In Pursuit of Profit [Open][FT][IC]

by **Riftan Alliance Trading Company** » Sat Nov 26, 2022 11:21 pm

C.S. Octlien - Deep Space - Unknown Regions
The men and women working for the RATC were in over their heads. They had just been sent light years away from home, to a completely foreign environment, in an attempt to both research and collect a resource known as lightstone for whatever resources the Company Command wanted, all while simultaneously fighting alongside a group of natives defending their planet and its resources. They were well aware of this, as well as their low odds of arriving home. Even the mission’s commander, High Colonel Spade, was doubtful about their chances. Regardless, they had been hired to do just this, so that’s what they would do.

The Octlien had been en route for days now due to a malfunction in its warp speed engines. The delay there only increased tension onboard the ship and its escort as they drifted in the void. This was, to them, the unknown regions, where all manner of unknown and sinister void beings and civilizations would be more than happy to kill these hapless trespassers floating outside their atmosphere. The ship’s engineers determined there were some form of void-dwelling parasites that were chewing into the ships power lines and its cooling system. Then, to make it worse, a squad of the mechanics discovered the creature had delivered its eggs while buried inside the ship.

Nearly the entire group of SecOps grunts had been deployed to constantly scour the ship for any sign of the creatures and their nest. One unlucky grunt was nearly crushed by a caved in ceiling as hundreds of larvae had chewed through the metal. After angering the creatures by dumping several mags into the swarm, the grunt and his squad radioed the bridge with the news, who ordered an immediate closure of all blast doors and security shields to prevent the swarm from advancing. A corporal and his team of flame troopers were hassled out of bed to torch the swarm, as well as an entire platoon of sleeping men to collect whatever riot shields and fully-automatic, large-magazined, weapons they could find. After an extensive military campaign resulting in two sleepless nights for all onboard, the parasites were thoroughly eliminated from the vessel with extreme prejudice.

After the next full day of warp-speed, the Octlien and its escort arrived at their destination in pristine condition, but with the doubt ever increasing in their minds. They dropped out of warp-speed in orbit of the planet in question before slowing and transmitting their information to whoever might be listening.

“Attention all vessels orbiting Sunyria - This is the C.S. Octlien, here to intervene in the current war embroiling the planet” said Spade, pointedly leaving out who they would be supporting. “Repeat: This is the C.S. Octlien, a cargo ship here to intervene in the war here”

Spade felt as if though he was being either too blunt or enigmatic. What even did he say? A techie working at a terminal clearly saw the errors of the brief transmission and was hiding his confusion by closely observing a spot on his monitor.

Well…they answered or they didn’t. Here we go…

by **Ella2 6** » Sun Nov 27, 2022 10:17 am

Kasa Tkoth Sphere wrote:-snip-

Lieutenant Tommie Penn
Delta Company, Commander Jesse Wendy's Battalion
Prime Elevator

"Jesus, they're fast!" the machine gunner blurted as he struggled to keep the Cadaz operatives and their drones in his sights. "Argh!" He suddenly cried out, dropping his weapon and collapsing to the floor, clutching his shoulder where a random laser burst had struck him. His assistant quickly picked up the automatic rifle and proceeded to resume firing when the walls went up in a ball of flames. The assistant gunner stumbled back, shielding his eyes with his arm. In the few seconds that it took for the fire and smoke to clear, the streets had been completely vacated save only for a single corpse and the wreck of a drone.

"They're on the roof!" a marksman on the top floor called over the radio.

"To the roof!" Tommie ordered, rushing up the flight of stairs and emerging on the flat rooftops. By the time he arrived, the enemy infantry were a few hundred metres away, bounding from rooftop to rooftop. Tommie cursed under his breath. "Battalion, this is D Coy. The enemy has bypassed our position. I repeat, the enemy has bypassed our position. Over."

"Contact 6 o'clock! Take cover!" The warning came as a squadron of drones came up from behind and started spraying the Cobb Larson forces with automatic lasers. Tommie quickly ducked back inside, but many of his men found themselves exposed without cover and were quickly cut down. Nearby units returned fire as the drones passed overhead, managing to down one of them. According to the HUD, the tankettes, which carried the squad's network infrastructure, could only detect life signs from less than a third of the company's personnel.

