just act and be a professional, that's all." Mika replied back boringly from his partner's sighing, securing the silencer on his gun as he said so.

"That's easy for you to say, former policeman." Ryu sassed back with a slight sarcastic chuckle in his voice, "As a matter of fact, what if you get in there and forget whose side you're on?"

"I would never be on their side or wear those plebeian clothes." Mika sneered, "The only reason why I do otherwise is to secure the Lord of Admirals. Now if you do me favor and remind me why we're in this hotel?"

"You forgot already?" Ryu huffed sarcastically as he looked through his binoculars again.

"No. I want to know if you we're paying attention from briefing, Amane." Mika grumbled at his partner, whom technically had the same rank as Mikaela himself.

Ryu only groaned to himself in irritation for a moment, secretly disbelieved that his fellow knight was forcing him to repeat what they went over in briefing the day before, "Are you mad? We can be clearly heard from..."

Suddenly, before Ryu could complain any further, a surprised silent gasp on his face formed as he saw their incoming cue in the streets, "By the spirits, the prison bus is getting off the bridge."

"Southmost bridge?" Mikaela asked as he stood up and tucked his revolver away in his sweater.

"Yeah."

But by that time, Mikaela wasted no time to head for the door opposite of the windows, though not without talking to Ryu, "Then we got forty minutes. I'll meet you on the other side."

Without even waiting for his partner's sassing, Mikaela closed the door behind him, exiting the hotel room and making his way up to the rooftop a couple minutes and four stories later. Once there, he was only ten stories up from the street, coming upon an attic window among the slanted tile rooftops. Luckily for him, he was facing an alleyway rather than the main streets that their hotel room was facing, which allowed him to traverse the rooftops with minimal suspicion.

Across the way, there was the rooftop to the Inquisition HQ, though in order to get there, he had to pick the lock on the vertical sliding window. So with a minute on his side, he used nothing more than a bobbypin and a light bulb filament to pick the lock, promptly taking the tools with him as he poked his head out the window. He only had a small ledge outside of the window to jump off, which was plentiful because of the narrow alleyway closing the distance between the hotel and the HQ building.

Security cameras were active, but thanks to insiders in the Inquisition, Mikaela's actions would go unnoticed and ignored as he got outside the window and leaped across onto the HQ rooftop. Ryu in the meantime was going to access the HQ via the sewers, which would take longer, but was lesser riskier and it would grant him access to his target more safely. Mikaela was taking the quicker yet riskier approach, since he was coming through the heart of the HQ rather the bottom of it.

But luckily for him, his target in particular was scheduled to come up on the rooftops to look out for the bus in five minutes. He would be alone, while the other officer would be down below in the HQ filing out the last paperwork. Mikaela was chosen to impersonate this military police officer in particular, since he and the officer had the same blonde hair color and red eyes; however, eyes would not be a problem, since the officer would be wearing gas mask over his face.

Mikaela knew the hand signals and gestures the Order/original Zillions made due to his Knight training that took decades long, so it should be no problem to impersonate the military police officer's protocols. Prior to the mission, he had been informed that the military police officer is of lieutenant level, allowing him to bypass many of the security procedures imposed upon the Order military as of the Protectorates' gradual disbandment and absorption into the Order. This should be easy...

Which upon waiting for five minutes, Mikaela saw the military officer arrive on the rooftop via a secure staircase. The officer was bearing the blue colors of the paramilitary/field-inquisition units of the Order, with his face hidden by the gas mask on his face, and a holster on his left side that was designed for that same service revolver that Mikaela had on himself. In the officer's right hand was the binoculars; however, Mikaela noticed that the officer had slightly lifted his brodie helmet with his left hand so that he could more comfortable view through the binoculars.

The only option now was to shoot the officer through either side of the head, but obvious not where the officer was standing at the moment The officer was standing right out in the open for anyone down below, curious enough to look up at the rooftops in the streets. So all what Mikaela had to do - hiding behind a pair of air conditioning units - was attract the officer's attention, which was no more than Mika tapping loudly against one of the units.

Upon hearing the sound, the guard put down his binoculars and drew his revolver to investigate the unusual sounds from the AC units behind him. When he arrived to investigate, there was nowhere there on the other side of the AC units, which brought the guard back at ease again and holstering his revolver, turning around and walking back to his original position on the roof ... if not for the fact that Mikaela had moved onto the front side of the AC unit, waiting for the guard's left side to be open. And without the guard ever knowing what hit him, a muffled 13x35mm bullet smashed through his head, careful not to destroy the mask or its straps on his head.

