Imperium: Sundering IC REBOOT

[Imperialisium]

OOC Thread
Look back over the past, with its changing empires that rose and fell, and you can foresee the future, too. -Marcus Aurelius, 1st Millennium Terran Emperor.

Empires inevitably fall, and when they do, history judges them for the legacies they leave behind.-Unknown 2nd or 2rd Millennium Terran philosopher.

Alicante VIII

Alicante was a dead world. Not dead as in the planetary classification used by Imperial Stellar Calligraphers. To them it was Alicante 8/Iota-BX14/DZ6. Rather, it was a world were civilization had once prospered before meeting some unknown calamity that brought about life ending on this world. Ruins in a mix of Rococo-Ionic fashion dotted the expansive plains of the world's South-Eastern continent. Itself an expansive plateau many hundreds of miles across and surrounding by murky green-blue oceans. Tectonic activity was slow and dust storms whipping brown grit through the air.

Trudging through the sandy, worn smooth, stone street that was once a bustling boulevard lined with some form of pine tree, but now only a few petrified fossils interspersed by small brown dreary vegetation was a humanoid figure in a golden suit. His helmets metalwork was decorated with two wide swept eagle wings. The effigy of a phoenix rising from the crest. His pauldrons bore gryphons while his chest plate was that of a double headed eagle. Metallic angel like wings rose from his back that were also part of the suit. Their mechanics and design work so advance as to render them seamless. In truth they provided propulsion and would allow the figure to engage in flight through the use of anti-gravity plating. His entire body was encased in this suit but it did not restrict his vision or movement. Its component parts were molded to his form and light as a feather. The helmet provided a direct neural link and his vision was as if he wore no helm. Further is enhanced his senses to an alarming degree. Giving him 360 panoramic viewing, multiple light spectrum, echo location, and magnification.

He moved through the streets with seemingly no real purpose. Overhead a faint dot obscured a minuscule section of the planets main Red Giant star. Its baleful red light casting a bloody glare on the world's landscapes.

"No signs of technological activity." voiced the figure as if to no one in particular. Like he was speaking to the ghosts of this forgotten world. A sultry, playful, female reply came from his suits communication suite.

"The Polaris' sensor's show nothing but rock and dirt. You have another radiation storm approaching. May I recommend again that I extract you?"

"No." replied the man in the suit curtly.

"You've been down there for six days. That nutrient paste must be getting old." replied the female.

"It is my favorite. Should try it sometime." The sarcasm in his voice was obvious. The female let out an all to human chuckle, "I'll make sure to run some through one of my processing units."

"Your sense of humor has improved Zamira."

"Spending to much time with you." This time the man chuckled as he looked into a partially collapsed ruin. Moving over to a pile of detritus he put his hand down upon it. The suits analysis systems began throwing up data streams and charts to the left of the man's vision. Scrolling his grey-green eyes over them he lifted his hand with a sigh. They were pages of books long since reduced to the barely scan able remains of their pulp fibers.

"Alright, we're done here. This world is a bust. Zamira get me out of here."

"About time." remarked the female voice and with a flash of white light the man was gone.

Materializing in a small room on to of a raised dais. Stepping down his booted feet thudded onto the grey smooth decking as he walked past various rooms, a couple galleries, and hallways of the Polaris. Arriving at the bridge which was set up with a captain's dais in the center of the bridge. Holographic charts and displays glowed in the white lighting of the bridge.

"Zamira dim the lights. Bring up Star Charts for everything within ten light years of us." The lights dimmed to a soft glow while over a dozen maps with rows of details and data rolling along the sides popped into view.

"You and the Polaris are an old gem." mused the male figure.

"I haven't aged a day Valerian." scoffed the Polaris' artificial intelligence. Which was true, her and the ship dated from the late 13th Millennium. Utilizing Solarian technology throughout the ship. Her and the ship were essentially priceless artifacts in addition to being fully functional.

[Brusia]

High-General Johnathan Aetius
In Orbit of Kyotomo

"We shall not enter into any of the abstruse definitions of war used by publicists. We shall keep to the element of the thing itself, to a duel. War is nothing but a duel on an extensive scale." -Carl von Clausewitz

High-General Johnathan Aetius stood near the view screen of the Bridge of one of the transport vessels currently tasked with ferrying him and his men to the latest planet to declare itself independent of the Imperium, looking out on the world below while sipping a cup of coffee. He spent the past few days pouring over intel reports on the planet, its defenses, and its new self-proclaimed Shogun; one Takauji Ishimida. Unlike many of the overly-ambitious political "leaders" with IQs somewhere south of a Terran turnip who had been declaring their worlds independent of late, Takauji was by all accounts an honorable and intelligent man. In addition to being a respected leader, he was a well-trained and talented warrior who, like Aetius, had fought in the Wars of Religion. Takauji fought on behalf of a religion called Bushidism, which like Aetius' religion, taught salvation through honor and glory in battle. Unlike Aetius' religion however, Bushidism prohibited retreat or surrender, which always made battles with Bushidists brutal and bloody affairs. Naturally, that fact alone was enough to make those battles some of Aetius' favorites; it was rare to find honorable opponents in this day and age, and there was always glory to be had in fighting foes with such conviction.

As he was reminiscing on those past glories, his adjutant suddenly approached with a message: "Sorry to bother you sir, but we just received word from the Joint Chiefs: it seems they want you to return to Nova Terra for a briefing in 24 hours."

Aetius sighed and simply replied: "Well, shit." The Joint Chiefs had been ordering him to attend briefings more and more frequently lately, ostensibly due to worry over increasing unrest in an Imperial oversector, but in reality it was clear to everyone the intention of the meetings was to keep Aetius off the battlefield and away from his Army as much as possible. That this was impairing the Imperium's ability to reconquer rebelling worlds meant little to most of Aetius' "colleagues" who were far more concerned with their own political ambitions than with the well-being of the Empire.

It didn't help that his former XO had been reassigned to another Sector Army by the Joint Chiefs, and replaced by a hopelessly incompetent imbecile by the name of Leonard Crassus, whose only qualification was that his daddy was a well-connected Senator. After he led an entire Division into an ambush so obvious that a first year cadet should've been able to spot it, his XO's connections didn't stop Aetius from submitting numerous requests that the man be either reassigned or court-martialed, but those requests inevitably fell on deaf ears. Knowing that leaving Crassus in charge of his men during an invasion of a planet that would put up fierce resistance was a recipe for disaster, Aetius knew he needed an alternative solution.

While taking another sip of his coffee and looking back out towards the planet and the stars flickering at the edge of the viewscreen, Aetius worked to recall the countless briefings, reports, and texts on the Bushidists he had committed to memory when fighting them during the Wars of Religion for something that could help him in his current situation. When he finally remembered a useful tidbit of intel that might prove to be just what he needed, he turned to his adjutant and stated: "Looks like we'll need to resolve this quickly than. Contact the Shogun and inform him I request to meet with him in person to parley."

"You...you wish to negotiate sir?" the adjutant asked, taken aback by the order.

"Something like that" the General replied with a grin "Now than, get me that meeting and report to the shuttlebay in 30 minutes; we have a war to win."

32 minutes later...

As the High-General's shuttle touched down on Kyotomo's surface, the loading ramp dropped open and Aetius walked out onto the calm and quiet garden the Shogun had chosen as their meeting place. He was soon greeted by a cool breeze and the sight of cherry blossom trees in full bloom surrounding a small pagoda where the Shogun currently awaited the High-General's arrival. Aetius took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air before making his way through the idyllic surroundings to the meeting place. Following close behind him were three of his personal bodyguards and his adjutant, who was far too worried to be in any way moved by the beauty of his surroundings.

"Are you sure about this General?" he quietly asked after approaching Aetius' side "How do we know they aren't planning to ambush you in there?"

"Because the Bushidist code states anyone seeking to discuss diplomatic resolutions is to be treated as a guest, and attacking a guest without provocation would be considered a grave dishonor. If there's one thing that every report and psych eval I've read on this Takauji Ishimida indicates, it's that he would never violate his code."

"And you're willing to risk putting your life in the hands of a sworn enemy just on the hope that they'll follow some code?"

Aetius shook his head a little and replied: "This isn't just 'some code' to these people, it's the very foundation of their culture and way of life; to violate it would be to turn against everything they're fighting against us for in the first place. It's a shame they had to go and rebel really, the Imperium these days could really stand to learn a thing or two from that kind of conviction."

The adjutant looked away and silently thought on that as the group approached the pagoda. When they neared the stairs, Aetius ordered his adjutant and guards to wait outside, then proceeded to a small table where the Shogun was waiting for him.

"High-General Aetius, I presume?" the Shogun said while standing up from the table. He was dressed in formal attire, though quite unlike that which is found on most worlds of the Imperium; rather than the expensive, gaudy attire now popular on many such planets, the Shogun was dressed in a simple long, black kimono with very little in the way of adornments, save for a rare plasma blade tucked next to a more traditional Wakizashi blade in a sash on his hip. The General meanwhile was wearing his finest dress uniform, his chest covered with the ribbons and medals he'd accumulated over the years, with the Medal of Valor hanging around his neck, and his own plasma blade and trusty modified sidearm on either side of his belt. When the Shogun bowed to the General, Aetius politely bowed his head in return, and the two took a seat at the small table.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me Shogun Ishimida."

"I must say General, from what I've read about you, I was quite surprised to hear that you of all people sought to parley."

"Admittedly that wasn't my first choice of action, but my time here was unfortunately limited due to 'political constraints'" those last two words Aetius uttered with a particular loathing.

"Truly, there is no greater impediment to a good soldier than a bad politician, is there?"

"Well, suffice it to say that if I had my choice between charging directly into artillery fire or sitting through another 'briefing' with the Joint Chiefs, I'd take the artillery fire any day of the week."

The Shogun chuckled abit, more out of courtesy than anything, and with the niceties concluded prepared to get down to business. Leaning in close to the General, he glared at him for a moment as if peering into his very soul, before stating: "You did not come here with entirely peaceful intentions though, did you? Diplomacy is not your way, and I can see that the fire in your eyes has not yet been entirely extinguished by your political masters."

Aetius grinned a little, impressed at his adversary's astuteness, and with a nod replied: "I came here hoping to settle things in the old ways, with a magnikai. Just you, me, and our blades; no power armor, no guns, no armies, and no politicians."

The Shogun was slightly surprised by the suggestion "Well, you have certainly done your homework General, though there hasn't been a magnikai on my world in centuries. Why should I participate in one now?"

"Because it's the only hope your people have to survive." Aetius bluntly replied. "We both know you would've never agreed to any terms without putting up a fight, but with the full wrath of the Imperium now bearing down upon this world, such a fight would be utterly devastating. Now, I have no doubt you and your soldiers would put up a valiant last stand, and I can understand the appeal of going out like that, but it hardly seems fair to the countless civilians who would be stuck in the middle of the fighting, and I for one have no desire to see a land as beautiful as the one before me reduced to ash and rubble." Aetius then leaned in a little closer and continued "Besides, as you said we'd be fighting the first magnikai in centuries, each of us representing the fates of our entire people. Win or lose, this battle would go down in history, and I can think of no more honorable or glorious way to die than that."

The Shogun pondered what the General said for a few moments, then asked: "What would be the terms?"

"You inform your people that, if I win, this world is to cease its attempt at independence, and become loyal to the Imperium once again. Meanwhile, I'll inform my people that, if you win, they are to withdraw immediately. At the very least, that'll give you more time to prepare your defenses, and I can guarantee that whoever the Imperium sends in place of my men won't be nearly as experienced or well trained."

Ishimida again pondered the offer for a few moments, turning to looked at the calm and silent garden, and out towards the skyscrapers of the nearby city where millions of innocent men, women, and children lived, before bowing his head and replying: "Very well, I accept your terms."

Aetius nodded, and the two got up from the table to inform their people of their decision. Aetius' adjutant was clearly not thrilled, but at this point simply sighed and stated: "There's no way I'm going to be able to talk you out of this, is there sir?"

"No, no there isn't."

"Well than General, I'll just say good luck." The adjutant saluted, and after returning his salute and giving him a pat on the shoulder, Aetius took off his formal jacket, removed the medal from his neck, and took his pistol out of its holster, then handed them all to his adjutant and guards before heading out to a grassy area near some of the cherry blossom trees where the Shogun was already waiting for him.

When he was a few feet away, the two drew their unignited plasma blades, and the Shogun bowed while Aetius raised the hilt of his plasma blade a few inches in front of his face in a more traditional Imperial salute. The two then ignited their blades, Aetius' shining with a bright blue in contrast to the yellow hue emitted by Ishimida's blade, and entered into a combat stance. Both men were expert swordsmen, and as they slowly circled each other, both ran through the coming fight in their heads; each attempting to estimate their opponent's likely attacks and counters, winning and losing dozens of battles in their heads in the time it took for the nearby cherry blossoms to fall to the ground.

Both calculated that the battle would be over quickly, though neither was yet certain who would emerge the victor. Deciding it was time to find out, the Shogun raised his blade above his head and charged at the General, ferociously slashing at him with the blade, but narrowly missing as Aetius dodged and countered with a thrust of his blade towards the Shogun's chest. The Shogun quickly parried the attack, breaking the silence with a loud cracking noise as the blades met each other, then swung high towards Aetius' neck. The General moved fast and narrowly deflected the strike, the heat emanating from the weapons felt clearly as they approached the side of his head. The deflection bought him enough time to bend low and deliver a firm kick to the Shogun's chest, knocking him back but not down, and after a quick flourish of his blade he and Aetius again began to circle each other.

Again the two began to run through the possible outcomes in their heads, now utilizing the knowledge gained from the strikes made so far, and though the two were well matched in terms of skill, Aetius did note one exploitable flaw in his opponent's technique: though elegant and powerful, it was comparatively slow. Using this knowledge, Aetius began the engagement this time around, leading with a feint attack towards Ishimida's midriff, which the Shogun attempted to block only for the General to use his superior speed to maneuver left and deliver an actual strike. As Aetius predicted, the Shogun's slower movements left him unable to reposition himself to block the attack in time, and Aetius' plasma blade slashed clean through the hilt of Ishimida's weapon, destroying it before passing further and digging through part of the Shogun's chest and into one of his lungs.

Aetius took a deep breath as the Shogun collapsed to the ground in pain, but though the fight was won, the General knew his opponent's code meant there was still something he had to do. Deactivating his weapon, Aetius knelt down next to Ishimida and asked: "Do you wish to finish this?"

