Well I Didn't Vote for You(FT, Semi-Open)

[Zarathoft]

The Quiriant

The first blasts of canister shot ripped into the incoming SCADs, shredding hundreds of SCADs as the metal pellets reached their targets and leaving small floating pieces of metal debris as the SCAD’s only remnants. Still for every SCAD torn apart from the canister shot hellfire, another SCAD filled its place as the drones began their attempt to encircle their targets from every angle until there would be SCADs 360 degrees around the vessels. The SCADs continued to fire their bursts of lasers while the the occasional DISCAD made a streaking plunge towards their target, detonating themselves against the vessel’s hull.

Captain Retting scanned the reports being relayed back to the WRS Breakwater from the SCADs already engaged, as well as from the preliminary reports from the vanguard Zarithian cruisers that had just joined the fray. Laid out before him was the holographic Battle and Reconnaissance System, or the BAR as those in the command room called it, giving real time analysis of the battle that had started. Of particular concern was the currently unidentified object that has appeared alongside the Taledonian crafts.

A woman’s voice sounded from inside the BAR, “Captain, the former U.O. has been confirmed as a space combat vessel, origin unknown. Further reports indicate that it is assisting the Taledonians and is currently firing upon our cruisers with energy based weapons. One cruiser indicates that is has taken light damage and a casualty after the energy weapon caused its shields to malfunction. The cruiser is still combat capable, sir.”

Retting allowed a slight frown to momentarily cover his face. The appearance of this foreign craft, along with their siding with the Taledonians was unfortunate as it further limited the Zarithian chances to quickly defeat the Royal Navy here and break free of the blockade.

The woman’s voice again emitted from the BAR, “Captain, the stranded alien vessel that we gave aid to is en route to join our attack and engage the enemy.”

This information replaced Retting’s frown with the smile. He knew very little about the strange creatures that they had given aid to, but their capabilities were already proven in their effective disabling of the Taledonian Hera, and he was eager to see these aliens in action.

Once more the woman’s voice came through the BAR, “Captain, entering combat range in t-minus three hundred seconds, awaiting orders, sir.”

Retting lightly spoke back to a speaker on the BAR, “Initiate engagement protocol, all hands to combat stations.” The woman relayed the order over the Breakwater’s intercom system as men and women moved about to their stations. Retting himself moved to the command deck and strapped himself into the captain’s chair. Retting activated the communications link between himself and the other Zarithian vessels, “Frigate, carriers, and cruisers maintain harassment operations, all vessels amplify shields to full power. Ships-of-the-line move into vertical line abreast formation, first-rate Breakwater will be at the center, descending rates moving aloft and underneath. Ensure that the formation maintains appropriate spacing to avoid overlapping incoming fire. Begin formation turn towards starboard side and bring about our broadsides, once in range, open fire on my command. Also, take care to avoid striking the Hera, our new friends still have one of their own aboard, and she'd make a lovely prize if we are able to capture her.”

The Zarithian ships began their advance, their hulking ships-of-the-line prototypes assuming their vertical line formation with the first-rate WRS Breakwater at the center, above it a third-rate, then a fourth-rate, and then a fifth-rate vessel with that pattern mirrored below. The Zarithians came about their broadsides at the same moment they entered firing range, and as one they released their deadly kinetic drivers upon the Taledonians and the foreign vessel. Their thunderous roar deadened only by the silence of space.

[Equalsun Empire]

Ongoing Conflict, Outside the Nevaran Asteroid Belt

As the engagement drew nearer and nearer to the Navitas pirate vessel Veris Eldenian began transmitting orders throughout all ship systems, twisting metal and rotating cannons responding freely to his will. "Everyone, our mission is simple. We will be utilizing the entirety of our firepower on these Modesian-forsaken xeno-lovers and taking back our lost brothers and sisters. Failure is not an option. Do your best, for the glory of Eldenia!" With that the final preparations for battle were completed, and combat was joined. As the newly-installed Ballistic Hardlight Cannons opened fire, casings with a rating of 10PJ and filled with high-explosives began speeding towards the Hera and Piece D'or, seeking to begin downing their shields. Under cover of this fire two dozen Probes detached themselves from the bottom of the vessel, racing towards the Hera at an acceleration of dozens of meters per second. Alongside with them raced the remaining Ascendence fighters, Graviton missiles ready. The deadly canister shot glanced off the rotational shields of the vessels, but that wouldn't last long; the barrage was draining the shields fast.