With his mechanical computer destroyed, the officer froze for a moment as he completed his step, paused for a second to turn at his killer and shake mildly for a moment, before he then froze in place as his internals were receiving no more commands. But at Mikaela's care, the officer was handled carefully by Mikaela as removed the officer's helmet, mask, load-bearing harness, unbutton the shirt, and then used his hand to forcibly turn the officer's windup dial the opposite way. Finally, after a few turns, the clockwork heart from within the officer's internals made a quiet peaceful tune before it suddenly came to a stop with a ratchet and a click.

Even though the officer was no more in his mind and heart, his face retained an angry frown as he saw the bastard that killed him in place. But he would only manage to retain that face for so long as it slowly loosened from the lack of any hydraulic oil pumping through his pipes. Limp as an ordinary organic being, Mikaela then dragged the lifeless Order Zillion officer behind the AC units, and then began to dress himself into the
military police officer's clothes, taking about ten minutes to fully change clothes and then emerged as the officer in question.

Slightly adjusting the gas mask on his face, Mikaela then put the brodie helmet on his head before briefly straightening his collar. And with only fifteen minutes to go, Mikaela entered back into the HQ building, going through the building and security with no suspicion at all. To the other inquisition/paramilitary units in the HQ building, it looked as if the officer was doing his job as usual and was heading down to get on the bus, destined to stop next at the airport to pick up Koronosa.

Moments later, two military police officers and their four man officer squads showed up in the HQ parking lot, one with blonde hair and the other with black raven hair. Mikaela and Ryu were doing their jobs perfectly, and within minutes, the prison bus showed up, dropping off the robbed inquisition members in exchange for the military police officers to get on board without a struggle. Just like that, the masters had been played for a fool by their creations, infiltrated from within as the first stage of Operation Hurricane went underway...

---

(Tigapetera - Capital City of Dekafisuruna) - (三石 - 第十恋スル心)

(Lord of Admirals Koronosa Haitoko Sango)

(1350 Hours) - (亮1350) - (Two and a half hours later)

(Parkhill Prison)

Parkhill Prison was originally a cathedral built in the early days of Tigapetera's colonization. Built on a forested hilltop overlooking the city, it's overlapping domes and ten 100-story spires (arranged as a ten-pointed star) poking out from the hillsides, symbolizing Dekafisuruna's importance as the home for the tenth most sacred place among the Zillions, the Ankara Mausoleum of the Arbiters. Despite its highly ornate and constantly beautiful exterior, Parkhill was anything but attractive on the inside.

Originally taking ten years to build, Parkhill undergone multiple expansions over the decades as the city grew and prisoners started coming in the thousands. The spires served as the actual housing units, each holding up to a thousand prisoners (each floor holding ten prisoners in comfortable and spacious yet isolated solitary cells). The domes down below - the largest being 200 meters in height and width - housed the office buildings for the prison staff and barracks for security.

Down below, there was an uninterrupted three lane 'U' shaped driveway, allowing a large number of military vehicles and prison buses to come in and out without hindrance aside from the large steel gates and stone-metal fences. On each spire, there was a flagpole that barred two long and narrow flags: the Order's Banner (above) and the Protectorate Banner (below). This same arrangement for the flags followed as they were retained in their 1:2 aspects, flying proud on a 100ft tall flagpole at the front entrance of the prison.

Not long on the left side of the driveway, a grey prison bus came rolling in with two four-wheeled paramilitary/field-inquisition APCs in front and back of the bus. Guards on the watchtower, walls, and the ground were at their positions, bearing the same grey uniforms as the Order's army units, except they wore a helmet that fully enclosed their heads and faces with two separated pieces. These were just riot police and prison guards on alert, armed with assault rifles and shotguns in case they was going to be in for trouble.

The fresh fish that were coming into the prison was just one person, the Protectorate Lord of Admirals himself, Koronosa Haitoko Sango. Usually, security was moderate aside from randomized shifts; however, because it was the Lord of Admirals himself, security was extremely high and on full alert with assistance coming from the Order's paramilitary units. There was no getting out of the prison for Koronosa, or at least that's what everyone on duty thought as the bus pulled up midway to the driveway and stopped, promptly opening its doors for a masked and helmeted paramilitary officer to step out, with his left arm hooked around Koronosa's right arm, while Koronosa's left arm was hooked around by another masked and helmeted paramilitary officer as well.

