S1E1
BATTLESTATIONS TIAMAT
New orders have arrived. A changing of the guard is due aboard the MIN Radu: former commander of the MIN Uras (TD-66), Naru al-Birtu, has been transferred to command duty over the carrier vessel. Young for her responsibilities, much is ahead of Naru with her newfound post... including a set of orders directly from the capital.
Battlestations Tiamat, Act 1 | Chapter 1
"Orders"
Fort Nexu Naval Complex
Fort Nexu
Armannu
Belutene al-Maturoch
Brillardere 41, 251 AE
6:32 AM Maturoch Standard Time
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The naval facility dwarfed its surroundings in scale, drydocks busy with sailors and rife with the scent of diesel oil. It was still yet dawn as the sun faintly glowed in the Vestan horizon, bringing with it a faint bluish paleness that cast an eerie light that complemented the flickering yellow lamps of the busy naval complex.
Fort Nexu Naval Complex was Maturoch's foothold in the Alut Gulf, its intricacy matched by its artistic fineness. Military offices and barracks loomed upon ziggurat-like structures, radomes aptly tracking communication and radar presences alike. Rugged sailors walked the labyrinthine expanse of the facility, overseen by naval officers who bore more similarity in mannerism to the deities above than any sane man, judging by their arrogance.
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Upon PA systems orders and calls echoed throughout the complex, ghostly whispers of a phantom bureaucracy bearing incomprehensible expanse. All was routine — even when it wasn't. Ominous blue-green contrasted with the blackness of the sea to the west, reflecting only the faintness of that distant star upon which all life hinged. "Zvezda po imeni solntse," An ancient Velikossi poem would echo. Who knew if they still existed.
Muxen smiled upon the sailors today, perhaps — in the grim vastness of the stars above, the faint glimmer of something else: Tsion. The cradle of all life; all civilized life, anyway. Its presence in the skies above was a reminder to Maturoch — nay, all Vesta's people of their celestial origins. The plucky, hardened people of this world were not native to this oasis: they were settlers, conquerors, fighters, and had earned their right to exist upon the surface of the alien world two-hundred fifty one Vestan years prior. Vesta had changed them too, of course: with the aid of a variety of drugs, they were taller and stronger than their Tsionic forebearers.
Some wondered what had happened to home after the Eschaton. Had all life perished under the suffocating nuclear winter? Surely not — the high-power telescopes could still see upon the primordial world's surface a vast expanse of light. Cities, innumerable in quantity, graced the surface... but what had truly happened?
It was a question many feared to seek answers for.
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Beyond the smorgasbord of activity and bustle of the early morning at the naval base, a convoy descended upon the highway's thoroughfare. The slick black finish of the staff car reflected upon its surface the lights of the streetlamps above as it approached, guarded by front, back and side by general-purpose vehicles.
By the two flags that flanked its hood, each carrying an emblem of three diamonds, the subject in question was a Rab presiding over a carrier and associated group — equivalent in foreign nations to an Admiral. Its dimmed windows created more questions than answers as to who was due to arrive, naturally. The bureaucracy of Maturoch was an ever-present beast, unfathomable and serpentine in nature. Departments, agencies and bureaus operated in conjunction to one another to create what was in essence a well-oiled machine — albeit one that was hard to fathom to a foreigner.
The convoy's approach, and the military megaplex that spanned Fort Nexu, contrasted oddly with the vast metropolitan expanse that was Armannu. Art deco skyscrapers and modernist monuments to the labors of man towered in the distance, city lights still glimmering in the darkness of the Vestan dawn was still in its nascent stages.
A highway exit would bring the convoy to approach gold-embossed gates, security kiosk manned by jacket-clad MPs. Their arrival had been expected. A tired gaze from behind the kiosk's windows would bring the gates to open, the convoy continuing onward into the naval complex. Greeting them as they neared the entrance was a statue of a man, hand pointed forward with sceptre in another. The heroes of the Vestan Wars, legends of bygone centuries: Maturoch was not Maturoch then, still bound to the ideals of the homeworld they had been severed from.
It was among the colonies aligned with their red Tsionic masters of the old world, clashing against the Euphemians and their lapdogs. They still wore EVA suits in those times, which gave those men and women of old an almost larger-than-life aura as they towered there in statues of limestone and marble, their bulky suits frozen amid the battles that had defined the borders of what would become a Vesta independent of the auspices of old world blues.
Slowly the convoy would come to a halt, the formal guards standing at the ready flanking the metaphorical red carpet that had been laid for the new arrival.