Meanwhile, the remaining energy projectors of the now Dominance-class pirate vessel opened fire upon the unknown energy ship, lightspeed energy volleys barraging the shields of the ship. Graviton missiles were briefly considered, but as all fighters were tasked to drone escort and there was no way unshielded projectiles would make it through the canister shot, the idea was scrapped. Instead, three Probes were launched away from the battle, slowly circling around to avoid the canister shot. However, they were not cloaked, so there was little chance they would make it unless the Aliens ignored them.

[Taledonia]

The Defiant continuously rotated as it traversed the field, its guns barking silently as they discharged their munitions into the oncoming Zarithian vessels, taking more interest in them than the strange alien craft that, somehow, was the same as that which had crippled the Hera. Morphing ships: there was something very unnatural about that, and Moberly had decided that targeting what they knew they could kill would be better than potentially firing in vain. That wasn't to say that nothing was lobbed against the Navitas vessel, for at times it was the only vessel within the effective zone of certain guns, for surely the battleship was turning about so that its prow would align with their devilish craft and thus bring its spinal cannon to bear. Certainly a blast from that heroic gun would make them regret siding with the Winged Fleet; though what if surrender was offered, how would such beings as encountered so far be adequately contained? "But then," Moberly told himself, "Let's not count our chickens before they hatch."

It was a fairly matched contest, the Zarithian vanguard and ally against the Defiant and Rathisborn's valiant warship, but the tides turned immediately as the main force of the enemy arrived; unleashing an uncommonly well timed broadside as they did, for clearly the Zarithians had taken the lessons of the Royal Navy to heart. The Piece D'Or reported in, saying that its shielding was on its last leg, and, with the captain's compliments, wondered whether Captain Moberly would prefer their surrender or attempted withdrawal?

"Nothing against their efforts," William told Jacobson, "But they're outclassed, and haven't been providing much in the way of decent support. Best have them attempt to withdraw, but given the circumstances, it would not be amiss should the good captain feel the need to save his crew and surrender. We shall leave it at his discretion. How do we stand?"

A holographic display appeared before both captain and first officer, relevant information being displayed before both. "We've lost two layers of shielding already, and the third is about to drop. Our last two cannot stand before the entire Winged Fleet."

"What's this about security breaches?" the annoyance was thick in Moberly's voice.

Shuffling through the information streaming to him from the various sections, Jacobson frowned. "It's those aliens, sir. Attempting the same implementation they used on the Hera. Our VI's are doing a bonny job keeping them out, but its a question of who's gaining ground. I'll have our boys keep a close watch on it, and attempt to reverse course and breach their own systems."

"Very good, Mr. Jacobson. Carry on."

Glancing at his watch, a beautiful, old-fashioned thing that had been passed down in his family for generations, he grimaced. The battle was in full swing, and judging by the long range scans, the fleet would not arrive for another ten minutes. "Spirits preserve us that long," he muttered to himself.

[Alotopia]

Long Night of Sorrow
Captain Rathisborn

The ship shuttered as the Zarithian vessels unleashed their fury into its shields... They were aglow with every shot that hit them sending a yellow ring from the impact point.

"How are the shields, commander?" Asked Rathisborn, sipping his tea.

"The prototype shields are adapting to their fire sir, they have reduced the effectiveness of their weapons to 10% of what they were when the battle began. They seem to be using projectile weapons, we have modulated our shielding to deflect the shots instead of trying to stop the shells themselves. Shield's are holding." responded Commander Tolfin, "However, the Taledonian force is fairing much worse. One vessels shields are failing, and the other seems to be loosing 'layers'."

"Commander, order the ion batteries to sync with the heavy cannons. Overload their power systems then hit them with the heavy shot!" He laughed as he slammed his fist into his armchair, "Light cannons fire on all small targets!"

"Captain, one of the enemy vessels is extremely underclassed compared to our ship. Their weapons are only producing 10 petajoules per shot... they will never pierce our shielding with that!" Responded Tolfin

"Tolfin, I believe we have severely overestimated our enemies technology levels. If their weapons are only producing energy in the petajoule range, our ship will never lose shielding. However, if their weapons are indicative of their shielding, our heavy cannons should rip through their shields and hulls in one or two shots..."

Suddenly, a message was received and the bridge went silent...