Here he was at last, facing justice for his crimes against the Order for militarizing the Protectorates and attempted creation of the Protectorate navy. He was to be taken to the eastern spires, where he would be held there for the next month as his trials go underway and he is found guilty for his crimes, and soon, executed. Only in the next 38 hours would the one and only Protectorate ship would be demolished by the 15th Fleet of the Order up in orbit, spelling the climax of the Protectorate military's end, and the beginning of the end for the Protectorates.

Escorted from the bus with two four-man squads of paramilitary units following behind, he was escorted into the prison; however, nobody on the ground suspected a pair of guards each on opposite ends of the walls communicating with each using infrared laser pointers from the watchtowers. The Lord of Admirals was here at last, and those guards communicating with each other were not what it seemed from the outside. For some time, however, nothing happened aside from the operators of the bus and its four APC escorts going over security checks of their vehicles as they awaited for nighttime to transport Koronosa again.

Ten minutes later, however, there was the mechanical ringing sound of the alarm bells going off in the prison, muffled by the indoor confinements for a moment until the alarm bells began to ring outside as well. It was at that moment that the guards outside realized that a prison riot had just occurred because of two things. The first was the sound of muffled gunshots inside, followed by the shouting of Illuminated Zillions inside, particularly from the prisoners.

The guards and paramilitary units outside of the prison awaited for prisoners to break out, whether it be from the front entrance or sides. For fifteen long minutes, there was nothing but volatile tension that could snap at any minute, with no end in sight for the sound of gunshots being fired from inside. But at last, the front entrance opened up again with paramilitary units and guards, followed with Koronosa being escorted out of the prison by the same paramilitary officers at his sides, alerting the guards from the mere sight that Koronosa was not safe being kept at Parkhill prison.

The bus opened up again, allowing Koronosa and his military police escort to rush him to safety, while the guards fended off incoming inmates rushing out throwing rocks or improvised explosives at the bus. Luckily, the bus and its front escorts managed to take off soon before any projectiles could land their mark on the bus. Because the Zillions were machines, full-sized rifle cartridges from the Zillion 'assault rifles' were the munitions being used, and unlike intermediate cartridges used by humans and other humanoid species, these full-sized rifle bullets could put down a Zillion if hit with a continuous barrage to the head or chest.

The prisoners were angry that not only was one of their own being escorted away, but by the mere fact of their own mixed thoughts about Koronosa himself. On one hand, some inmates respected and beloved the protection of their own kind; however, some others wanted to see such traitors like Koronosa exterminated. As one would expect from such clashing thoughts, it wasn't long until another group of incoming inmates clashed with each other, catching the guards unprepared for such confusing circumstances among the clashing inmates.

Back on the bus, once it was far beyond the safety of the gates and on the road again, Koronosa was sitting in the middle of the bus, protected by the military police units around him as they were escaping the chaos. Looking at the military police officers each at his sides, he looked at them a few times before giving a discrete smirk on the right side of his lips. This was all going according to plan, and...

---

(Tigapetera - Capital City of Dekafisuruna) - (三石 - 第十恋スル心)

(Lord of Admirals Koronosa Haitoko Sango)

(1445 Hours) - (亮1445)

(Holtland Order Embassy)

Here he was again sharing that same discrete smirk on the right side of his lips, only this time, he was no longer in handcuffs and shackles. He was looking out the bulletproof one-way windows of the Holtland Order Embassy, onlooking at the mobs building up outside of the embassy walls. He knew the mobs would crowd at the embassy, demanding that he be released; however, he also knew that there were citizens out there that also wanted to see him and the Protectorate followers be destroyed as well.

"You drew quite a crowd, my lord." Ryu remarked humorously as he looked outside of the window as well from Koronosa's left. He was still in his military police officer disguise, alongside Mikaela doing the same thing as well. Both undercover knight leftenants, however, did not entirely do the same thing unlike what happened at the prison.

Koronosa, Mikaela, and Ryu were standing in a square office area with two rows of desks, each row having three desks front and back; however, what should've been an empty and mundane office area was actually a crime scene. There was a moderate amount of lifeless Order Zillions that littered the floors of the office area, all having either bullet holes in their heads and chests or molten lacerations from being shot with energy weapons. There were at least fifteen dead Order Zillions scattered throughout the office area, some having limbs torn off from the energy weapons used to destroy them.