One of the MPs hesitated little in opening the staff car's door, allowing the subject of the formalities to emerge. RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu loomed above her peers at just above seven feet, which was just a bit above the Vestan average. She had achieved this abrupt promotion by a mixture of luck, circumstance and talent — she had surpassed her peers in the academy quite well, and served prior as commanding officer of a light cruiser. The military bureaucracy was an ever-shifting one, however, and she had been deemed fit to replace her predecessor. Perhaps he would have retained his post, had he not become fixated with religious fervor and arrogance.
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Regardless of what circumstances had precipitated her abrupt promotion and the sacking of her delusional predecessor, there was little understating that Naru was excited for what lay ahead of her. Keeping her cool was a skill of hers— a talent, perhaps— to which she kept a stoic gaze ahead as she dismounted the staff car.
"The Radu is ready. Give the orders and the Alut Gulf taskforce will commence activities." The words came from a bureaucratic aide, coat giving him an aura no different than most of the capital's innumerable government-affiliated suits. Most had spent solar cycles upon solar cycles' worth of their lives behind typewriters and archival computers, the metaphorical suckers of the metaphorical tentacles of the very much real eldritch incomprehense that was Maturoch's vast bureaucracy.
"I was originally of the presumption I was to wait an additional months' time." replied Naru, eyes perusing the bureaucrat with the slightest bit of skepticism.
"The situation demands haste. The Department of Defense has no time for the petty cogs of diplomacy. I trust you to review your orders and handle them in a timely and efficient manner. I would not wish that the Department's faith in your special... 'je ne sais quoi'... be misplaced. All the best of luck." Patting her shoulder, the bureaucrat took his leave, wide-rimmed glasses an ethereal glow in the twilight.
Avila folder in one hand, Naru began forth. In the cool pre-morning air, she could see the condensing misty plumes of breath from the men standing guard. Vesta was, without doubt, far colder than the primordial celestial cradle of Humanity... to which this cold was more of the usual for Naru — still, though, Maturoch was relatively warm, sitting in the pleasant Vestan tropics, just beneath the equator.
The gate into the base itself was far grander than the simple security checkpoint the convoy had passed before — it carried with it the artisanry and grace of past and present alike, blue ceramic bricks decorated with depictions of dragons, beasts of old world legend, along with other animals of old world renown — depictions of mighty aurochs contrasted well with the fantastical beasts.
Inscribed upon the gate was a slogan in gold-beveled Maturochi script, a reminder of the Navy's duty in the grand scheme of things.
Peace our profession, Providence our guide
The air seemed to change in the base as the young officer made her entrance, most hastening their respective duties as she passed them by. It would not be long before she had reached the military offices, towering over the adjacencies by a few stories. Flanking the entrance were two stone Muxussu, the guards standing at attention as Naru walked past, ornate doors opened as she entered.
Her office was that of her predecessor's, though Fate would demand her presence at Fort Nexu be brief. Finding it through the labyrinthian corridors of the military offices had been easy — and entering it had greeted her with rather noble surroundings: bookshelves, a small shrine to Muxen, and a desk of Tiamat pearlwood of fine and precise detail.
Taking a moment to sit back in the leather chair that hosted admirals past, Naru gazed down upon the avila folder, now opened before her. There, clear as day, were her orders.
FROM: SECDEF Nigsummunu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
"Alut Gulf taskforce to deploy immediately. Pro-Terminus naval elements in Vesperanze — the Kingdom, that is — have been deemed an unacceptable counterweight to the Belutene's naval interests. The Department of Defense now pursues the immediate pacification of the Vesperanze Fleet, effective immediately. You have been given command over the MIN Radu and a carte blanche to act in Maturoch's interests. RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu will be your second-in-command, and is to be informed of these orders accordingly. Burn this document upon reading."
There was a bit of apprehension from Naru as she scanned through the contents of the order. It was, after all, a real enemy, a real engagement. It was hardly business as usual... but the exercises had prepared her for the occasion.
Naru wasn't particularly the most avid smoker, but she did carry a lighter for when the occasion demanded it. Crumpling the paper and setting it upon the ashtray, Naru set it alight, watching its surface wither as it slowly became a blackened mass of burnt paper and ash.
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To say the admiral's office was lacking in amenities was to lie — the desk granted communication with a plethora of other offices and facilities within the complex, to which Naru took little time in acting upon said orders. A button would bring with it the emergence of a rather bulky c-writer upon the pearlwood desk, Naru typing out her instructions accordingly. A magnifying lens hung rather clumsily from an arm-like mechanism, allowing her a closer look at the small cathode ray tube monitor displaying her words.
FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: Office of Communications, Fort Nexu Naval Complex
"The immediate presence of RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu has been requested to my office."
Hitting a key bearing Maturochi cuneiform for 'ENTER', Naru leaned back in her seat in wait... she wasn't sure what to expect. Depending on the facility, requests and orders could be anything from five minutes to five hours — although it did depend on what was requested. She'd be working with this 'Anshar al-Xehtu' for an indeterminate amount of time, given the orders that she now held the responsibility of carrying out.
While response time did indeed vary, especially in a complex as large as Fort Nexu, Naru would be fortunate in that it wouldn’t take much time at all for her new second-in-command to bring himself to her office, door opening up as he showed himself in, the man giving a firm salute to his new superior.
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“RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, ma’am.” He would introduce himself as, lowering his arm. He was at least a foot shorter than Naru, his skin a few tones paler, hair an equally silken black. Presentable, Naru supposed.
"At ease. Please, take a seat." Naru gestured to the chair opposite her own, leaning forward as she retracted the c-writer on her desk. The captain would take the invitation, a slight bit of curiosity hinted from his features. Glancing behind herself, Naru would note the drinks stacked on one of the adjacent shelves — this was certainly not the right occasion for serafine pleasurewater, a simple glass of Maturochi wine would suffice. There was a certain elegance about her as she filled his glass, and then her own.
"As you are probably well-aware, I have been instated as commanding officer of the Radu. By this metric, I am effectively your superior and commanding officer. That would be a mundane affair of our nation's bureaucracy, of course, were it not for the... orders I was given along with my newfound post." Her eyes turned once more to the ashen pile of burnt paper that sat atop the ashtray, as if it were self-explanatory.
“..and what would those orders be?” Anshar questioned, nodding along with his new superior officer.
There was a tension in the air as Naru's eyes came level with Anshar's, the officer pondering how to best word the orders they had been tasked with. "The Department of Defense has deemed the Kingdom of Vesperanze's leanings toward the Euphemian state of Terminus are a threatening counterweight to our navy's prosperity in the Alut Gulf. Effective immediately, the Alut Gulf taskforce is to deploy and conduct preemptive action against Vesperanze's fleet. I am... well... effectively in charge of this undertaking, with you as my second-in-command." She explained, arms crossed.
The development had certainly garnered Anshar’s attention. “I uh, see...”
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"I'm uncertain what will come once we are at sea, but surely Ardatax smiles upon our impending duty and will grant us triumph over our enemies. That, and I am confident in the competence of our men and the technology of our fleet." Naru reassured. "Regardless, we must prepare with haste. By all means, the fleet will be at sea by 1200 hours. I will see to it that all is in working order... see to it that the same be the case aboard your vessel."
“It will be done, ma’am.” Anshar assured her.
Like a chthonic beast of unfathomable size stirring from a primordial slumber, the boilers of the Radu roared to life, steam turbines coming alive as the Maturochi carrier slowly began out of port. The decks were rife with crewmen, all operating soundly under Naru's watch.
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Orders had already been distributed to the rest of the vessels assigned to the Alut Gulf taskforce, to which Naru observed the situation through the variety of bulky monitors and screens that decorated her statesroom. Maturoch was akin to a slumbering force of nature, and it had been awakened by political necessity — what tasks that might carry with it were to be seen, but Naru carried about her a fair deal of confidence.
C-writer before her, Naru was sure to check on the progress of her second-in-command's vessel.
FROM: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu
TO: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu, MIN Alaktu (TM-19)
"SITREP?"
The response would follow soon thereafter, a printout of the transcript thus far being churned out by the autoprinter just adjacent in her statesroom. Furthermore, the text itself would be laid out upon her c-writer's screen:
FROM: RABTUM. Anshar al-Xehtu
TO: RABHAT. Naru al-Birtu, MIN Radu (HA-17)
"Ship has been fully restocked for operations and everything is in working order.”
"Good." She quietly replied, audible to none. Taking a leave from her statesroom, Naru weaved through busy corridors to reach the superstructure... the conning tower allowed nothing short of a gods' eye view of their surroundings, the sky slowly brightening with the slow morning. Pillars of smoke could be seen as vessel after vessel began upon their new western trajectory. The fleet had left their respective ports of call with impressive haste and efficiency.
A cool eastern wind blew across the deck, Naru's gaze turning to the aircraft stowed aboard, a few neatly organized upon the flight deck. There was no knowing what lay ahead of the Maturochi fleet... but within Naru stirred the conviction that they would triumph in their goals.