ALOTOPIAN MILITARY COMMUNICATION-AUTHORIZATION: ZAB986-AKE376-ALPHA
ENCRYPTION TYPE: NONE
MESSAGE CONTENTS AS FOLLOWS:
LONG NIGHT OF SORROW - DETECTED.
BLACK TRIUMVIRATE - ACTIVATED.
BLACK TRIUMVIRATE - DISPATCHED.
MISSION: RETURN LNoS TO OVERSECTOR ALPHA.
ROE: ACCOMPLISH MISSION, NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.

The Black Triumvirate, the most highly decorated and battlehardened battlegroup in the Alotopian Navy. Boosting the newest ships-of-the-line, they are the Emperor's go to for high risk missions... And they're coming...

Captain Rathisborn was surprised by this development, "They found us already? This is most disturbing. I would have guessed it would have taken months to find us... If the Black Triumvirate discovers that these aliens are cave people compared to us, the Emperor will order an invasion." He quickly keyed his communication console to contact Captain Moberly, "Captain, I have received communication from my government telling me that they have sent a rescue fleet. They will be here soon. I expect you would like to have your Admiral meet with my Admiral Jarquen?"

Star Annihilator Warrior's Sword
Hyperspace

"ETA to spacial distortion?" asked Admiral Jarquen
"30 seconds sir" responded the helmsman...
"Good. We can finally retrieve the Sorrow."

OOC: The Black Triumvirate are going to use advanced tech to force the spacial distortion into a wormhole. They will go through, rescue the Long Night of Sorrow, and return to Alotopian space.

Also, I didn't realize the power levels for some of yalls ships were so low. Like, my nations ships are hardcore modeled after Star Wars and use their energy outputs for weapons and shielding. My ship is producing a peak energy output of 9.28 x 10^24 W. The heavy cannons shots equal to 22 gigatons of TNT and the light cannons with 171 megatons.

[Zarathoft]

Roth Glacies

The reports streamed in of a nearly direct hit to the Taledonian’s forwardmost trenchline, causing the weakness the Winged Legionnaires so desired to obtain, and within moments the trained soldiers of Zarathoft began their accelerated advance towards the Taledonian trenches. Ahead of them, the religious Mishghani zealots were already streaming into the Taledonian lines, the holy warriors caring naught for battle analysis nor any battle strategy more complex than charging until their enemies scatter. They also cared naught if the battle transitioned to hand-to-hand combat, armed with whatever melee weapons they had acquired since Dakkan, authentic or makeshift.

Hopping into the front trench of the Taledonians, Colonel Shava made his best attempt not to slip in the recently dislodged ice and snow and earth as his feet met the ground. He was relieved to have dipped below ground level, as the air above was still filled with weapons fire both outgoing and incoming. Two soldiers from Shava’s already small unit didn’t make it to the Taledonian lines. Rabare was certainly dead as Shava had watched a round macerate the soldier’s face into crimson mist, fragments, and pulp, while Kalianna may still live if the trailing medics found her quickly, but her arm would surely never be salvaged.

The ruined trench, at the very least, provided a bit more cover for the soldiers at the expense of visibility, although with the blustering wind churning up the snow, that expense was negligible. Further ahead, Shava could hear the firefights and combat raging between the Taledonians and the Mishghanis. Glancing at this surroundings, it became readily apparent that the first wave of the Mishghanis must’ve stormed into the trench before the Taledonians could completely recover from the direct strike of the Zarithian artillery bombardment. All around him Taledonian corpses that had otherwise relatively minor wounds had execution-styled gunshots to their heads or had bodies riddled with bullets from obvious overkill. While the Zarithian soldiers proper made every effort to induce honorable warfare when presented the opportunity, their religiously fanatic and mercenary counterparts were governed by no such moral obligations.

To the Colonel’s surprise, he heard a soft groan originate from underneath a soft layer of snow and earth, and a quick brushing of the top layer revealed a wounded Taledonian underneath who managed to remain undetected from the Mishghani onslaught. The man’s injuries were incapacitating for the moment, although otherwise survivable. Shava quickly ordered basic first aid be rendered for the man, although it wouldn’t compensate for the Mishghani bloodshed, it would at least represent some humanity in this inhumane environment.

Also nearby laid a whimpering Mishghani next to what must have been a deceptively deep pool of acid, as the man’s left leg was disfigured almost up to the knee.

All along the trenches more reports streamed in that the Taledonians continued to fall back against the Zarithian assault. Shava and his unit continued to press forward with the other Zarithian soldiers nearby, hoping to take the Taledonian guns and press the remaining enemies against the mountain walls behind them. Each step forward the fighting continued to intensify as the assault began to slow. It wasn’t long before all around the Winged Legionnaires were the groaning and dead of the Taledonians and Misghanis alike, and the white snow transformed into a strange reddish-brown of blood and worked earth.

