The Battle of Megaclite - FT

[Auman]

First Battle of Megaclite

The moon of Megaclite, in orbit of mighty Jupiter, was an insignificant world. Measuring no more than six kilometers in diameter, its worth was no greater than any ball of ice that swirled around the sun, overshadowed by many untethered asteroids and comets in the asteroid belt or the amazing wealth contained within the Oort Cloud at the edge of the solar system. Yet, it was in its proximity to the powers that called Jupiter home and the incredible lack of value that made it valuable... As a seasonal military test range.

Though deep within the crust of shimmering ice lay the true prize, one long sought by the Co-Prosperity Sphere of Auman which lay just under its nose for a thousand years. It was a chance of fate that this relic had revealed itself, a hermetic telescope aimed at the correct angle during a brief lull in the mother planet's powerful electromagnetic field, revealed a signal so unique that it could not be mistaken for anything else. A piece of High Vascilian technology and a fragment of the mythical Fractal Blade.

Owing to the reach of the Sphere, a strike group was in range and able to deploy with lightning haste to Megaclite. The Jupiter system, however, was well peopled and home to many, organized by powers of incredible military strength. It was hoped by the strike group leader, Fleet Colonel Ford Hansen, that his group of three cruisers and three frigates could slip into orbit of the moon and begin their mission quietly, without being disturbed. Watching the data stream in from the tactical command center aboard the AuCS Prometheus, a Saturnian class cruiser, Hansen could clearly see that this wasn't going to be the case.

He had made the call to TacDes requesting a wave off, his strike group was outnumbered by a force in orbit belonging to the Saturnalian Prefectorate by nearly two to one odds. The risk was great and he doubted he had the force required to remove them if he had to. The response came back immediately and crystal clear despite the distance to Mars.

"Proceed to orbit. The Mountain has declared Megaclite an Aumanii protectorate. You will order the enemy's withdrawal, engage if they decline our gracious offer. Hold until relieved by Glorious Heritage."

And so, the Aumanii went to war. The ease with which a total military dictatorship could make a proclamation and the swiftness with which it could lunge towards the final political resolution impressed even the Fleet Colonel, who was himself a staunchly militaristic member of the OrtoSektor.

He filled in deployment orders with a few curt flicks of the wrist, arranging holograms that stood rock solid, suspended in the air above his charting table. The process was done in silence, there was no need to declare over the radio or shout sternly at the men and women around him. The message was sent to all hands across the strike group as soon as the plans were set.

"ALL HANDS PREPARE FOR COMBAT ACTION. STRIKE GROUP PRIORITY MESSAGE REPEAT. ALL HANDS PREPARE FOR COMBAT ACTION." flashed across screens and displays. Alerts squacked in headsets. Shoulders were tapped and furtive glances exchanged. The strike group burned powerfully towards Megaclite, not even bothering to conceal their intentions in favor of a sudden and violent assault.

[Jagada]

Challis Outpost was nearly as insignificant as Megaclite itself, having been established by the Prefectorate some years ago to serve officially as a training ground for void marines in asteroid combat operations. Saturnalia had other motives for claiming the icy rock. It was small and its occupation did not pose a major threat to the local Jovian powers. This fact allowed Challis to perform its real objective of spying on those same powers via advanced encryption cracking technologies and stealth probes. These tactics could be, and were, used by Ionia, the naval dockyards that hung in orbit near Jupiter itself. But Ionia was being watched and the Saturnalians knew they couldn’t be too overt there without withering the tolerance of the Jovians.

The Aumanii vessels had made no attempt to hide their approach to Challis and of course had tripped the local perimeter alarms. A frenzy of activity had filled the base as orbital cannons had been set into motion with plasma reactors deep in the base beginning their warm-up cycles. In orbit over Megaclite sat the heavy frigate Last Word, flagship of Task Force 42, Battlegroup 11, Kappa Squadron. Last Word had led a compliment of two wolfpacks as apart of Forty-Two. All vessels had been slated to be apart of training exercises with their bordering parties. A simulated landing, rally, and attack on Challis to hone their skills. Wars in the Saturnian rings was a deadly affair that was only ever made worth it by essentially “asteroid hopping”, and this meant using void marines to take and hold well built fortifications.

Last Word’s commanding officer, Captain Torper had been made aware of the approaching Aumanii vessels by Challis and immediately called off the exercise. He’d served in the Sol System for years and knew well the increasingly aggressive behavior of the Sphere. Encrypted commands flowed throughout the fleet as the frigates pulled away from Challis. They formed up around the Last Word and moved to directly towards the intruders.

Kappa Squadron brass had made it clear to any vessels operating in the Jovian Sector to avoid confrontation with local powers if at all possible. Saturn was too far away for quick resupply and Kappa did not want to be dragged into a grinding war with the Jovians – not when there was plenty of closer enemies to deal with. Torper had this in mind as he hailed the Aumanii flotilla …

“Aumanii vessels … this is Captain Torper of the Last Word, Commander of Saturnalian Forces in this sector … you’re about to violate the line of actual control between us … advise that you change course …”

[Auman]

Upon being targeted, the Aumanii formation broke apart, aggressively turning and burning in wildly unpredictable patterns. If you could see it with the naked eye, it might remind you of a pack of drunks staggering down the sidewalk. To the trained observer, this would be as obvious and well choreographed as the deft movements of professional knife fighters. Torper would have received his reply as soon as the radar scan bounced back, but Fleet Colonel Hansen was an honorable man.

"The Line of Actual Control is the effective range of our guns. Tuck your tails and go back to Saturn, this is Aumanii land and you are wanted here no longer. Disengage and withdraw now and avoid bloodshed."

Missiles streamed from the vertical launch bays of the Aumanii ships, streaking like pillars of salt and flame through space, but lost against the vast, roiling, majestic storms of the Jovian atmosphere. At this range, they would be easy to avoid and shoot down, but the sheer volume ejected from the fast firing launchers of the cruisers guaranteed a tremendous degree of attention and, no doubt, some would get through. It was never the intention of such of such opening salves to deliver a crushing blow, but rather to force the enemy into frenetic maneuvers so that Hansen's ships could level out their flight and hose them down with their railguns.

[Jagada]

“Aumanii launch confirmed captain,” exclaimed the bridge officer.

“Send an encrypted message to Challis,” replied Torper, “Give my personal confirmation that Aumanii have violated Line of Actual Control and send all relevant data proving as much.”

The message from Hansen had followed a few moments later, the delay caused by the gulf of space between them and the firewall of the ship’s onboard virtual intelligence. An unlikely but necessary security feature, or so VOCOM had insisted. Captain Torper considered his options and the disorderly movements of the enemy. The enemy possessed three cruisers all of which likely outgunned even the Last Word and undoubtedly the line frigates. Torper considered his options before consulting with the onboard VI about probabilities and likelihoods of success. A plan was chosen.

The Aumanii it would appear that, as they dispersed and began loosing missile barrages, that the Saturnalians grouped closer together and began to slowly pull back. Point defense chainguns, controlled mostly by the onboard VI system of each ship, detected and began tracking the incoming missile barrage. Each was catalogued by perceived size, vector of attack, and threat rating to each ship. Though to simply defend wasn’t the doctrine of Void Command, much less Forty-Two. Each vessel began firing away with their own salvos of missiles, dozens pouring out of each ship and streaking across the void – neatly passing the incoming enemy missiles.

The first of the missiles began to streak into killing range and the void around Forty-Two was suddenly and violently filled with all manner of ordinance. The chainguns, until now simply tracking their targets, burst into action picking off incoming missiles with precision accuracy. Given their close formation the Saturnalians were able to take advantage of overlapping fields of cover from one frigate to the next. As expected, some did slip through the ordinance screen and begin finding their mark. One of the line frigates to port of Last Word took a clutch of missiles across its bow, wracking its armor and starting fires on multiple decks. Another frigate just ‘above’ the flagship would take a hit that forced an emergency shutdown of its dedicated generators, effectively silencing its particle beam cannon. The damage reports would continue to roll in, each ship taking some kind of bloodying.

“All ships,” began Torper, “The moment the cruisers enter range of the cannons, open fire. Coordinate and focus down the cruisers. Prepare for Dekklar-4 Strike.”

[Auman]

Hundreds of missiles were streaking towards Hansen's combat group. A respectable sum that could not be easily ignored and their warheads seemed to be kinetic penetrators based on the combat data that was streaming back to the Tactical Command Center onboard the Prometheus. These weapons were a tremendous equalizer for the Saturnalians as, despite the disparity in tonnage, these missiles could easily cripple or destroy the Aumanii cruisers if they were allowed to strike them.

The AIs aboard the combat group worked seamlessly, wordlessly and with incredible efficiency. Simultaneously, they coordinated an effective response to the Saturnalian barrage, using laser defense domes to begin picking off the swarm of lances at range. The enemy's computer systems were wise, however and the missiles began jinking aggressively, making them much more difficult to target with long range precision fire. Chainguns spun to life, spraying down vast swathes of space with 8mm Teflon coated darts which touched off the fuel loads of the Saturnalian missiles, creating brief twinkling displays of distant artificial starlight.

