Guarding Hope (FT CLosed)

[Usidia]

Prologue
For some time now the Usidian government had been pushing through the LifeStar Project. Once it was finished it became a testament to the what Usidia could accomplish when it could overcome its bureaucratic woes.
Once the project had been constructed, inquiries and intelligence operations were begun to find a beneficiary of the LifeStar. After some time the target of the LSP’s experimental voyage was decided too be the Kilmer System of the Free State Republics. While still a relatively new friend of the United Sytems, sympathy for their fellow humans was rather strong through most of the Usidian population.

Kilmer was one of two FSR systems devastated by a surprise attack by an aggressive xenos force. The aftermath had left the Kilmer system a shell of its former self. This made it the perfect choice for the maiden voyage of the LSP.

In an effort to make the trans-quadrant trip easier the two allies had begun construction of the Hope Tradeway. A galactic route to more easily move the massive space station and her support fleet. Ever vigilant against the terrors of the void the Usidian government had tasked the 16th Usidian Naval Task Force with guarding the crown jewel of Usidia.

16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field

While the LSP lumbered along the Hope Tradeway that was quickly being built in front of the station the 16th’s commander had made the decision to aggressively investigate any where the Tradeway would pass through for anything that could cause great harm to the LSP fleet.

The asteroid field designated Dentor on Usidian stellar maps was one such area. A larger cluster of rocks that spanned a few hundred kilometers was one such prime area for an ambush to occur. With rocks ranging in size from a hover-car to a small moon, it was an ideal choice for someone to hide out in if they didn’t wish to be found.

Seemingly appearing from a bright flash of light Strike Element Franco arrived to begin their recon of the asteroid field to make sure nothing nefarious lurked amongst the rocks.

Captain John Smithran was the lead commander of the force which he led from his ship the USS Arlene. The youngish commander had been eager to begin his adventure amongst the stars and leaped at the opportunity to have his corvette assigned to the 16th. But as days turned to weeks and weeks to months, Strike Force Franco had yet to encounter any hostile elements in their nearly one hundred investigation sorties.

“Sir the Abagail has arrived as well.” reported the radar officer.

John furrowed his brow a little. This was the first time the fleet commander had elected to send two Strike Elements into an investigation. But there was a rumour circulating that there was a Valinor representative aboard the Abagail. Given the current civil unrest in Citic, Captain Smithran could understand why both the Valinor and Usidian government would want to keep that information as low key as possible.

“Bring up the Abigail.” The captain ordered his comms officer. A holo-screen appeared towards the center of the bridge with the full view of the sister corvette and her four Polaris fighter escorts.

“Ensign begin running a system diagnostic on the ship before we proceed.” John ordered “And hail the Abagail on the comm.'

“Aye sir.” came the uniform reply.

Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1

The four multirole fighters popped in behind the corvette Arlene. Engaging their directional thrusters the four craft maneuvered into a diamond formation around the corvette. Commander Ron Sanderson’s eyes scanned the fighter’s readout as it came back into realspace and the machine began running a diagnostic on itself to make sure nothing was damaged in the FTL jump to the asteroid field. The other two men in the small bridge of the fighter also began going over their diagnostics as well to make sure the scanners and the weapons for the fighter craft were functioning as well.

“Red Thorn One checking in, all systems good.” reported the Commander over his flight’s comm frequency.

“Red Thorn Two good.”
“Red Thorn Three affirmative.”
“Red Thorn Four, we’re getting a slight bug from the secondary aft d-thrust, trying to turn it off and on to see if that fixes it.”

“Alright.” Sanderson replied

“Yep that seemed to have fixed it sir.” came the reply a few minutes later

“Alright good, we’ll stay on station around the Arlene and provide support.” said Sanderson.


16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
USS Abigail
Dentor Asteroid Field

Captain Gerald Curtz popped in another cough drop to cover up the smell of alcohol. The Captain didn’t normally drink on duty, however his ship had been suddenly pressed into service with Strike Element Ellenore when the element’s tasked corvette the Annaliese had developed an issue with one of its power couplers or some shit.

With nothing to do aboard the ship before it had been reassigned the Captain had decided to have a game of poker with some of his ship’s officers. Normally against regulations the Captain had brought along several bottles of rye whiskey for what he knew would be a year long deployment with 16th UNTF. Not expecting any trouble while the LSP had stopped near one of the new Hope Tradeway outposts, Curtz figured it would be a good way to blow of some steam from the constant monotony.

“Sir the Arlene is hailing us.” said the comm’s officer.

Grimacing at the man’s loud voice, Curtz rubbed his temples as he felt the beginning of the inevitable hangover start to settle in. Gerald had disabled his medical nanites so that he wouldn’t be caught again for drinking on duty, and now he was to pay the consequences for that decision.

“Alright bring them up.” said Curtz as he tried to wish the hangover away.

The holo-screen appeared in front of the captain, filled with the face of the Arlene’s commanding officer, Captain John Smithran.

“My god you’re not drunk again are you?” scolded Smithran as he saw the bloodshot eyes of Curtz

“Not for much longer I hope.” scowled Curtz as he felt a wave of nausea roll up from his stomach.

Smithran shook his head in disappointment at the older officer before he continued

“Franco will begin in Sector Fourteen, you are to begin your sweep in Sector Thirty. How is the Valinor guest aboard your vessel?” Smithran inquired curiously to see if the rumour was true

“What Valinor guest?” Curtz said with a smile before he cut the comm feed.

“Alright you heard him, have Blue Dog Flight begin their sweeps.” Curtz said “And someone get the med facility on the horn and bring me some damn aspirin.”

His thoughts turned towards what Smithran had said though, he wondered where the Valinor representative was.

[Sarian Raider Clans]

A Sarian princes court of blades is no place for those unwilling to kill in battle. Its court of swords is no place for those unwilling to die for a cause. Its heralds? No place for those unwilling to murder for politics.


The deck of the conference room alone would have made a prince cry with anger over what was lost and hidden much less in many cases the mere idea of a room for a “conference”. But then the heralds were not there to make the common sarian feel good about their current situation merely to force them to improve it… at all costs.

“It is confirmed?”

“Yes grand master, the signals are definitely sphero four class and they are building”.

Another high pitched voice responded in vague anger.

“And ..he is the only one in the area?”

“Yes progeny of mine he is the only one in the area, Vekt enjoys his little jokes on me from time to time, damn old badger sees too much for a minor prince.. Officer of the link ..connect me to the .. Nine whipped bane..”

The Clan Vekt Alchemist class Frigate Nine Whipped Bane “the niner” was a clinker built rad bucket outwardly. A frankenfrigate, a class only by her rough mass , purpose and armament but defined as sarian by her outward dull grey hull. Her HAIK rather than being one curved or even angular unibody or set of bulkheads was the endless thin strips that a Juggernauts forges could create but which the science and art to meld together had been lost centuries ago.

The passage was ancient, scarred not by combat but by simple time. It was however well kept, anti spalling fabric well hidden behind carefully crafted paper thin metal weave work proofed against vacuum exposure. The pair of guards on the other hand looked ever outward, the ship lords cabin isolated here above the command deck, the command throne directly below it. One looked at the short pair of approaching figures, one far smaller and younger than the other. There garishly decorated thermal flash jackets and neat ships boots showing craftsmanship far beyond most of the ship's complement though the junior far less well decorated as of yet.

The leftmost guard stared at them for a moment before mumbling something into his throat mic.

“Erald he said he was sleeping in for the shift?”

Derk snorted “yes Pai and if he was “sleeping” in with half of Gunwarden Masdans daughters again or Mercos damn sump drippings well I’m not digging another ship lord out of that lunatics cleric obsessed hands but regardless of our valiant ship lords or even our glorious princes ..some messages come with to great a ..weight to be delivered save by hand. Bito I know you can hear me, open the damn door, i have something more important on hand than our Vekt Princlings ego to tell you about.


Three hours previously

Derk R Vekt drove forward in one elastic movement, secondary semi captive musculature almost hissing as it was for once released, feet here, movement of the elbow here, strike, strike return the moves long buried into far below memory. For just a moment in a day he was clean, clear of thought and complexity, purpose or reference, only the movement carried him across the practice spaces floor in a glide that entirely missed the lethality and just as he turned..and of course.