Thermal scanners were still in disarray between the never ceasing heat signatures being admitted from the battle and the chaos of the snowstorm, but it was clear that the Taledonians had begun to recover and engage in a fervor of their own at what analysis reports indicated must be near the third Taledonian trench. Ahead of Shava’s unit, the Mishghanis and the Taledonian stragglers were locked into close quarters combat as gunfire, wrestling bodies, and screams echoed in every anarchic direction. Yet amidst all that, there was a large firefight escalating as bullets and energy rounds sliced through air and bodies alike from the fortified third trenchline. A bold group of Mishghani warriors attempted to scale the trench for a direct assault across the open towards the Taledonian position, but were quickly devastated and dispatched by the fire of heavy guns, a majority of their broken bodies tumbling back into the trench before even making it over the top.

It was here where the trained professionals of the Zarithian Winged Legion would begin to prove more effective. Mobile fireteams of coiled-powered mortars began to set up in the more open areas of the Taledonian trenchline before zeroing in on the opposition's fortifications. Furthermore, additional standard fireteams began to establish suppressing fire towards the Taledonian line, despite the continued combat nearby between the Mishghani warriors and the Taledonians that were unable to make it out of the second trench in time. Firing from the mortars were explosive shells and canisters of acid. However, the real purpose of the mortar units was the third type of canister that released a blanketing, asphyxiating smoke into the Taledonian third line. While the Zarithians were hoping the Taledonians would have difficulty managing the smoke, it would prove barely an obstacle for the ventilation and optical systems built within the helmets of the Zarithian soldiers, and even the standard rebreathers and goggles worn by the commoners should prove an advantage over nothing, albeit only slightly.

Nearly immediately, Shava witnessed another member of his unit jerk back violently before crumpling to the ground, blood quickly leaking out from his midnight colored armor and scale suit to mix with the snow and ice underneath. With no more soldiers remaining to fill the gaps in his units, Shava stepped over the corpse, pressed his body tight against the trench wall, readied his weapon, and then twisted as his stood up, peering over the trench towards the Taledonia third trench, his energy rifle firing towards their position.

The Quariant

Retting witnessed an unfortunate Zarithian cruiser receiving a direct impact from an enemy barrage on the BAR, the cruiser’s avatar briefly flashing orange on the table before vanishing completely, much the same as its explosion would quickly vanish from space. The pitched battled against the Taledonian vessels was contentious and even, as was expected considering the nearly unrivaled skills boasted by their Royal Navy, but it was apparent that the Zarithians could overwhelm them purely by numbers and the firepower that accompanied having more numbers.

The alien vessel proved much more troublesome however, as its capabilities, although unknown, were quickly being realized as a deadly overmatch for the Zarithians, forcing the Winged Fleet to maneuver to avoid the Long Night of Sorrow’s firing lanes at all costs. Dozens of SCADs melted away beneath the alien vessels fire, while another cruiser went spinning out of control after being struck by its ion battery, this cruiser’s avatar switching to a solid orange color on the BAR indicating that it was incapacitated.

Still, the window of opportunity for Zarithian success was already closing as reports indicated the rest of the Taledonian fleet was approximately ten minutes from joining the battle. In an attempt to delay the Royal Navy’s reinforcements, all remaining cruisers, the sole remaining Zarithian frigate, along with the SCADs sent out previously as a distraction, and a portion of the SCADs in combat began to divert to impede their progress, leaving the heavy-hitting Zarithian ships-of-the-line to deal with the engaged force. A particular emphasis was placed on lining up a broadside with the Taledonian vessel whose shields were lagging.

As of now, the shields of the Zarithian ships-of-the-line were holding steady, but that was surely to change if the alien vessel had its way or the shields were forced to endure the barrage capable from the entire Taledonian fleet. Disabling the current Taledonian vessels at hand became more and more paramount with every shell fired and every second passed.

[Taledonia]

It was a gruesome display, and Charles Boisébert had a grandstand view of the entire thing from his mountain perch. He felt a pang of guilt, sitting above the carnage and blood and acid, his men freezing and dying below him as he sat snug in the controlled environment of his battlesuit. The snow did not sting his eyes as it whipped the landscape like it did his soldiers, either, but it still obscured his view; but luckily, his elevation gave him some clearer readings over different wavelengths. A bright light show, but with a bit of sense to it. Like a steel-clad statue, he stood stoically observing the battlefield, his gauntleted fists clasped behind his back, judging whether he could afford to await his mobile units, or if he should risk springing his gambit early.