This was a brute force method of defense that was neither precise or efficient. Many missiles slipped through the stream of fire from the chainguns and made it through to the final line of active defense, the flak screen. Large bore cannons on the cruisers and frigates of the combat group threw up a firestorm of directed fragmentation and effervescent pops of plasma in tight clusters directly intercepting whatever remained of the salvos. The shoot down rate approached one hundred percent in the first wave and this was to be expected with the firepower imbalance. In terms of raw statistics, this couldn't hold up for long as heat built up in the Aumanii warships. Guns would have to rest to radiate their heat, batteries must discharge and the battle would be won or lost in the next few seconds of action.

A report flashed on Fleet Colonel Hansen's projection, the frigate Zheng He had suffered a direct hit from a particile accelerator fired by one of the enemy line frigates. As casualty estimates tallied upward and damage control figures were being quoted, reports were flooding in of even more hits of the same type that damaged Zheng He all over the combat group. Hansen was surprised to learn that his own ship had been struck several times because he didn't feel a thing, but the reports were clear. The Saturnalians were so easily penetrating their armor and disrupting their systems that the AI systems completely overrode tactical control of the engagement and begun acting on their own initiative.

The point defenses barked furiously as ever, but now the batteries of railguns of the combat group kicked into life, hurling hyper dense projectiles at extreme muzzle velocities at the Saturnalians. Despite the Zebulon Pike, a Pioneer class frigate, being cut clean in half by a sustained beam of charged particles... It kept up its rate of fire, while twirling slowly on its split axis.

Fleet Colonel was now totally hands off, the computers had taken control and it was incumbent upon him and his captains to sit back and watch impotently. The deck crews reclined in their seats and watched their screens tensely, bullets of sweat streaking down their faces, knowing that their lives were in the hands of highly logical machine intelligences, ones that were more than willing to sacrifice the human lives inside of them if it meant accomplishing the mission. Hansen pulled up a projection of the Davy Crockett and almost immediately regretted it. It was clear in the light of Jupiter that men and women had spilled from the decks of the bisected ship and it was Hansen's hope that they were killed by the radiation emitted by the beams before their blood began to boil in the harsh void of space.

[Jagada]

The Saturnalians dense formation had, up until that point, been a bonus in the combat. Allowing overlapping fields of screening and support fire which had done the job of targeting down some of the enemy ships. Now that same formation became incredibly dangerous as the Aumanii railguns chattered away soundlessly in the void, filling the combat zone with precision strikes. The frigates were quicker than their cruiser counterparts but considerably less armed and armored. The lead frigate in the formation, the Ascendant Pride, took multiple continuous hits across its superstructure taking mass chunks out of it as the mass drivers detonated upon impact. Saturnalian vessels were often accused of lacking the technological sophistication of other powers, but tried to close the gap by building incredibly durable vessels and plenty of them. But even the sturdy, thick armor couldn’t withstand sustained impact.

Ascendant Pride came apart, slowly at first, and then rapidly as the crew inside was charred or vaporized if they were lucky. The unlucky ones lived long to be sent hurtling out into the void. Torper grimaced and swiped the holographic readout away. They’d all end up like that if he let it distract him. He stayed in consultation with the ship’s VI, as it trafficked all manner of attack vectors and plans to him for final decision making. Each plan had been given probabilities of success, projected loss figures, and likely enemy countermeasures. Torper concluded that his original plan had the best success rate and so gave the order.

The ship “above” the Last Word, the Watonga, whose generators had been put into forced shutdown from earlier damage was ordered to take position in front of Last Word. Its engines burned bright as it worked to comply with the order. It was a likely death sentence, but Last Word would need to be protected until the plan could be put into motion, and Watonga had already lost its primary weapon.

To the Aumanii, as they continued their barrage of Forty-Two, they would suddenly see the task force fire all engines on maximum and begin the arduous task of sweeping across the void towards them … or rather, one of them. One of the enemy cruisers had been designated by Torper as the target of the sweep. As Forty-Two advanced, their acceleration compounded with the high-velocity shots from the Aumanii meant that the cruiser they were “charging” was in prime position to hammer away at them. Torper’s attention was drawn to another blaring alarm on his display as it warned that another frigate had received a mortal wound, with several mass drivers managing to punch through its armor and strike the fusion drives. The rest of Forty-Two burned even harder to get away from their dying compatriot who, some time later, was vaporized in an expanding ball of nuclear fire.

Torper kept his eyes on the increasing damage readouts from the rest of the ships – his included. He noted multiple strikes to Last Word had blown chunks of the armor off, but his ship was far more heavily armored than his escorts. He knew the risk was high but the possibility of trading multiple enemy cruisers for a handful of frigates was well worth the risk. He couldn’t imagine the Aumanii keeping their stomach once their big guns were silenced. Torper groaned as another alarm warned him that Watonga was breaking apart in the void in front of them. Minor course corrections were made to void the bulk of the wreckage and final confirmation was sent by the Watonga that they had successfully managed to jettison their fusion reactor along a safe vector.

Forty-Two closed in on their prey, burning and spewing oxygen out dozens of wounds. On Torper’s command, all weapons opened fire at once. Last Word fired its own cannon, more powerful than its escorts too, and even hammered away with its smaller particle beam guns. The guns were smaller, domed mounts along the vessel that were intended to take down smaller vessels to avoid the overkill of the cannons – but at this range even they would have some effect on the cruiser. Another salvo of missiles was fired by what vessels could fire them. With the deed done, Forty-Two swept past and then began to break apart. The remnants of the (2) wolfpacks pulled away in opposite directions as if beginning to sweep back to flank the Aumanii.

Meanwhile, Last Word began to ominously, slowly spin ‘vertically’ in the void.

[Auman]

Aboard the battlecruiser Glorious Heritage, Fleet Brigadier Randy Jones was watching the battle of Megaclite play out in real time. His ship was thirty light seconds out, roughly two minutes at the burn rate they were pulling. The battle would be long decided before they would arrive, unless decisive action was taken.

The Saturnalians had performed an effective flyby maneuver at extreme velocities. Streaming data confirmed that the cruisers Io[/] and [I]Asrastea were venting atmosphere and both of their railgun batteries had suffered significant enough damage to reduce their rates of fire. Jones had already come to the conclusion they had suffered damage to their heat sinks when the Glorious Heritage dumped the full text of the damage report into the battle projection and began methodically listing off the values.

Hansen's combat group was giving it to the Saturnalians hard, but the weight of fire was simply too much. In terms of raw mathematics, there was little chance of his ships making it out of that fight intact. Statistically speaking, that fight had been lost the moment it was picked. Had Jones been faster, had he been given more time to prepare for the engagement, had he been able to get into the fight sooner, lives would have been saved on both sides. His c-fracs would have been more than enough to make the Saturnalians consider the better part of valor.

Zheng He seemed to be favoring its left in maneuvers. A quick glance at the report confirmed that it had lost more than sixty percent of its thrusters on the port side. Jones watched as it burned sluggishly to wheel around and face the enemy, taking the long way around. This wasted precious seconds and she was raked by a clutch of missiles that had been detonated by its CIWS, the high velocity debris was still very dangerous. A fresh data dump read out the story, she had lost a railgun turret and a bank of navigational sensors.

The Saturnalian warships numerical advantage was strong. Their dispersed firepower reduced the pain caused by every loss, while the Aumanii felt it down to their bones every time a hit was suffered.

They were going to lose unless Jones took decisive action. It would require a tactical FTL jump, a cheap maneuver reviled in almost every corner of the galaxy. Amateurish, dangerous and absolutely necessary.

As Jones was filling out the order on the holo projector of his own Tactical Command Center, Io's beacon flickered and turned deep red, she was killed. All hands lost. Jones flicked the order into the cue and Glorious Heritage immediately acknowledged it. A brief moment of nausea and disorientation followed, the holo projector flickered and updated their position. They were now one light second out and dangerously close to Megaclite. Rapid course corrections and a hard burn from their cones oriented them towards the fighting, the back blast from their engines seared the surface of the moon and evaporated massive volumes of water that quickly outgassed into space.

The guns of the Glorious Heritage kicked into action and launched dense shells towards the Saturnalian battle group at half the speed of light, closing the distance between them in less than two seconds... The rate of fire was obscenely high as the turrets worked the streams of projectiles into well manicured spirals to create conical kill zones that enveloped the Saturnalian's frigates. They had two seconds to evade, though the sheer mass of fire would eventually overwhelm them.

Jones rationalized the action away. The enemy had been given the opportunity to disengage and chose to fight. Though he still had to admit there was no honor in what he had just done.