“Ah Master it is ah Krasa”

“Krasa what did I tell you the last fourteen times you interrupted me during my one moment of peace on this wretched bucket? “

“To never do so unless it was the grand master himself”

“So what is it this time, did perhaps the clerics favorite thick wits manage to catch you in the galley again? Or perhaps your jacket was “lost” in the laundry again, maybe your sonotomes needed retuning ? Or perhaps dear young Krasa you wanted to start your advanced lessons” Derk while he was speaking stalked forward eyebrows dancing dangerously upward. “That perhaps you were sick of the damn bladed playing beat the herald kid and you wanted to “

Krasa backed off, hands raised in supplication weasel faced and trained for murder and subterfuge but still too gentle and far too trusting of other heralds, especially Derk. Festering Xants rotten hide the boy still “believed” in the “cause”.

“Ah no sir, it ah sir its Grand Master Holek ah on the link”

“Sweet monstrous outcaste dung!, clean this up and get my things!”

Derk started to run from the practice space. Behind him Krasa almost reverently picked up the full heralds jacket gently running a hand over each award embossed on its surface, each telling its owners tale, and a far cry from his almost empty one. It was to be expected after all for a man of action like Derk to try and inspire him to greater deeds not that Derk would tell him why they had been posted on the niners less than pleasure filled decks.

“KRASA, MOVE IT!”

Krasa sighed and trudged as only an apprentice can, but at least he thought he was luckier than the rest of his creche mates, he after all was apprenticed to a hero.

[Valinon]

Axul

---

Leutnant Kali Pace squinted into the overpowering high afternoon sunlight streaming into the Valinor embassy in the Free State Republic’s capital. She found herself abruptly shuffled into an aerospace car minutes after the courier ship she boarded above Citic touched down at one of the federal military installations near the city.

The garish light was not helped by its strange disconnect from her brief meeting with the planetside Reichswehr’s intelligence officers in the wan, dusty morning light of Citic’s primary. It was the last sunlight she’d seen in less than day. The carefully orchestrated light streaming into the network of atriums, halls, and rooms of the upper half of one of Axul’s sloped towers was distortive, interrupted by the variety of uniforms and suits of the joint embassy’s personnel. Several of the uniforms were the white jackets and red pants used by the Ministry for Foreign Affairs for more formal functions, including that of the courier she was following. The courier she met in Citic carried twin slim-profiled cases and did not bother to introduce himself. She noticed the pairs and individuals carefully moving out of their way as they turned away from several lines of glass-walled offices to a darker corridor.

The courier’s eyes darted to her.

‘We’re expected by the ambassador’s private secretary.’

‘To meet with him first?’

‘No, to ensure neither of us is delayed.’

The wide door at the end of the corridor opened on its own and a slight, stooped-shoulder man in a conservatively cut, ashen three-piece suit with cream shirt and tie was silhouetted in intense light. His eyes darted quickly over the pair.

‘Laithe, commendably early as usual. Leutnant, you are expected. Please this way.’

The room they entered was massive. A long room with a ceiling and opposite wall made mostly of artificial formed glass to need minimal supports and few interruptions to the view. Off-white was separated from the floor on the other walls by a rich blue coming a third of the way up the wall. One end of the room was a carefully arranged lounge overlooked by an emblem Kali knew well in a digital form but never had seen physically.

The emblem of the joint diplomatic mission was rendered entirely in black and silver to match much of the furniture, a rampant, stylised Valinor lion looked right and toward the windows held its sword aloft and behind its head as two twin suns rotated behind it. On the opposite side the Verniian three-headed dragon arched its wings and entwined itself around the crest of the Calimars. In the middle of the two heraldic beasts, two letter Vs overlapped each other—one Kurrent style and one a sleek Deco font.

‘If you will pardon me for one moment, Leutnant,’ the older man’s voice turned her attention to the rest of the office. A massive, black desk that could have been basalt with several low and silver-and-black chairs around it. On the opposite side of the room a conference area with several matching sectional tables rising out of the floor in an elongated oval flattened at either end.

Laithe, the courier, raised up one of the slim cases. A distorted panel appeared and with a gesture from the older man an ornate signature scrawled across as a long chain of data hieroglyphs associated with the Foreign Ministry’s security clearances appeared.

‘Set out the files on the new water programme and the reports on the Empire Day supplies immediately. The full staff will need to consider them after the Ambassador meets with the Leutnant.’

With a terse nod, Laithe turned toward the conference table pulling out several flat, unmarked black squares smaller than a palm.

‘My apologies for the brevity of your visit, Leutnant,’ Kali found herself pulled along without a sign from the secretary. ‘Allow me a moment to announce you.’

The glass behind the desk irised open and the secretary stepped through and down to a small patio with several tables. One near the door was covered with several plates and a long, mostly empty bottle. The secretary addressed someone standing in a strange undulating shadow before returning.

‘Lord Wilhelm will see you, Leutnant.’

Seconds later Kali found herself on the patio behind the large man, tall with closely cut hair partially hidden by a wide-brimmed, blue-gray hat matching the tailored morning suit he was wearing. Quick, smooth movements of the hands briefly showed a slim case, then a thin cigarillo, and then a lighter. Then finally a brief flame and smoke.

By little more than that, Baron Wilhelm Karl von Hardenberg was recognisable to Kali. The former permanent ambassador to the League was an almost permanent fixture in the headlines circulated around C-CSSOF.

‘I assume Hamblen already made amends for the curt nature of your visit, Leutnant.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Good, and you were able to review the material we sent from our embassy in Usidia?’

‘The greatest part, Sir. Even with direct integration, the amount of information shared by Ambassador Dard-Marian was highly comprehensive. I am confident I understand the overall purpose of my detachment from operations in Citic.’

Von Hardenberg turned. His cigarillo almost teleported to his left hand. His eyes were obscured by reflective sunglasses underneath his hat. His thick, trimmed iron grey was twisted near his mouth in a slight smile.

‘Roselyne is very thorough, and it is appreciated. As is your honesty, but I am certain your confidence is not without question. The mission parameters you were given were designed to create a few for the plausible deniability of some that cannot follow you. And that means…?’

‘I am concerned about my credentials, Sir.’

‘Yes, you should be. If you would be so good as to sync with our local unisphere, I can solve that question for you.’

Almost without direction, Kali’s standardised Kriegsmarine muse integrated. In her vision, the ambassador briefly swam in a vague ripple of distortion. His own AU obscured through layers of encryption and privacy. But soon a new profile appeared before Kali. Her face underneath the IDENT and credentials of a liaison and evaluation officer with the Effective Commercial Securities Group, a Valinor security firm noted for its commerce protection activities beyond the Lanthine Lee. She made quick work of the profile.

‘It is somewhat more clear now, Sir, but not completely.’

Von Hardenberg pushed himself off the edge of the patio back toward the table, ‘But you see something from your previous services with the Verge Affairs.’

‘This is SAI work; its thorough without being too thorough. It includes all the small discrepancies you find in the Verge; the sort none of the metropolitan services would allow.’

‘Yes, so perhaps we are not too metropolitan here?’

Kali started.

‘Yes, Leutnant, I did read several of your briefings including ones from prior to your transfer to EXROA-COM. You are the best we can send without calling attention to our mission in Kilmer. You are also versed in the space in and around the Crumple Zone better than most of the senior staff from your time in OVA and Liu Xiu. But now we get to the thin meat of our conversation.’

Von Hardenberg moved back to the table, ‘As you are officially remaining here as a new liaison officer to this embassy, we shall say that you are off duty. Burgundy?’

He gestured to the partially emptied bottle on the table, and Kali finally saw the source of the undulating shadows when she turned around. Two flags rolled in the breeze of Axul’s afternoon, Valinor red-and-gold and Verniian black-and-white. Suitably large enough to be thin clouds.

‘No, Sir.’

‘As you wish,’ the ambassador filled his own glass. ‘You are, of course, preparing a report on your findings to the C-CSSOF intelligence division and EXROA-COM, but your transfer to the embassy comes with more than cover. You are also to provide me with any details related to the Usidian efforts in Kilmer, LifeStar, and their naval presence on the opposite side of Republic’s space. The effects Hamblen will give you before you board the Effective Securities convoy include the necessary protocols and encryption to reach us.’

‘Am I to include these in my reports to Citic.’