"General," came the distorted, static-laced voice of his division leader, "We are in position of the Zarithian artillery. Lightly defended, as you suspected. The vast majority of them are at the front."

He couldn't help it. A smile formed, despite the horrors he was witnessing below. Now came the test of his planning, and his ability to deceive and feint. Now was, what he secretly believed in his head, the time of beautiful music. It was an instinctual habit, and one he zealously kept hidden from his subordinates lest he gain a reputation, but his arms raised before him and his hands assumed a gentle tilt wholly incompatible with the armour that encased them; the pose and demeanor of an orchestral conductor. With a curt nod to his unsuspecting audience below, he softly spoke into his comms-link. "Engage."

Barely a minute passed before the world seemed to fade away, the lights of his display dimming to remove the scenes before him and replacing them with a tactical map of the valley below; while a hush(if such a thing can exist in an active warzone) fell upon the stage as the Zarithian guns stopped their bellowing, now occupied by hundreds of armoured soldiers in their midst, while his own cannons were silent as well as they prepared for the next phase. A flourish, and his hands exploded out, signalling the beginning of the movement: A mighty boom of brass, the artillery firing in perfectly precise ranks directly into the centers of the advanced trenches, careful to keep their shots away from the mountain edges, and beginning the symphony. With a wave, he bid the strings play their soft accompanying melody that would form the tone; the massed soldiers in the third trench, no longer falling back but standing resolutely and bravely at the trench wall and directing all their fire forwards at the oncoming enemy, cutting down zealots and pinning fire teams into whatever cover they could find. Their sound grew as more and more instruments were brought to bear; a beautiful medley that sang of conviction and defiance. With another signal, he brought in the surprise of symbols: his heavy weapons teams, ordered to dig themselves into the snow at the edges of the abandoned trenches and hide themselves now sprang from their snowy piles and opened up on the Zarithians, their autocannons and heavy lasers cutting through the perfectly lined up ranks who had claimed their trenches and now had no defense but their comrades between them and the gunfire.

It was a beautiful scene on his tactical display. His forces had the enemy surrounded on three sides, caught in enfilading fire, whilst his artillery, now working harder than it had for months and using every last round they had bought from the smugglers for outrageous sums, tore up the enemy center. Their own heavy guns, far back from the actual fighting, had yet to resume their own firing; a good sign that his battlesuits were having luck and would soon be able to return and close off the Zarithian retreat. The pieces were set, and now the battle was to be decided by resolve. His trained but weary and frozen soldiers in terrific positions against a horde of zealous fanatics that would gladly die for their prophet and supplemented by heavily armoured and trained warriors who had a score to settle. There was nothing more to do but observe what he had orchestrated and await his battlesuits so he could lead them into a final charge at the enemy rear.

----------------------------------

"Well lads, it won't do," Moberly sighed, and wearily moved from his command post to the middle of the bridge. "It simply won't do. You've all performed admirably, and with the courage and skill expected of His Majesty's Navy. But the shields aren't going to last much more than a minute, and then its nothing but steel that separates us from the void, and that will be peeled away like paper by the rounds coming at us. Mr. Jacobson, strike the colours. My compliments to the Zarithian commander, and my assurances that the Defiant shall take no further hostile action nor attempt to flee, on the expectation that our surrender shall preclude the cessation of hostilities towards our vessel. Regrets and best wishes to our allies in the area."

"Yes, Captain," the First Officer replied morosely. It struck to the very core of everyone present that a first rate ship-of-the-line would be forced to strike, and it would be remembered as a disgraceful mark against the Defiant and her crew for a long time. But even so, the broadcast of the Taledonian standards and the ship's own designation ceased, replaced with the official signals of surrender. The guns stopped their silent fury, and the engines reversed to bring the battleship to a halt. The shields remained active, pitifully repelling the incoming fire that was still being directed against the Defiant, threatening to collapse at any moment, whilst the crew sat deathly silent in wait for the Zarithian reply. No one moved, looking ashamedly at their consoles or feet, while Moberly himself stood silent but fully upright.

He stayed long enough to watch the Royal Navy arrive on the display screens, their mighty bulks beginning to disgorge thousands of pounds of munitions at the Winged Fleet as they joined the alien vessels in this decisive action that would see the end of the blockade, one way or the other. Then, giving the bridge to Mr. Jacobson, he retired to his cabin to adorn his dress uniform and prepare his naval sabre. If Admiral Codrington failed to win the day, then he was damned if he would present an unsharpened, unpolished blade to the Zarithian commander.