[The Axlarian Hive]

Pluto was an inhospitable place, however Tim found comfort in the caverns below his hand touching the cool wall he had created some years ago when he first arrived in this Sol system with one purpose on his mind. It had been decades, or maybe even centuries, time was not something Tim typically concerned himself with ever since he had been created so very very long ago. After being made though his creators broke him and cast him aside. Tim thought for sure he would cease to be but through some sort of divine fate or miracle he wasn’t. He managed to leave his cradle world and took up consuming the planets nearest him containing life, it seemed only fitting since that was what he had been created for. A signal though had came and caught his interest, a signal from far away, it had been like music upon him soul, so with single minded purpose he set out to find it, devouring more of the signal’s content with his mind every day until he had finally made it here, to this Sol system where he found the signal originated from. He had observed from Pluto for some time, taking whatever tasty snack he could when no one would notice and building himself stronger, eventually he was able to luckily establish a small presence within the large asteroid belt towards the inner part of the system. But now he had a chance to maybe slip into Saturn and utilize something that was already there to help himself grow unnoticed even more.

Suddenly a large dark figure burst from the shadows and Tim recoiled in fear at the beast before himself, it looked to be a mixture or some sort of terran tarantula and the head of a xenomorph from humanity’s own fiction works.

“Fucking christ Ted was that really necessary.” screamed Tim at the creature

“I just wanted to show the newest body I made.” Ted the creature sulked

“We’re having a meeting Ted, you don’t show up to a meeting dressed up like that!” yelled Tim, scolding his other personality.

“Well excuse me for enjoying my work.” retorted the beast before joining Tim as they walked towards a larger lighted cavern where other figures were present.

“Wow what in the hell is that smell.” choked Ted

“That might be me.” offered another voice.

Tim’s eyes narrowed as he saw the figure that seemed to be a walking rotting corpse of a human.

“Really Frank, you thought now would be a good time to do this?” said Tim his eyes narrowing into a glare at the zombie-like creature

“Sorry, sorry, I thought this was a presentation meeting.” explained Frank

“What?” asked Tim incredulously, “I told every single one of you assholes what this meeting was about, and you all knew cause you are all me.”

“Yep you are absolutely right, I just got the dates mixed up that’s my bad.” said Frank

“We don’t even use a calendar Frank.” said Tim as he rubbed the temples of his fake human form.

“Ok, irregardless.” said Tim before he was cut off again.

“You mean regardless.” said a childish voice

Tim stared at the human baby that walked out towards the center of the cavern.

“Oh fuck off.” said Tim “And not to derail the meeting but why the hell are you a human baby Bob?”

“Ah yes, I mistook today for presentation day as well.” explained Bob

“Ok...and?” asked Tim his temper flaring.

“Ah well you see, I figured human babies were most fearsome to the human male warrior drones, they seem to go to great lengths to prevent them.” Bob said with a smile indicating his pleasure at his thoughtfulness.

“No that’s not why they do that, you know what never mind, I brought everyone here today because we are going to attack a colony in orbit of Saturn, scouts have reported that a conflict is brewing between some humans and some Satunalians, with the Saturnalians distracted we could potentially swoop in from the rear and take their holdings and expand our own.” explained Tim to his other personalities.

“Now does anyone have any questions?” asked Tim looking at the other figures present, Bob the baby raised his chubby little arm and Tim ignored him, still angry at Bob.

“No, then we will begin preparations.”

[The Axlarian Hive]

Tim looked out the window of the lead vessel of the little squadron he had quickly assembled for the surprise attack he had planned. Typically he would have delegated a task such as this to one of his subordinate personalities but this job seemed a bit important.

"Sir all warforms have been inspected and found to be in perfect fighting form sir, oorah." yelled a very sudden and very loud voice from behind Tim.

"For fuck sakes do you always have to sneak up on me and try to scare the living shit out of me Major?" Tim said to the very large human figure that was behind him. Even at his wiry six and a half foot tall height Tim still had to look up at the enlarged human form of the Major.

"Sir yes sir, one must always keep one's combat skills honed to a knife's edge sir, oorah." yelled Major Pain.

"What the fuck was I thinking bringing you with me." groaned Tim as he turned away from the view of the window. Most people were surprised to find out Tim utilized metal ships, especially considering what he was, however he quite liked using the ships he collected from unfortunate souls and turning them to his own uses. The four ships he had now where captured from some poor good samaritans who fell into his traps at one time or another. For some time now Tim had been building a small fleet and these four ships were more geared towards subterfuge which Tim was counting on being there more effective method of conducting his attack instead of a full frontal assault which was more likely to raise a few eyebrows and cause some more questions then Tim really needed.

A roar from a large steel box, easily twice as tall as even the Major broke Tim's concentration.

"LET ME OUT OF THIS BOX AT ONCE." demanded a very loud and very terrifying voice.

"Sir why did we bring Xyzxxyzxrxy Devourer of Worlds sir, oorah." asked the Major with a slight tint of concern in his voice, something Tim had never heard before.

"I thought you brought him?" said Tim genuinely confused as to why the horror had been loaded onto his ship.

"BOB LOADED ME ONTO THE SHIP" explained the horror that the others mostly avoided.

"Fucking Bob, wait how did they get you into a box?" asked Time

"THEY TRICKED ME." roared the voice, the box shaking with his fury.

"Sir how did they manage that sir? Oorah." asked Major Pain.

"Well I don't have a fucking clue, if it was up to me we would have left him back on Pluto." said Tim "How did they manage to trick you?"

"NO! I WON'T TELL." the voice roared in frustration and defiance.

"Oh come on, you tell us. We're your friends after all." Tim said as he held a finger up to his lips in a quieting motion to silence the Major who was about to protest Tim's statement.

"Do you guys really consider me your friend?" the voice said.

"Of course we do buddy." Tim said shaking his head up and down at Major Pain indicating he too should agree.

"Yes sir Devourer sir we are the bestest of friends oorah." shouted Major Pain as he watched for Tim to indicate anything else he should do.

"WELL IF YOU MUST KNOW...THEY USED A BIT OF CANDY. answered the voice.

Tim's cheeks puffed out and his hands covered his mouth quickly to stifle the laugh that almost came out.

"YOU'RE LAUGHING AREN'T YOU THIS IS WHY I DIDN'T WANT TO TELL YOU ASSHOLES" roared the voice

"I'm so sorry, I just couldn't help myself, are you seriously saying that Xyzxxyzxrxy Devourer of Worlds was tricked into captivity by a piece of candy." giggled Tim not able to control himself.

"ITS NOT FUNNY OK." roared Xyzxxyzxrxy. AND BESIDES HUMAN CHOCOLATE IS VERY DELICIOUS."

It was too late though, both Tim and the Major were lying on the ground in fits of laughter.

"ASSHOLES!"

[Piethrixia]

Piethrixian Destroyer | PAFD-12412-A | Bridge | Location Classified | Piethrixian Space | 21:15:56

"Captain, we've got an incoming signal, it's long-distance." The comms officer looks down to their console again, "Its all scrambled, doesn't look like there are any words in here." The captain looks up from the datapad they have in their hand, "Put its location data up on the screen for me." The bridges massive screen lights up with a massive map, showing a Galaxy, one side has a green dot, the other has a flashing red dot in it. "How did that signal get out here so fast?" The captain asks, the Comms Officer looks down to their console, "looks like it somehow went through some wormholes along the way, its amazing we managed to get it within a reasonable amount of time. Would you like me to get Engineering to set a course?" The captain stares at the screen, "Why not, tell command we are investigating, Half warp, get command to get a flotilla ready in case this is some battle." The comms officer starts pressing buttons on their console, less than a minute later the ships PA System blares to life and a robotic voice fills it. "All hands prepare for Warp, estimated time to arrival is in Seven hours, Five minutes, and fifty-three seconds. Possible combat scenario General Quarters will sound at 30 minutes before exit." The voice stops and is replaced by the slight hum of the warp core once again.

Piethrixian Destroyer | PAFD-12412-A | Location Unknown due to FTL Travel | Unknown Space | 03:43:49

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your battle stations. Combat imminent, Battle State 3, Arm warheads, Material Condition Zebra, Bulkheads prepared for depressurization, Warp core at maximum power." The ship bursts in a flurry of activity, crew members running across the ship to get to their stations. The Hangar is full of people running to their aircraft, vehicles ferrying weapons zip around the massive empty space, people put helmets and space gear on, the doors to the hangar lock shut, slowly the massive blast doors of the Hangar open, revealing an image of streaks of light as thin as a pinhead flying past as the ship rips through space. The PA System blares to life again, "Hangar depressurized, preparing to begin Flight deck operations."

Piethrixian Destroyer | PAFD-12412-A | Location Unknown due to FTL Travel | Unknown Space | 03:47:49

The Comms officer turns around in their chair to face the captain, "We are detectable on any scanning systems in the area of the signal now, if there's someone there, they will know we are coming."

OOC: I'm guessing this is an Open RP by looking at the title, if not I'm sorry, i'll delete the post.