Koronosa had his hands behind him, held together by his own white gloved hands without any of those restrictive and ugly metal shackles. But on his forearms, however, there were metal contraptions the glowed a blue hue at the front near his wrists. This was the Fotobata (亮刀 / フトバタ; lit. "Light Cleaver"), or actually a cross between two separate ranged weapons programs merged together by the Protectorates.

The basis of Illuminated Zillion energy weapons from the Fotopaisimatoko project is generating and shaping a beam, which then the user can aim, adjust the power level (weak or strong), and then discharge it. One would reasonably argue that all this can be done better in a gun; however, the disadvantages with a gun, according to separate reports from both Order and Protectorate bureaus, is their shape, growing mechanical complexity, and munition technology. The Fotopaisimatoko can be anti-infantry, anti-tank, anti-air, and a light handheld bunker buster all wrapped up into one platform - the Fotobata does not fulfill either of these specifications except anti-infantry (which again, it's only at short range).

Unlike the Fotopaisimatoko, the Fotobata uses short barreled emitters to discharge hardlight beams at short range, or shape it into a short blade like a wrist cleaver or dagger. The disadvantage with the Fotobata is that it's short ranged and doesn't have the killing power or ranged arsenal as in the Fotopaisimatoko. The Fotobata is a great assassin's weapon, but it's just too weak as a true frontline weapon; however, before either projects could be shelved separately, they were both brought together unexpectedly at the drawing board and merged together to create a better weapon.

It was still named Fotobata, however, for disguising the true design and nature of the weapon itself. But what was drastically different than either original projects was that instead of using one wrist-mounted blaster, two wrist-mounted blasters were used upon the user, coupled with additions from the Fotopaisimatoko project to make the weapon even cooler and functional as followed. The Fotobata worn on Koronosa's forearms and wrists had the ability to self-assemble (akin to Forerunner weapons and constructions), hence creating a variety of weapons at the user's will and consent; however, the only problem was this weapon is that it's a prototype.

Because Koronosa was without his sword, due to its confiscation upon his formal arrest on the Agara/Agapikara, the Fotabata on both his forearms was the only weapon he had available; however, the Fotobata itself was a slightly new experience than the usual slugthrowers that Koronosa trained with in his early years as a knight. Because the weapon was mounted on his forearms like wrist blasters, there was far less lateral movement in aiming and firing, allowing greater accuracy and shorter drawing/aiming time. And because it was resting comfortably on his forearms, the Fotobata also acted as protective metal arm guards to protect him against shrapnel, blades, and melee weapons (except energy blades).

"Indeed." Koronosa chuckled lightly back at the Knight Leftenant to his left (Ryu), "Unfortunately, that won't last forever upon the disbelievers' arrival."

"Isn't that the point, my lord?" Mikaela reviewed humbly as he stood from Koronosa's right, briefly going and momentarily tapping the fine bulletproof glass, "There'll be no escape on the streets if that is so."

"You're fears are unfound as of now, fallen angel." Koronosa patted Mikaela on the left shoulder with his right hand, "Soon, when they realize that I had been 'transferred' again, the hurricane would finally form at last."

Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps coming towards the office area from the left hallway at the back; however, instead of more Order soldiers/paramilitary forces, it were two more knights in disguise, this time in civilian cloths. This was Luka and Ren. Luka had long purple hair pulled to the back of his head with clips, accompanied with bangs, while his partner, Ren, had neck-length black hair pulled back with a weaved design, retaining long bangs that go around his face as well.

They were dressed as one of the embassy staff, both wearing white short-sleeve shirts (stand-and-fall collar included) with black pants, shoes, and undone cravats hanging securely from their collars. Both were Knight Leftenants as well, which was why when they entered the office area, upon which Koronosa turned around to face them, they didn't shoot Mikaela and Ryu in their military police disguises. Luka was carrying an assault rifle in his left underarm (7.92×57mm full size rifle cartridge; assault rifle cartridge according to Zillions), while Ren was armed with a service revolver in his left hand, which was pointed down at the ground as he entered with Luka.

"Sire, there is no doubt. The storm is coming from the southbound walls." Luka reported, slightly and faintly winded from running as he spoke. If an ordinary person was listening to a grim warning, they would think that a rainstorm was coming, never realizing that the storm was referring in fact to the mobs overcoming the walls of the embassy. The southern walls in particular were being overrun, with the masses only thinking that security was held up inside the building rather than defending their posts outside.

"We'll be long gone before they arrive." Koronosa serenely mused, "Have you both completed the final preparations?"