Though in immense pain, the Shogun managed to nod, and Aetius helped him up enough to kneel forward, then drew the Wakizashi blade from his foe's belt and placed it in its owner's hand. The Shogun was clearly grateful for the trust Aetius showed in giving him his weapon, and placed his opposite hand on Aetius' shoulder before barely managing to say: "Truly, it is a sad state of affairs when honorable men must kill in service to dishonorable masters."

Aetius couldn't disagree, and frowned at having to end the life of one of the few honorable leaders he had met, but he knew what the Bushidist code required, and he would not dishonor his opponent. He responded with a simple nod, and as he stood up and walked to the Ishimida's side, the Shogun used the last of his strength to plunge his blade into his own belly. As he did so, Aetius reignited his blade and quietly stated: "May you find peace in the fields of Elysium" before raising the weapon above his head and driving it down through the Shogun's neck with all his might to end him with as little pain as possible. As the Shogun's head fell away from his body, his guards nearby drew their weapons, causing Aetius' guards to raise their weapons in response, but rather than attack the General, the Shogun's guards instead took their own lives. Aetius returned to his guards and adjutant to collect his things, and the young officer asked: "Why the hell did those men do that?"

Aetius sighed while putting his jacket back on and replied: "Because they could not bear the dishonor of allowing the man they were charged with protecting to be killed by an enemy." The adjutant again just shook his head, and after he collected all his things, Aetius returned to the pagoda, where the only surviving man who had accompanied the Shogun was waiting for him. "The Shogun informed you of our terms?" Aetius asked the man.

"He did General. As his second-in-command, I will honor his agreement and see to it that Kyotomo becomes loyal to the Imperium once again."

Aetius nodded, and motioned for his adjutant to join them. "My adjutant will write up the official terms which we'll need you to sign." The man who was now responsible for leading Kyotomo simply nodded in response as the adjutant began writing. The terms were fairly standard for a world which had attempted to declare independence from the Imperium: all citizens would be required to publicly swear an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, Terraism was to become the official religion of the planet and all Bushidist shrines were to be converted to Terraist temples to reflect that, all planetary military forces were to lay down their arms, and an Imperium force was to occupy the planet until such time as the Senate deemed it to no longer be at risk of revolt. The only deviation from the standard agreement was a small addendum which Aetius added that allowed the former Shogun to be buried with full honors; he felt the man deserved at least that much. Once everything was officially written up, Aetius and the Shogun's second-in-command signed the accord, then the latter returned to the planet's capital while Aetius and his men returned to their ship.

After a planetwide address was made to inform Kyotomo's citizens of the accord, a large number of Aetius' men descended down to the planet to temporarily occupy its cities as-per the agreement in the accord until an Imperium force specifically designed for that task could arrive to replace them. They landed without resistance, and once they were planetside, Aetius left his adjutant in charge of the occupation while he made his way back to Nova Terra for his meeting with the Joint Chiefs. He had won the war with a single blow, but the victory felt hollow to him. As he stared out the window of his personal quarters while en route to the capital of the Imperium to sit amongst a room of dishonorable politicians pretending to be soldiers while they bandied about useless information in a pointless briefing, the Shogun's last words echoed in Aetius' ears, and he pondered the truly sad state of affairs the Imperium now found itself in...

[Toaslandia]

Adrona Vanius sipped the Argonian Whisky in his hand when the door to his office opened. "Sir, a Death Wor-" Adrona raised his hand and finished his drink in one gulp. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking, Tiber?" "I'm sorry sir, but Captain Ghana and the Fifth Squad were devoured by a Death Worm." Adrona smashed the glass on his desk and swore. "Damn it! That's twenty men that'll take years to retrain and an experienced officer!" He put his hands to his face and calmed down. "Be prepared to draft another group of citizens to the ASF." Tiber saluted and walked away.

[Krugmar]

The Perfidy
Unknown Space

Blue light bathed the bridge for an moment, vanishing as the solitary star was left alone once more. The bridge, built to accommodate an army of officers, engineers and deckhands, was presently home to only a ghost crew. Upon a central dais, overlooking the entire area, was a large table presently projecting a map of the galaxy. It shifted about as a hand guided it, linking blinking dots in a seemingly random fashion. Several others watched the figure do so, before one voiced his objection.

"My Lady, I am uncertain that any of these supposed sightings can be considered legitimate, therefore their linking to pinpoint his location is useless." The man complained.

Alestra did not look up at him, continuing to gently manoeuvre the map. "If you have any better leads, or a superior idea, I would not have you let it rot away locked in your mind, X." She replied.

"None Ma'am, but I think he's vanished so expertly because he is now deceased. Finding one person alive in the galaxy is difficult, and finding one dead is near impossible." He posited. A few of his colleagues, among twenty-five of the highest ranked in the Bureau, seemed to share his sentiment, though they could only muster the bravery to nod along.

Again she did not lift her head. "If he was dead we'd know. Any rebel group in the galaxy would take credit for his death, and currently those that do have been proven false. The prince is not a suicide, nor a moron, so his death is neither intentional nor accidental. Therefore if he cannot be dead, he must be alive. If he's alive, we find him."

X opened his mouth to argue but quickly decided against it. "If he is alive, do you think he will solve our problems?" Asked another, Y, her lilac eyes centred with an unmistakable cybernetic augment scanning the map from top to bottom in seconds.

"No, he's just a man amongst quadrillions. His return would cause a lot of fear and panic. People act stupidly when panicked. Stupidity is easy to catch, and those caught can be quickly snuffed out." She replied, waving away the galaxy map of blinking white dots for another filled with red dots. The map was covered with so many it was unrecognisable, merging into a near solid disc with exception of a few barren places.

"We solve one problem, five more crop up." Whined J, running a hand through his rapidly fading hair. He was beginning to become distinctive, and old, so a full facial reconstruction was in order, Alestra decided.

"It is certainly beginning to crumble, 'tis a shame we are also it." Opined Alestra, struggling even with her augmentations to keep up with the barrage of rapidly changing information.

"Does the Palace know?" Asked J.

"Of course they know. What they know is another question, and an answer I'd very much like to find out. They are good at providing awful informants, and the Praetorians are frustratingly solid in their devotion and accuracy in gauging my attempts at placing agents amongst them. There's only one agent who could unlock its secrets: myself." Replied Alestra, typing a coded message to an unknown recipient via her personal datapad.

"You intend to leave the Perfidy? Our control centre in the Palace has virtually no staff left, you'd be deaf and blind there." Asked Y.

Alestra shook her head, "I don't intend to go anywhere, but I will be in the Palace." She looked at her pad, reading the message over. 0-551, new call from the underworld. Time to look like One. Act but not Be. Ear to the Marble Walls.. She hit send, and returned to looking at the multitude of problems mapped before her.

[Segmentia]

Imperial Super Dreadnought Triumph, in orbit around Nova Terra Secunda, second moon of Nova Terra

Twenty years ago Nova Terra Secunda was a barren rock with not even a single domed habitation block. It had served as an occasional training ground for low-g combat, and as a testing range for new land based vehicles on occasion. It had been about halfway through the 'Wars of Religion' when Grand Admiral Alexandra Lividivus had come to the conclusion that things would only get worse in the future, regardless of how the conflict across the Imperium ended. The Emperor was unresponsive, continuing to be a recluse even as his Imperium burned itself to ash, though she hadn't been surprised by that. She had been far more surprised that her former protege was at the head of the Holy Orders who had started it all. How she hadn't seen this part of Verina escaped her, the woman hadn't seemed capable of allowing such things to happen, but Alexandra supposed it was always the quite ones you had to watch out for. She wouldn't be blind-sided again, that was for damned sure. So Alexandra had used her power as Naval Chief of Staff to start securing bases, stations, and even entire planets and sectors for the navy to operate out of in the foreseen conflicts. It amazed her at how easy it was to trick the bureaucrats and bean counters, at how utterly uninterested the senate was in actually governing in the recent decade, she had been able to reallocate so much funding and resources she had been genuinely shocked to find out just how easy it was to become corrupt and no one would have even noticed. Of course she still had her self restraint and her sworn oaths to the navy and the Imperium to guide her. Most would pity her if she told them that the navy was her life, but than those people weren't Grand Admirals.

Alexandra looked down at Secunda from the observation deck in the suite of rooms she had on the Triumph, a palace by naval standards of living quarters but utterly modest in terms of the upper echelons of the Imperium, probably seen more as 'impoverished' really. She knew lords and senators who had whole ships simply dedicated to luxurious living even if their purpose was simply going from point a to point b, though those people weren't on her mind at the moment. She watched as a troop transport ship was guided down towards one of the vast landing areas. Naval personnel and marines were constantly rotating in and out of the new, sprawling base. Once the ship landed a shield could be raised and filled with breathable atmosphere, or docking tubes could be connected to off-load personnel or supplies. Another base a quarter way across the moon served as a zero-g naval manufacturing center where new ships hulls were regularly laid down and constructed. In combination with the orbital dock-yards Secunda had a modest ability to manufacture new ships. Of course many of the new ships being built at multiple places across the Imperium were new designs. Technology was going to be a quickly mounting problem as worlds manufacturing high tech components had been caught in the Wars of Religion, and schematics had been lost, and so Alexandra had had teams of naval designers and engineers start laying out new ship types, ones that would use lower levels of technology to make up for the inevitable shortfalls of high tech gear. Even her own flagship had undergone some retrofits over the past few years to prepare for the inevitable, though she had been careful to stock up on everything the Triumph would need. It would buy her a few years, maybe decades, of continued service at full efficiency and ability.

Alexandra turned from the observation window, the reinforced shutter automatically sealing over the window as she walked away. The rest of her rooms, a modest bedroom, recreation room, kitchen and dining room, and a personal work room, weren't backed up against the outer hull of the ship like the observation room. Alexandra was tempted to pour herself a drink before heading out but she was on duty so she simply grabbed her uniform cap and headed out the door as she placed it on her head. Ten marines snapped to attention as she exited from her suite and into the ante-chamber. It was a large circular room with three additional doors, two leading to security areas for her guards and one leading out into the main hall of the officers quarters. Officially she had about forty guards assigned to her personal protection though she felt little need to have more than one or two follow her aboard her own flagship, after all she had been quite precise in removing any Terraist influence aboard and had been working on limiting followers of Terraism in the critical roles in the navy. People had gotten the picture very quickly after her initial purge that she didn't play around when it came to loyalty. The Terraist senators wanted her removed from her position, but only the Emperor could command that, and he hadn't been answering anything in some time.

Alexandra gestured and her two usual guards, Marine Captain Nyrix and Marine Sergeant Hanslough fell into step a few feet behind her. As the door to the hall slid open she was greeted by her XO, Rear Admiral Fredrick August. He was a middle aged man with tanned skin, a balding head of black hair that he often just shaved, and a seemingly permanent half-frown that made him seem skeptical or unimpressed. He snapped a crisp salute that Alexandra returned and fell in beside her.

“We had another flotilla of new destroyers taken out to the Sigma-21 anchorage. A few fleet and sector commanders are starting to ask questions though, about where most of these new ships are being taken.” August said, handing Alexandra a small data-slate. She took it and linked it with her neural implant, able to see the information played across her eyes.

“Naturally. I trust you told them that they're being sent to fleets that need them more?” Alexandra said. In truth she had been having most of the new ships, especially any built to modern tech standards, taken and 'transferred' to supposedly far flung fleets, though in reality they were being stored in highly classified deep-space anchorages, stockpiled along with countless other necessitates for the navy to call upon in the future. They were nearing a point where she would be satisfied with the reserve forces and the active fleets could start receiving the new ships. Some pompous officers questioned the need to down-grade the technological abilities of new ships, and she simply didn't bother to correct anyone who questioned it. Being the Naval Chief of Staff did have its perks.

“Of course, but it does raise an important subject that we need to get some of these new ships into fleets so that we have at least some crews and captains that are experienced with the new systems. They are a considerable departure from the systems most fleets operate with. Simpler, certainly, but quite different none-the-less.” August said as they reached one of the many elevators that ran up and down the length of the bridge super-structure. Alexandra frowned but nodded.

“That is true. Lets get a list together, say a small fleet of a battle-cruiser, a few cruisers, destroyers, and frigates sent to each major anchorage that we know isn't full of Terraists and start having crews training on them. After that if we need to we can divide the experienced personnel to make the core crew of other ships.” Alexandra said, cracking her neck from side to side. The elevator shot up onto the primary bridge and the door slid open. “Go ahead and get the order written up and I'll okay it and send it out later today, Hanslough.” She said, handing the data-slate back. They stepped off the elevator, August nodding and heading over towards a group of panels as Alexandra walked further onto the bridge. It was a massive space, with room for dozens of people to work comfortably. She walked up to the view port and looked down at the length of the Triumph, allowing herself a small, satisfied smile.

The Triumph was a massive ship, one of the largest ships in the entire Imperium at just about 20km in length, and the largest that was regularly active. There were other ships of like size, but they were often mothballed or otherwise inactive. The Triumph though was active all the time. It was also quite new, by navy standards, and she had played a fairly large part in its design and construction, and had been given command of her when she launched. She had remained in command since that time, though she occasionally had to transfer her flag to other ships when going off on smaller campaigns where the use of the Triumph couldn't really be justified. Even when she was deployed the Triumph served as both a ship of war as well as a training center, repair station for smaller ships to a moderate extent anyway, and various other functions that it's sheer size allowed. The firepower on the Triumph could decimate fleets, and the space-craft compliment could see close to a thousand craft launched. Large hangers on the bottom of the ship berthed a small flotilla of frigates and heavy patrol ships, and when fully geared up for it the Triumph could support a ground invasion on it own with its massive marine compliment, which included vehicles, pre-fab base structures, and strike-craft that could operate in atmosphere. This view always made Alexandra feel better, even if the Imperium was on the knifes edge of total chaos and ruin.

After a minute she turned from the view and went to the command chair, elevated at the middle and rear of the command deck so she could overlook the crew as they worked, and sat down, frowning as she once again typed out a message, one she had repeated many times over the past decades but rarely got an answer to.

To: His Imperial Majesty Baldor I
From: Grand Admiral Alexandra Lividivus
RE: Orders

Once again the navy is requesting orders from its command in chief. If orders are not forthcoming Navy Central Command will continue to act at its own discretion within the principles governing it.