[Zarathoft]

Roth Glacies

Through smoke, snow, shells, and bullets, Shava and his men laid down their suppressing fire into the Talendonian lines. Ahead of him, he could still make out the figures of the Mishghani warriors fighting with a relentless ferocity that defied their lack of training. Crouching low, the colonel ejected a spent battery from his energy rifle, the fried power supply melting through the churned up snow at the soldier’s feet. Reaching for another power supply with hands steadier than they had a right to be, Shava pushed the new battery into the feed of his gun. With a soft vibration and hum, he felt the power restored to the bulky weapon.

Pushing himself back up along the trench wall, Shava quickly surveyed the battle. On his left, Jiska, a corporal of dark complexion but light eyes, continued firing the heavy machine gun in controlled, rhythmic bursts, the stock of the gun slamming dully against its gunner’s shoulder. To Shava’s right, a small three person firing squad was attempting to swoop right as the Colonel had ordered, but it has gone awry. Almost immediately, one of the newer recruits - a private first class who had fled from the platform slums orbiting Zarathoft to Roth Glacies before joining the military to do clerical work before being pressed into combat after Dakkan - was struck with a round and crumpled out in the open. That had forced the other two members of the firing squad, Corporal Mannic and Specialist Klue who were both veterans of the entire Roth Glacies campaign from the Ice Invasion through the Rosarth Offensive into the Dakkan Engagement and the Altedia Assault, to stall their advance as they risked themselves to drag their wounded comrade to safety. Mannic was burly and soft-spoken, but steadfast in combat as he sent covering fire towards the Taledonians. Meanwhile the lithe but never to be underestimated Klue dragged the wounded PFC towards a shell crater, the woman firing haphazardly with one arm towards the opposing trench.

It was in this moment of serene battlefield clarity that Shava sensed something was amiss. The pounding shells of the Zarithian artillery had waned in their support. Almost in-sync with his realization, words echoed into his comm.

-Surprise attack… surrounded... guns captured… artillery has laid down arms…-

In unison with communication, he felt a wave of Taledonian firepower crest and break upon the Zarithians. Before him, Mishghani soldiers melted away in rout as fire rained upon them in every direction. Taledonian soldiers appeared to be climbing out of snow as if the Taledonian dead were rising from their graves and replacing those empty holes with Zarithian dead. Shava watched as an autocannon tore into Mannic, sending what was left of the big men twisting unnaturally to the ground. Klue was nowhere to be seen, and Shava hoped the woman had found cover from the onslaught. In the distance, Shava saw one of the Taledonian heavy gunners exposed. Raising his rifle, Shava began to take aim before he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Shifting to his left, Shava only had enough time to see the flash from a gun’s barrel before burning consumed the left side of his face. The heated burn of the laser was quickly replaced by the biting burn of frostbite as the round had torn open the mask of his helmet. Shava dropped his weapon and clutched at his face desperate to cover the pain. In the throes of his torment, the man was unaware of the Taledonian artillery ripping apart his position. Shava stumbled away from the cover of the trench wall, his left eye burning as it froze from exposure to the Roth Glacies’ merciless climate. A moment later, Shava was lifted from his feet before slamming hard into a trench wall.

The pain in his body was replaced with a numbness as his body disobeyed his commands to move. He felt his consciousness beginning to slip. For whatever reason, his mind drifted back to something his drill instructor had said during training, “if it’s going too well, it’s an ambush…”

The Quariant

A cheer ricocheted throughout the Breakwater as the colors of the Defiant were struck. Without hesitation, Retting ordered that naval custom be obliged toward the Taledonian vessel. However, the victory was short lived as the rest of the Taledonian fleet and pushed back the skirmishing vessels the Zarithians had sent forth and were entering firing range. Already, shells were beginning to edge themselves closer to the main Zarithian battleships.

“Turn hard to port at 45 degrees, compensate thrusters for the maneuver, and elevate guns to intercept incoming targets. Adjust power levels to the shields and prepare defensive flares. Expect increased firepower,” Retting ordered with resounding exclamation before growling, “and by all hells people, hold the damn line.”