[Jagada]

Last Word drifted seemingly lifeless in the void. During the run against the Aumanii cruiser she’d taken several rounds along her flanks, sheering through several decks and even managing to kill some of the vital crew. It had paid off since that Aumanii cruiser now drifted as a lifeless wreck in the void … but Last Word wasn’t dead quite yet. A Dekklar-4 Strike was one of the maneuvers made famous by Dekklar ‘Half-Hull’, veteran of the Great War long ago. Torper sat quietly on bridge as he watched the two frigate wolfpacks, their numbers already depleted by the fight continue their sweep-back to reengage the Aumanii. Reviewing what was left of Forty-Two, Torper considered their chances good to come out on top. How much of Forty-Two would survive was in doubt, as the next attack run on the last of the Aumanii cruisers would undoubtedly cost him more ships.

The warning klaxons onboard Last Word were already blaring due to a dozen other critical emergencies that the ship’s VI was trying to contend. Amongst this cacophony there came the shrill cry of the Emergency Burn warning. Last Word would continue its vertical, spinning drift making it appear as no immediate threat to the enemy, but it was only a ploy.

The wolfpacks finished their sweep-back, and were already under fire from the enemy. In such medium range the Aumanii had the advantage, but the frigates gave as good as they got and they had the numbers. The remaining enemy ships would likely have their attention broken up between the two opposing packs and therefore wouldn’t be able to concentrate their outgunned, but considerable, firepower against either. Slugs hammered into frigates and particle beams lit the void in incandescent flashes of blinding light as the two sides pummeled each other.

“Emergency Burn Imminent! All hands brace for lethal g-forces,” shrilled the VI on the Last Word. Some of the crew would undoubtedly die, most of those would be the void marines who were running double duty as damage control in parts of the ship. It couldn’t be help. As Last Word’s spin reached its critical point, where its particle beam cannon was pointed back towards the Aumanii, the ship’s engines performed the emergency burn. The crew on the bridge were slammed into their seats and several, including Torper, simply passed out. In these moments the VI was detect unconsciousness and assume direct control over the vessel, following the prescribed battle plans Torper had uploaded. Last Word blazed across the void on a direct coarse with the enemy, its particle beam firing every chance it could get. The Aumanii were already dealing with the wolfpacks and it was unlikely that they had any considerable amount of firepower readily trained on Last Word’s area.

----

Challis Outpost had remained out of the fight. The facility lacked serious enough surface-to-void firepower to tip the balance and so had wisely opted to remain as unthreatening as possible while it simultaneously continued its primary mission – spying. Saturnalia was well beyond the boundaries of the Commonwealth and lacked its support. For Cydonia, the Aumanii were an anomaly on the other side of the galaxy who posed no immediate threat to a civilization on the literal edge of the Milk Way. This has the knock-on effect of meaning that Saturnalia had little to know information on the exact ships or technology employed by the Aumanii beyond what was common knowledge and what its spy networks around the Sol System could gather. Seeing the Aumanii up close and engaging with Saturnalian vessels was a treasure trove of data. Every scrap of information that the station could gather was stored into compress data packets that would being sent via encrypted bursts to the Ionia Dockyards, the heart of Saturnalian power in the Jovian Reach.

This was interrupted when sensors picked up an immense energy spike and then a second later proximity alarms warned that an incoming object would soon impact Megaclite. The stations particle beam cannons had been aimed towards the engagement and now laboriously turned to deal with the new threat. They, of course, never had the time. Glorious Heritage was already upon them, already conducting an emergency burn at what accounted for spitting range. Those on the station perished perhaps most cruelly of all. One moment they felt relatively safe within their meters of reinforced titanium walls and the next they were being roasted alive inside of them. The backwash from the burn hammered Challis with an impossible amount of heat which instantly vaporized the ice around the outpost and warped the outer layers of armor plating. Only Challis’ VI program remained nominally functional, keeping itself together long enough to send news of the Station’s death by Glorious Heritage to Ionia before it too suffered multiple fatal errors and purged itself from Challis’ systems, per procedure.

Challis Outpost was left a smoldering tomb.

---

Torper regained consciousness as Last Word came in on its final attack vector for the Aumanii cruiser. The enemy was metaphorically burning in the void. He groggily glanced at readouts showing extensive damage to the enemy ship. Last Word had taken minimal damage, but warning runes didn’t give him much hope that she’d limp away from this fight as anything more than glorified junk. Nearly all primary systems had been ruined in the fighting or the subsequent emergency burn, most of the crew was dead or unaccounted for by the ship’s VI – which meant they got vented into the void. The particle beam cannon was operating at fifty percent, most of the beam turrets had been knocked out or been shutdown to help route power to the cannon, and the engines were redlining.

Even then, Last Word would get its final ship kill. The ships VI was powering up the cannon for a final attack, which would lance the Aumanii cruiser near its perceived engine decks and hopefully rupture them causing as catastrophic meltdown. Then the warning klaxons went off again, and the VI sensed that Torper was conscious.

“New threat identified … processing … threat confirmed, Aumanii origin … calculating ship classification …” shrilled the VI, “Classification confirmed. Capital ship.”

Torper groaned at the news. The display updated to show the almost miraculous arrival of the Glorious Heritage. He noted that readouts showed Challis Outpost had gone dark and he idly wondered how the enemy had managed that without at least a cry for help reaching him. He saw the writing on the wall even before the VI told him. The enemy battlecruiser was powering up its rail guns, and it had a lot more of them than cruisers.

Torper ordered the VI to fire the particle cannon in a last act of defiance. Two seconds later, just as the power generators reached critical mass, Last Word took multiple and continuous direct impacts to her flanks from Glorious Heritage. What remained of the ship’s structural integrity gave way at last and she cracked in half, and then in half again, and then in half again. In seconds she was little more than so much debris.

---

The refineries on Titan never ceased for the Prefecture ever had need of the vast material wealth of its colony of Naxopolis. The colonization of one of the Saturnine moons had taken place sporadically since the Prefecture had been established by Cydonia, but one of the first places settled was hydrocarbon rich Titan. Tens of thousands labored in the sprawling armored biodomes, each designed to be interlinked via transit tunnels, but also capable of independent lockdown and self-sufficiency. This later capability had less to do with potential foreign threats and more with industrial accidents. If a dome suffered a catastrophic loss of containment in their refineries it could practically rip it apart and send lethal quantities of toxic material in adjacent domes. That this lockdown ability also had the considerable military advantage of making Naxopolis essentially a dozen separate fortresses that had to be stormed to be captured was purely a coincidence.

This naturally meant that Naxopolis had a considerable presence in the void, focused around an orbital plate which served as a natural nexus for commerce. Materials being sent up into orbit and equipment, luxury goods, and other things made off-world being sent down to the colony. This plate wasn’t intended for military use, and as such only boasted a series of particle beam gun turrets – which looked very much like spherical domes on the plate with barrels pointed out into the void. The plate itself was registered as OCP-11, but was usually just called the Square because of its appearance. One thing the Square did have going for it was berths for ships, of which it boasted its own regular patrol from Kappa Squadron. Given Titan’s importance to Saturnalian operations in the Sol System, it was vital that Titan be held.

Enter Task Force 17, Battlegroup 22, Kappa Squadron – centered around the destroyer Astrogator Postimus with an accompanying escort of patrol frigates. Astrogator Postimus and escorts maintained a loose patrol around the Square, with the destroyer actually berthed at this moment for unscheduled maintenance – an annoying anomaly in its Pulley Drive. The actual patrol had been left the frigate Lightning. Patrol duty to Naxopolis was considered as safe as one got. They weren’t the unlucky sods in the Jovian Reaches having to worry about Masters know what.

Thus, when the four unidentified ships on vector from parts unknown in Sol began to enter the outer limits of Naxopolis’ sensor range, nothing was immediately done. The vector was admittedly odd, but with dozens of ships in the void and trade vessels from all the local powers (and beyond) it didn’t register any particular emergency.

[Jagada]

The Sphere had aggressed. The proof made its way on encrypted messages which were swiftly carried across the Jovian Reach to the Ionia Dockyards. When the messages were decrypted by the dockyard VI program, the appropriate alerts were sent to the command staff. Emergency meetings were called in the depths of Ionia to discuss what had occurred. There the staff witnessed, via data feeds and video captures as the Aumanii vessels willfully crossed the Line of Actual Control and aggressively engaged Task Force Forty-Two, a fight which was close but ultimately decided by the arrival of Glorious Heritage. Challis Outpost had been lost with all hands, as had Forty-Two. War was almost a certainty, but protocols would have to be followed. Encrypted messages were sent to the Acropolis on Mimas where VOCOM and GROCOM had established their joint command apparatus. A tight beam message was sent back within the hour.

“Initiate War Plan Rubik.”

The Ionia Dockyards, the command center for the Jovian Reaches, sent out the command to all task forces, all battlegroups in operation. Joint Command would not tolerate an aggression upon Saturnalian clay (or ice in this case) and escalation was deemed necessary. The closest forces to an Aumanii point-of-interest happened to be Task Force 29, near MDA Ganymede. Twenty-Nine consisted of a pair of cruisers, Lamentation of Pytha and Recluse, leading a complement of destroyers and frigates. When the general message arrived Recluse, the commanding vessel, under Captain Kells began its ponderous course adjustment towards Ganymede. Saturnalian Intelligence had long surmised that MDA Ganymede was a facility of considerable importance to the Sphere and thus a raid was in order.