"Yes, sire." Luka nodded vertically with a brief smirking appearing on his face as he did so.

"Oh, no doubt, my lord." Ren nodded horizontally in a proper-mannered tone, "The people will never suspect a thing besides more infighting."

"Splendid." Koronosa stoically chuckled, "Gather our fellow brothers and sisters for the rendezvous. I'll be there shortly. Just mind you, I need one moment."

And as if on cue, there was the sound of an automatic typewriter going off in the right side of the office area, right of the windows. Koronosa left Fotobata glowed to life as he raised his left arm, while his right arm was behind his back, and let off a single blue hardlight beam at the clockwork computer. Like a laser, hardlight was instantaneous in its travel time to the typewriter; however, like plasma, the hardlight struck hard with a sizzling gash, setting the paper ablaze as it was promptly smothered in superheated molten metal.

Koronosa knew that the Order's army command was alerting the embassy that reinforcements had been called and are going to be deployed in a manner of hours. He knew that time was of the essence, and only the next 38 hours at least until the Agara was scheduled to be demolished in orbit. And it was even as he shot at the automatic mechanical typewriter, concurrent with Luka and Ren leaving the office area with curt nods, Ryu couldn't help but chuckle from Koronosa's left, "Here they come. Soon, we'll be moving onto the second stage."

"Indeed, and I assure you that we'll be there soon." Koronosa assured serenely as he let his left arm dangle off to his side nonchalantly, "Now, gentlemen, any last words with our people?"

"No more, my lord." Mikaela sternly replied, being the first to speak compared to his sassy partner.

"Sure you would." Ryu smirked teasingly, only for a light yet sudden pat to strike him on the chest by Koronosa's right hand, promptly straightening Ryu's attitude into a more serious tone without losing the smirk, "I meant to say, 'me to', my lord."

Koronosa only chuckled for a moment before looked at both Mikaela and Ryu, then shortly giving them a one slow curt nod. Knowing that they were leaving the Embassy, Mikaela and Ryu unholstered their revolvers and followed Koronosa out of the office area and towards the left hallway at the back of the office area. And like that, the calm of the storm was over, and the Hurricane was now about to rain hell upon its enemies...

[The United Remnants of America]

For dangers past - an old soldier laughs.
Saulara, Juraxi System, Vresh Dead Zone

Savage had used a simple foreign weapon, a kind of tranquilizer to take down the livestock animal he'd targeted an hour ago and tracked until it wandered away from its herd. The tranquilizer had taken just over a minute before the animal dropped to the ground, unconscious. Savage had placed the tranquilizer weapon back into the rucksack Savage wore in addition to the robe. The clothing and rucksuck was a way to make Savage obvious for what he was: Outcast. Besides, he was smart enough to use clothes and equipment to seem more civilized to rare outsider he had to interact with. Savage assumed it was more calming, especially when compared to the bare carapaces that the Vresh always showed off, with no kind of clothing or equipment strapped to them whatsoever. Savage assumed that, along with the uniformity of movement and thought, probably disturbed a lot of outsiders.

The Hivemind had given him eight Vresh to boss around. Four Soldiers, two Workers, and two Engineers. Two of the Soldiers and the Engineers had stayed behind at the dropship. The Soldiers made decent pilots, and the Engineers, being a eusocial equivalent of a scientist, were relatively frail. The Workers and other two Soldiers had come with Savage. Sans the clothes, Savage would still be unique. He was a Hunter. Hunters were small and fast, though Savage was an elderly creature, so his speed wasn't what it was. He was still combat capable. The Soldiers, on the other hand, had thicker carapaces and stood at 1.8 meters, around half a meter higher than Savage. Other than the size and durability differences, Savage's Hunter caste body and the two Soldiers looked enough alike. They all had two legs, two arms, a tail-like stub, clawed hands and feet, and a black-brown exoskeleton. They didn't have mandibles or teeth, but the carapace in their mouths and where their lips would be were grooved and hooked, simulating roughly how teeth worked. While Savage wore clothes and used weapons and equipment he'd found in galactic bazaars where he was welcome, the Soldiers both carried the signature rifles of the Hive which glowed a soft yellow-green from the bio-energy stored in them. When fired, the weapons were an equivalent to a plasma burst. It was a scaled down, but similar version of how Vresh starship engines worked. Meanwhile, the Workers were unarmed, stood around 1.2 meters tall, and had fat slug bodies carried by four legs with two arms. They were built sturdy and strong to do heavy-lifting. They also had the individual intelligence of a lobotomized mammal. The Engineers could be confused for the Workers. They had the same shape, except the Engineers lacked the internal muscle mass as well as a dense carapace, all that extra room making space for more neural synapses, as well as finer muscles and joints in the arms and hands.