With a thundering shake, the ship-of-the-line shuddered as rounds struck the shields. Moments later, another shudder as the Breakwater fired her kinetic drivers towards in the incoming Taledonian fleet. On the BAR’s display, quick bursts of light emitted from the Zarithian ships’ line of battle as flares were emitted to disrupt the targeting of the incoming Taledonian rounds. White knuckled and with gritted teeth, the Captain watched as the next phase of the battle unfolded. The strength of the Taledonian fleet was well known, but if the Winged Fleet of Zarathoft could goad the Taledonians into pursuit back towards the Belt, then maybe the range of the defense cannons constructed into the asteroid field would be enough to subdue their opponents.

Retting would never bring the plan to fruition though, as in the moments before the battle peaked word broke through the comms that the Winged Legion and the Mishghani fanatics that had been holding out the last hope of the Winged Republic on the ground had suffered a shocking and devastating defeat on Roth Glacies with the survivors laying down their arms and surrendering.

A solemn scene took hold of the command deck. With a gentleness, Retting let his voice carry to his crew, “Cease combat operations and request parlay. Offer the return of the captured Defiant and her crew as a show of good faith and let us hope the Taledonian Navy still retains the honor they’re known for.”

“Captain, are -” a First Officer began before being cut off by Retting.

“That was an order, not a request.” No further protests were offered.

With an almost peaceful hum, the Breakwater began to power down.

[Alotopia]

Star Annihilator Warrior's Sword
Lord Admiral Jarquen

The three ships of the Black Triumverate flashed into existance several thousand kilometers from, what used to be, the space battle. The three vessels appeared to have come from nothing; the only visible signal of there arrival were the blinding flashes of light that preceeded them. If sound could be produced in space, the sound of their re-entry into realspace would have been deafening. As thry blinked into existance, their 5 kilometre grey hulls seemed to extend and retract as they suddenly reentered realspace.

Lord Admiral Jarquen surveyed the battlefield as he stood on the main command bridge. There was debris and destroyed ships littering the space above the planet. Preliminary scans had revealed that there were two distinct combatants fighting over the planet with the Long Night of Sorrow engaging one side. As he watched, however, one side suddenly stopped firing their weapons, allowing shells to pound into their shields.

"Captain Lorthas, bring us to battlestations." Admiral Jarquen said as he surveyed the fleets.

"Aye aye, Lord Admiral." The Captain clicked his heels and saluted before moving off to execute his orders. As the orders were relayed, alarms blared over the intercom. The running of boots could be heard throughout each of the vessels, with the turbolaser batteries humming to life and shields flickering into existance over the ship.

This is Lord Admiral Gerick Jarquen, Commander of his Majesty's Black Triumverate, in service to Emperor Armatus Rathonis of Alotopia and the Royal House of Rathonis. Your petty sqabbles over desolate planets do not interest me or my Emperor. However, the vessel that bears our markings is. Interfere and we will destroy your vessels and glass this planet. You have been warned so stay out of my way.

As the message was broadcast to both fleets, a deathy silence came over the communications systems. If one were to look, they would have seen that after the message was sent, the newly arrived vessels began jamming all transmissions.

The lumbering giants of ships slowly moved towards the Long Night of Sorrow and the formerly engaging fleets. They had adopted a wedge formation, with Admiral Jarquen's ship as the tip. His ships would be between the factions in mere minutes, but whether they would allow him safe passage was another question entirely.

The holographic display of ships that Lord Admiral Jarquen had seen so many times before shimmered as it turned on, allowing him an unparrelled view of the planet and surrounding space. He walked between the planet and the fleets, basically into the orbit of the planet itself and pointed to a spot directly above the highest concentration of warm bodies on the planet. A blue dot appeared for a moment before he reached for the datapad on his left arm and pressed a solitary button.

Star Annihilator Ardent Justice
Captain Graspitch

"Sir, we have recieved coordinates for in system hyperspace jump for the Lord Admiral. Shall we proceed?" The navigation officer asked in eager anticipation. He had heard of this move at the Academy but had never seen it in person.

"Engage, Ensign. Bring us into position." Captian Graspitch said, smiling at the navigation officer. As he finished, the Captain and bridge crew watched as the Ensign lowered power from the sublight engines and applied it to the hyperdrive. As the drive powered, the crew throughout the ship could hear and feel it as it increased in charge.