As a personal aside, I will note that the Imperium could really use the stability that you could bring. Your daughter and her Holy Orders are out of control. Actions will soon need to made against them. I fear that if you do not act now the Imperium as we know it will be shattered and lost.

[The Vekta-Helghast Empire]

Clarifont Industries™
”There is nothing impossible, to him who will try.”
~Alexander the Great.

In orbit over Nova Terra.

”Chairman, we’re now beginning our final approach to the port. If you’d care to take your seat, we’ll prepare a shuttle for you to the surface shortly.”

”Thank you kindly, James - that’ll be all.”

For months, the vessel known as the C.I. Clarity, flagship of the corporation had been touring the Galaxy, the Chairman making no secret of the fact that he’d met with over a hundred Senators and a thousand leading university professors. And just the week before, he’d given an interview to the Imperial News Network on his most recent project; the opening of the Company’s first new Research and Development facility in over two centuries, during the interview he directly criticised members of the Senate; stating that their education policies are directly responsible for the sudden stagnation of the Imperium. He argued, Mankind hasn’t reached the boundaries of what’s technologically possible, but rather, has had its dreams, ambitions and imaginations beaten from it through a system of education that teaches compliance and religious dogma, over creativity. He said; in a time when people should be coming together, where dreamers should be flourishing and Mankind has unprecedented resources at its disposal. The Senate and other elements of the Imperial hierarchy have not only hindered progress, but began to systematically destroy Mankind’s progress over the last forty millenia.

He knew before he’d even departed that it wouldn’t have garnered him much friends on Nova Terra, but he wanted his opponents to know that he’d face them, that he wasn’t your traditional beaurocrat who’d say one thing on television and another to your face. No, he wasn’t the sort to back down from a good fight. Nor was he going to go back on his own values. This new development center was only the beginning, this interview only the first of many critiques to come. He had to admit, the whole thing was a tad on the nerve-wrecking side, his palms hadn’t been dry since the moment he lay eyes on Terra. Although he never directly referenced the religious conflicts as a source of inward thinking, he knew many on Terra would take it that way - and that perhaps, he’d bitten off a bit more than he could chew. In an attempt to mitigate these effects, and to rally some support, he decided to take a break from his critique spree, and attempt to schmooze some of those in positions of power, from the Senate, to the Navy, to even the Royal Household itself, if he were able to.

Within an hour of docking his flagship over Terra, he’d boarded his means of transport to the surface. The Company had a significant presence in the Capitol, with an immense tower right at its centre, only a ten minute flight from the Senate itself. It would be here, he’d make his initial arrival, but it would not be here he’d linger. He’d give a quick hello to his regional directors and most trusted staff before gathering his security detail. A dozen men in Light Armour wielding fully automatic, kinetic-rifles. Representatives of Clarifont Security Solutions’ more premium packages. Of course, they couldn’t even compare with even the lesser tiers of Clarifont Military Solutions; but he could hardly come to Terra with agents of is private army at his back, it’d be terribly inappropriate.

Instead, he and his agents would make their way to one of the smaller planet-side offices of the Corporation; the very first office they ever opened on Terra, a bit of a nostalgia trip more than anything. That and the fact that Edmon thought it rather symbolic, a symbol of progress in a time where such things were a rarity. Lingering in the shadows of more immense and advanced facilities. From here; he’d dispatch a number of messages to various individuals. The first of whom, perhaps being the most significant - the one who was certainly in the top three he most definitely wished to meet with; the Crown Princess herself, Valeria. Of course, he knew it was ambitious to be received by a member of the Royal Family, but given his Corporation’s immense influence in the Imperium, he knew if he didn’t try to utilize it now, the time may come and go. He chose her for a reason, more so than that she was the heir - she was also highly experienced with the Senate and was known to lack the religious Zeal of her sister; to him, she was perhaps the most likely candidate in the Royalty he could see as a potential benefactor, if not partner in his future ambitions.

To her Royal Majesty Crown Princess Valeria,

I do herein request a formal audience with yourself at the Royal Palace on Nova Terra; as to discuss the future of our Great Nation and the unprecedented stagnation and turmoil we now face. I wish for you to understand, that I do not just write to you as a concerned businessman, nor as a humble servant, but I hope - in time, as a friend. For years, I have served the Imperium loyally and diligently, building a Nation to rival that of the past; but nations cannot be built in a day, nor can they be built alone.

You, as Crown Princess, represent the future of our nation, one which I shall live to see and endure, as we have all endured for unfathomable generations. One day you will make a choice, knowingly or otherwise, as to what kind of future it is you represent. One of continued stagnation and regression, of increased dogma and suspicion, one of fear and discrimination. Or one of incalculable progress, one where men and women dream of exploration as our forefathers once did. One where impossible vanishes from our vocabulary and is inevitably replaced with the phrase, ‘soon’. One where all men and women of the Empire are treated fairly as equals, not only under God - but under Imperial Legislation and action.

I dream of a time, when the constraints of our Galaxy are but a memory - and all throughout the cosmos the seed of humanity grows roots. Where the very fringes of our Universe are ours to behold. Where the woes and dreads of the common man are no more, and finally - we can shape the universe around us, to tend to our every need and desire. So that no man, woman nor child, Human or otherwise, suffers as we, and perhaps our forefathers have.

I will not lie to you, your Majesty, this is no small task. And it may be our undoing, but I believe, through our blood, sweat and tears as we toil in our laboratories, in our factories and in our streets; we can see the darkness lifted, and a new Golden Age for Terra. So I do formally request once more, to seek an audience with yourself, at your earliest convenience.

With the utmost respect and loyalty,

Edmon Clarifont, Chairman of Clarifont Industries.

---

”There is only one thing worse than fighting with allies, and that is fighting without them.”
~Sir. Winston Churchill.

The secondary communication; would be delivered to another prominent figure, this one outside of the Royal and Bureaucratic hierarchy of Terra. In fact, it was to be delivered to someone not on Terra at all. And would be done so, far more personally than the last. A Light Cruiser in the Corporation’s command, the C.I. Pursuit had escorted the C.I. Clarity on its journey to Nova Terra, along with two other smaller cruisers. But it was under explicit orders to remain undocked until it received further instructions, ones which arrive soon after the Chairman’s departure. It was to seek out and hail the Imperial Flagship known as the Triumph, and to attempt to secure and audience with the Grand Admiral herself.

Utilizing local flight plans, and contacts within the Defence Ministry; the vessel was informed that the Triumph remained in Orbit over Nova Terra Secunda, a relatively short distance as far as space-flight was concerned. The choice of the Pursuit as the vessel to hail them was not made arbitrarily, in fact - Edmon knew its commander personally and was even the one who issued him the vessel. Former Admiral Freiburg a reasonably well-known Admiral of the Imperial Navy until his resignation two years ago, which saw him move into the Private Sector and into command of the C.I. Pursuit. He’d received a number of accolades and commendations during his time in the Imperial Navy, awards which he still wore with pride on his uniform even since his transfer to the Private Sector. He’d resigned following the Wars of Religion, which saw him supervise a number of, ‘punitive actions’ against heretical worlds and forces. The horrors that he saw and the innocents he was responsible for slaying; driving a wedge between him and his former officers and inevitably ending in his resignation.

Within an hour of receiving the go-ahead, the Vessel began its maneuvers towards Secunda, and pinged the Triumph; ensuring that they weren’t fired upon as an unknown vessel. Shortly after the ping, they’d send a live communication to the Triumph.

Hail Imperial Super Dreadnought Triumph,

This is Admiral Freiburg of Clarifont Military Solutions, requesting an audience with your Commanding Officer; Grand Admiral Alexandra Lividicus, Chief of Staff of the Navy, at the behest of Chairman Edmon Clarifont of Clarifont Industries, do you copy?

I repeat, This is Admiral Freiburg of Clarifont Military Solutions, we are under direct orders from the Chairman to request an audience with your Commanding Officer; Grand Admiral Alexandra Lividicus, Chief of Staff of the Navy, at the behest of Chairman Edmon Clarifont of Clarifont Industries. Over.

[Rodez]

Grand Admiral Arrian Valkyran-Gallegos
In Orbit of Dhutigura
Aboard Imperial Battleship Sir Francis Drake

The officers who manned the bridge of the battleship Sir Francis Drake turned when the bay doors slid open with a characteristic hiss. They stood and saluted the man who had just walked through them.

"At ease," Grand Admiral Arrian Valkyran-Gallegos said, returning the salute perhaps a little more casually than a Grand Admiral should. But he didn't really care - the Drake, first of all, had been his flagship since halfway through the Wars of Religion. Many of the officers who crewed her currently had been under his command for at least as long. Arrian was in what he considered his closest sanctuary - which meant he could do as he pleased.

A shock of almost platinum-blond hair caught his eye in the crowd of navy personnel. "Commander DeWitt, do we have any updates regarding the situation on the ground?"

The grizzled veteran, who had been answering that question (and many others) from Arrian since the Battle of New Khartoum almost twenty years ago, cleared his throat and gestured to the brownish-red planet that loomed before the bridge. "Yes sir, we do. General Nsofor reports that his forces are making steady progress in nearly all of the metropolitan areas. It seems our orbital bombardment succeeded in knocking out nearly all of their air defense and artillery batteries. The one exception is Nowrangpur. His initial landings were beaten back, and the ground assault hasn't gone anywhere either."

Arrian strode over to the holographic map table that dominated the center of the bridge and manipulated the representation of Dhutigura, one Magellanic Cloud colony among thousands, until he had enlarged a particularly mountainous section of the northern hemisphere to a degree that the city was visible. Little red and blue icons flashed intermittently, indicating where and when ground combat was taking place. "What are casualty estimates so far?" he asked.

"New figures just arrived a few minutes ago sir,"" DeWitt answered. Arrian pulled those up as soon as he found them.

27th Army - 85,000 KIA. 140,000 WIA. 7,000 MIA - fighting ongoing.
Hostiles - Upwards of 400,000 KIA - fighting ongoing.
Civilians - Upwards of 2.3 million - fighting ongoing.

Arrian watched the three separate body counts gradually tick up as commanders sent in more data from the field. He wondered, not for the first time that day, or any other day, how many of the civilian dead were the result of his fleet's guns and missiles. But the regional break-downs were clear: Nowrangpur was eating Nsofor's men alive, that one city being responsible for more than half the Army casualties. The greatest enemy concentrations were in the metropolitan core - but at least a hundred thousand civilians remained, by Army estimates. Fucking separatists. Everyone with a militia and a stash of hunting rifles wants to be one these days. He turned to Lt. Commander Maria Drtina, the Drake's Chief Gunnery Officer. "Drtina, concentrate fire on the city center. Full weaponry. Two volleys. Also notify the Bretagne that its bomber contingent is to strike the outlying targets in the suburbs that the Army has so kindly selected for us."

"Copy that, Grand Admiral." Drtina turned and began directing her subordinates to ready the Drake's impressive array of armaments, which for orbital bombardments meant a large ion cannon and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of antimatter cruise missiles.

It took the span of a minute for the battleship's targeting systems to hone in on the exact coordinates. The ion cannon swung up rapidly, then held still, as if momentarily frozen it time. Then it erupted twice, sending a duo of green laser blasts to the surface of Dhutigura. The Drake's missile bays opened up and ejected several dozen void-to-ground missiles, which rapidly sped on their way.

Although he would have received a more detailed analysis if he had done so, Arrian did not need to look at holographic map to see that the bombardment had struck true. None of the bridge crew bothered to, in fact. It was enough to gaze out the window and watch the the tiny dots of fire erupt on the surface.

The voice of an Army officer buzzed over the intercom and confirmed what they all already knew. Arrian did not glance at the screen keeping track of casualties as the civilian number flashed twice and then increased rapidly. "DeWitt, you will inform me if General Nsofor requires any more assistance. It looks as if he has things in hand, but we'll hang around for a few hours if that's not the case. Otherwise, inform the Armada that we're headed to Nova Terra. Jump when ready." He turned and left.

It was a short walk from the bridge to his personal suite. Normally a ship captain was afforded a particularly nice, if singular, cabin, but this was a Grand Admiral's ship. Arrian enjoyed the benefits of a spacious office, full kitchen, lounge, library, and swimming pool. Plopping himself down in the former room, Arrian typed out one of the more important communiques he had written in recent years, and sent it off into the void on a secure channel. With no pressing matters remaining before the Drake entered her lengthy jump, The Emperor's cousin put his feet up, poured himself a whisky, and tried to count the stars.

To His Imperial Grace, Baldor, First of His Name, Emperor of the Galactic Imperium,

Cousin. It has been some years since we last spoke. Eight or nine, I think. Not since the wars quieted down some. Not since the disappearance of the Crown Prince.

Far be it from me to lecture an Emperor, I merely have a request: I ask that we take council together, break bread together. The reasons are two-fold: first, although I am a tangential relation of yours, and a poor representation of the Valkyran line, I am a relation nonetheless, in an era where Your Grace has few. It is my sincere belief that we must stick together and advise one another, if we are to preserve and advance the cause of the Imperial House.

Secondly, and equally important, a subject of any realm must needs accept direction from a sovereign. But if no direction is forthcoming, the realm may suffer for lack of confidence and guidance. Although others can administrate in your stead, ultimately it is only the Throne that wields sufficient authority and legitimacy to enact significant change. This is why it is my hope that we might meet face-to-face; there are many, many men and women in your Imperium that desperately seek the order and direction that can only be provided by your hand. It is my hope that such a meeting might provide me with some clarity.

Your humble servant and loving cousin,

Arrian Valkyran-Gallegos, Grand Admiral

[Imperialisium]

Nova Terra

Nova Terra, no, not [i]the Terra that you hear in your the children's stories. This is the only Terra of any sort that has mattered for at least twenty-thousand years. Bristling spires miles high, arcologies of polished metal, a billion golden statues of Imperial Heroes. Marble boulevards hundreds of miles longs, hanging gardens stretching up a thousand stories, an ecumenopolis like no other. At no age prior has so much wealth been accumulated in one place. Here the elite of the Galaxy reside. A palace on Nova Terra is worth more than a pleasure planet else ware. But below these glittering towers and fanfares dedicated to the glory of the Imperium. Underneath there is rot. The Imperium is rotting. Do not doubt that this is the most dangerous world in the Galaxy traveler. Go down far enough in the world spanning city-scape and you'll see....[/i]

Nova Terra's system was a constant state of traffic. Millions of commercial vessels ranging from small shuttle craft flitting passengers too and from the settled regions of the system. To the massive bulk haulers a dozen kilometers long hauling billions of tons of product. Then there was the silent, threatening, armed to the teeth warships of the Imperial Navy. Conducting their ceaseless vigilance among the stars as fifteen-million Navy men and women control the congested shipping lanes wrapping around the Throneworld. As tens of thousands of ships left or jockeyed for port. Indeed, on any given day without the presence of the Imperial Navy there would be battles in the sky as ship captains fought for berths. The Nova Terran Constabulary, the local planetary police, ushering visitors too and from from the port facilities. Supervising thousands of robotic workers checking passports, ID's, shipping manifests and certificates.