Twenty-Nine burned hot for several hours as they approach MDA Ganymede. There were no messages sent and none would be accepted. As Twenty-Nine began its final approach it was unlikely that occupant of MDA Ganymede would not be able to notice the bull rushing towards them.

[Auman]

Before engines could cool over Megaclite, the Saturnalians had already begun to move. The rapidity at which the Sphere moved to claim the Jovian moon was a surprise to both sides. When alert orders hit the screens of Aumanii military posts across the Sol system, many believed it to be a joke. Only a few minutes earlier, all was well and there was no indication of war being even remotely near the horizon.

At MDA Ganymede, a flight of destroyers remained on station as the Battleship Hellespontos underwent refit and keelhauling. Humanoid robots with cutting torches laboriously removed layers of armored plate that had been overcome by selcanrab, scaling back the infestation as best they could... But once the pernicious space borne fauna had taken root, a starship was all but done for. It was only a matter of time before it would succumb and this old war horse was on her last legs. It was only tradition that kept her alive, a ship built during the first Martian occupation... The Aumanii equivalent of the ancient wooden sailing ship of the defunct United States, the U.S.S. Constitution Though, in the case of Hellespontos, she still had some years of fight left in her.

Laid up and with her systems down, the old Battleship would be useless in the coming maelstrom that would envelope MDA Ganymede, a major fleet yard in the system that could berth a number of warships at once, even the largest the Fleet had to offer. Fortuitously, it was mostly empty. The Aumanii economy was struggling to keep up in a galaxy torched by the Weld, deployments had shifted, merchant marines had furloughed their flotillas and the business here in Sol was not what it used to be. It was hoped that the post war baby boom would yield dividends, but none had materialized yet. Rebuilding was difficult on such a grand scale and often, when something could be taken instead of bought, it would be the preferred option.

At Megaclite, the Glorious Heritage was kept busy, damage control for the leading strike group was taking more time than anticipated and while their prompt arrival ended the battle, survival aboard the battered cruisers and frigates was not guaranteed. Crew not essential to the effort were transferred to the Battlecruiser, those aboard her that could help were sent over to help. At the end of the exchange, only one vessel was still space worthy and only just barely. The bean counters at MDA Ganymede would be happy to receive the contracts, though I'm sure the families of those who were lost would pick their lives over economic stimulus if given the chance.

When Task Force 29 was detected burning toward MDA Ganymede, the crews hardly registered it. The AI aboard them were already on high alert, though, and reacted before the humans processed the threat and counter the enemy burn. There was a grave problem with the maneuver, one that couldn't be properly rectified in a useful time frame... The Saturnalian assault team was burning into Ganymede's orbit, gaining velocity with every passing second while the Aumanii ships, five Star class destroyers lead by the Warrior class destroyer Jan Van Zandt, were burning against it.

In effect, they would have to delete their velocity in the direction of orbit before they could attain any appreciable forward momentum... This would be incredibly costly, not just for their capacity to maneuver, but for the ability of their missiles to get on target. The advantages belonged to the Saturnalians as the lightning struck.

[The Axlarian Hive]

Tim couldn’t believe his luck, his main concern in this attack had been the largest warship of the enemy slapping his merchant vessels down, but now for some reason the enemy didn’t seem to have it on patrol. His ships were armed and up armored but even then they would have trouble with a larger dedicated warship, now it almost seemed like he got a free pass.

“Sir!” came the sudden shout again from Major Pain.

“FUCKING SHIT YOU MOTHERFUCK.” screamed Tim at the again sudden appearance of the Major. “I swear to god if you do that again you’re going into a vat and I’ll make a new one of you that's not so stupid.”

“Sir we are ready to launch strike craft and dropships on your command oorah.” reported Major Pain, ignoring the threat from Tim. “If I may ask what are your plans for the assault sir oorah?”

“The strike craft will engage the patrols and while those are preoccupied the dropships will hit the starport, from there we will determine where their garrison is mainly stationed and push for that with the bulk of our warforms while other push out and stifle any resistance.

”THAT SOUNDS LIKE A TERRIBLE PLAN, WHY DON”T YOU JUST LET ME OUT OF THE BOX.’ roared Xyzxxyzxrxy Devourer of Worlds.

Tim stared at the box for a moment trying to decide what he should do with the creature.

“Sir if I may sir, oorah.” asked Major Pain

“No you may not.” stated Tim flatly.

“Excellent choice sir, oorah.”

“Fuck, get Xyzxxyzxrxy Devourer of Worlds loaded onto my dropship, if things do go sideways I suppose he might be useful.” ordered Tim

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Tim grabbed a binder and headed for the dropship he was going to riding to down below but before leaving he made sure two backup forms of his were already loaded on the ship, he hated taking over a warform if he needed to, they always seemed so...icky


************************************************

From the largest ship vessel a large hangar door opened near the rear and eight smaller craft were suddenly expelled, ranging in size between forty and sixty meters, they were a motley assembly of various craft that had been stolen or bought, from an XR-221 Widowmaker to even an AS-305 Knight they had all been changed over to carry railguns and missiles which Tim seemed to favor mostly over other weapons for the ships he had. The entire squadron immediately altered course and headed straight for the patrol.

Meanwhile the other three vessels had hangars open as well and each one had a small group of dropships disembark from them. With thrusters at full burn the angled towards the enemy’s starport trying to reach it before the enemy knew what was happening

Tim closed his eyes and felt his stomach lurch as the thrusters on his ship fully engaged headed towards the moon, although it was too late he wondered if he left the coffee pot on in his cabin.

“Shit.”

[Jagada]

Twenty-Nine entered the extreme range of combat as the Aumanii began maneuvers to counter their sudden appearance. The vessels of the Prefectorate had performed a near-terminal orbit spin around Jupiter on their approach and dived towards Ganymede. The formation was led by the flagship, Lamentation of Pythos, and followed in behind by Recluse. Captain Kells’ plan was simple. Twenty-Nine would perform a break neck sweep into Ganymede’s orbit, launch a lightning raid against MDA Ganymede and hopefully knock out as many targets as possible on the first pass before burning around the moon and coming in for the killing blow. With any success they would find the Aumanii crippled on the first strike. Lamentation of Pythos and her escorts entered the outer range of engagement first and began firing off hardened armor-penetration missiles in staggered salvos.

Plans do not long survive contact with the enemy and this was no exception. Sensor sweeps have continued even as the salvos launched and the VI programs began charging the particle cannons. Their returns had given Twenty-Nine the approximate layout of the fleet yards, and discovered that they were mostly barren, with one critical exception. Returns from the Hellespontos were immediately flagged as high risk and practically shouted into the ears of Captain Kells. The battleship’s design was unknown to the Saturnalians and they had no idea the ship’s ancient status or that she was unfit for duty. They only knew what initial reports had been sent from Ionia – that Forty-Two had been annihilated at Megaclite once a capital vessel intervened. Cydonian military doctrine shied away from using overuse of capital ships and instead focused on overwhelming numbers of sub-capitals to hit the enemy from multiple directions; hence the absurd number of cruisers they employed. Twenty-Nine did not have the firepower, reckoned Kells, to go toe to toe with a capital ship and a clutch of destroyers. This issue would have to be rectified on the first pass.

Recluse received its orders.

---

The Square wasn’t equipped to deal with surprise attacks. The gun turrets scattered conservatively across it had only ever been used in test-firing or to knock out the occasional hulk that got mothballed and no one could bother towing it towards Sol. The orbital plate only boasted a modest security detail, none of which were actual professional military from Ground Command but instead locals given modest training and gear. The most that happened on OCP-11 was the occasional drunken brawl between ship crews, smuggling, and petty crime. The four vessels had approached without so much as a hail from the command center on the Square, until they had reached the Minimum Distance. By the time the command staff noticed that no hails had come from these four unknown vessels their sensors already picked up the dropships well inside of their perimeter. A critical mistake had been made by someone up the chain of command. The particle gun turrets were activated and the plate’s outdated Vi program was shifted from maintaining commerce logs, inspection schedules, and randomized security checks to full-battle status. Technically the Naxopolis colonial government was responsible for upgrading and installing OCP-11’s Virtual Intelligence Package, but due to greed and “budget constraints” they had only seldomly upgraded the package. Thus, the VI that was currently trying to track what amounted to nats in an open field wasn’t the modernized Mk. III programs found on military vessels or plates, but instead a continuously repaired Mk. 1 package whose software was a patchwork of ad hoc updates just to keep it running. The program itself had already begun to show signs of degeneracy in the past year, and the calls for its replacement were becoming louder.