Captain Graspitch felt the hyperdrive engage once it had reached the required power, however it was only an instant befire he felt the familiar tug of their reentry into realspace. He looked out the viewscreen into the atmosphere of the desolate planet they had just found. Lord Admiral Jarquen had given them the nav coordinates inside the atmosphere! Not that the Captain had been surprised by that, it was a signature move of Jarquen's when the Southern Planets had rebelled. The sudden arrival of a large vessel into the atmosphere would displace a ton of air and would cause the air to be pushed out in every direction, destroying things on the ground as well and anything that was flying. It was also deafening to anyone not wearing eye protection.

Star Annihilator Warrior's Sword
Lord Admiral Jarquen

The comms crackled to life again from the Admiral's flag.

As you can clearly see on you screens, I have placed a vessel over the most populated area on the planet below. A sort of insurance. If my vessels are attacked, I glass that center and continue outward until the entire planet is useless.

[Taledonia]

"Enter."

Moberly was tired, and the shame of his surrender sat heavily about his shoulders. But he was an officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy, and it wouldn't do to be seen hanging his head in defeat, so when the young man entered his cabin, his salute was directed towards the same imposing figure that had retired from the bridge after striking his colours. His face was granite, the stoic reserve of good breading heightened by the smart, crisp captain's dress uniform he had adorned, the ornate silver and bronze of his sabre's hilt swaying gently on the golden chain from his waist, while his bicorn sat tucked under his arm. With a final glance of approval at his freshly pomaded hair, Moberly turned from the full-length mirror he had been gazing into and raised a brow in greeting.

"Mr. Jacobson's duty, sir, and should you like to return to the bridge, the Zarithians have struck."

It took everything he had to remain a solid wall of calm, as expected of a gentleman officer. "They've struck?"

"Yes, sir," the lad said excitedly, forgetting himself in the moment and displaying a grandiose smile only the very young or the very stupid can muster. "And they've released us of all conditions of our surrender." Suddenly remembering himself under the gaze of his commander, the smile vanished, and a modest "sir" was muttered as a closing statement.

The truth of the matter had been exaggerated, it seemed. Arriving on the bridge, it was clear that the Zarithians had not, in fact, struck their colours. What they had done, however, was cease firing and arrest all maneuvering. It had taken some moments for the rest of the fleet, recently arrived within range and engaged, to realize the fact, and it was with some apparent embarrassment that they had continued to unload vast amounts of munitions into the shields of the enemy vessels. Mr. Jacobson believed that a few of their smaller vessels had even been disabled before the ceasefire had been announced throughout the startled armada, which had remained ever vigilant and moved into advantageous formations in preparation of a resumption of hostilities.

"What's afoot, Mr. Jacobson?"

"They're requesting parlay, Captain. Word has come through that General Boisébert has won a decisive victory on Roth Glacies, captured the Tarlvich boy and his priests, and has the surrender of the planet. Admiral Codrington and Field Marshal Smith have already sent word that the Zarithian delegation is to come aboard the Flag. The Admiral's compliments, sir, and he requests your immediate presence aboard the Flag as well. He further requests that you extend an invitation to the Alotopian commander. A third party witness, I believe, is his intention."

And a very pretty invitation it would have been, too, had it not been for the sudden appearance of what Moberly assumed was Captain Rathisborn's alluded to Admiral. They emerged with a fine show, and even finer craft. Their actions, however, were the most vulgar displays imaginable. The maneuvering of the Long Night of Sorrow had given suspicions that these Alotopian's were a somewhat brash and boisterous bunch, but this was a whole new level of poor taste. They sent demands and threats, then turned off the phone so that no reply could be heard. Then they split their forces, sending a battleship to far off Roth Glacies whilst the bulk of their armada began moving towards the assembled Royal and Winged fleets. More threats, and some reports came in from Boisébert's army that some people were complaining that their eyes had gone deaf... It was really anyone's guess if they had left their channels open this time, or if once again they had begun to block all incoming communications. Still, with no outwardly visible scrambling detected in this instance, the Royal Navy sent a message of its own, hoping Admiral Jarquen was polite enough to take a message.

Lord Admiral Gerick Jarquen
Officer Commanding Black Triumvirate

The Alotopian vessel, recognized as Long Night of Sorrow, has been deemed friendly. We wish you all the best in whatever recovery mission you are here to undertake, and extend His Majesty's most sincere thanks to the crew of the Sorrow for their bravery and assistance here today. If convenient, we invite you, your senior staff, and the commanding officers of the Sorrow to repair aboard HMS Boedicae to witness parlay as an independent body. If inconvenient, we wish you speedy travels home.

Admiral Penrod Codrington
Officer Commanding HM Royal Navy in Zarathoft
HMS Boedicae