Making it beyond one would see the mighty boulevards, thoroughfares, and expressways of the city-planet. Billions coming and going about their daily business. Air cars in controlled lanes. Ground cars humming along roadways. Endless pedestrian traffic. The drum of the grav-chutes as people transported themselves and items at high velocity. While the Constables in their royal blue uniforms could be seen as the most obvious sign of Imperial governance. There was also the periodic tramp of booted feet as a patrol of Imperial Army troopers marched down a street. While the Constables were good at doing the day to day policing duties, with a population this large, fighting any organized crime or sizable gang was tantamount to fighting a small war. In came the Army garrisons on the throne world. And if they could not be bothered or had issue then the Imperial Guard's garrison could be called in to crush any resistance to Imperial Law. As was the case today when a full on Burb' War broke out in the Southern Hemisphere.

Now if one was unfamiliar with the nomenclature. On any heavily populated human world one may hear the term Block War or Turf War. I.e. two or more gangs occupying a block or more going at it over anything under the sun. Using any weapon they have available. Already such instances on Nova Terra could involve hundreds to thousands of combatants on both sides. A Burb War was of the next magnitude. Imagine if two sections of a city went to war with each other in a no rules no weapon barred death struggle. Naturally, any conventional police force would be overwhelmed. The two Burb's in question you might ask? That would be Decago and Tolemar, two of many hundreds of thousands of microcosms in the vast city planet of Nova Terra. Both Decago and Tolemar however were poor, downtrodden, economically backwards locals. Thing of 21st century Los Angeles during the 90's and 80's Miami but completely controlled on the social level by one gange each. Now imagine if those two gangs where next to each other and hated one another. Now imagine they're armed with all manner of illegally obtained weapon. Burb War.


1100 Hours
Nova Terran Time
Decago Continental Transit Station 4

The Grav-Train rolled into the station twenty-minutes after the distress calls had gone out by the Imperial Army. Local Constables had barricaded themselves in their local precincts after failing to regain control of the situation at approximately 0845. A battalion of the Imperial Army was airdropped into the upper reaches of Decago and Tolemar. However, after being beset upon by numerous RPGs, laser guided missiles, and small arms fire they were soon besieged by thousands of heavily armed gangsters. People who made up their training for years of survival on the streets of Nova Terra's underworld. Civilian casualties already estimated to be over a 1,000 people and that's based on the reports only. As the gunmetal grav-train doors opened hundreds of heavily armed, urban camouflaged, armor plated troopers of the Imperial Guard stormed out with practiced precision. They where met by two Constable officers and one of the Guardsmen bearing the color markings of a Commander stepped forward, "Situation Constables." The Constables, wearing Kev-14 reinforced fiber body armor and bearing shotguns walked up in a hurry, their rank pins denoting them as precinct leads. "Us and sixty-six other Constables are present, along with 12,248 civilians locked in the stations storage rooms and gathering messes."

"Hostiles?" Hostiles, Imperial Citizens, possibly even some of the Constables friends and neighbors. The Constables took a moment as their heads beaded with sweat. Looked at the Commander and his faceless helmet the Constable that had originally spoke again talked, "Presumably in the tens of thousands across both Burb's." The Commander nodded, took this at face value, and turned away like an automaton. Leaving the Constables silent and watching the armored figures begin to move up to the various steel-titanium reinforced doors of the transit station. "We go by company to secure Decago and Tolemar. Block by block if we have too. Any citizen deemed hostile is to be terminated immediately. The Emperor's Justice will be brought to those found wanting." The Emperor's Justice not Imperial Justice. That is what separated the Guard from all other branches of the Imperium's military, especially the local planetary police. The Commander took up position in a forward squad and made a hand signal to a trooper tapping into the control panel. The trooper pressed a series of holographic buttons on his wrist. The doors yawned open to reveal a garbage strewn street with dim street lights. The Guardsmen's helms came with image contrast and numerous spectrum vision enhancers. Automatically brightening up the environment or allowing them to toggle between night, heat, and infrared vision. The Commander lead the armored troopers out as they rushed out from the station under cover from several Guard sniper teams that had gone through access ladders to upper levels of the transit station. Ahead, roughly 400 stories up, the laser flashes and lines of tracer fire denoting the combat between the Imperial Army detachment sent originally and the gangsters could be seen.

The Guardsmen moved forward, rather silent considering how armored and decked with gear they were, moving in highly organized formations. These were soldiers raised from childhood to be unyielding warriors in the Emperor's name. They showed it with practiced skill borne of training with squad mates years in the making. The Commander looked left and right as his Guardsmen continued moving forward. It was quiet. Too quiet. Plunk Plunk Plunk.

A 30. cal rotary cannon mounted on a balcony 28 stories above the Guardsmen whirred to life. Its rounds pockmarked the ground and threw up grit as the Guardsmen instinctly went to cover. Throwing up a torrent of ballistic and laser fire. A red high powered laser bolt suddenly flashed and the rotary gun fell silent. One of the sniper teams reported one shot, one kill. A body with a hole eight inches across it's upper torso slumped behind it. That was when the shout went up. Hundreds of gangers appears in windows, doorways, and stormed out onto the streets firing automatic weapons, rifles, and tossing improvised grenades. The Guardsmens returned with practiced fire.

"Go, go, go!" shouted the Commander as he pressed forward. Dozens of gangster bodies dropped to the ground, slumped against doorways, or fell forward out of window frames. While the streets and alleys were torn up by the torrents of gunfire. Guardsmen kicked down doors, burst through windows, and went to work with savage melee combat up stair wells, through holes in walls, and on balconies. The Commander was no exception and rounding a corner, a Gangster raised his weapon, only for the latter's head to be vaporized by a well placed snap shot from the Imperial Stormtrooper's laser carbine. Nearby the whirr of a .90 cal autocannon assembled and hauled up by a team of Guardsmen began to rake an entire line of apartment buildings with indiscriminatory fire. Blowing out chunks of concrete, plaster, rebar, and body parts.

"Sir, 4th Company has taken the 3rd Transit station and the district mass elevator. Linking up with fire teams from the 3/122nd Battalion now." Contact was being made with the Imperial Army Battalion fighting so many stories above them.

It would take a total of ten more hours for Decago and Tolemar to be pacified. 23,411 Gangsters belonging to the Decago Son's and Tolemar Skulls would be killed as a result. Including 3,079 Civilians caught in the crossfire. A foot note.

Imperial Palace

The Imperial Palace covered much of the North-Central Continent of Nova Terra. Not in terms of urbanization. But the District. The Palace itself while enormous paled in comparison to the Imperial Reserve surrounding it and woven between the Palace's own various complexes. For the Palace District contained the only massive stretch of preserved Nova Terran landscape and Ocean. The Walls, Reserve, and Palace were watched over the tireless Praetorian's. For they alone governed the coming and going's within the Palace. They alone decided who may enter the Emperor's presence let alone the Palace. These eerie, monolithic, golden clad host of warriors were an enigmatic force in the Imperium. Where the rest of the Imperium was stagnant and decaying. The Praetorians remained the same as they ever where. Seemingly the only thing besides the Celestial Thone to have proven ageless. Their membership may have changed with the death and induction of new recruits. A process of which no other branch of the Imperium knew. Despite their best efforts to infiltrate the Praetorian's. All would be fruitless. But one thing was certain. Much like many devices in the Imperial Palace, like the Celestial Throne itself, the Praetorians had extensive amounts of ancient Solarian and Archetech caches. The Praetorians suits and arms where of Solarian design and manufacture. Many of their starships and vehicles were likewise built by those ancient, long extinct, master creators that had produced anything to surpass the Imperium's own zenith thousands of years prior.

Moving deep into the Imperial Palace, in a section known as Blaekyrnae, largely built of black and red smooth stone. On a patio watching a carefully preserved waterfall cascade down into a lake with more of the Palace in the distance. Sat a man with white hair, age lines on his face, eyes bearing many decades of wisdom within them; wrapped within the landscape before him. Across the waterfall and the river that fed it the foothills of the Kalkiren Mountains, one of the mountain ranges in the Imperial Reserve, could be seen. A Praetorian stood motionless beside the door to the rooms adjacent to the patio. A servant in purple robes walked up with a bowed head. "Your Serene Majesty." bowed the servant. An elderly man in his late 400's. His over three centuries of service having granted him use of life extension technology. But every human was different, some took to the longevity procedures better than others, and accordingly could accrue much longer youth and age as a result. While this man was no longer young or bore the facsimile of youth he was still alive far longer than many would see. Baldor said nothing as the servant slowly placed a number of letters. Print out's of data reports collected by the Palace's corps of servants. A few of the top one's however were different. Smaller transcript print out's of personal messages. Each one of course scanned a hundred times, cross referenced, catalogued, and reverse traced by one of the Palace's security A.I.'s before even being seen by a human. Let alone printed out.

The Emperor turned slowly and nodded his thanks to the servant. The elderly man smiled and bowed again before leaving. The Praetorian still did not move. Baldor let out a sigh and took the first transcript up. It was by Grand Admiral Lividivus. Baldor put down the transcript and picked up another. It was back dated about a month. The time it would take someone at optimal speeds to reach Nova Terra from the Magellanic Cloud. It was from his cousin. Placing that one down in turn he began to flick through the reports. The Compressed information and reports from thousands of worlds lay at his finger tips. One was news of High General Aetius conducting a successful pacification. Another about Verina conducting religious sermons on Sagittar Prime. The list went on. The Emperor eventually would put them all down and continue sitting. Watching the pure crystalline, filtered and cleansed, water flow.

The Joint Chief's Meeting
The Joint Chief's typically met within the Imperial Palace itself. However, with Grand Admiral Arrian away overseeing deployments in the Megallanic Cloud, and Valeria not being known for being totally traditional. She had moved the meeting to the Imperium's Shield Orbital Station. A massive 200,000 square kilometer station constructed in geosynchronous orbit above Nova Terra. A massive Naval installation that was basically one massive defense installation. Along with being a command and control facility for the numerous orbital and void based defensese of the Nova Terran system.

In a circular room across a black polished granite table sat Crown Princess Valeria. Her beauty was natural, along with her fiery red hair, and bright green-gray eyes. Her Nova Terran genes were obvious in the cat-like slit pupils. Nova Terran's were not entirely sure if it had happened naturally or artificially. The slit pupils that allowed them to see in dim areas. None argued how useful it was on a city planet, especially if the city-scape blocked out natural light from above, or you were scuffling along a sub-level were the Sun hasn't shown in hundreds if not thousands of years. Behind her stood a Praetorian, with another pair guarding the door silently. Beside Valeria on her left side were several Directors from the Logisticae. Communications, Stellar Cartography, Medical, Engineering and Development, etc. On her right would be the proper military officials. Grand Admiral Lividivus would be arriving to represent the Navy on behalf of Arrian. Next and already seated was Lord General Theodosian; then there was Marshal Gallikus Scharnburg of the Army; the Imperial Intelligence Director was still yet to arrive or send a representative along with the last chair which was also empty. The Captain-General of the Praetorians. Who had elected to not come from the Imperial Palace. Either way Valeria had not questioned it. No doubt the Captain-General would hear of any proceedings quickly enough as is.

As she waited for the last two branches representatives to arrive she pinned a message on her datapad. A reply to a request for an audience.
Mister Clarifont,
Your poetic grasp of Imperial Standard is admirable and I do agree on the state of the Imperium. As much as it saddens me so to admit. I will agree to your audience at the conclusion of my current appointment. The Praetorians will let you in at the Eastern Gate into the Palace District. I will meet you at the Blue Palace overlooking Lake Namarien, within the Valtora Mountains, a quite scenic location I would find most becoming to your tastes I hope. Mind, the Praetorians will be watching you along the way, for ease I would just let them take you there than try to find it yourself. After all, quite a few guests have got lost when what amounts to Palace grounds is the size of a continent. The Praetorians seem to take to lost guests in a most unwelcoming fashion.
Sincerely,
Valeria

[Toaslandia]

Governor Adrona called a meeting with the heads of the mining companies to discuss the Death Worms nearing one of the largest mines on Argon XI, Quicksilver Mine. As he entered the room, Adrona took out his flask and drank some of the Argonian Whisky inside. The room was full with guards and attendants, along with several of the mining bosses' personal servants. "Let's get down to the first order of business, ideas of how to deal with the Death Worms threatening Silverock Mine of the Avalon Mining Company." The room went loud with ideas as Adrona finished saying this. "Send in the ASF! They're trained for this." One of the mining bosses cried out. The Commander of the Argon Security Forces stepped forward, saying, "We cannot handle this Death Worm. I already sent in an entire squad and look how that turned out. This appears to be one of the Elders, the first Death Worms on Argon XI." When the Commander said this, the room went quiet until the supervisor of the Quicksilver Mine spoke up. "An Elder?! We aren't prepared to deal with an Elder! We'd need an Imperial Cruiser to deal with that, and the only way to get that would be to wait until an Imperial Fleet comes by and refuels, and who knows when that'll happen!" Adrona spoke up after the boss' outburst, saying, "Calm down. I've had Lieutenant Tiber send up a distress beacon, so hopefully a fleet will see it. Meeting adjourned." The mining company bosses' left the room, grumbling about how their exports will take a hit while Adrona sat at the conference table, sipping his whisky. "Sir, is it wise to bother an Imperial Fleet with a distress beacon?" The Commander of the ASF said. "It is if they want to continue getting metals and gems from this Death World." Adrona said back, topping off his whisky.