‘Include what you wish, but make sure I receive anything related to the Usidian diplomatic activities first. Our fellows in OVA Special Affairs are wise in this: to understand is stability, and in necessity there is law.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Hamblen,’ the secretary appeared almost unbidden, ‘see to it the Leutnant has at least lunch before we send her somewhere arguable worse than Citic.’

‘Yes, Lord Wilhelm.’

The Ambassador removed his glasses, ‘Godspeed and good luck. Lady Agatha and I will toast you, privately, on Empire Day and wish for the best.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

Dentor

---

Kali sat on her bunk in the small quarters with her back pressed hard up against the bulkhead. The Usidian navy clearly shared some of the Kriegsmarine’s approaches to efficiency, but the idea of a leutnant having their own quarters was anathema to the efficiency and space conversation obsessed minds behind the empire’s warship designs. The Admiralty also took pride in its spartanism, seeing the ‘opulence’ of the other Raumreich navies as wasteful and weak.

’...too metropolitan here..’

The approach to the internal architecture of their warships was not applied to the data. Kali was awash in data compiled by C-CSSOF, EXROA-COM, Verge Affairs, Foreign Affairs, and even External State Security. The threat analysis on Kilmer, raiding activities on the opposite side of the Republic’s spatial volume, swarm of briefs related to Life Star, and a full compendium on the United Systems from the Valinor embassy there scrolled in her augmented reality and triggered a variety of responses from the telltales along her eyes. It was the sixth or seventh time she had reviewed the data since leaving the merchant convoy and the Effective Securities destroyer among its escorts, but it was painting a clearer picture each time in many respects.

All the more so when she considered her carefully constructed credentials and service record with the private security group. Von Hardenberg did not lie when he said it was clearly a product of Special Affairs and Initiatives (SAI), but there’s wasn’t the only hand in it. The telltale symbols of Foreign Affairs and the Office of Kriegsmarine Intelligence (OKI) were present as well, but the small details related back to employment in the Solarian Reaches. Those were External State Security; the Laughing Service or the Lokis in OKI’s slang. It was a snide retort to ESS quiet preference for calling the naval intelligence service the In-Laws. SAI was a preferable distortion as the junior partner to both, but if they made this the asked their more robust colleagues in Alpha Centauri for assistance.

The credentials pulled forward in Kali’s vision. Her background and varied service was in profile analysis with a greater specialization in foreign pirates, but she’d been working in the diplomatic liaison service before being pulled to EXROA-COM by one of the personnel officers Großadmiral Tolwyn used to staff his new command. The transfer also made for more possibilities for a Madrasi officer; there were less palatable concerns about various imperial politics.

Rule from Alpha Centauri was not a tyranny. Kali just carefully understood the warping effect of the empire’s core system and government. It was similar to the experiences of light and reality near a singularity, distortion into something new. Unfortunately, Madras frequently found its opinions too liberal for the bulk of the empire. Not an issue in the confederated nature of local dominion politics, but some tried to apply it beyond the system.

There was an old adage. Old enough no one knew its source; some said the Raumreich; others said Sol. Never become of interest to the Valinor.

Unless you were the hand of that interest, of course.

The various documents and data-feeds collapsed. Kali grabbed the pale green tunic with the Effective Securities shield and crossed lightning bolts on either shoulder, gave herself time for a quick glance in the mirror, tucked the locked metallic cylinder with her actual service uniform and fatigues back into her bag and made her way to the bridge.

[Usidia]

Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1

“Performing staccato burst along the port side.” said Sanderson as his fighter coasted through the asteroid field. The Polaris drifted to the right as its directional thrusters pushed the fighter.

Scanners swept across the vast field of rocks as Red Thorn 1 and Red Thorn 2 moved through the debris.

“By the gods this is going to take forever.” complained the radar controller Sandra Hutchinson as she looked over how large the asteroid field was.

“Oh shut up.” said Kane Hultdin the weapons operator.

Sanderson rubbed his temples trying to relieve the headache caused by the bickering. He shifted in his seat out of habit more than being uncomfortable. The fighter team had just began scanning the far side of Sector 14 while Red Thorn 3 and 4 worked from the opposite side making a zig zag sweep scanning nearly every rock for anything suspicious.

“Sir we have a small contact bounce coming from the next grid over.” Came the voice of Red Thorn 2’s pilot Lieutenant Danielson.

“Alright Red Thorn 2 we’ll follow your lead.” replied Commander Sanderson.

Red Thorn 2’s thrusters pushed the nose of the fighter towards the possible contact and her primary engines flared to life and the fighter darted through the asteroids followed by Red Thorn 1 several kilometers behind.


16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field

“Sir, Red Thorn 2 is reporting a possible contact.” reported the ensign at the comm station.

“Acknowledge and bring us about sixty degrees helmsman and give me a forward thrust for three.” ordered Smithran.

“Aye aye sir.” replied the helmsman as he began pushing buttons on the control in front of him. Smithran didn’t feel the ship turn but he felt himself being pushed into his seat as the Arlene’s primary engines fired a short three second burst and pushed the corvette forwards before the engines cut out and the ship coasted through space.

“Bring the primary cannons about to cover Red Thorn 1 and 2.” ordered Smithran “And tell the Abagail we have s possible contact in Sector 14. And alert all hands to general quarters ”

The main cannons on the Arlene swung about and pointed themselves in the direction the two Polaris fighters were and a calm fell upon the bridge of the Arlenen. Smithran’s eyes scanned over the Holo-Tac screen in the middle of the bridge. The lighting aboard the ship dimmed down to a low yellow as well to alert every voidsmen aboard the ship to move to their combat station and to strap in.

“Prep Cells 1 through 8 for launch Ensign and begin long range scans for targets.” Smithran ordered as well.


16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
USS Abigail
Dentor Asteroid Field

“Franco is reporting a possible contact in Sector 14 Captain.” said Ensign Willows to the Captain

“Sonuvabitch.” grumbled Curtz to no one in particular at the information. “Couldn’t these assholes pulled this crap some other time.”

“Alert all hands to general quarters.” ordered Curtz. “Helmsman bring us about forty degrees and alert Blue Dog, let them know we may have a situation at hand.”

The sealed door for the bridge beeped and a holo-screen appeared to the right of the Captain’s arm. On it Curtz could see the Valinor representative outside the door.

“Let her in.” ordered Curtz, a few of the voidsmen looked at the Captain with a questioning look for a moment before the door slid open.

“Please come in Ms.Pace and get yourself strapped in.” ordered Curtz as his eyes quickly looked over the Leutnant before his eyes dashed back to his Holo-Tac screen.

“The Arlene and her fighter escorts are reporting a possible contact in the sector they are currently scanning.” Curtz informed Kali. “The Abagail and her escorts will stand by in support and engage if the contact is deemed to be a threat, if it’s not we go back to our scans of the asteroid field.”

“Unfortunately we are at general quarters at the moment so I can not have anything you desire brought to you, but if it is lifted is there anything you would like mam.” asked Curtz of the Leutnant.

[Sarian Raider Clans]

An outcaste is nothing but a disposable unformed tool of little value. A well placed loyal radworn who is of your blood? A priceless agent that should be used with purpose, honor and haste. Honor you scoff? The fate of the radworn is the fate of us all in the end. So honor them. For one day if you are the best of us you will join their ranks.


The modified beheader Kissing Mist was as stealthy as the Niners various shiplords could afford to carry in her limited internal hanger space, unlike her more roughly used sisters her more delicate aspects were not up to the racks. She was however modified not built for the task so while low aspect she was far more visible than say the bladed eye sub class that a prince had at his disposal.

The chunk of HAIK and thrusters was in truth a long way from dedicated, drive baffles rather than a baffled drives, thermal management plates rather than an integrated full spectrum mimic systems, turrets replaced with sensors and a single massive passive set of optics rather than true herald sealed sensor packages. It was old too and it was beginning to show though not quite as much as its commander.

Bladed Ras Has Vekt was old and he was tired. The dull clink of the radworn sigil on his chest-plate every time he took a drink indicated that to all far more than his decorations, many of which were bleached from the light of a dozen stars. He had led the charge of the Vekt princes outcaste at the braking of the Lankth Federates last capital fleet and become both named and bladed by his use of tactics, a feat rare in of itself.It had simply cost him nearly every one of the siblings he had used to bind the outcaste into something resembling a squadron. He had scouted the Sirius republics orbital bastions and it had simply cost him his left leg and gained him breeding rights. He had helped Bitos predecessor three times removed gain control of the Niner for one last chance at going out in glory for he had felt it then.