When the livestock hit the ground, Savage signed a signal to the Workers, who plodded along and deftly lifted the animal off the ground, turned, and began taking the animal back towards the dropship without being told. Savage nodded and exhaled, a sentiment meant to express sullen feelings, but from the Vresh mouth the breath would've sounded like a venomous hiss. Savage really hated working with his own kind, but he knew he had to help them. The Hivemind was vastly intelligent, but at the same time it could be more naive and uninformed than a single sentient. That's why it had gone from killing to relying on Outcasts like Savage to do special work. Savage had lived a long life, and he'd learned enough to be one of the more valuable assets to the Hive.

Savage left his thoughts and returned to the present. He glanced around at the hot daytime sun, exhaling again. It was hot. A glance at the two Soldiers standing a few paces away showed their breathing becoming ragged from the dry heat, both overheating and drying them out. Savage brought up a hand and made a gesture while clicking his jaws together. The Soldiers didn't nod or otherwise acknowledge Savage's command to move out other than by turning and following Savage as he took off after the oafish Workers. A lot of the Outcasts had taken to using translators keyed in to a Vresh's vocal noices, which an Outcast could manipulate into a form of language. Savage, on the other hand, was old-school. Sign-language was easy to speak to the Hive, and when he had to talk to outsiders, he'd learned a lot of galactic scripts to write and symbolize in.

Savage shuddered, picking up his pace. He hissed and zipped his hand around, catching the sight of the Soldier on his left shoulder. The Soldier gave a single click of acknowledgment. He'd asked for the Soldier-pilots to warm up the dropship. He wanted to be off this hot hellhole of a planet sooner rather than later. There was enough room in the ship that the Engineers could examine the livestock off world.

---

Assassination is the extreme form of censorship.
Grand City, Arkaea, Arkaean Federation

Blur was many things. First and foremost, Blur was Vresh. That did not mean, however, that Blur's loyalties were with the Vresh. At least not always. If they offered something she needed, Blur was more than happy to help her kin, but she was first and foremost an Outcast Vresh, and her talents let her do amazing things.

Blur was part of a phenotype known as Chamelons to most. She looked a lot like a Soldier from the Vresh. The only difference was where the Soldier's carapace was black-brown and somewhat shiny, a Chameleon's carapace was a flat grey, and upon closer inspection looked ridged. As their name implied, Chameleons could change their colors, create patterns and optical illusions, and even turn invisible in certain situations.

Blur had her reasons now for why she was slowly slinking through the high-rise living quarters of an Arkaean Matriarch. She was part of Clan I'Sarl, and from what Blur's quick searches of info sources showed, she was a minor member of the Federation's House of Primarchs. Her name didn't matter. But the payment did matter. And the payout for this specific target was bigger than Blur's usual score.

The Matriarch was sleeping. Blur's body had adopted the colors of the Matriarch's quarters, her surroundings. Blur took another step and leaned over the body of the Matriarch, quickly appreciating her current place. It had taken several hours to get on Arkaea, get into the high-rise building, and get into this specific living quarters. It would probably take her just as long to get out and find a place to stow away and get off this damned planet. What kind of major galactic civilization didn't allow outsiders? Well, beyond her damned eusocial kin, of course.

Blur took a small inhale and then held the breath, holding in the crisp, luxurious air as she spread out her clawed hand, reached down until her hand was mere centimeters from the Matriarch's throat. And then, as muscle reaction, Blur's claws snapped into the Matriarch's neck, tearing through skin, muscles, and arteries. Blur noted the neck felt tough and meaty. Blur decided under better circumstances, she'd have tasted the flesh. Now wasn't the time. As quickly as her talons dug into the throat, severing arteries, nerves, and tendons, she retracted her hand, letting the spurt of Arkaean blood burst from the wounds. The Matriarch jerked once before laying still. Blur leaned close and waited for all life signs to end.

Blur nodded to herself, clicked, and wiped her bloodied claw off on the sheets, and sank bank into the room, disappearing among the surroundings once again. The hard part was over. Now was for the hard part: Getting away and getting paid.