None of that mattered now. The VI Program did what it could to track and target the incoming unidentified vessels but its shots were often wild or grossly miscalculated. In the void, however, the Lightning had picked up the launch as soon as it occurred. Unfortunately, it wasn’t based right next to the station and instead had dispersed itself and the other patrol frigates in a wide perimeter. None had bothered to stop or question the incoming vessels when they didn’t identify themselves beyond what their transmitters passively pinged out. This wasn’t necessarily due to military incompetence but instead a matter of protocol. Civilian merchants being forced to deal with Void Command ships often led to unnecessary delays and ‘incidents’, causing the administration in Naxopolis no end of headaches. Years ago, an agreement had been made where the Kappa Squadron patrol would do just that, patrol, and leave communication for incoming ships between the Square and the merchant captains. This increased the amount of ships that could be processed dramatically and cut down on incidents.

Lightning, however, did track the incoming ships out of its own protocols. Naxopolis be damned. Once the ship’s sensors confirmed that the now enemy vessels had launched superheavy fighters towards the patrol and dropships to the Square, the entire patrol reacted. Lightning’s captain ordered their own fighters out of the launch bays to intercept. Though the size disparity would mean they’d at best be a distraction to the superheavies, but it may buy Seventeen time to regroup. Each of the patrol frigates burned hot towards a rally point, each deploying their own squadron of fighters to harass the enemy. Meanwhile on the Square the crew of the Astrogator Postimus were trying to rush back to their vessel to begin emergency deployment procedures. The faster the destroyer could get back into the fight, the better.

[Auman]

Klaxons screamed in the flotilla. Missiles threaded their way towards the destroyers, which were fighting a losing battle against momentum. There was no dancing their way out of this, the only option available was the application of brute force. Chain guns, flak cannons and laser domes laid down a hail of counter fire, creating a wall of destruction that impeded the flow of enemy ordnance. The success rate was measured in the high percentiles and what managed to get through was largely absorbed by the thick armor of the Star-class destroyers. The crews and their captains now understand, with the addition of data being streamed from the battle over Megaclite, that this is the weapon system they would have the most success in countering... They were also keenly aware of the ass kicking they were set to receive from the enemy's particle beam cannons.

However, Aumanii destroyers were optimized much differently than the frigates and even the cruisers the Saturnalians had recently engaged. They were built like brick shit houses, where protection and firepower were slanted against overall operational endurance. They were tougher and packed more heat, but were also vastly out ranged in the most critical seconds of the battle.

The Flotilla returned fire, spitting out hundreds of guided missiles towards Task Force 29, their automatic launchers only resting momentarily to reload their cells from a seemingly inexhaustible magazine. Their railguns set forth a deluge of shells in a pattern intended to force the Saturnalians to evade, hemming them in, it was hoped, into a path of the Aumanii flotilla's choosing. They were easily evaded, but each maneuver was hoped to rob the enemy of forward momentum.

Captain Gurdeep Sodhi, aboard the destroyer Sirius was first to notice the clutch of several dozen anti-ship missiles veering off track towards MDA Ganymede. It should have been obvious since the beginning that this was the target, but should the destroyers lend any of their flak to the defense of the installation, they would no doubt be overwhelmed. It was all they could do to stay-off the onslaught as it was. Checking over his feeds, Sodhi saw that Hellespontos was going through a quick rundown of systems, attempting to get whatever weapons it had into the fight as soon as possible... MDA Ganymede was unarmed and completely defenseless, owing entirely to Sol's reputation as a safe, if not stagnant, system.

Hellespontos' c-fracs were offline and unable to be brought back in a time frame that was acceptable. Same with the laser defense domes and flak cannons. A pair of dorsal chainguns were fortuitously loaded and operational thanks to software checks, crews had been sighting-in the guns and were not finished when the attack came through. These were the only defenses available to them. Those chainguns kicked into action, but were off axis and missed with every shot. The men of the flotilla and those aboard the old battleship, as well as MDA Ganymede watched helplessly as the penetrators made contact with their targets.

MDA Ganymede had been peppered, many of the missiles had punched clean through the station and exploded aimlessly in space on the other side, owing to the fact that it was unarmored. The damage was heavy, however, and increased exponentially with every consecutive hit. Hellespontos was not so lucky... Her heavy armor didn't allow for over penetration and the rot of the selcanrab had dug deep into her bones. Everything looked well enough after the first salvo, but if you looked closely enough, it was apparent that her back had been broken... A slight deformity, a twist down the centerline... And within her thick skin, deep inside the guts of this old warship, was a maelstrom of fire and explosions that currently raged unchecked. Civilian contractors, former Fleet men for the most part, were scrambling towards damage control stations, but everyone already knew that the ship was a lost cause.

[Piethrixia]

Piethrixian Destroyer | PAFD-12412-A | Approaching Sol | 6:15:40

The Comms officer looks down at their console from the window of the bridge, after a second they turn around and yell to the captain, "So uh, I'm fairly sure we are about to warp right into the middle of a battle zone." They press buttons and a map of the system comes up on the bridges screens, on it multiple vessels are exchanging fire with each other, The ship's computer taking in Terabytes of data every second, and displaying the most important on the screen. After taking in the information shown on the screen, the captain presses a button on their console, causing the ship's PA system to come to life. "It seems we are about to warp right into an active combat situation, prepare to take heavy fire, We will do our best to convince the groups fighting to cease hostilities, and then open diplomatic relations with any parties. If we fail to do that, it's not our fight." The captain straps into his seat, the rest of the bridge crew follows suit. The Navigations officer begins calling out the amount of time until the ship leaves warp, "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5" the ships warp core shuts down, with the Impulse drive taking over, slowing the massive warship down to a speed which is enough to enter an orbit of Jupiter. "4, 3, 2,1" The ship pops into existence, its guns sweeping the sky to search for targets. The captain then begins broadcasting a message.

"This is the Piethrixian Spacecraft PAFD-12412-A, we come on a mission of diplomacy, Would you all cease fighting for a small amount of time, or shall we have another vessel come back at another time to open diplomatic relations."

[Jagada]

Red indicators blinked in Captain Kells’ face as one of the frigates went dark. He didn’t bother to read the preliminary damage reports taken by Lamentation’s sensors and compiled by the VI, he already knew it had been torn apart by enemy railguns. The Martians had a predilection for using mass drivers. He couldn’t contest their effectiveness either, as that wasn’t the first frigate sent to the debris fields of Jupiter. Twenty-Nine had steadfastly refused to yield their momentum the enemy and maintained their speed while doing their best to avoid incoming fire. Each captain had been forced to rely heavily upon their VI to take temporary control of the vessels and make necessary course corrections. Still, most of the vessels were experiencing damage – with the exception of Recluse which stayed behind the advancing line, only lending its weapons sparingly. Twenty-Nine then entered the extreme range of their particle beam cannons and each vessel now held a critical advantage over their opponents. Scything towards the Aumanii ships the incandescent beams of charge particles made light shows in the void that were visible to MDA Ganymede. The approach this time was more in line with traditional Saturnalian doctrine. They held the advantage in numbers, for the time being, and so fire was focused on the escort ships of the Martian fleet, such as the frigates.

The Saturnalians would continue their rapid firing on the Aumanii vessels, hoping to knock out their escorting ships and then targeting down the larger vessels in short order. Once they came within knife-fighting range it was hoped most of the Aumanii would be little better than smoldering wreckage, but they would not be content with just hoping. The sensors had kept a constant lock on the Hellespontos, and had registered the hits made. The distance, however, was too far to register that she was effectively dead in the void. It did register that her prow-mounted chainguns had attempted to shield her from the incoming missile barrage. The Hellespontos could not be allowed to slip from her berth. The burn around Ganymede would take too long, even at these velocities, and could give the battleship critical minutes to reach battle readiness.

Recluse had purposely remained out of the bulk of the fighting, and two of the frigates lost had actually been her escorts who interposed themselves between the cruiser and incoming fire. A sacrifice to be sure, but one that was calculated. Deep within the bowls of the cruiser, a few of the crewmembers and a legion of automatons raced about making the necessary changes to missile loadout. Within every Cydonian ship of significant size there was a varying number of strategic weapons, in this case nuclear warheads. These weapons were not used frivolously and even unlocking would require a full debriefing to Void Command after the engagement. While Saturnalia was not shy in using these weapons their use often escalated conflicts and so were frowned upon except when deemed vitally necessary. This was one of those situations. As another wave of missiles were fired by Twenty-Nine, Recluse fired with them. The missiles she fired, however, were not the standard armor penetration as the rest of the fleet. A small detail that the Aumanii would soon be on the receiving end.