The Radwear. The bite of not just years but too long spent in variable gravity, in hulls that were too thin, reactors run too hot, suits that were too old and shields that flickered too often. For all the self repair the Xants had worked into the sarian form on-top of there already prodigious biological tenacity, space and battle pulled no punches.

None the less Ras had a job to do and he hoped it was not quite yet his final one. The young herald had been quite clear on that after Bito had handed him the orders chit. That was why the Mists usual duo of missiles was missing and the egg shaped drop tanks cradled her in there place.

From the sensor position the also aged and worn shipwarden spoke, her voice as cracked as her displays, the relay symbols leading in system flashing slowly as the positions became ever cleaner, the echoes and sources lighting up across them in shades and glyphs.

“They have entered the edge of block theta.”

Ras gently tapped his controls with the speed and accuracy that had the backing of decades and still lacked the shake of those quite too far gone.

“Good. Let us give them something to chase then. Pridefull going active but what can one expect. Let us see if they match our outcaste for hot tempers ..release the first cohort to begin, run another passive check on the field and put me on to the second.”

On his display the outcaste icons surged forward in series as commands reached them, the single squadron of beheaders in far worse condition if far better armed than the Mist already running hot and obvious and beyond them the mines last known position simply shaded, warnings as the outcaste aboard them hammered weapons controls who were not yet released. These however were the cullings, those that no amount of discipline had managed to shape into something truly worthy.

Moments later the first cohorts missiles would lash out the moment range was reached, compressed reality drives playing off each other and the flash of fission and fusion illuminating it all as a full third detonated at a closing vector to cover the beheaders approach. A sad joke to Ras now that he knew those were to blind sensors rather than the gunwarden mismanufacturers he had beleived them to be when he too had only a designation. In some things the outcaste had to be protected from themselves, having payloads that were not entirely lethal was one of them.

Gun turrets unlimbered and fire control systems already flashing threat vectors to the nameless outcaste within as the second cohort followed, fire held but both showed ragged position, the classic singular warrior aspect of the outcaste rather than the disiplined manouvers of the bladed showing to an experienced eye as throttles were played with and vectors danced. Ras hoped the spacers on the other side enjoyed the display. He certainly would.

One hand gently wrapped around his drink, the clink of the sigil and then the other slowly caressed but did not yet depress the detonator etched into the mine field control window.

As the first cohort flew into there fates and the second followed he gently inserted the return command into the queue of pre sets of the second… leading directly through the mine field.

After all were they still just outcaste, and the hulls of there be-headers could always be recovered with victory or time. The HAIK could take it and the old and battered systems needed to be reworked or replaced by the shipwardens in any case. First and second cohort. What a bad joke to a bladed or a court member.

First and second most disposable more like it, better a fire to clean it all than a slow rot.

As he pondered the display updated as relays pulsed once more, the first flashing blue wash of glyphs appearing as the two cohorts 57mms silently etched there paths across space to follow the missiles or create unhealthy vectors to be on.

[Valinon]

Dentor

---

Kali nimbly darted through the closing blast doors after Curtz gave his leave over the din of a warship's bridge summoning its crew to battle stations. She nodded her thanks and then moved quietly to the observer station in view of the Abigail's tactical display, using her optics to maintain a distance that was both observable but also well out of the way of Curtz and his crew.

'No, sir,' Kali studied the position of the Arlene and her fighters as they raced to intercept as she secured her straps. 'But please let me know if I may return the favour in any way to you and your crew.'

She also quietly checked the Flickinger field generator clipped to her utility belt and carefully clipped the recycler to her collar. Valinor, Verniian, Ortagan, or any other Raumreicher navy would never understand the willingness of much the rest of the galaxy to face battle on the security of their seals and internal damage control alone. Her skinsuit may be tucked into her gear—some equipment was simply to obvious even when stripped of its most and least obvious associations with the Kriegsmarine—but Kali wanted at least an offhand chance that she could survive until C-CSSOF or its allies in the FSR navy detailed someone to rescue her from the vacuum.

The small comforts of combat preparation attended to, Kali turned her attentions fully to Curtz, his crew, and small task force's preparations for combat. The details of the Usidian displays were quietly overlaid with the details of C-CSSOF and OKI. It was generic at this stage. The potential ambush was routine, a tactic as tried and tested by the established navies of the galaxy as any raiding group. Only a few isolated circles of data were whisked away, those of the rogues and the fanatics not capable of even the pretense of subtle and tactical considerations. Those almost, even in the cautious estimates of her own service, deemed too stupid to survive in space.

Unfortunately, the flash of events soon revealed that whatever the Abigail's and Arlene's opponents were they were determined and skilled if not mindless fanatics. Kali held her curse to herself; mindless fanatics were too common in the galaxy. They were at least easily outmatched by anyone with training and restraint.

A new chorus of alarms sounded across the bridge and provoked a slight, if unevenly distributed, roll of tension. The holographic representation of Red Thorn 2 flared and vanished from the plot as it was confronted by a rising flurry of new signatures. Several were sustained bursts of energy, the telltale sign of active, directed engine signatures. Others were brief linear or curving slashes.

Missiles, especially missiles used tactically for ranged engagements, were not as common as Kali's assumed logic before commissioning suggested. Many forces—organised or otherwise—relied on near-suicidal ranges in the Kriegsmarine's assessment no matter what theatre you served in. None of that assessment arrived in time to offer the Usidian fighter much of a chance.

The disruptive energy and EW snarl of missile combat was soon mixed with the more staccato patterns of gun turrets. Curtz's enemy was clearly intent on keeping his forces from the belt, or at least giving the appearance thereof.

She turned to the captain, 'Sir, any concrete visual on the targets would be appreciated. It may be possible I could offer some assessments if something more than a sensor profile on their ships can be provided.'

[Usidia]

Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1

Something was wrong.

Sanderson felt the hairs raise up on the back of his neck as they followed Red Thorn 2 through the asteroids. The adrenaline surged up through his spine for a moment before the bio-scan in his suit detected the increased heart rate and pushed a phenobarbital into his bloodstream. Sanderson felt his nerves go away and his mind clear up seconds later.

“Kane, I got an itchy feeling about this, begin tracking with the cannon and load me four shots of the SRM.” ordered Sanderson as he flipped a couple switches and prepped countermeasures.

“Cut speed ten percent.”

“Red Thorn 2 this is Red Thorn 1, there’s something hinky about this.” said Sanderson over the radio as he watched the video feeds and watched the scans on Sandra’s screen.

Their whole world turned to red a second later as alarms began blaring. Two contacts rolled out of nowhere and opened fire into the fighter duo. Missiles streaked in and slammed into Red Thorn 2 before she could activate countermeasures. The fighter seemingly just broke apart as the explosions ripped through her.

“Party poppers now!” the Commander ordered urgently as cannonfire from the two contacts arced by Red Thorn 1, the fighter shuddering as multiple impacts tire into it’s armor.

“Port ninety degrees, engines max thrust.”

The fighter turned sharply as three canisters ejected from the front towards the contacts. The engines flared to full life and the fighter tried to desperately escape. Several white beacons of light exploded across the empty black space as the party poppers began spewing chaff and white phosphorous flares.

“Cut engines, give me a one eighty flip and fire missiles.” Sanderson ordered

The Polaris’ engines cut power, still sailing through space along its vector the nose of the fighter flipped around and pointed back towards the two contacts. Four SRM missiles launched from the mag rails and and ignited their thrusters a second after they were released.
“Flip and thrust, track the lead contact and fire a cannon burst.”

Turning back the way it was moving the engines kicked back on and the fighter screamed away while it’s 75mm cannon swung about and fired off fifty rounds towards the lead contact all done in under thirty seconds.

16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field

“Goddamnit.” Smithran said as he watched Red Thorn 2 suddenly shatter into a million pieces. Smithran was still relatively young and had yet to be fully tested in combat. Watching three men suddenly die shook him more than it should have. Anger rose up into his chest as he felt accountable for the death of the men in the fighter.