[Segmentia]

Imperial Super Dreadnought Triumph

Grand Admiral Alexandra Lividivus was quickly sorting through a few affairs before she departed for the Joint Chiefs meeting. She wasn't adverse to meetings, but she was not fond of attending them in place of the person who was supposed to, but then at this point it almost felt as if she was filling both roles of Chief of Naval Staff and Naval Joint Chief. She wasn't sure if it was just being in the right place to move all the pieces on the board or if her fellow Grand Admirals simply wanted to get away from the brewing chaos and gain a bit more glory for themselves to fondly look back on in their twilight years. Alexandra checked the time and let out a mental sigh, simply closing her command console and standing from her chair. “Fredrick, she's all yours while I go dither with the high and mighty.” She said, nodding to her XO.

Fredrick August gave her a slight frown. “No reply from the palace, ma'am. But we can confirm the message was received.” He said. Alexandra just barely held herself back from rolling her eyes. She hadn't been expecting a response, but she would be damned if anyone was going to say she was skiting her duty and operating the navy as a rouge. If she didn't have orders from the Emperor then she was, as her station allowed, going to operate as she saw fit. The senate could sign as many petitions as they wanted, but if the Emperor wasn't answering her messages she doubted he would answer those of the Senate.

“Understood.” Was what she said allowed with a nod before heading towards the turbo-lifts. In one of the many hangers on the Triumph her personal shuttle was waiting to take her to the Imperium's Shield orbital station. She supposed it would be a good time for a snap inspection as well, once the meeting was over. The shuttle quickly departed from the Triumph with Alexandra and two guards aboard, as well as the usual crew. It didn't take long for the shuttle to arrive at the station, being greeted by the station commander and a small entourage of officers. As she departed the shuttle a message from Fredrick pinged in her holo-lense informing her that some one wanted a meeting with her. A small attached note simply said 'Former Admiral, records look clean'. Well her day was going to be dominated by meetings it seemed, and she sent a positive confirmation back even as she greeted the station commander, exchanged a few pleasantries, and then she was on her way to the meeting. She knew the major parts of the station well enough, so making her way there wasn't difficult even she wasn't being lead there by the station commander. She informed him that she would be making an inspection soon, just to make sure everything was in proper order, before they departed at the restricted area. A dozen different sensors confirmed Alexandra was who she looked like and her ID said she was before the door slid open. She cast a quick look around the room, nodding briefly to High-General Aetius, before she went to the seat assigned to her. She gave the Crown-Princess a slight bow of the head.

“Crown-Princess, I don't suppose the Emperor sent orders with you?” Alexandra said with a slightly bemused tone. She felt that she understood the Crown-Princes enough to be comfortable with, but then she had felt the same about Verina, and look where that little bitch had ended up. But then again it wasn't as if it was some secret that the Emperor had been silent in regards to orders for decades now.

Rear Admiral Fredrick August

The Grand Admiral's shuttle had departed minutes before a ship started approaching the Triumph, a junior officer making a loud note of it. Not a shout, an officer didn't shout on the bridge, simply a raised tone to alert his section commander. Normally the section commander would then inform the ranking bridge officer, but August had heard the announcement and headed over. The junior officer didn't look up from her sensor console.

“They've pinged us, sir, making a slow and steady approach. Their weapons and shields are down, of course.” She said. If a non-navy ship had it's weapons powered within a light-year of Nova Terra it would have been intercepted and obliterated by the navy by now. Another junior officer down the line of consoles added in. “They're transmitting a message.”

Fredrick nodded and the man played the message from his console. The ships AI immediately returned a summery of the man transmitting, the ships registry, and the company it belonged too. Fredrick was only really interested in the man at the moment and glanced over the summery. A decent record with the navy, a spread of commendations and then a rather abrupt resignation during the Wars of Religion, though nothing to indicate he was a Terraist fleeing from the Navy Commissars Alexandra had unleashed upon the navy during that time. He quickly complied a small report and sent it to the Grand Admiral, receiving an affirmative shortly after. He reached over the junior officer manning the console and spoke into it, sending a reply.

“Pursuit, Triumph acknowledges. Grand Admiral Lividivus is off ship at the moment but will return in due time. Take up position twenty kilometers off our starboard. Admiral Freiburg, you may come aboard in a shuttle in hanger S-12, sending location.” Fredrick said, looking to the marine bridge officer and nodding.

“I'll go down to meet our guest. Inform me of any other developments.” He said before departing, a marine squad already being assembled in hanger S-12

[The Twelve Isles]

1200 Hours
Nova Terra Time
Nova Terra Orbit

Isra had tried not to, sitting with the rough looking Orbit Guards in her shuttle, but she had had to excuse herself to cry in the bathroom. Looking out of the bay windows into space, seeing all the traffic going to and from the many stations, after her weeks in space had been just too much. She missed space, missed her old life, and missed her friends. She leaned one hand on the sink in the bathroom, wiping her eyes with the other and trying to keep her sword from knocking things over. It frustrated her that she was crying over something so stupid, and that thought just made her even more upset, which caused her to cry even more. She felt like a child, not like an adult, who had lived 122 years and had ruled an entire SAS for 31 of those. She looked at herself in the mirror and groaned a little, sniffled, and looked back down. She looked like shit now, right in time for a meeting with a major buyer for her people's ships. It was the kind of thing they needed right now, but if she arrived looking like some 25 year old who had never experienced anything and was just now going through her first struggles, it would not be a good impression.

"Fuck me," she said, a light whisper. Isra wiped her eyes again, and slid down the wall to sit on the bathroom floor, her sword coming out underneath her legs and digging into her thigh. "Fuck," she said again, furiously wiping at her eyes and trying to stop her crying. If she had known that being the ruler of the Masiyef Confederacy would have been this lonely, she would have just given the job to her cousin. Let him have the loneliness, and constant stress. Sure, it looked pretty and amazing to be living in the Royal Palace, but now that she was there, not as a child but as the ruler, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She just wanted to hop back in the little ship she had traveled in in her 60s and 70s, see the stars, and keep writing her books. It was peaceful like that.

There was a knock at the door, and a voice sounded on the other side. "Lady Isra, are you OK in there?" Samson. The captain of her guard. Sweet Samson. How had he ever become a soldier?

"Yeah," said Isra, her voice cracking a little. "Yeah, Samson, I'm fine. Ill be out in a minute."

Isra stood, and looked at herself in the mirror again. She took her gloves off, and did her best to clean herself up some, before straightening her hair and smoothing her jacket. Feeling like she was at least semi presentable again, Isra sniffed once more, and turned to leave the bathroom. Samson stood outside, his mauve cloak hung loose over her left shoulder, his right exposed. He nodded as Isra left the bathroom, resting his hand on his pistol.

"You OK?" he said. It was clear that he knew, though Isra couldn't be surprised. As the Captain of The Guard, he was essentially her own personal bodyguard. And having been ASSOG before this assignment, he knew damn well how to read people.

"Yeah," said Isra with a nod. "Its just. . . its been a long time since I've been in space."

"I understand," he said. He handed Isra a flask, cap open. "Personal stash," he said with a wink when she looked at him. Isra smiled some, and took a long swig, before handing it back to him.

"We're almost at the docks," he said. "Hope you're ready for the elevator down."

"Your not?" said Isra.

"Nope. They make me sick going down."

*****

The roles had switched, and now Isra stood with the other Guards, patiently waiting with a bottled water while Samson threw up in the bathroom. She could hear him heaving in there, and she hoped that he wouldn't get any on his cloak. Not only would it be a shame to ruin it, but much like looking as if you had just been crying, puke on House Willun's colors would not be a good first impression for the prospective buyer of Masiyef's ships. As she waited, Isra looked over at just the wrong time, and made eye contact with just the people she was hoping to avoid. The blonde woman smiled far to widely to be humanly possible, and tugged on the shirt sleeve of her twin, who looked over as well. Isra did not smile back.

"Oh wow," said the woman, flinging her scarf over her shoulder. "Isra Willun, I never thought I would see you again after you left University," said the woman. She stepped through the crowd with the simultaneous force and elegance of a person who was used to Nova Terra, or who's family had had power since day one. Her twin followed closely behind, a look on his face that the ignorant nobles of Nova Terra might see as mysterious and charming, but which Isra thought of as nothing more than vain and hiding obvious character flaws. Stupidity being the most notable.

"All Father help me," whispered Isra under her breath, earning her a look from her guard. She met the womans gaze, and said, "Lady Misasha, Lord Casse." She spoke bluntly, and with not indication that she was interested in talking. not that that seemed to make any difference to Misasha.

"I'm so glad to see you again, I had completely lost track of you when you left Whisthall. Really, such an unfortunate choice, if I can be so blunt. You would have earned so much favor with other Houses had you stayed in the university. We could have had a much closer relationship."

"Im sure," said Isra. Misasha and Casse's guards came up besides them, and looked over Isra and Isra's own guards. They looked stupid, with feathers in their helmets like they were some sort of tribal warriors.

"Well, we must make up for lost time. I cannot allow someone such as yourself to become bogged down slumming it and writing those silly books as you were doing it. Ill have to show you all around Nova Terra, and introduce you to everyone I know. My brother and I have recently begun working on an alliance between ours and many other houses, and I'm sure they would be just delighted to have your ships as an asset. They are truly just so beautiful, Masiyef can build gorgeous vessels - "

The bathroom door opened, and Samson came out, his uniform a rumbled mess. He looked out with the tired eyes of a man who had just puked everything in his stomach up, and came awkwardly face to face with Misasha and Isra's power play. "Oh, uh, excuse me," he said. Isra did not look at him, maintaining eye contact with Misasha, but handed him his bottled water that she had gotten him. He accepted with a polite thank you.

"Well, that was certainly some entrance," said Misasha, and she began to laugh with her brother, but quickly stopped when Isra did not laugh them. It took her brother another few seconds to get the cue. Misasha paused a moment, before looking back and forth between Isra and Samson, then down to her feet, and then back up.

"Im sorry," she said, "but is there some sort of issue between us Isra? I couldn't help but notice that you haven't exactly been, well, receptive to my attempts at being nice."

"Theres no problem Misasha," said Isra. "Its just that I don't like you is all. Never have. "

Misasha bristled, and puffed out her chest and cheeks in a way that made her look like a toddler, but which was clearly meant to be intimidating. "Well, aren't you up on your high horse. Since you were back here, I assumed you had moved passed all of that better than though business."

"I guess not," said Isra.

"Well, for your information, Isra, you look like you've been crying."

Isra laughed at that, a hearty one of actual amusement. "Misasha, I have been crying. You should rethink your insults, and please just leave me alone."

Misasha paused, and looked at her brother, who looked back at her blandly. "Im not sure what I expected from someone of a house like yours," said Misasha, as she turned to leave. Isra glared at her back as she left, and she watched as her guards and Misahsa's glared at each other as well, the feud between their rulers swapping over into their own lives. Misasha did have one good point however, though Isra would never allow her to know that. House Willun had few, if any real allies. Something they would need, especially in wake of the Empires increasing stagnation. And especially considering that though House Willun built beautiful ships, they were still small and that alone would not protect them.

"That was interesting," said Samson, throwing his cloak over his shoulder again and carefully sipping on his water.

*****

Isra sat outside of a cafe, looking over a Writ of Sale. She felt pleased, especially after the series of little frustrations that had been her day so far. With 2 battleships sold, that put her and the Masiyef Confederacy at an extra 14 Billion credits richer. It wasn't much, but it was a start to her plans. If Masiyef was going to survive, they would need money, and a lot more than this. But it was, if anything, a strong start.

Her solution to making more money, and possibly gaining an ally, came rather quick however, when Samson sat down at her table heavily. He held a coffee in one hand, and a data pad in the other, and wore a shit eating grin on his face. "So," he said. "I've just gotten word of an interesting option that has just arisen. It seems that there is a world, owned by one Governor Adrona, that has recently sent out a distress beacon due to Death Worms approaching their mines."

"And how does this concern us," said Isra. "We build ships and sell Helium 3, we aren't a military fleet."

"Yes, that is true, but I've already contacted command and asked if permission can be granted for us to deploy Guardians as a fast action response team, to help slow down the Death Worms. They probably wont be able to stop them, but they can get there a lot quicker than an Imperial Fleet, and they can slow the worms down until the Fleet gets there."

"Thats an interesting proposition, but what if Governor Adrona wont take our help?"

"Well, we'll just have to sent a beacon his way, asking if he gives his permission for us to deploy soldiers to assist in the defense of his mines. But, if he knows anything about us, and if he knows anything about the Orbit Guard, then it would be a good choice for him to take this offer. And, just to sweeten the pot for us to try this, we could probably work out some sort of payment for this service. Nothing large, at least not at first, but enough that it would compensate our Orbit Guards."

Sometimes Isra felt like she didn't give Samson enough credit. He was always so friendly and kind, that one could forget that he didn't get his position by luck. He was an accomplished member of the Orbit Guard, important enough that he was one of the first to hear about things that the Rangers picked up, and always able to contact Command with relative ease. But furthermore, he was able to do these things not because he was intimidating, but because he was smart. He knew how to work the system, and he knew how to work others for Masiyef's benefit. Something that made Isra all the more grateful to have him around.

"Alright," said Isra, "this sounds like a good plan. As soon as we are back on the shuttle, send word to Command that I give permission for a ten man team of Guardians to be deployed to assist Adrona, and send a message to Adrona asking for his permission for us to assist in slowing down the Death Worms."

TO: Governor Adrona
FROM: Lady Isra Willun
SUBJECT: Offering Aid In The Death Worm Problem

Dear Governor Adrona,

I, as the ruler of the Five System's and the Masiyef Confederacy, extend my hand to you to offer assistance in repelling the Death Worms that are approaching your mines. I offer you ten of my Guardians, the elite soldiers who defend my people, in exchange for a simple 500,000,000 Credits as payment to compensate our Guardians.

Should you choose to decline, I will understand. But if you accept, please know that we will choose to think of it as the begginning of a strong and mutually benificial relationship between our two houses.

Sincerly, Lady Isra Willun, of House Willun, Lord of the Masiyef System, Governor of the Five System Cluster.

[The Vekta-Helghast Empire]

Clarifont Industries™
”If there is no struggle, there is no progress..”
~Frederick Douglass.

Clarifont Industries™’s former Headquarters, Nova Terra.