[Brendislav]

The Dromack Conderderation
Hormuz - - In the Halls of the Warlords

Three days after Dro-Kahn Azlmac’s rise to the throne, preparations for raids were underway. The Counsel of Warlords gathers, which includes the 9 Planetary Warlords, as well as the other heads of government, Inquisitor Hango, Bannerlord Cishrok, Golden Scribe Angos, and Steel Lord Frugan. The Counsel was mostly made up of the Brute-Breed Dromack, seeing as how every single Planetary Warlord, Bannerlord Cishrok, and Dro-Kahn Azlmac were of that breed. Dro-Kahn Azlmac looked over and saw the new head of the Gricah pod, who looked away and bowed his head when the Dro-Kahn’s gaze swept over him. Dro-Kahn Azlmac felt satisfied with the respect and power he held over the others. However, his superiority over the others of the Brute-Breed was simple, it was the others that concerned him, especially the Golden Scribe. The Golden Scribe favored the last Dro-Kahn much more than Dro-Kahn Azlmac, in fact, he never got along with any other heads or planetary warlords. But the Golden Scribe was necessary, he would be the one who created the new weapons and technologies needed to defeat their enemies. Dro-Kahn Azlmac needed him on his side.

The gathering opened up with a feast, as tradition, for Dro-Kahn Lozbuk decreed that “the leaders of our people think better on full stomachs”. The feast was entirely of meat, hopefully to make the counsel sluggish, so that they were less likely to start a fight. Small talk mixed in with burps and the sounds of messy eating as the table went through carcasses. Soon enough the Dromack were “breaking bones” a little tradition where they would offer each other the bones of their meal. It was customary to break the bones that were handed to you and give them back to whoever gave it to you, allowing them to eat the succulent marrow inside. A sign of trust and good will. Dro-Kahn Azlmac offered his bones to the Golden Scribe, he broke them and ate the marrow within, muttering his thanks. A few of the Planetary Warlords gawked at this, normally eating the marrow of the bones offered to you was a terribly rude, usually ending up in a fight. But the Golden Scribe knew he could tease the Dro-Kahn, for he was too valuable. Dro-Kahn Azlmac simply snorted and stood up.

“The Counsel of Warlords have gathered,” Dro-Kahn Azlmac’s voice boomed, “I now wish to speak of our plan, and what we are to do during my reign. Currently, I believe our first steps should be to mobilize the War-Fleet, we have been at peace for too long!” The proclamation was greeted with approving shouts, Dro-Kahn Azlmac continued, ”We must start our raids, to see the strength of our neighbors, and if they show their bellies to us we must conquer. Our planets are becoming overcrowded, there is not enough land to fill our bellies and many spawning grounds lay dormant due to overpopulation, plans for expansion must be made.”

Steel Lord Frugan took a stand, “Great Dro-Kahn, while raids and conquests should begin, I must inform you that the fleet is currently undersupplied. Only 85% of the ships are prepared, we should wait until we have full strength before we mobilise. However in terms of expansion we can start inhabiting barren worlds in our systems. If it is possible to terraform them in the future, they could provide with the extra space that is needed, if, of course, we have the potential to do so...”

“It is possible, the Entilids left behind certain terraforming technologies,” The Golden Scribe explained, “It would take a few weeks to unlock their secrets and terraform on our own.”

A Planetary Warlord rose up and began shouting, “Do not listen to the weaklings Dro-Kahn! We must expand our borders through honorable combat. They are suggesting that we lay idle and do not raid.”

“Do not dare to stain the honor of the Heads!” Dro-Kahn Azlmac growled, “You forget your place Warlord, I will see to it that these new colonies are made. The Steel Lord’s plan will inevitably create new planets for us to reside, as well as new dockyards to supply and build the War-Fleet.” Steel Lord Frugan bowed, while the other Planetary Warlords mumbled in agreement. “However, we will still mobilize the War-Fleet, but not all of it. While the portion of the Fleet is still being resupplied we will conduct raids against the honorless. It will gives us time as well as needed resources and technology while still not giving into idleness. We only need to know who we are to attack.”

A Warlord stood up, “We should prey upon the Tagali, they have overextended in their conquests over the Soft-Skins (Humans). Their planets far from the humans are surely open to raiding.”

“No! The Soft-Skins have trespassed in Dromack space when they searched for new lands to infest with their species.” Another interrupted, “The Tagali do well to cull them. We would be smart to follow in their footsteps and raid the Queen-Slaves (Vresh) before they swarm the entire galaxy!”