“Get me a firing solution on those two contacts and launch at once.” ordered Smithran as the Arlene rolled and presented her missiles cells. The ship linked into the target data streaming from Red Thorn 1 and launched a salvo of ten missiles towards the two attackers trying to snuff out Red Thorn 1

“Transmit data into Red Thorn 3 and 4, tell them to proceed with caution, but I want those sons of bitches dead.” Smithran said with determination as he watched the screen and the missiles streaked away from the Arlene and towards the contacts.
“I want these bastards to know no one fucks with the Usidian Navy.”

16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
USS Abigail
Dentor Asteroid Field
Curtz furrowed his brow as he watched Red Thorn 2 destroyed and he shook his head.

“Damn shame.” he mumbled before his attention was grabbed by the Valinor asking for a visual on the attackers.

“Right, pull me up a visual on the attackers.” ordered Curtz as Ensign Willows began typing on her keyboard and a video feed from Red Thorn 1 was patched in. Curtz leaned towards the screen and studied the gray ships that appeared. They didn’t look like the belonged to any star state he had heard of, but the Galaxy was vast and there was always some warlord with delusions of grandeur. He smirked at the spikes than ran along the nose of the ship, apparently they wanted to seem ‘scary’.

“Bunch of brigands it seems, Franco will have this wrapped up in a moment.” Curtz stated confidently with a smile. “Have Blue Dog hold position and let them know they can continue their scans shortly.”

“Well at least you get to see what the Polaris is capable of.” Curtz said smugly to Kali with a smirk on his face.

[Valinon]

Dentor

---

Kali's eyes flickered as her muse indicated it was recording the plot using her optical n-plants and several other microdot devices worked into her uniform and other wetware. It was a common practice for observation missions, and her hosts would've been made aware of most the capabilities by the naval adjutants in Usidia and the FSR. She highlighted the response of Red Thorn One to the destruction of its wingman.

Noted.

The Kriegsmarine's suite of muses for the enlisted and recently commissioned were not known for their verbosity. It did continue to build on the profile from the Abigail's sensors and tactical feeds. Thankfully, the scaled approach of the Usidians' canister-based counter-missile technology did not add to the growing EW disruption in the engagement area. It also allowed the fighter's returning fire to be tracked as missiles raced back toward the unidentified hostiles. The missiles were soon tracked by railgun fire.

There was a ripple along the space where the attack started from and Kali turned her attention to it as Curtz's visual was pulled up.

‘Thank you, sir; I’m comparing this to pirate and raiding activity our convoy escorts have encountered.’

The info-feeds in telltales suddenly scaled outward pulling forward a profile based on visual IDs and the current engagement profile. The new, hovering sphere was couched underneath the Office of Verge Affairs (OVA) emblem with further security codes marking it as sourced from the Office's department for Special Affairs and Initiatives (SAI). The information offered details on Sarian clans operating beyond the Lanthe Route or near OVA administered territories. There was a considerable amount of information, and Kali was aware of what that meant. SAI was known for co-opting local mercenaries or something worse to bolster its operational resources when operating beyond the Pale of the Verge. Given the problems Sarians were causing in space along the Eucer on the opposite side of Alpha Centauri, she imagined OVA's metropolitan authorities carefully edited some of their trans-Lanthine activities before submitting them to the longer established entities in the empire's intelligence community.

There were small favours in that the SAI profile did not quite match the visual or the EP. She at least didn't need to worry about covering the Office's dirty laundry—

Something more than a ripple came through the interference snarl. Kali glanced at Curtz. Too far away to make this subtle.
‘Captain! Focus the scans on the attackers, if at all possible. I think they may be in a formation obscuring the sensor returns to conceal their numbers.’

[Sarian Raider Clans]

The Xant did not bombard. They did not exterminate or even dominate. They were an absolute. They either owned you and yours or expunged you utterly. They unmade you and everything you had touched. What did they unmake you may ask? Worlds. Stars. Whole Clusters that simply ceased to be. They did not war with any, that was beneath them, they simply removed, they edited and wrote anew. War? That was our task and in truth our long bloodletting? it was not true war for them. It and our whole existence? the great and terrible "Xantian" league? was entertainment, and for them it was the low class entertainment of the bilge dweller at that.

Beheaders die hard. But these are far from peak condition and they do die as weapons slash into them. HAIK resists for a moment and for some but in the end its as limited as the platform its mounted on and the patchwork ships are often struck on those patches of hull metal salvaged from a hundred races, rounds digging deep into them or through them.

Aging systems issued to the Out-caste failing under strain or battle damage add to the count, reality compression engines driven too far or too hot filling compartments with white hot mist that does not just burn but warps in one spectacular blast that echoes across sensors like a great drum struck in in the silence of a library.

57mm Guns flash as beheaders turrets rotate like the heads of a dozen snakes, each trying desperately to catch missiles or even rounds, while others roil fire endlessly at targets as the first cohorts falls apart into individuals, each chasing their own target, some darting towards the Arlene the rest going for anything on scope.

The second cohort however does not break apart it is held together by stronger things than just the will of men as cold code implemented by an old mind locks them within rules they cannot change. Some fountain apart under fire like a melon hit by a sledge. Others die as spectacularly as the mayhem of the first cohort. Then as one they fire brake and run. Not at the squadron but at the Arlene itself.

Ras’s stare is cold, his motions silent as he watches the glyphs change, he grimaces not from the losses but from the ache in his back as he adjusts himself in his seat.

He is old and he does not wish to be anymore but Heralds orders are almost if not quite “true” orders.

Dentor cometary halo outer edge

It was small. No larger than an orange and yet it contained truly terrible possibility. It shouldn't exist. No natural process no matter how energetic could have crafted its complexity and yet hideous simplicity. By the same measure a rational mind would find that the thing that sat eating starlight simply should not be, it was too dense yet space did not bend, it was too un-massive yet objects around it distorted and warped, it was too hot and too cold, too bright and entirely too dark.

While purpose by actions could be discerned it was truly other in its construction and makeup and how it did what it did? No. It was for want of better simply on some deep level wrong to behold.

It did not really think but yet it knew, as it knew it began to change as it fell ever star ward and it begins to act to reach. When it passes the heliopause a critical point of energy investment that need became action as matter begins to enter its grasp and the vaguest of local and true instrumentality is once again reached.

It needs ..density. The gas giants are discounted immediately. It needs more. It has more than just knowing and response now it has intent. The things course becomes non ballistic, not by any means fast but now its reaching for fuel to bring it close to truly knowing again. For this only one thing will do. Dentor itself. All of it. Then it will know slightly greater amounts again, be slightly faster, closer to its true purpose. It would already it knew need more.

The Niner had drifted towards it, great forward gun ports closed over its pluggers, engines cold, reactors banked. Its hull studded with the remaining out caste and less well off bladed be-headers, there sensors and endless dance around the frigate locked down by suddenly terse and stern Shipwardens.

Bitos voice on the ship wide was strangely more silent than usual, more driven with intent and sobriety than it had been in months. Even the outcaste acted docile as if something in there very bones was informing their actions.
Of course it was. Countless millennia of alteration do not leave things unchanged and the Xant had more than helped that process along.

The hanger had been almost reverent for once as the diminutive bronze device that for all the world looked like a tuning fork was gently mated to Derks own Heraldic beheader by half the ships entire Gunwarden force. Krasa had forlornly trudged aboard. Even the launch siren was silent as they gently left Niners bubble of light, heat and air and headed towards the thing, the strange blades that usually lay flat studding the decorated little ship rising and falling like kelp in a forest moving against currents no one could see, older jaded gun wardens shuddering at the sight and what it meant while the younger averted there view.

When the heralds launch was completed after Niners course had taken it some distance she turned gently inward, her single great dorsal top dish pointing towards the action and began doing something as the vectors of the ships in system slowly lined up to something it could cover.

The Shipwardens could have explained the terms, the limits and anyone could see the effect but they did not understand nor could they. They could use tools, materials and time even replicate the device at the core of the dish and indeed their brethren aboard a Juggernaut would do just that as a matter of course. But just like the object falling star-ward it was unknowable.
It wasn't an omnipresent effect, it was directional, limited. Perfect for ambush. It was obfuscation, misdirection not just of electromagnetics’ but of reality itself. For looking at the dish from system ward the Niner and all its effects simply were not. If one looked even further out in the line of effect if Niner had ever done a thing and the light were detectable that too would not be nor any action of its crew.