Aumanii point defense systems would inevitably lock onto the incoming missiles and begin chattering away. When one of these systems inevitably locked onto the recalcitrants, the missiles primitive virtual intelligences detected this and immediately engaged the warheads even more primitive faster-than-light drives. For the Amanii, one moment their ships were tracking incoming warheads and the next they would simply vanish off the screen. The Recluse had, in fact, deployed pondskipper missiles, very unorthodox technology that was at best horribly unreliable. This showed then our of the ten warheads launched, three simply never rematerialized their fates forever unknown. Four would materialize on the other side of MDA Ganymede and Hellespontos and simply keep going in the void forever. Of the remainder, one materialized within danger close distance of Hellespontos, managing to avoid its still lackluster prow guns and striking the vessel mid-ship. The nuclear detonation ripped the heart of venerable battleship out, with the explosion gutting most of the decks before blowing out into the ship’s reactors and causing a chain reaction there. Two warheads would materialize at nearly the same time as the Hellespontos was being hit and would slam into the undefended station. Both the battleship and station would simply break apart under the bombardment.

Twenty-Nine would see these twin explosions readily enough and push for the killing blow against the Aumanii.

[The Axlarian Hive]

Tim’s dropships and friends

Tim had settled into the co-pilot seat of the dropship he was in, his binder still clutched to his chest. He opened it carefully and looked through the pages, all the while ignoring the chain smoking figure next time who seemed to inhale a cigarette in three drags, toss the butt and magically seem to have another lit, the cycle repeating almost endlessly. Tim selected one of the discs and then touched a button on the console, an ancient CD player folded out and Tim slid his chosen disc into the player andand hit play as the dropships began their descent.

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me, incoming enemy fire, pulling evasive manuevers.” the very nervous pilot said as the music blared over the dropship’s speaker and her broadband to the other dropships.

“Scotty you need…” Tim began when he suddenly felt his stomach lurch up into his mouth as the dropship twisted into a barrel roll and took a nosedive even though several shots from the enemy weren’t anywhere near the dropship. Flares and nanite fog canisters were shot in front of the dropship and exploded as Scotty the pilot pulled several more complete unnecessary evasive maneuvers.

“Fucking stop you spaz.” Tim screamed as the dropship groaned from high G twists and turns.

An explosion bloomed behind them and one of the icons for the dropships blipped away from the Holo-TAC between Scotty and Tim. A deranged looking eye looked down at the blip and then back up at Tim.

“Don’t you dare you mother…” Tim started but couldn’t finish as Scotty rolled the ship in again.

Missiles from every dropship targeted the defensive cannons and launched as more flares and nanite fog covered the sky as the dropships closed in on their target.


**********************************

Xtreme Squadron (it's Xtreme)

“Listen here pardner, me and the rest of Durango Squadron are gonna focus towards them thar big ships, you and the rest of the extreme boys are gonna wrap these little fighter bugs up and join up understood?” came the slow country drawl over Hunter’s intercom from the lead of Durango Squadron, Dakota Gunner

“Whatever, don’t give a shit just gonna shoot some shit down over here and then we’ll come to you and shoot down ok?” Hunter said as his ship and the other three with him accelerated towards the enemy fighters.

“OK BOYZ IT”S TIME TO GET XTREEEEEEEEEME.” Hunter yelled over his radio to his flight as the four fighters launched a salvo of missiles at the craft not even a quarter of the size of their fighters. The missiles vaporized knocked out some of the enemy fighters as the Hunter’s railguns came into range and his targeting computer began tracking all the hostels.

“Now this is pod-racing.” screamed Hunter as he flew straight into the furball of enemy fighters.

[Jagada]

The situation around the Square continued to worsen. Lightning and her sister frigates had deployed their star-fighter screens. These were small, unmanned vessels that were meant for added fire support or scouting and were ill-suited to their current predicament. Ideally, if they’d been deployed together, they might’ve fared better but with Seventeen caught unprepared and spread across the perimeter these fighters arrived in batches and were easily eliminated by the Plutonians. The enemy super-heavy fighters barreled through the screening forces and would catch Seventeen out of formation. Each frigate would become a small isolated battleground unto itself, as it pushed forward to form up while simultaneously warding off attack-runs. On the hulls of each frigate a series of rail-powered flak cannons and chainguns powered up, their targeting systems controlled by the onboard virtual intelligence package and began tracking incoming missile waves or fighters that strayed into their operational range. The flak cannons would begun firing in the general vicinity of the frigate to create a wall of shrapnel to catch incoming fire. Deep within the bowls of magazines automated systems kicked in, cycling ammunition up to the chainguns which swiveled about tracking whichever targets gave them the highest probability of kills.

The situation on the Square was in an even less admirable state – the enemy would certainly land. The station’s long abused automated defense systems were overwhelmed and a number of the turrets received pin-point missiles strikes which obliterated them, sending convulsions through the bones of the station. Inside the situation was in complete panic. The Square was a very active station with dozens of starships arriving each cycle. Civilians ran amok as klaxons ordered all security personnel to prepare to repel boarders. Had there been more accountability for the station’s security there would’ve been tighter communications, the civilians would’ve been ushered to secure locations, and the security teams would be better than the handful of civilian contractors that the Square reluctantly paid. Regardless these security teams rallied to the points where infiltration would most likely occur, setting up barricades and preparing for whatever came through the bulkheads. Civilians were left to their own devices and soon made a run on the docks where they clawed at each other trying to board whatever vessel would take them away from the nightmare. It didn’t take long before gunfire erupted in the multiple docking bays with blood being spilt over the slightest provocation or desperate action. Several civilian ships would attempt to flee the Square, to fire up their engines and depart. They would be sorely disappointed when the override command came from Command Center deep within the station, locking all vessels in place. Realizing that this benefitted everyone involved, Station Command ordered those civilians in the docking bays to be locked inside with the ships where they would (hopefully) be more or less secure … at least they’d be out of the way.

Meanwhile the Astrogator Postimus continued to scramble in its emergency rush to break free of the Square. Soon it would be completed.

---

“We have confirmation from Battlegroup Twenty-Nine,” intoned the virtual intelligence, “The Aumanii shipyards above Ganymede have been neutralized. Captain Kells confirms losses are within acceptable ranges. He also confirms use of nuclear warheads and Pondskipper missiles.”

Admiral Galira, and the rest of Kappa Squadron Command, took the news in silence as the virtual intelligence onboard the Ionia Shipyards passively relayed reports from across the Jovian Reaches. Word had already been sent out to nearby battlegroups to rally at Ionia, for it would be the most likely next target for the Sphere. None of those assembled believed that Megaclite was the actual objective of the Martians. In fact, the Prefectorate had claimed it specifically because it so unremarkable, and worked well as a training/spying facility. Ideas had been bandied about what to do next, the strike on Ganymede was at best a welcome surprise but would do little to shift the Martian presence in the Reaches. A direct strike on Mars had been contemplated but rejected by the Acropolis on Mimas – too risky. Command assumed that Kappa Squadron was outgunned by the Martians in Sol and didn’t want to prove whatever suspicions that Martians may have had right.

Doing nothing, though, had been ruled out. The Acropolis wanted Kappa to remain on the offensive to keep the Aumanii off balance. It was therefore decided that a strike would be made against the enemy position around Megaclite. The rock had little real value to either side, or so reasoned Command, but the enemy would not expect a counter-strike this soon. The forces around Ionia had ground considerably over the past few hours with nearby patrols rallying to the stations presumed defense. The order went out – Admiral Galira would take command himself, entrusting the station’s defense to Battlegroup One-One-Four. Galira assembled his strike force around his flagship, Last Wood – a Trillium-class cruiser. The vessel was unique amongst its peers in that it actually had an ancient wooden beam that technically supported the structure of the cruiser … albeit it had a ludicrous amount of supporting framing around it so the beam didn’t actually provide any real support. His flagship had been one of thirty-vessels to be installed with the last remnants of the ancient wooden naval ships from Cydonia. These beams had existed for centuries, transported from shup to ship regardless of the cost or damages. Many of them, like the one in Last Wood, was in fact from a nation that existed before the Commonwealth.

Kappa Squadron rallied around Last Wood. The composition was respectable with three cruisers, eight destroyers, twice that number of frigates (of various loadouts), and a handful of corvettes. This flotilla represented a clear majority of Kappa’s strength in the Reaches. If it failed against the Martians, then Ionia would likely fall in quick succession, ejecting the Saturnalians likely for good. At his command, Kappa Squadron began a hard burn towards Megaclite.

---

Battlegroup Twenty-Nine basked in the glow of the secondary explosions rippling out from MDA Ganymede, and the charred husk of the Hellespontos as it swirled lazily in the void gradually breaking apart. Twenty-Nine did not walk away unbloodied for a number of their own vessels were hanging equally lazily in the void. Rescue crews had already been dispatched, and salvage requests had been sent to Ionia. Kells wanted the Hellespontos, and if it could be saved then it should be dragged back to Saturnalia to display as a war trophy. He’d need confirmation from the Acropolis, it would be risky since there was no guarantee that the Martians weren’t already dispatching a response fleet to Ganymede. While this moment of indecision was ongoing both Lamentation of Pythos and Recluse took up defensive positions to wait for the rescue crews to finish their hopefully fruitful task.