The response from the Crown-Princess had come considerably quicker than anyone thought, Edmon had in fact suspected that he could’ve been left waiting for weeks, or perhaps even months. So his delight at receiving word that very day was staggering. He accelerated his plans for the afternoon, calling a meeting with his regional director to go over the regular operations of their facilities in and around Terra. Then, later on, he carried out a number of visits across the planet, mostly to the luxury residences that the corporation possessed and rented to high-profile clients. It gave him the opportunity to make allies and mingle with the upper echelons of Imperial society, even if it could be a tad on the droll side.

He even had to cancel a great number of his plans, though they were mostly inspections and social calls that he’d arranged on a whim and could easily be rescheduled. This allowed him the extra free-time to head to his own residence on Terra, where he made the decision to adorn his old dress-uniform from his time in the Army, afterall, he was about to meet with royalty. Upon his breast he pinned his two medals, which he received for his service in the wars of Religion. One was simply an acknowledgement of his tour of duty and injury in the war, and the other was a reward for his outstanding show of loyalty by leading a successful mutiny against would-be traitors.

Before he could depart; his young female secretary made her entrance, calling out in her soft, prim-and-proper tone, ”Mister Clarifont, the plans for next year’s expansions have been submitted by the board, will I have them sent to the Clarity until you’ve concluded your business with the Royal family?”

”No, have them sent to my pad, I’ll have a quick scan on the journey to the Palace. And send a communique to Lady Isra Willun, it comes to my attention that she’s taken the place of Lord Tyrus Willun in the Five-Systems. She could be someone we’d like to get to know, it’s my understanding they’ve quite the Uranium and Hellium reserve. And if we can get use of their dockyards and get ourselves a foot in the door, that’s a ninety-seven billion person market for us.”

”Of course, sir - any particular time?”

”Invite her and her retinue over for dinner tonight. And send word to Admiral Freiburg that I’d have him join me too, once he’s concluded his talks with the Grand-Admiral and docked his vessel. If we’re on Terra, we might as well meet with as many people as possible - I don’t want to be making this journey again for quite some time..”

”As you say, sir.”

To the most esteemed Lady Isra Willun of the Five-Systems,

I don’t believe we’ve ever met in person, so allow me to introduce myself, my name is Edmon Clarifont - Chairman of Clarifont Industries and its subsidiaries. I’d like to start off by offering my sincere condolences for the tragedies which have beset your house in recent years, as it has news of your Mother and Father’s passings has just met my ears. Although I had never met either of them, I had often heard fond words spoken of their persons and of your native home of the Five-Systems.

So allow me, to extend my hand with an offering of friendship in these most trying of times. I imagine you have found yourself weighed-down by the burdens of leadership, as you have it thrust upon you. And I too know all too well how trying these responsibilities and duties can be, on both the body and mind. People like us often find ourselves living our days in isolation, segregated from those we once looked to as friends and family by the tribulations of our new world of leadership. Others will come to you asking questions that you do not hold answers to, and will expect you to help them put their minds at ease. This is no easy task.

But so long as you persevere - I promise to you that there is no greater reward than seeing your actions and your words change the world around you for the better. It will be tough at first, you will make mistakes, but with the right people at your side, as I am sure you have, and with the right drive and determination, you will find yourself growing into the role more with each passing of the sun. Until one day, you take these difficult questions and decisions in your stride and begin to mold the Galaxy around you for the betterment of all your people.

I am but a low-born businessman with naught a title to my name, so I shall not delude myself into believing that I can fully understand the extent of your woes and difficulties leading what could be described by some as a pseudo-nationstate. But what I can do, is offer an ear and a hand. Should you wish for it. And I’d like to extend an invitation to you and your advisors to dinner, this evening at my personal residence here on Terra. To provide an opportunity for us to speak in person, and to discuss ways in which we could work together for the betterment not only of the Five-Systems, but all of the Imperium. And I’d like to hope - and I apologise if this sounds a bit too cliché - to lay the foundations of a long-lasting friendship. Not only between state-and-business, but personally too.

Until we next speak, my Lady - I wish you the very best of luck in all your endeavours and in finding your rhythm in this tumultuous time.

Kind Regards,

Edmon Clarifont.

---

”There is no more serious crime than unnecessary war.”
~Lion Feuchtwanger.

The C.I. Pursuit.

Almost immediately upon receiving the word from the Triumph, the Pursuit began its final maneuvers, halting precisely twenty-kilometers from the Triumph’s starboard side. The ship was slick and near silent in its approach, and for a vessel of its size, gave off relatively low heat and energy signals. The vast budget of the Private Sector being put to use in the development of various ‘camouflage’ technologies which were really just glorified heat dampeners. The company had spent billions in recent years trying to develop its vessels, to the point that many could rival or even exceed the capacity of the newer Imperial ships. Though, even then - they could never hope to stand up to beasts like the Triumph and more Elder ships in the Imperial Navy. But alas, that was never the aim - the company’s foes were always other agencies in the private sector, pirates and other such delinquants.

But with the acquisition of a number of Imperial Navy Officers in recent years and the expansion of their research and development programs, the company was rapidly coming to be a power in its own right. Albeit one that found itself spread across the entirety of the Galaxy due to its numerous assets. The insights and experiences of the officers proving invaluable to the Corporation in developing a unique rapid-strike doctrine with an emphasis on long, narrow, rapid vessels, rather than broad and mighty vessels as seen in many aspects of the Imperial Navy.

The C.I. Pursuit itself, for a Light Cruiser was heavily armed, competing with many other organisation’s heavy cruisers in terms of armament. Having five large plasma-batteries atop its hull, specifically designed for fighting other large vessels, subsidized by two smaller batteries alongside them designed for engaging heavy-fighters and bombers. It even had a large forty-meter wide mass acceleration cannon on its bow, designed for firing large slugs at extreme speeds towards targets, at full power, the round hitting with the force of a Castle Bravo nuclear device (15MT). Able to be utilized against ground-targets or enemy Battleships or larger. It even came with a number of smaller auto-cannons along the sides of its full, specifically designed for countering smaller fighters. Outwith these more conventional weapons, it also held three torpedo bays on each side of its hull; intended for firing unguided high-yield ordnance. Of course, the Pursuit was an exception to many of the Corporation’s rules; and was far from a standardized vessel. With many holding only three primary batteries, rather than five and lacking many of the smaller batteries atop its full. In place of such ordinances, they tended to put a greater emphasis on missiles; utilizing swarms of rockets and missiles to place strain on enemy shield-systems, allowing for their larger guns to penetrate and inflict the killing blow.

”Assemble a security detachment, have them meet me in the shuttle-bay, it would seem our time to parlay quickly approaches.”

”As you command, Admiral.”

Freiburg was the spitting image of a stereotypical navy officer; carrying himself as a Prussian General of millenia long gone. A real gentlemanly officer in every sense of the word, old fashioned and principled but with a sound mind for strategy and warfare. He had a personal admiration for the Grand-Admiral and her dedication to purging the Terraist influences from the Navy, but felt that he could no longer be subject to the command of a regime that insisted they engage their own citizens for no crimes other than their faith. That, and well - the benefits of the Private Sector were unparalleled, the security for his family financially, medically and socially. The initiative he’s been allowed by the Company. And his personal friendship with Edmon himself.

Within a quarter of an hour, the Admiral’s shuttle was prepared and a group of six men had gathered as a security detail. Armed only with their sidearms and batons. The shuttle was petite and snug, nothing overly flashy, in fact - it wasn’t even produced by the corporation, it was instead a commercial vessel owned by the Admiral himself and was often utilized in his private life. Within minutes it departed the Pursuit and was bound for the Triumph; approaching Hanger S-12 as commanded and utilizing the precise flight-plan issued by the Triumph.

”This is C.I. Shuttle 1, beginning final approach and landing.”

Only a half-minute later, the ship slowed itself drastically and entered the bay, four small legs expanding from its under-belly as it landed. The door at its rear opened with exceptional speed, and a ramp deployed in sync with its lowering. The Admiral stepped out from the shuttle at the head of his men, who formed a short column behind him before fanning out to either side - remaining by the shuttle with their hands tucked tidily behind their backs.

The Admiral made his introduction briskly and clearly, waving a salute to his greeting party, his leather jack-boots snapping together at the heels and his posture immaculate. It’s safe to say he hadn’t lost his naval discipline.

”Admiral Freiburg, at your service. And whom is it I’m treating with on this most esteemed occasion?”

[Toaslandia]

Adrona looked down at the message he had received and frowned. "500,000,000 Credits? That's the entirety of a month's salary for all the mine workers! But it looks like we have no choice." He pulled up his official communicator and sent a reply.

TO: Lady Isra Willun
FROM: Governor Adrona Vanius
SUBJECT: Re: Offering Aid in The Death Worm Problem
I humbly accept your offer, Lady Isra Willun, but be warned these are no ordinary Death Worms as my men could easily handle a normal one. These are some of the Elders, the most powerful and first of the Death Worms. They are extremely powerful, so I hope for your soldier's sake that they are prepared. You will receive the credits upon opening this message.

[Korhal IVV]

Talaris Station
High Orbit over Arkalos
Office of the Highlord

The glittering lights of the world below shone all over its surface as the Highlord of Arkalos literally looked down towards it’s glowing diadems, his eyes fixated on the many coruscant circles that adorned the crust of the world. The rest of the space around Arkalos was dominated by the Arkalosian Shipyards, which was an absolutely massive orbital ring structure that encompassed the entirety of the world’s equator and housed the many hundreds of facilities that manufactured the starships that made Arkalos and its masterful shipbuilding people so famous across the wider galaxy - AK75 and AK810 Freighters, Starcrosser Passenger Liners, Nanban Trade Ships, Maleficent Class Frigates, Consecrator Class Destroyers, and even the Penitence Class Cruiser , all of which saw service in the Imperial Navy as auxiliaries. In addition to their own master crafted ships, the Arkalyans on the Arkalosian Shipyards also housed and refueled ships from other territories, most notably Imperial Navy warships en route towards rebellious sectors. At times, particularly wealthy contractors would place orders for a ship or two, and the Shipyards will be set to work, building the ship that their contractor requested with great care. Every single inch, every room, every hallway, and every sector is pored over by the ingenious Arkalyan engineers, and it is by their machinations that the magnificent starships of the League are built.

Mere moments have just passed when the newly constructed Penitence Class Cruiser Glittering Sun left the dockings of Hangar 182 amidst great joy and celebration from the shipwrights and craftsmen that built her. Commissioned as both a diplomatic cruiser as well as a frontline warship should its benefactors be threatened by an outside force, the 4 kilometer long cruiser was modestly armed with 45 8 inch triple barrelled cannons, which were all in turn capable of firing powerful blasts of positrons at a range of nearly 4 lightseconds, though they can switch to firing kinetic shells for engagements at longer ranges. The main guns were in turn supplemented by 150 secondary laser guns, 500 point defence cannons, and 100 missile launchers as well as a spacious hangar that can at full capacity accommodate up to 72 Remoranth Starfighters.

As the Glittering Sun continued its course out of the shipyards and joined a fleet made up of its sister ships (the Dawnbringer and the Light of Tranquility), several destroyers, a full corvette squadron, and several dozen trade ships, another ship exited warp space near the Shipyards. It was an Imperial ship, a diplomatic corvette at that. It requested clearance from the port authority, and it was immediately granted so, and it soon transmitted a message to the Talaris Station’s High Keeper: “This is Kalkas Tygian requesting permission to land. I am here at the behest of Highlord Lunor.”

The one manning the station’s communications array immediately pored over the records, looking for a scheduled audience with the Highlord. It wasn’t long before he found it, and directed the Imperial diplomatic corvette to land on Hangar 66. As the corvette extended its landing equipment onto the floor of the hangar, a ramp extended out of the underside of the ship with a flurry of smoke, and when the smoke cleared, an Imperial senator calmly walked down the ramp, and he would be met by the Highlord’s personal guards, the Shadowguard Sentinels. These genetically enhanced psyker warriors were clad in sleek golden power armor that hid a powerful shield generator, which was strong enough to shrug off hits from a plasma sword as well as blocking multiple hits from an anti-tank rifle. Asides from this, they had superior reflexes and were strong both mentally and physically, making them a force to be reckoned with.

The lead Sentinel extended his hand in greeting to the senator. “Greetings, senator, and welcome to Talaris Station. The Highlord has been waiting for your arrival.”

“So he has.”, Kalkas said as he looked around. “I must say, Arkalyan hangars are quite aesthetically pleasing, and likewise, your politeness and welcoming stance to the Imperium is quite appreciated. Consider yourselves as a people I like.”

“It is an honor, senator.”, the Sentinel said as he bowed. “Now, please follow me to the office of the Highlord. He has been expecting you.”

Later
The Office of the Highlord

“It has been quite a while, my friend.”, Lunor said as he motioned for Kalkas to take the seat to his right. “How goes our trade routes?”

The senator smiled. “Asides from petty pirates, there are no major problems.”, he said as he put up a hologram of a convoy of League trade vessels fight off a raider fleet. “Your people are excellent sailors. That is something that even the Imperial Navy has to admit. However, there are some things I’d like to ask regarding something else.”

“Eh?”, the Highlord said surprised. “Very well then, what is it?”

“Asides from the ancient Solarians, only your people exhibit any ability close to magic, and we know that their ‘magic’ is more of unfathomably advanced technology. Since your people are quite a recent addition to the Imperium, we haven’t really studied your people in detail nor have you really disclosed everything about yourselves. So... can you satisfy the curiosity of this senator?”

“Well.”, the Highlord started. “We never disclosed how we had our abilities because no one asked to begin with. Now that you brought it up, I will explain it.

Our race is older than man. Eons older, in fact. We just never had your ambition or your influence, or, to be more proper, we were not interested in conquest. However, we recognized the need for instruments of death and destruction if we are to protect the peace of our people, and part of that program was to genetically alter certain individuals to be... better. We used a mix of mechanical and biological technology to give a few individuals the ability to lift and manipulate objects with a whim of their minds, as well as to be able to read each other’s thoughts and emotions. In the end, all of us ended up with telepathic abilities, though it applies only to us Arkalyans. Now, my friend, you know. And before you ask if you can do the same, no. We have lost the knowledge of that technology long ago, and even our best scientists aren’t sure how it still works. However, that will be a discussion for another time.”, he finished as he looked out towards the window, watching as the Glittering Sun and the rest of the fleet it was part of depart in FTL speeds. “I must say, Kalkas...”, Lunor went on. “I missed you so.”