But here scale, FTL and the Sarian life span played its terrible joke.

No one aboard the Niner was over sixty and Dentor was far more than that away from “civilized” space, not that any of their actions could be counted as cosmic, no planets had been diverted from orbits by any of their paltry acts, no stars put out. There was truly nothing to observe save that carried over the line of the sidereal umbrella of never was by a ship or method that bypassed the lines of the effect itself. The dish had been a toy, useless of course for a Xant in most circumstances.

The dish doing whatever it was that an Alchemist class was infamous for doing Niners drives lit up and it began to plunge inward, Bito’s voice now calling out commands, outcaste once more wide eyed and jumping from movement to movement in there near demented variant of Sarian locomotion.

The dishes effect in comparison to the thing even now was nothing but a candle compared to a star. For Niner and indeed for sanity it was quite enough.

[Usidia]

16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
USS Abigail
Dentor Asteroid Field

“Goddamnit.” muttered Curtz as he realized his mistake. Sure enough the Valinor officer was correct and suddenly there were several more contacts on the ship’s threat detection system.

“They’re going to swarm the Arlene.” Ensign WIllows reported as she tracked the movements of the enemy vessels. Her face furrowed as she watched an unusual and unique signature flash from the destruction of one of the enemy vessels.

“Activate thrusters to full power, the Arlene will need the assist I think.” said Curtz as he pushed a button on his suit and his head became enclosed. “Sound the combat alarms and put the emergency repair crews on alert.”

“I am sorry Leutnant Kali I had hoped we would not have to become directly engaged however we need to push in to assist, you’ll feel a slight pressure change as we pump our hull down to match so we don’t get torn apart if we are hit by enemy munitions.” explained Curtz

“Ensign tell Blue Dog to advance at full thrust and engage with everything they got.” ordered Curtz as the main thrusters engaged and pushed the Abigail towards the fight.

Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1
Sanderson watched his feed and felt a bit of satisfaction as he witnessed the destruction of two of the enemy vessels. He was mildly shocked when two contacts became eight. However these ships seemed to be held together more by hopes and dreams than anything.

“Cut engine power and give me a one eighty flip, begin tracking lead contacts again and rattle me off a burst.” Sanderson said before the enemy formations broke up and the most of the ships vectored towards the Arlene while simultaneously launching missile attacks against the Liberty corvette.

“Incoming munitions.” reported Hutchinson as more cannonfire ripped into the hull of Red Thorn 1.

“Two directional thrusters on the port side are malfunctioning.” said Hutchinson “Hull integrity at thirty percent, they’ll be punching through our armor on the next burst if we let them”

“Firing.” reported Kane as the 75mm swung about again and fired of two more fifty round bursts.

“Red Thorn 3 and 4 vectoring in for an attack.” came the voice of Red Thorn 3’s commander over the comm.

Sanderson watched as the two icons for Red Thorn 3 and 4 pushed in towards what was left of the front enemy formation and each fighter launched a two missile salvo towards the enemy ships.

“Secondary enemy formation looks like they’re going to try their luck against the Arlene.” said Hutchinson “Don’t think that’s going to work out to well for them.”

“We’ll see.” Sanderson said with a bit of uneasiness in his voice as he watched his Holo-Tac.

16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field
“Multiple enemy contacts now.” said the Ensign as the enemy formations broke up and the two contacts became eight enemy contacts then five enemy contacts as missiles from Red Thorn 1 and the Arlene snuffed them out.
“By the gods.” muttered Smithran as he watched his Holo-Tac. The flashing yellow lights in the bridge turned red suddenly as the enemy launched missiles at the Arlene.

“Deploy counter-measures and activate point defense.” Smithran ordered

Several canisters were launched from the side of the Arlene towards the incoming missiles attack. Several eyes in the bridge watched their screens as they waited apprehensively.

The canisters detonated near the group off missiles knocking most of them out but three managed to slip through the counter-measures.
“Point defense guns firing.” reported the ensign as the smaller 20mm cannons activated and began firing long bursts at the remaining missiles managing to knock out two of them.

“Brace for impact.” came the soft voice of the computer over the ship’s loudspeaker as the remaining missile streaked in and impacted the side of the Arlene

Smithran closed his eyes and his body tensed up in his chair as he waited for the impact. The Arlene shuddered a little as the explosion tore into her side.

“Damage report.” ordered Smithran as the red lights faded back into the dull yellow throb

“Missile cells 1 through 4 have been knocked out sir.” reported one of the Ensigns.

Smithran inhaled and exhaled deeply, he didn’t like that some of offensive capability was taken away but he couldn’t risk his repair crews to fix the damaged missile cells.

“Target with the main cannons and begin firing.” said Smithran

The primary cannons on the Arlene adjusted slightly and all four cannons slung out a 150mm slug towards the attacking contacts. Seconds later another salvo was fired followed by another.

“Surge the engines and alter course towards the enemy vessels, it’s time to end this nonsense.” said Smithran as the Arlene adjusted course towards the enemy formation at full speed.

[Sarian Raider Clans]

Some people call us pirates. Some of us are. Some call us smugglers, raiders, looters of worlds, barbarians at there gates. Some of us are all of those things. But all of us? from the most young babe to the most radworn elder? all of us are one thing more. We are warriors to the bone. It is not of our making but I think after all we shall make the best of it.


Heraldic Beheader Silent Scream

Krasas immature fingers danced across the control board as fast as combat enhanced ligaments and neural webs re-designed by the mad and steadied by a thick incredibly bitter narcotic soup Derk had winced while preparing and dosing them both could propel them, each key press a thud that in his current state seemed to echo up his arms and resonate deep in his chest in an uncomfortable buzzing. His brow perspired as an over tuned metabolism ate through the drug cocktail with the disturbing efficacy of any herald-born. However while it lasted he kept the carefully moving blades across the Silent Screams hull flexing in time to the surrounding strange displays the monitors around him were showing.

Above on the heads up rather than the normal navigation displays timers and glyphs hovered in horrible percentile certainty and below what was usually the calm cleanly shape of a herald kept ship numerous data keys and components strewn across the cramped little bridge showed that nearly every higher order computational or cognition device was either turned off or disabled during the more than slightly perilous approach.

Derk barked from the piloting position again his voice unnaturally calm, his hands delicately touching the simple tertiary MH2 pellet RCS whose banging retorts as each pellet volatilized was a welcome drum beat in the silence of the still flashing but muted warnings that danced across half the displays. .

"percentage"

"Fifty four master, synch rate is 59."

Derk cursed in a dozen gal standard languages and some entirely non standard under his breadth as the warnings grew and gently tapped the ship ever closer while beneath and deep within the missile carousel the tuning fork shaped device began to gently glow with hard radiation disturbingly pulsing at the same rate as the thing tumbling star ward.

"Niner will enter contact soon master"

"Ignore Niner lad. That's not our fight today"

Even in his drugged state Krasa winced. Derk never called him lad unless things were really at the grinders door.

Half a light minute away the shard picked up the pace star-ward and Derk cursed in half a dozen languages more before putting on more thrust.



Niner

Niners command throne was in no way ostentatious, just as her outward appearance was slightly haggard and Bito's almost disheveled wino like person upon it did little to buck up that image. Little more than a glyph carved crash pod like the others that were in the ops pits but backed by a triangle of bladed. Unlike the rest of the bridge there no expense had been spared, armored boots locked to the deck and bodies encased in power frames plugged into hard contact connectors to the ships drive allowing them to walk about unimpeded by Niners less than perfect inertial compensators and hard combat burns which like most things the Sarian crews ran far past there rated limits.

Most people would only see the disheveled clothes or the supposedly dirty ill kept weapons of his bladed. Bito however was nearly always stone cold sober, playing the sodden quick to anger maniac had suited him, he was after all quite happy where he was, often underestimated, willing to forgo ego that was rare for a ship lord but then most ship lords had not crawled up from the gutter like he had and unchallenged by those wanting to climb the ladder to greater things. It did not mean he didn't enjoy the odd drink though and this sort of thing was just the thing to drive someone to it.