“The only way to kill the Queen-Slave is by destroying one of their hives.” Bannerlord Cishrok spat, he grabbed onto the shouting Warlord next to him and dragged him down to sit again, he then stood up, “We will not be able to do so without the full War-Fleet at our disposal. What I suggest we do is raid one of the greedy capitalists. They are so disorganised already, bickering among each other other nothing. We should raid the decadent Raxins or the holdings of the Roaches and their pet Monkeys (Freedlands). I bet a single raiding fleet could take down the precious ‘Union Station’”

“It would be wise not to raid the Raxins however,” The Golden Scribe chimed in, “while now they are weak, they have plenty of resources and the industrial capabilities to fight back. The Freedlands however, is a chaotic and messy land, plagued by pirates, scum, and debauchery. We could take out a few convoys and only a single ‘company’ would be angry, also our raids could help them with their pirate issue and they might thank us.”

Dro-Kahn Azlmac grunted in agreement, “This would be our best course of action, we will start the mobilization of raid parties against those of the Freedlands”

The Bannerlord laughed, “Excellent my Dro-Kahn! Warlords! Offer me your best warriors and let us begin preparations for a raid.” The rest of the Hall shouted in cheer, Dro-Kahn Azlmac dismissed all the Planetary Warlords and the Bannerlord so he may discuss the prospect of expansion within the Dromack Confederation and necessary resources to begin the project to research better terraforming tools.

Summary: A good portion of the War-Feet is mobilized while the rest stays to replenish and restock on supplies. Two raiding parties (small groups of about 8-10 ships) will depart towards the Freedlands to prey on pirates and trade convoys. Furthermore the Dromack Confederation will begin small mining colonies on barren planets and start researching possible ways to make those colonies habitable in the future.

[Skaldia]

Grand City, Arkaea
House of Primarchs
0349 LT

The first thing that noticed was that something was wrong with Matriarch K'sara's PAN. The Personal Accessory Network maintained everything for an Arkaean and also monitored heart rate among it's many duties. The SI (Synthetic Intelligence) within a PAN wasn't good for much, but luckily, the SI was integrated in to the greater AISC network that ran the House of Primarchs. And that AISC was more intelligent than a thousand experts on any given subject. So, when the Matriarch's vitals went suddenly offline, the AISC alerted the House Security and enacted Security Protocol A9. Throughout the House, silent alarms were activated and the blast doors to the entrance to the House were locked. The AISC deemed it an appropriate response; traffic at this hour was limited to purely logistical concerns and, while SPA9 was enacted, redirected to a nearby facility.

House Security was primarily made up of veteran Marines that had been chosen by their prospective Lord Marshals for their assignment, usually as a reward for services well rendered. To that end, they were some of the most well equipped and deadly soldiers in the Federation. Their armor was top of the line and their weaponry highly advanced, most wielding the newest rifle, the ACL-R 55 Predator. The Predator were armed with 7.14 mm railgun charges that came with an assortment of different charges ranging from nuclear to some reportedly antimatter. These were conventional danium hard rounds, danium being a diamond-like material. While the rifles were single shot but their punch was enough to knock through most light armor and were perfect for the halls of the House of Primarchs.

Within less than three minutes of Matriarch K'sara's PAN reporting her vitals going flatline, a fireteam consisting of six House Security Guards had closed down the floor her suite was on and surrounded her door. Master Sergeant S'ireal Or, taking a deep breath, steeled herself and punched a single digit on to her PAN. The AISC responded instantly and the door to the Matriarch's room opened. The fireteam rushed the room, as they did so lights in every part of the suite activating to AISC command. The fireteam fanned out, seeking targets while Master Sergeant S'ireal Or and two others focused on the bedroom. They slowed immediately upon seeing the slumped form of the Matriarch and the bed soaked in blood. Cursing loudly, she didn't even have to give the order and AISC activated Security Protocol A1.

Throughout the entire House, klaxons were blaring and the entire House Guard, five thousand Marines, were getting battle ready. The gun emplacements studding the House in certain locations were activated and every vulnerable surface (windows mostly) slammed closed behind battle plate. Meanwhile, thousands of drones were released in to the air and began scanning anything that looked remotely suspicious. Data from video feeds leading to and from the Matriarch's room were compiled and began to be meticulously studied by the most advanced machine intelligences in the Federation.

The Emperor was woke from a peaceful slumber and alerted of the death of the Matriarch.