The Glittering Sun
Trade Fleet 28

As the Trade Fleet moved across the variable domains of hyperspace, the Glittering Sun and its sisters led the way, with the three cruisers forming a wedge shaped formation, with the 50+ trade ships forming a line behind them. The ten Consecrator Class Destroyers remained at the back of the formation, while the 20 Purifier Corvettes guarded the sides of the fleet. Unknown to them, a rather significant pirate fleet awaited them; the Arkalyan Trade Spine was a well known route that led to other developed sectors in the Western Fringes, and at times, pirates would use interdictor type craft to pull travelling trade ships from hyperspace, looting their precious holds of all their treasures. When the League began to escort its already armed trade ships with significant squadrons of corvettes, frigates, destroyers, and sometimes cruisers, the attacks became more sporadic, but they were larger in scale than before, not to mention the danger of insurgents in surrounding sectors.

As the fleet passed over the system of Sorekan, a large pirate fleet made up of almost 30 corvettes, 5 frigates, 8 destroyers and two cruisers, as well as an interdictor, ambushed the passing trade fleet. However, they were in for a shock; instead of the usual paltry escorts they were used to, this one had 3 cruisers instead of one, and had double the amount of smaller ships. The Arkalyan Commander in charge of the escort fleet sprung a trap of his own: the Glittering Sun began generating its own interdiction field, disallowing the pirates from jumping to hyperspace.

“That’s a modified Penitence Class!”, the pirate commander said in shock as the Glittering Sun and her sisters opened fire with positronic beam cannons at the offending fleet. Four pirate corvettes were obliterated almost instantly as the hail of fire from the Penitence cruisers smashed against them, rendering them as scrap metal. Missiles and lasers lashed out from the Arkalyan destroyers and corvettes, striking down the panicked pirate ships one by one. The crews of the trade ships cheered as they witnessed the pirates’ destruction, and so did those in their escorts.

“All clear. All ships, continue our route to Nova Terra.”

[The Twelve Isles]

To the most esteemed Lady Isra Willun of the Five-Systems,

I don’t believe we’ve ever met in person, so allow me to introduce myself, my name is Edmon Clarifont - Chairman of Clarifont Industries and its subsidiaries. I’d like to start off by offering my sincere condolences for the tragedies which have beset your house in recent years, as it has news of your Mother and Father’s passings has just met my ears. Although I had never met either of them, I had often heard fond words spoken of their persons and of your native home of the Five-Systems.

So allow me, to extend my hand with an offering of friendship in these most trying of times. I imagine you have found yourself weighed-down by the burdens of leadership, as you have it thrust upon you. And I too know all too well how trying these responsibilities and duties can be, on both the body and mind. People like us often find ourselves living our days in isolation, segregated from those we once looked to as friends and family by the tribulations of our new world of leadership. Others will come to you asking questions that you do not hold answers to, and will expect you to help them put their minds at ease. This is no easy task.

But so long as you persevere - I promise to you that there is no greater reward than seeing your actions and your words change the world around you for the better. It will be tough at first, you will make mistakes, but with the right people at your side, as I am sure you have, and with the right drive and determination, you will find yourself growing into the role more with each passing of the sun. Until one day, you take these difficult questions and decisions in your stride and begin to mold the Galaxy around you for the betterment of all your people.

I am but a low-born businessman with naught a title to my name, so I shall not delude myself into believing that I can fully understand the extent of your woes and difficulties leading what could be described by some as a pseudo-nationstate. But what I can do, is offer an ear and a hand. Should you wish for it. And I’d like to extend an invitation to you and your advisors to dinner, this evening at my personal residence here on Terra. To provide an opportunity for us to speak in person, and to discuss ways in which we could work together for the betterment not only of the Five-Systems, but all of the Imperium. And I’d like to hope - and I apologise if this sounds a bit too cliché - to lay the foundations of a long-lasting friendship. Not only between state-and-business, but personally too.

Until we next speak, my Lady - I wish you the very best of luck in all your endeavours and in finding your rhythm in this tumultuous time.

Kind Regards,

Edmon Clarifont.

Isra read through the communique that had been sent to her. She sat in the large and rather grandiose suite of a local Nova Terran hotel, one which looked out over the massive city planet. She would have preferred to be a little farther north, it was a bit more balmy than she was a fan of, but it was otherwise quite nice. The kind of place that Misasha and he brother would like.

That thought made Isra scowl, and she took a moment to glare out of the window at the city, before rereading her message to get her mind off of her former classmate. She knew of Eemon Clarifont, and she knew of Clarifont industry's. It was a little hard not to. They were one of the largest corporations in the Empire, with at least some presence in around 85 or 90 percent of all major systems or clusters. The Five Systems were one of the few where there was no large presence, something that she was sure the Clarifont executives and board members would be happy to exploit. Yet, there was something about the message that seemed genuine. Isra was not stupid, she knew that one couldn't make any real judgements based on words without being able to talk to someone face to face, but she didn't feel entirely like she was being invited to dinner just for business matters. It seemed more like it was a social call, with business as an excuse to get her there.

Isra smiled despite herself upon thinking the communique through. It could be nice to attend. She had been cooped up in the Royal Palace on Masiyef for what felt like years, and the times when she did leave it was just to places within the Five Systems. Even if it was just business that would be being discussed, Isra probably still would have gone. If anything just to talk to someone other than Samson. Even as much as she cared for Samson, one could only have one friend for so long.

Isra tapped a button on the side of her desk, the entire top popping up into a screen and asking what her request she had. Isra tapped a few other buttons, telling the hotels AI to summon a sky cab with enough room for her, Samson, and two of he Guard. With a flick of her wrist, the message was sent out to all of the necessary parties, Samson informed, before Isra brought up the messaging app on the desk. With a another wrist flick, Isra sent the screen up on the wall, leaving only a holographic keyboad on the desk for her to write with. She addressed it to Edmonton Clarifont, and began to write.

TO: Mr Edmon Clarifont
FROM: Lady Isra Willun

Dear Mr Clarifont,

I write to inform you that it would be my pleasure to attend a dinner with you this evening. Since the tragic loss of both my mother and my father, much of my time has been spent keeping everything order on both my own home planet of Masiyef, but in the Five Systems as a whole. So it would be a wonderful opportunity for me to discuss matters concerning the Imperium, Clarifont Industry's, the Five Systems as well as to simply get to know a possible friend and ally.

However, would also like to thank you for your condolences due to my mother and fathers passings. It has truly been a difficult time not only for myself and my household, but for Masiyef and the Five Systems as a whole, though we thankfully seem to be coming out of the other end in one peace. And I also would like to thank you for the concern you have shown me in your message, despite us having never met. I only wish more could be like you in this time of strife and conflict.

Sincerely, Lady Isra Willun, of House Willun, Lord of the Masiyef System, Governor of the Five System Cluster.

Isra hit the send button and ran a hand through her hair, watching as the screens and holograms neatly folded themselves up, the desk becomg a sleek, smooth back surface again. She sighed, looking out of the big windows again and gazing at the city. It was getting late, and the sun was starting to shine in her eyes. "Computer," she said, her voice calm but authoritative.

"Yes, Lady Willun," said the calm, aristocrat voice of the hotels AI.

"Close blinds please, and turn them to Masiyef, Royal Palace."

"As you wish," said the computer, and a dark screen quickly closed over the windows. The room was dark for a milisecond, before the screen over the window blinked to life. It showed a long mountain range, the glittering lights of a small but prosperous city stretching out under the view and taking up a large valley, wrapping around the hills. It was foggy and gray, and through the large marble columns that took up much of the view dignitaries and elected officials weaved around. It was home, the view from the top floor of the Five Systems Royal Palace. Isra sighed as she looked at it, admiring the way the cloaks on the soldiers who stood in front of each pillar fluttered in the breeze that shook the pines. The colors of House Willun we're on display for each, alternately purple with black trim or black with purple trim.

Sighing again, Isra stood to get ready for her dinner arrangement with Edmon. It was not hard, she had not completely changed clothes from the time of her meeting till now. But still, she had to make sure she wore something more fitting to someone of her station than a fine white shirt. Isra thought about how fancy clothing had ever become a thing as she got dressed, throwing a fine jacket over a black vest, tucking a gold trimmed scarf into her blouse. As Isra slid her sword into the black and purple sash she wore around her waist, she noted that she could see her reflection in her boots. Clearly the cleaning droids had come around when she wasn't looking. Which would explain why her clothing felt so startched

"Samson," said Isra as she came into the hotel lobby. He stood waiting for her, looking far more regal than on their trip down, his uniform clean and fresh, his cloak thrown over his shoulders like a king.

"Lady Isra," he said.

The two waited patiently, chatting with other hotel guests as they awited the arrival of their sky cab. The two other Guards who were coming with them sat menacingly behind them. Unlike Samson, who was in the finest clothes he had, they looked like what they were, in their tattered brown cloaks and personal armor. Sure, ever Orbit Guard was given standard issue gear, but most instead chose to buy and cobble together their own sets of armor and clothing, making them look like a violent band of mercenary's more often than not.

When they at last the sky cab had arrived, it had become dark and Isra was getting hungry. She, Samson and the guards all clambered into the car, sitting facing one another. The ride was a fairly long one, taking some 45 minutes or so, but it was well worth the wait when Isra and Samson finally arrived at Edmon Clarifonts estate.

[Imperialisium]

Crown Princess Valeria

As Grand Admiral Lividivus walked in and bowed her head, asking for orders, the Princess paused for a moment. The Grand Admiral's bemused tone was not entirely without merit. The fact of the matter was, is that such a tone would be rather fitting, and Valeria knew it. Her father, Emperor Baldor I, had been pretty much silent on matters regarding the Imperial military and government. Leaving them to run themselves, with increasing Senate encroachment, and that made things more difficult to run the Galaxy so to speak. Holding up a hand the Princess spoke, "Belisarius." The Praetorian behind her pulled a small slim data slate from his crimson robes. Placing it in the Princess hand where she brought it before her. "The Emperor does have orders for you. Regarding the Imperial Navy's deployments in the periphery and Western fringes. The 144th Fleet is to redeploy from orbit over Corona XIII and assist in the securing of the Arkadyan Trade Spine with already nearby sector fleets present. In addition, rumors of a rebel Admiral in the Periphery is warranting the release of the 8th Armada from its moorings at Signus Prime. Whereby they will lead the vanguard to re-securing the rebellious Admiral's occupied systems." Corona XIII and Signus Prime were systems entirely given over to the servicing of the Imperial military. Corona XIII was situated in the Galactic West in the Far Worlds of the Middle Worlds region. Signus Prime was much closer at being about 3.6 light years away from Nova Terra itself. Signus Prime could service an entire Armada at its moorings and the planetary bases could house millions of Army, Guardsmen, and sailors on leave. Handing the directive to Lividivus who would be allowed to oversee the more detailed translation of those orders Valeria finished with, "The Triumph will lead the 8th Armada. Your first objective would be the securing of Eredes IV." Eredes IV was the fourth planet in a star system that had been settled by the Imperium over 17,000 years prior. It was one of the few worlds in the Periphery that could produce significant amounts of High Imperial Technology and one of only four left in the Galaxy that produced the Vardar-Class destroyer. In addition to being one of six worlds left in the Galaxy to produce the Kastrioti Mark 12 ballistic cannon mounts for Cruiser class vessels. Finally, one of the two last worlds that produced the Komoran-Class Combat Titan. A quadruped, sixty feet high, weapons platform capable of holding entire cities by themselves. In addition to being capable of multi-year long autonomous missions by virtue of the High Imperial Tech A.I.'s and built-in facilities allowing biological crewmembers to survive for years without support or supply.

As such as Lividivus would read the Emperor had outlined that the securing of the world's production facilities was paramount and any cost necessary to ensure they were preserved.

"Now, does anyone have anything to report before we begin in earnest."
stated Valeria.

[Brusia]

High-General Johnathan Aetius
Orbit of Nova Terra

Having finished documenting the events behind the pacification of Kyotomo, Aetius first sent a copy directly to the Emperor, as per standard protocol, then prepared additional copies to be sent to the Joint Chiefs during the meeting. Naturally, Aetius utterly loathed paperwork on general principle, but hoped that by getting all the bureaucratic nonsense out of the way as soon as possible he could expedite the Third's reassignment to an area where they were actually needed. As the High-General prepared himself to make landfall on Nova Terra, he was suddenly informed by the shuttle pilot:

"Sir, we've just received word that the meeting location has been changed to the Shield Orbital Station. Permission to divert course?"

Aetius shook his head for a moment, guessing it was probably due to yet another Burb War emerging from the unceasing chaos on his homeworld, then replied: "Suits me just fine; permission granted."

After the shuttle touched down on the massive station, Aetius, still in his dress uniform, disembarked and was saluted by two station guards who proceeded to escort him to the meeting room. Upon arrival, he saluted the Crown-Princess then quietly took his seat and waited for the briefing to begin; having little desire to speak with the politicians scattered throughout the room masquerading as military officers. To his pleasant surprise however, he did spot one respectable officer among the bunch enter the room before the meeting began: Grand Admiral Lividivus. One of the few people in the room to actually earn their position rather than inherit or buy it, Lividivus was easily among the Imperium's finest military commanders, and as far as Aetius was concerned one of the only ones worth a damn. Given the Naval Joint Chief's absence he figured she was likely attending the meeting in his place, or with any luck replacing him. When she nodded to him, he gave a respectful nod in return before the briefing began.

He grinned a little when Lividivus asked if the Emperor had any orders for her, and could hear a few chuckles in the room at what this point seemed a rhetorical question. Like the rest of the room, he was also dumbstruck when the Crown-Princess actually replied in the affirmative. It was a critical mission by the sound of things, and Aetius figured if the Emperor himself deemed it important enough to break his long silence and personally order forces there, than he must be expecting one hell of a battle, and that was not the sort of battle Aetius wanted to miss. When Valeria asked if anyone had anything to report, Aetius stood up and stated:

"Crown-Princess, I can report that the rebellion on Kyotomo has been suppressed with no Imperium causalities." Pressing a button on his tablet, he sent the official report to Valeria and the rest of the Joint Chiefs to confirm what he was stating, then continued: "The Third Sector Army is ready for reassignment, and would be happy to provide additional ground support to the Marines of the 8th Armada in securing the Imperium's critical infrastructure."