His voice usually boisterous was cold and simple as he snapped out the odd command but really on final approach there was little to do save bother the gun wardens, the three green lights of the ships multi gun clear in his line of vision making even that pointless. He despised waiting but what was one to do when one captained an ambusher.

"Time?"

"twelve minutes lord, ten until they can see us"

"They have begun pursuit lord, the out-caste second cohort is in retreat and Ras is preparing a burn."

"well lets see if Ras still has a few fireworks in him"

Star-ward in the rocks that Niner approached what was left of the second cohort dashed, all pretense at combat broken as they tried everything an out-caste could to avoid the wash of fire from the Arlene and her small craft, there turrets now nearly entirely slaved to defence. Following a course that sadly for them only there systems danced across with safety glyphs.

Slightly less system-ward Ras sighed as the spheres of the mines kill zones gently began to slide into position and vectors began to align. Time to see just how good the navy boys sensors were given they were so willing to be active.

[Usidia]

16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Blue Dog 1
Dentor Asteroid Field

Commander Carey Williams’ eyes carefully scanned her feeds as her fighter ripped through the expanse of space between her and Red Thorn as fast as her engines could push.

“I want all weapons online and ready to engage hostiles as soon as we’re within range.” ordered the Commander.

Her weapons operator began flipping switches as he armed the missile rails and spun up the fighter’s primary cannon.

“Hold fire until we’re on top of these sons of bitches, I don’t want them to know what hit them until it’s too late for them to do anything about it. Cut power and shut down all active sensors, we’ll coast in and make it harder for them to detect us.” said Carey.

A few moments later the entire interior of the ship went dark as the power was cut and the fighter interior turned virtually pitch black except for the cockpit window. The fighter soared through the empty space littered with a few asteroids here and there.

Commander Williams continued to watch her passive sensor feeds with a smirk on her face. She wondered what the enemy reaction would be like once they had another squadron of fighters amongst them.


Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1


“Red Thorn 3 and Red Thorn 4 continue your pursuit and eliminate the remaining enemy contacts.” ordered Sanderson “Red Thorn 1 will hold back in reserve, our hull armor is nearly compromised.”

“Copy that Red Thorn 1, we’ll continue pursuit.” came the reply from Red Thorn 3’s commander.

Sanderson’s eyes narrowed at his Holo-Tac, something felt off about how the enemy had attacked so aggressively but now they had their tail tucked between their legs and were fleeing the battlefield.

“I don’t understand, do you think they didn’t realize what they were up against?” questioned Sanderson.

“I think they didn’t realize they were attacking elements of the Usidian Navy sir.” smirked Kane as he leaned forward.

“No.” said Sanderson as his eyes narrowed at the Holo-Tac. “They could have easily seen that we were military ships on their readouts.”

“Did you see what they’re ships looked like, they were barely held together.” laughed Sandra “Nah I bet they thought they had some unlucky merchant ship in their sights.”

“Maybe.” replied Sanderson as his eyes searched the Holo-Tac looking for any sign or clue that his hunch was right.



16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field

“Look at them run like cowards.” said Smithran as an almost disappointed look came across his face. “The least they could have done was to stand their ground and die like men.”

Smithran watched the screen as the rats flee before him. He was a little happy the fight was nearly over.

“Give me a one eighty roll and target with another double salvo.” ordered Smithran.

The Arlene’s directional thrusters fired and the ship did a barrel roll and presented her undamaged port side missile batteries. A twenty missile salvo was launched from the Arlene towards the remaining enemy vessels.

“I almost wish we could leave one alive so he could warn his buddies.” mused Smithran as he watched the missiles streak towards the survivors.

[Valinon]

Dentor

---

Kali’s eyes moved with an unnatural quickness as fire continued to build between the Arlene and its fighter escort. Her focus resulted in Curtz receive a brisk, if still professional nod, at the news the Abigail was redlining its drive to its distant sister ship. Her stance widened in a habituated practice engrained by the Kriegsmarine even after centuries of inertia compensation. G-force training was still a routine for officers and sailors.

The leutnant and her muse were feasting on the data being provided by Curtz’s tactical display and sensor feeds, but Kali’s vision increasingly swam with ghostly projections and further analysis from previous engagements with known raiding groups in the trans-Perseus space. The pirates attempt to swarm the isolated corvette was proforma, a textbook effort to overwhelm a divided force, even if poorly executed. She doubted if it mattered that the Arlene was the command ship for the strike force. Comm traffic from the Usidian warships was limited enough to offer few details assuming the pirates were scanning it in detail.

Space around the Arelene was disrupted by a familiar snarl as the missiles detonated after evading the Usidian countermeasures. A new info-feed appeared offering a less than flattering assessment of the CM canisters from her muse, but it also highlighted some information on the missile signatures. Several projected engagement patterns started to rise above the rest.

The Arelene rolled and returned fire. The pirates moved to run, accelerating away from the warship and her fighters. It was a hard turn and a clear move to escape, but it was organised.

Three projections flashed blue then red and pulsed with a white outline.

You are certain?

Operational information corresponds within 80 percent accuracy based on the last year rotational data provided by fleets operating under the Eucer Corridor Command.

There are no reports of Sarians operating on this side of the Solarian Reaches.

OKI revised files notes operational projections on all Sarian raiding bands are incomplete. Addendum from SAI notes activity in the Gamma volumes but only from before the Displacement.

Kali moved closer to Curtz.

‘Captain, I will advise some caution based on the attack patterns observed so far. I cannot be certain, but this attack does match with Sarian raiding tactics observed along the Eucer Corridor.’ There was no need to mention whatever OVA may or may not know, ‘The Sarians are more tactically minded than other pirates, and they will withdraw rather than suffer unnecessary losses.’

‘They are also known to withdraw with the purpose of drawing convoy escorts into the engagement range of a larger vessel—frigates and cruisers, the occasional battlecruiser among larger tribes. The number of fighters suggests a smaller tribe, but they can either being trying a more obvious lure or waiting to signal their parent vessel to jump in behind us or cut across our effort to rejoin the Arelene.’

[Sarian Raider Clans]

Somewhere in Jump-space, the system dominator class Juggernaut Alaria Vanda Vekt

The chamber was vast, for room was far too limited a word to describe an environment that was to say the least cluttered. It would almost be chaotic when first viewed but for the organic flow of objects around sections of chairs that seemed to mushroom up out of the collection. Cases, urns and heavily scarred vaults,ships safes and stand mounted displays lay in odd positions, great rugs and tattered banners providing carpeting atop finely polished marbles and woods taken from ten thousand raids across the millennia, spot and up-lights gently illuminating smashed sections of ships, shreds of weapon and the odd skull or removed cybernetic in a variety of permaplast transparent cases of a disturbing variety of shapes and colours.

Prince Ilium Randar De'Vekts desk was none of these things. A simple marble obelisk among the flow, its front with the Vekt clan glyph, behind him a selection of princes own weapons on sculpted HAIK rack. Analogue displays linked into the ship feed, his bladed knights neatly standing out of view of the display that neatly projected in front of him.

A gaunt old figure not known for frivolity he was however not only not seated but bent over with mirth and slapping his desk repeatedly as the Heraldic crest faded from the communication, his council standing in front of him.

"and a growing shard, HAH the old fool wont have a choice now but to promote the bloody jester! finally! Hah and then HE will have to deal with him!"

A gunwarden heavy with age, teeth gritting almost spat out the words.

"If he lives your highness"

Ilium looked up, eyes cold, mirth gone in the flash of bodily control.

"I despise the flippancy, his prancing grates and the grinder forgive me but the apprentice the old man inflicted upon him would be a chain around anyone's nethers. I never said I thought him incompetent after all Terv ..its not as if you would go out there against that now would you?"

Niner

Five.

The whiskery antennae retracted as the disk of the reality mirror began to enter its armored dorsal mounted shroud, the great shadowy field of view into a reality where the Niner simply was not there beginning to fade out.

Four.

The hiss of the hydraulics pushing out the trio 400mm pluggers in the main bow was audible throughout the room, echoing up through the deck plates, simple white anti flash paint and stark warnings abounded on the bulkheads. The gunwardens in bulky ship powered firing suits and illuminated by the crackling purple and blue glow of cherenkov radiation gently saw to the spatial compression systems.

Three.