That is, of course, when the VI kindly reminded Kells that there was, in fact, another presence in the orbit of Jupiter – closer to Ganymede than to Ionia for sure. Its message had been received during the conflict and immediately shunted to the lowest possible priority due to active combat. These Piethrixians were an unknown species to the Saturnalians and so unless they’d arrived with guns blazing or a battlefleet of their own they’d have to wait. Kells considered their message carefully before sending a reply.

“I am Captain Kells of the Saturnalian Prefectorate. Your vessel had entered the Jovian Reaches, which is an active war zone. Your safety cannot be guaranteed. If you wish to make first contact I am authorized to facilitate, but I do not have the power to make binding treaties. We may not be at this location long. Any diplomatic staff will have to accept possibly being taken with us if we have to move in a hurry.”

[Piethrixia]

Piethrixian Destroyer | PAFD-12412-A | Jupiter Orbit

"They seem to be heavily Damaged, should I send Damage control teams to the hangar for transport?" The captain thinks for a second before they respond, "Bring us closer to them, ill go with the teams." He looks to the comms officer and nods, the comms officer presses a few buttons, opening communications with the Jagadite fleet

"Your ships seem to be damaged, we are capable of assisting with basic repairs to systems, we will bring our vessel in closer."

[Jagada]

“Your assistance is welcome, in whatever capacity it can be provided,” replied Captain Kells, “I shall have a team meet you in the hanger bay. Adhere to all flight path instructions and ensure all vessels entering our exclusion zone have weapons powered down.”

The link was severed after confirmation had been received and Kells noticed the immediate look of the nearby security officers. Allowing xenos onboard an Prefectorate ship was one thing, but to allow them close access to State-secrets was another. Kells nodded at their unspoken concerns, “Keep their damage teams strictly to common areas. Have security teams escort them in their duties.”

He then keyed up Lamentation’s VI, “Unknown xenos will be boarding the ship. Monitor their activity and prepare for containment and purge. We are running under First Contact Protocols. Scan for health concerns when they board and deny access if they pose a health risk.” Confident that the issue was sufficiently resolved he ordered one of the conference rooms be cleared and then turned his attention back to the floating hulk of Hellespontos. Word had not yet arrived from the Acropolis on whether or not the Aumanii vessel could be seized for “research and development” purposes, but he’d already given preliminary orders that the vessel was likely to be taken when they left the zone. The reflections from distant Sol glittered in Kells’ eyes as he imagined the glory that awaited him back home.

For the Piethrixian delegation the approach to Lamentation of Pythos would be uneventful. As their shuttles reached the exclusion zone they would note that multiple systems from Lamentation and Recluse had locked onto them and tracked their every movement. As they closed in on Kells’ vessel they would get their first visual look at a Cydonian ship of war. It was not much to behold, being constructed in a simple and brutal design with a lot of flat angles and bristling with gun emplacements. In brief, it was a slab of titanium with gun turrets floating in vacuum. Their shuttle would be contacted again by the cruiser and given a very specific flightpath to follow, which would lead them to one of the nearby hanger bays. Once they touched down, they would be met by a security detail and once the necessary platitudes had been exchanged would be instructed to follow them to meet with Captain Kells.

Unbeknownst to them, or maybe even known, they were under constant scanning and observation. The VI would scan them for known pathogens that were hostile or dangerous to Cydonic lifeforms and would immediately trigger alarms if any were present. Of course, the delegation was still put through a decontamination screening before leaving the hanger bay and they would note that the hanger was empty upon their arrival except for the security detail (enclosed in powered armor). Once the delegation had cleaned decontamination and proceeded deeper into the ship, then the hanger bay would be vent into the void in a purge.

The interior of a Cydonic ship was not much to behold either but would radiant a sense of size and scale that may have been lacking on a humanoid vessel. Cydonians were a very tall and broad species, standing over eight feet tall and over three feet wide. Consequently, the corridors of their ships were necessarily larger and carried a sense of weight and endurance. The damage control teams that the Piethrixians had brought along would be taken by another security detail deeper into the ship, but only in the common areas where damage been sustained. There they would remain, and be allowed to assist, under watchful eyes. The diplomatic delegation would be guided in short order to one of the conference rooms.

Inside they would discover Captain Kells standing and waiting for them. Cydonians did not normally sit, their species had developed strong leg muscles and evolved to remain standing for long periods of time. Still, they had encountered numerous human-variant species who seemed to prefer sitting, especially behind desks, and so a table had been brought in hastily along with chairs of appropriate sizes (although they’d still be a little big). The room was otherwise sparse and devoid of anything, even the unity flag which normally hung there.

“Welcome to the Lamentation,” said Kells amicably, “Please take a seat. You will forgive me if I do not – we do not normally sit but take no offense if you do. Now, I believe its customary to exchange common names with human species? What is yours?’

[Auman]

On Mars, deep within the red regolith, stood a Mountain. A monstrous beast of a man, handsome about the face with a firm jaw, cleft chin and ice blue eyes stood in utter darkness. His hair, likewise, was black as a raven's feather. He was lit gently by a simple hologram suspended in the air before him. A series of red and blue dots orbiting Megaclite, which itself was a pale white orb. To its left there floating was a similarly crude display of the battle of Ganymede. The Mountain made a few curt hand gestures and waved them off dismissively. The withdrawal orders were made. Almost at once, a bright beam of incandescent light enveloped him from head to foot and as if from nowhere he was joined by a man, shorter than him but lean and tall for an Earthnoid. The newcomer's skin was black as pitch, his shaved head glistening... The hologram was so true to life that it even captured the yellowed sclera of Overlord Samoth Uyghur's eyes.

The two men stood in silence for a long moment, both watching over the displays where the blue dots disappeared one by one, either by maneuver or by suicide. The ships that were crippled would have scuttled themselves, the crews if they were fortunate had been picked up by their countrymen... If not, they would be captured. Better a fate, no matter how humiliating, than to go down with a doomed ship. They were trained well, the enemy would have to go to great lengths to tease any information out of them.

Uyghur was clenching his jaw, his gaze was intense and the fury within him was contained by his calculation and willpower. He examined The Mountain, who was transfixed thoughtfully on the displays.

"Bold." Uyghur said calmly. The Mountain cast a sideways glance at him. "A failure, but bold nonetheless." He continued.

"Failure is only an opportunity not yet realized." Said The Mountain, his voice was deceptively soft and pleasant to the ear, not altogether unmasculine but far more kind than one would expect from a man so tall and heavily muscled.

"This is correct," said Uyghur, "I am not here to assign blame. You did everything by the numbers."

The Mountain brought a hand to his chin and nodded, saying "You can do everything right and still lose." A saying every officer learns at the Academy, "It all came down to the flip of a coin. Heads, we win. Tails, they lose."

"Failure is an opportunity, we will learn. We will get better." Said Uyghur.

"We will give them the opportunity to learn, brother."

[Jagada]

Kappa Squadron had positioned itself around Megaclite. Admiral Galira had ordered a wide disbursement and picket ships to be dispatched even further. Last Wood stood in a commanding overwatch position over the Jupiterian moon with its sensors on constant, active sweeps. The approach to Megaclite had been wrought with considerable worry and doubt, as Galira had half expected a full Martian fleet to be waiting for him. When sensors had returned nothing but cosmic dust and traces of debris from the recent battle, he had been suspicious and ordered Kappa Squadron to spread out and look for the ambush he was certain was waiting for them. Nothing. They found nothing and as the net slowly tightened, he at least expected to find mines left by the spiteful Martians. Again, nothing was found. The scout ships came within knife-range of each other and found nothing but the moon itself. The whole thing sat poorly with Admiral Galira and he remained standing on the bridge of Last Wood when he received the report.

“We’ve found … something sir,” came message from the void marine’s groundside, “Its inside the moon, sir.”

Challis Outpost had been lost with all hands, but a company had been sent to verify this and conduct a general sweep of the damage done to both the Outpost and Megaclite.

“Inside?” asked Galira, half for clarification, half in disbelief, “Link to the ship, I want to see this myself.”

A handful of moments later the link was established and Admiral Galira got his first look at what Glorious Heritage had uncovered with its reckless maneuvers. He stood looking at it for a long while, not sure what to make of something that defied categorization.

“Get me an encrypted link to the Acropolis,” he said slowly, “Void Command direct link. Encryption level magenta …”

[Piethrixia]

The delegates, who have become accustomed to the bare metal and cramped quarters of PAFD-12412-A though they do not show it, feel exposed in the cavernous spaces of the vessel. The scans of the Piethrixians show they have extremely redundant organs and high resistance to the effects of radiation which would normally affect humanoids, a trait leftover from centuries of generations on a planet barraged by nuclear war.

Just as the Delegation was being scanned constantly, the powerful sensor suite of PAFD-12412-A searches the vessel, trying to find any sign of a possible attack on the destroyer.

When given the option to sit or stand the delegates choose to do the same as the Cydonian, and stand. The head delegate introduces themself as Duri Courtenay and says that their damage control teams should be able to complete their repairs quickly, as well as saying that it would be possible for a more permanent Piethrixian diplomatic team to be sent at a later date to further increase diplomatic relations.