[Korhal IVV]

Western Fringes
League of Arkalos
Arkalosian System
Talaris Station
Halls of Meeting

Awakening of a Rebellion

Angry shouts and curses rang throughout the periphery of the Halls of Meeting as the One Hundred Senators of the One Hundred Nations of Arkalos-Tarellia gathered within the well lit confines of that well known monument in the massive space station known as Talaris, Jewel of a Hundred Nations, wherein the representatives of each nation within the League gathered every year in the De facto capital city of the League, where they debated and passed resolutions under the foresight of their highest authority, the Highlord of Arkalos. Here, the senators spoke of intrigue and politics, and the national representatives were not alone. Sitting amongst the One Hundred Man Council were representatives of various financial and corporate entities that wielded enormous leverage over the League’s economic prosperity, but they all ultimately paid their respects and loyalty to the Highlord still. Amongst these were the Arkalosian Drive Yards, which was the primary supplier of starships and were the owners of the Arkalosian Shipyards; the Sectorial Banking Guild, who supplied loans of credits from their banks on Eonar; the Commercial Alliance, which was composed of smaller entrepreneurs and businessmen from all across the League that came together for mutual benefit; the Syndrean Trade Confederacy, who supplied things like droids, weapons, and starfighters to the League; the Intergalactic Startraders, who were the traders that travelled from the League to the rest of the Imperium and back; and the Agrarian Combine, who were primarily versed with food production, especially their more exotic cuisines that were renowned throughout Imperial diners and restaurants, and as a matter of fact, several members of the Agrarian Combine have already found their way to Nova Terra and have built their own flourishing business ventures there. It is quite a good coincidence that Arkalyans have a similar sense of taste as humans, and therefore, would like foodstuffs the same way.

However, these corporate people were not the focus of today’s meeting. Nay, there were not even close to the center of attraction for today, as they simply stood by and stayed sullenly silent as the actual politicians, the senators, began to bicker more and more.

The center of attraction today were the Tarellians, who have been a long time part of the League. These aquatic aliens were apparently dissatisfied with Imperial control; they were resentful, even. Their leader in the Council, Senator Nassarian Jomeko of the Tarellian nationstate of Tarellia Ultima (which was the most powerful of the Tarellian nations before they were incorporated into the League), argued with the Arkalyan Senators that Imperial rule has been an insult to the Tarellian people, who were always known for their fierce independent attitude and somewhat overarching pride that irks even the Arkalyans, who are known for their peaceful ethos and codes. Nassarian further stated that even though Tarellia and its moons of Alaten and Alteria wished to stay independent after the Imperial Navy aided in defeating the Talarian Technocratic Alliance, the rest of the League pressured them into accepting Imperial rule until they relented. Nassarian monologued that foreign rule was something that the Tarellians can never accept, and that the Arkalyans were fools for allowing such sin into their midst. He added that if the Arkalyans are eternally grateful to the Imperials, the Tarellians are indeed grateful for their assistance, but would rather stay independent rather than be ruled over as a semi-autonomous satrapy. Gone are the days, he said, that Tarellia and Arkalos conquered the stars together, and instead are now relegated as servants of a greater power. Gone are the days, he said, that the League stretched across hundreds of systems, and ever since Lunor Sorkaha took the throne, he and the vast majority of the Arkalyan senators (who still outnumbered the Tarellians ones) refused any request to recolonise their lost worlds, counting such attempts as tantamount to the return of their imperialistic policies of their long lost dark age.

Senator Remonser Kirani of Dau Calare bounced back at Nassarian’s statements, citing that their lost planets have been deemed lost causes, as the biological weapons of the Talarians rendered them all as barren wastelands, and indeed, most of them were nothing but balls of dead rock. However, Nassarian countered back, stating that the League has the technology to terraform dead worlds to life, as exemplified by the single Gaia Class planet they possessed: Sortera. Sortera was a barren wasteland when they first came unto its dead surface, but the League has turned it to the paradise it is now. Nassarian asked Senator Remonser with a stinging question, “Are you a fool or a coward?”

It is here that the Highlord finally stood up, just as Remonser was about to shoot back an answer. Lunor Sorkaha stood up on his platform which stood in the middle of the Halls of Meeting, and with a movement of his hand, he silenced the angry Tarellians and the apologetic Arkalyans.

“Submitting to Imperial control was a matter that I brooded over for many days, of that, there is no doubt, Senator Nassarian.”, Lunor said with a flick of his glowing eyes. “However, the matter regarding the recolonisation of the lost worlds is not the fault of either the Dynasty or the Arkalyan members of the Council, but rather, of the loss of the technology itself.”

A hush fell over the Halls as Nassarian seemingly was silenced for the first time. “When the Imperial Navy and the Defence Force defeated the Talarians, the scientists in the Library of Talaris Station failed to respond to any hailS. Our forces would then find many files deleted in the mainframe and the scientists slain, thus making us lose several technologies. However, I have arranged for the return of the files by the Talarians, but they have agreed only to do so if we were to begin trading with them, and that requires the approval of a quorum of at least 80% of the Council.”

The Tarellians raised and shook their fists in anger as a response. “Never!”, Nassarian railed. “The Talarians have caused so much devastation to our nation, and now they want to trade with us? Over our cold, dead corpses!”

Another Tarellian shouted, “Down with the Sorkahas!”, and that was picked up by the rest of the Tarellian Senators. Nassarian then raised his hand to silence his peers, and they fell silent as a result.

“The Tarellian people no longer wish to be affiliated with either the League or the Imperium. We hereby declare our secession now!”

The Arkalyans were shocked, and many stood and began to make surprised faces and gestures, but the Tarellians would not be stopped. They were then teleported out of the Halls by the droves until none were left, and Tarellia itself began to show signs of military activity. Out of the depths of the Tarellian seas arose fleets of starships, and Alteria and Alaten showed similar signs. In response, the Arkalyans began to recall their escort fleets from all across the galaxy, and converged them around the Arkalosian Shipyards, with the exception of the Penitence Class Diplomatic Cruiser Glittering Sun, which was tasked to continue its course to Nova Terra and request for Imperial intervention regarding the matter.

A war was brewing, and none can stop it.

[Segmentia]

Imperium's Shield Orbital Station

Alexandra raised a brow in surprise when the Crown Princess actually had orders to give. Granted they could have been from the woman herself and not the Emperor, but that was beside the point. She listened to Valeria speak, mentally pulling up sector maps to display in her holo-lense of the two systems. The first directive wouldn't be too difficult and could be handed down to a lower ranking staff officer, but the second one had the sound of becoming a campaign. The Triumph wasn't sent on deployments lightly, especially at the order of the Emperor, and the 8th Armada was a very heavy hitting group, and that told Lividivus to expect trouble beyond what she naturally would have. Of course any actions on Eredes IV would need to be precise, the tech developed on the planet was beyond vital, especially for the navy. She was looking at the data-slate blankly, her mind already working out lines of logistics, making mental notes to read up on the senior commanders of the 8th Armada, and dozens of other things when High-General Aetius spoke up. She found herself nodding slightly.

“Considering the vital importance of Eredes IV, we won't be able to deal with any hostile forces in the traditional manner of smashing then with overwhelming firepower. Precision and overwhelming numbers, with the acknowledgment now that very heavy losses are likely in the event of conflict and an occupation or garrison force.” Lividivus said, giving Aetius a look and a nod. If the Third Sector Army was released to the 8th Armada it would allow her to deploy her marines in the manner of which they were meant to be used, rather then using them as a garrison and policing force. Of course this all depended on if a conflict erupted in the system at all.

Imperial Super Dreadnought Triumph

Fredrick stood with his hands clasped in the small of his back, a few other officers mingling about and a squad of armored marines with weapons at the half-ready. He watched as the shuttle glided into the hanger-bay and landed. The ramp swung down and a man with a few guards walked out. The guards hung back as the man, clearly the man in charge. He came to a stop a few feet away and snapped his heels. Yes, he had been a navy man for sure. He introduced himself as Admiral Freiburg, which was unsurprising. Fredrick didn't return the salute, as the man before him was a civilian and the only civilians a member of the military were to salute was the Emperor, and technically the Emperors children. Not wanting to come off as cold though, he held out his hand.

“Rear Admiral Fredrick August. I'm the Grand Admirals XO. Welcome aboard the Triumph, Admiral Freiburg. Too what do we owe the visit?” He asked, eyes momentarily glancing at the guards behind the admiral. “Hopefully not trying to get internal scans. Plenty of you corporate types try.” Fredrick said, though he smiled.

He wasn't being unfriendly to the man, but over the past two decades they had arrested several such visitors to the Triumph, all pleasantries and flattery while a hidden device tried to scan the ship. Of course the Triumph had some of the best sensor systems in the galaxy, and scanning devices were always picked up.

“I would hate for the Naval Commissars to have to shoot you.” He added, again with a smile, though that part was also true.

[The Vekta-Helghast Empire]

Clarifont Industries™
”Anything in excess is a poison.”
~Theodore Levitt.

Edmon Clarifont’s personal estate, Nova Terra.

Edmon’s home was far from the grand palaces of the aristocracy or of other individuals of his calibre. Although he’d purchased all his siblings grandouise estates and granted his close allies a great abundance of luxury, his home would be considered by many as humble, though really its smaller scale was simply a matter of convenience, he had no time nor wished to put the extra money into paying people to maintain the house and it helped him stay grounded in reality. He was a firm believer in the idea that too much luxury and abundance made people weak, and so he restrained himself quite heavily, ensuring that he was never uncomfortable, but simultaneously never too cushioned. While many lived in citadels of decadence, his home would forever remain a bastion of realism.

That said, he did own a considerable amount of land surrounding it - ensuring a great deal of privacy for someone on Nova Terra. He had various plants and trees imported from Varimath, some of which were genetically modified version of Earth’s own foliage, from before the planet became little more than an echo in humanity’s long and turbulent history. When Lady Wilun and her retinue arrived at the gates to the estate, they’d be greeted by, what at first - seemed like quite relaxed security. Two lightly-armed Clarifont Security Agents stood either side of the gate, one with a data-pad which logged the comings and goings from the estate. With a brief nod, the convoy was waved through the gates - entering into what could easily be mistaken for a forest amidst the city, though it was less than a mile square - it was exceptionally dense. And it was abundantly clear once through the gates, that security was far-higher than originally thought. Tucked just off to the right, immediately upon entry; lay a dormant security bot which even in its lowered and deactivated state, was larger than most tanks.

The drive to the house itself would last only a minute at most, dependent on how quickly the vehicle made its way to the house itself, a lone man would await them - suited and well groomed. But it wasn’t Edmon, no - for those familiar with Edmon’s more personal life, they’d be able to quickly identify him as head of Mister Clarifont’s household, the man responsible for ensuring groceries were delivered to each of the estates, that his family was taken care of and that things ran smoothly at public functions. He stood with his hands tucked tidily behind his back, and his posture immaculate. Waiting for Both Lady Wilun and Samson to exit the vehicle before finally addressing them both, giving a precise and well-practiced bow to the Lady, ”Lady Wilun, and you must be -.. Oh don’t tell me, I’ve done my homework, I swear.. Captain-.. Samson, is it not? The Chairman awaits you both inside. Your security detail is welcome to remain on the grounds for the duration of the meeting - and if your nerves are shot, feel free to have them communicate with our own security forces to help put them at ease. Shall we?”

With his conclusion, he motioned towards the house behind him - his voice was soft and not-entirely alien to that of an ancient British Aristocrat, which made it abundantly clear that he was a man well-versed in his trade. Never once allowing his smile to fade from his lips, and never once stamouring.

---

Aboard the Imperial Super Dreadnought Triumph.

”Ah, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve a great admiration for your Commanding Officer - the Grand Admiral righted many of the wrongs that saw me depart the Navy in the first place. Too many idiots - with too little regard for the sanctity of life. Though, I'd also be lying if the benefits of the Private Sector weren't also exceptional.” Freiburg paused briefly to offer up a polite chuckle, extending his hand to accept the officer’s shake, prior to continuing on, ”I’ve come at the behest of the Chairman. He’s expressed a keen interest in entering into business with the Navy and has a few projects that he believes the Grand Admiral may express an interest in. However, he thought given my background - it’d perhaps be more suitable for myself to make the initial introductions. He’s former army, you see - needed someone with a bit of Naval class for the job.”

It was then he offered a dismissive wave over his shoulder to his men; all of whom then went about reboarding the shuttle behind him, to which he commented, ”Corporate policy - a security detail must be present for first contact, as to ensure the well-being of high-profile staff members. And don’t worry about any scans, I’m still a Navy-man at heart, and not everyone in the Private Sector prefers the methods of the snake.” Freiburg again, offered up a light chuckle, adjusting his cufflinks idly.

”Well, at least them shooting me would spare me the terrible boredom of enduring their company - they were miserable buggers when I was serving, I’d hate to see them now that they lack a good war to keep them occupied. That’s the problem with Commissars, terribly dull people. Not quite as dull as accountants, but certainly up there.”

[Imperialisium]

Imperium's Shield Orbital Station

Valeria listened to the other Joint Chiefs or their representatives, like the case of the Navy, as they responded to the situation before them; or, given their initial reports on the latest dealings with the service branches. The Third Sector Army would be the best bet to provide the bulk of the ground forces for this endeavor. As the 8th Armada's Marines would be ill-suited to a potentially protracted campaign of attrition against the possibility of a war-torn world. However, speed was of the essence and given it would take nearly two weeks if not more for the bulk of the 8th Armada and Third Sector Army to reach Eredes IV under optimal conditions if they left now. Forces nearer to Eredes IV would have to be used to provide time for this Imperial force to get there and secure this vitally important world.


"Third Sector Army will be assigned to provide the ground forces in tandem with 8th Armada securing the space lanes in the Eredes system. In addition, the 101st Legion of the Guard at Aquillon V will be routed to Eredes IV under escort from Taskforce 44." Aquillon V was a strategically important world located midway between Nova Terra and the Periphery worlds on the other side of the Galactic Disc. Situated within the Middle Worlds, specifically the Far Worlds, and maintained an advanced communication network with Nova Terra. Allowing it to receive orders from the Throne World far quicker than by starship. This would allow the 101st and Taskforce 44 secure a beachhead for the main Imperial force. At which point Eredes IV would provide a springboard for securing parts of the Periphery once more.

At that Valeria turned to Imperial Intelligence, "Intelligence will task agents on world or nearby as well to begin feeding information to Naval, Army, and Guard contacts in preparation for this operation. Any questions?"