Turrets whined as local capacitors charges reached maximum, ordinary crew and lower ranked gun wardens gently coaxing there systems to maximum. Coolant hissing into reclamation as here and there guns quench systems final tests filled the areas around the barrels with vapor that then was greedily re consumed.

Two.

In Niners tiny excuse for a great bay mounted in her underbow the duo of her assault shuttles stood ready, there winglets studded with boosters and counter measure carosels, ahead of them the main bay doors thick haik was obscured as net carried combat whipple had slid into place, the ship handlers, deck crew all waiting behind blast doors to rush in as soon as launch was completed. But on its walls a great host of outcaste lay, suits clamped to support hoses, simple space compression backpacks and handweapons ready, billowing thermal flash suits making there twitching movements glitter as ship handling gear clinked overhead with Niners every move.

One.

Bito watched the countdown as the command rooms displays slowly updated from the passives and relays. As the glyph changed to its last form before vanishing he barked out a simple word, his command thrones restraints already tight around his suit.

"Fire".

As the field completely vanished ahead Niners pluggers filled space with ethereal blue rips as the prow mounted battery fired, Niners entire structure flexing as reality compression rings in there barrels rammed the degenerate matter tipped fragmentary shells up to speeds that a similar magnetic accelerator would have cooked half her crew to accomplish while a star of beheaders broke out around her in a formation that distinctly screamed defense.

[Usidia]

16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Arlene
Dentor Asteroid Field

Smithran smiled as another one of the smaller enemy craft crumbled to pieces from the Arlene’s punishing gunfire.

“Give me another forward thrust for ten…” Smithran said before he suddenly stopped as the larger craft appeared suddenly on the his ship’s Holo-Tac.

“Hard thrust to port, activate countermeasures, fire a missiles salvo now!” Smithran ordered as he gripped onto his chair’s armrests. The Arlene tilted hard and her engines fired full thrust. Red lights bathed the interior of the bridge, it reminded Smithran of the fun houses he used to go to back home when he was a kid.

“Incoming projectile, impact in thirty seconds sir.” said Ensign Harris, a dejected tone in his voice. He knew, like everyone else, they couldn’t evade or trick the enemy fire from such a close range.

Smithran breathed in deeply, thirty seconds seemed like an eternity, he thought about his family, how his son would grow up without him, memories of times long gone flooded into his mind.

In a final act of defiance eight missiles launched from the Arlene moments before the enemy slugs tore the Liberty class vessel to bits and pieces.

Strike Element Franco
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Red Thorn 1

“The Arlene is down sir.” Hutchinson reported as she watched her radar screen and the Arlene’s signature disappeared. Sanderson watched his Holo-Tac as the larger ship signature suddenly along with more of the smaller enemy contacts.

“Looks like we have a real fight on our hands now.” Sanderson said “Get me a solution on that large enemy contact and feed that data to everyone else at once, Kane pull up four 312s and launch at that big bastard at once.

Sanderson watched anxiously as his ship tried to grab a targeting solution on the enemy destroyer that suddenly popped out of nowhere seemingly.

“Sir multiple enemy contacts converging on Red Thorn 3 and Red Thorn 4.” Sandra said, the slight sound of fear beginning to enter her voice. Sanderson inwardly smirked at the cockiness and bluster they had moments ago being suddenly gone.
Both signatures for the rest of Red Thorn broke off their pursuit of the smaller enemy ships the had tried to flee. Sanderson watched as they rapidly accelerated away from the fight.

“Are they leaving us?” asked Kane as his computer let out a lock for the anti-capital missiles that were loaded up in the tubes.

“Yes.” replied Sanderson, a grim tone in his voice “They’ll head back towards the Abagail and consolidate with Blue Dog most likely and make sure the Abby jumps out of here.”

Sanderson wasn’t bitter at the thought, it’s what they had been trained to do in such an instance so that enemy data collected could be taken back to the primary Usidian fleet, this was after all a scouting mission first and formost. Now that the Arlene had been lost their goal would be to secure an escape for the remaining corvette.

“Fire at that big bastard and let them know we’re still here Kane.” Sanderson ordered with a smirk on his lips.






16th UNTF Strike Element Ellenore
SF-56 Polaris Spatial Fighter
Designation: Blue Dog 1
Dentor Asteroid Field

Commander Carey cursed under her breath when her passive sensors picked the destruction of the Arlene up fairly easy.

“Change in plans, target what you can and lets turn and burn out of here.” Carey said as she began the procedure to bring her ship back online. She had wanted to drop on top of the enemy but now that wasn’t possible with the other Liberty destroyed and a large enemy warship appearing suddenly.

“I have a solution on multiple smaller enemy contacts mam.”

“Dump a salvo and lets get out of here.” ordered Carey

“Aye mam.” replied her weapon’s officers as he launched a cloud of missiles at the smaller enemy warships

The other Blue Dog fighters followed suit and each one launched a a salvo of gunfire and missiles before turning around and heading back towards the Abagail.

“Mam, what about Red Thorn 1.” questioned the radar Controller as Blue Dog 1 spun and then her engines fired full thrust.

“They’re on their own.” said Carey as she felt the pressure on her chest as the engines surged to full power.



16th UNTF Strike Element Franco
USS Abagail
Dentor Asteroid Field

Curtz’s stomach twisted as he watched the Arlene vanish. He licked his lips and wished he had a drink.

“Sir Blue Dog and the remnants of Red Thorn are converging towards us.” reported the RIO to Curtz.

“Sir should we begin jump procedures?” asked another voice

“Sir do you want us to cut power?” came yet another voice

Curtz felt his head swim as he realized what was happening, he felt a minor panic attack coming on as more people began to yell at him. Sensing his rising stress levels, his suit administered a small dose of drugs to calm him and bring his mind back into focus.

“Cut power, spin up the main cannons and load up every missile cell with an AM warhead, if that bastard gets into range you unleash everything you got a him.” Curtz ordered “I want us turned and prepped for jump as fast as we can and I want every bit of data we can from Red Thorn.”

The Abagail’s engines cut out and directional thrusters fired to slow her down from her coast towards the enemy destroyer.

“Leutnant Kali, I’m sorry but it’s standard procedure for the lead ship in a recon task force to make it back to the primary fleet with as much data on an enemy vessel that has overpowered the task force, once we’re back I’ll have you transferred back to the Dilarof until the fleet commander figures out our next course of action.” Curtz explained to the Valinor VIP

And I can get a drink. Curtz thought to himself as he felt his ship rotate away from the enemy vessel.

[Valinon]

Dentor

---

Kali hissed as the capital ship's signature tore across the display on its return to N-space. Its outline flashed with a momentary blurred blue outline before snapping to one of white-and-gold as her muse received sensor readings on the weapons discharges barking the warships arrival. The telltale flares of chernekov radiation and degenerate matter marked the vessel as a Sarian warship even as it's opening volley tore the Arlene to a dispersed cloud of metal, short-lived fire, and an atomised mixture combining its crew and other hardware.

There was no information beyond signature readings on the warship. The scrolling data in her vision was filled with harsh slashes quantifying the lack of information. No battlecruiser; not even the known tags for Sarian battleship-equivalents. A tentative assessment based on the weapons fire considered the warship a dreadnought or near-equivalent.

The Arlene’s last volley of missiles exhausted themselves against the warship’s defences. The approach vector of the fighters deviated sharply, turning away from the lumbering course of the dreadnought.

She nodded at Curtz’s apology, ‘I will clear my bunk for transfer, sir. If you permit it, I want to review the data dump from your fighters and any other available sensor data.’

The gothic architecture of the approaching ship stood out starkly in the dim light of the system’s primary.

‘Both will confirm my initial reports that this is a Sarian raider tribe,’ she looked at the ship with glazed eyes; ‘they’re operating a capital ship larger than what we have encountered, but their weapons and tactics leave little room for doubt. I will share my report with you.’

‘My condolences to the loss of the Arlene and its crew, sir. I was grievously mistaken on the resources of this tribe, and I should have spoken my concerns sooner.’

She set her muse to work on preparing an encrypted message for Lord von Hardenberg and C-CSSOF’s command staff. In any other command, the presence of a Sarian dreadnought would draw immediate attention, but the joint resources of C-CSSOF was spread out over a broad set of responsibilities. Certainly some pointed words in any report may stir von Hardenberg to a greater degree of action.