Lieutenant Penn stumbled his way back down the stairs, his feet dragging on the mudbrick floor as he slowly made his way back to the window where he had been firing from. He glanced briefly out at the street, noting the single Cadaz operative that they had managed to kill, before turning away and slumping down in one of the two remaining corners of the room. The oppressive sunlight spilled into the second floor room directly into his eyes now that one of the walls can been completely melted off. In the corner of his eye, the company unit counter (which showed how many people were still alive) ticked down by another one. He took off his helmet and let it roll onto the ground beside him as he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. The type of body-racking sob that produced no tears.

Commander Jesse Wendy
Commander Jesse Wendy's Battalion
Prime Elevator

While Delta Company was attempting (unsuccessfully) to delay the Cadaz operatives, the rest of Commander Jesse Wendy's Battalion was busy entrenching themselves into defensive positions around the Prime Elevator Main Data Centre. The healthier Zeta Company was to defend the main entrance (which the Cadaz were rapidly approaching) while Epsilon Company was to cover the rear entrance. The Battalion's orders were to defend the data centre at all costs while strategic command mustered elite forces for immediate deployment.

Zeta Company had set up ambush positions along the road in a very similar fashion to Delta, except they had much more support from the Battalion's supporting units. Battalion artillery had spent set carefully laying their guns to target critical junctions the Cadaz were likely to pass through. Tankettes were hauled onto the roof of the data centre where their AI-controlled automatic cannons can provide anti-aircraft fire (it was likely one the only platform which could reliably hit the fast-moving Cadaz drones). The armour platoon's sole surviving battle tank, reinforced by light tanks from the recon platoon, was also set up in concealed positions by the main entrance.

by **Elysian Treaty Organization** » Tue Nov 29, 2022 4:49 pm

1-0: Prologue
Prologue | Act 1: Virtue

Hope.

It can be the single source of sustenance for a crippled population. From scattered tribes to entire nations, many have looked up at the radiant sky for hope, security, an escape from the tribulations and trials that pockmark worlds throughout space.

For the scattered Ellians of Sunrayia, the sky had become something much more terrifying. A corporate yoke enslaved the once innocent peoples as they worked in scattered mines across a once beautiful world, the galaxy turning a blind eye to the atrocities occurring on a mere backwater.

The Elysians would have the distinct honor of returning hope to the verdant skies of Sunrayia. White ships lazily orbit a single star, blotting out sections of sun as they are loaded for imminent medical operations. A single red cross is emblazoned on each ship, giving away their purpose and objective.

A single freighter pushes up, the fusion engines shining a bright hue of blue as they push the thousand-ton ship across the dark, inky vacuum of space. The black freighter clashes with the white of the other ships as it joins the formation, cutting fusion engines as it prepares to jump.

A fateful order is issued across the fleet. Three tears in reality appear as the ships roar into the brink.

by **Observation Post 13** » Sun Dec 04, 2022 12:07 pm

Unity Coalition military cruiser and Gibson Manufacturing industrial ship FTL's directly into the uncharted Zunus sector. From there the Central Planning Authority fleet plots a course to the desert planet Sunryria.

The desert world of Sunryria is a planet rich in Lightstone - a rare crystal used in the manufacturing of highly advanced laser weapons and electronics - with numerable surface deposits and even more underground. It is also a critical precursor for the synthesis of Angel Dust, a highly sought-after narcotic substance that sells an exorbitant amount on the galactic black market.

Up in orbit, Artillery rockets and pulse-carbine fire draw thin, bright streaks through the dusty Sunryria atmosphere, punctuated by explosions. The fighting for the control of Lightstone is heating up. Clever timing from the rebels fed a growing rebellion that had seized some of the critical infrastructures on the surface of Sunryria, disrupting the vital supply of Lightstone to the wider galaxy.

CPA fleet goes into orbit around Sunryria. They carefully maintain their distance away from the other fleets that were orbiting Sunryria already, ready to disengage in the event of hostilities.

Consoles rapidly beep off a string of notifications. Detecting multiple polities from: Order of the Vanguards, The Guild of Eisenstern, The Cadaz Syndicate, The Computatrum Terram of M-101, Consoldiated Industries Ltd, Cruiser Strike Group 'Tarkhan', Elysian Treaty Organization, Excidium Planetis, The Imperial Mineral Extraction Corporation, The Riftan Alliance Trading Company...

Various polities have parked their spacecraft directly above Sunryria's orbit, staring at each other menacingly. Most foreign spacecrafts sport exoteric designs and carry gnarly-looking weapon emplacements. It's not a good idea to provoke any of these FTL-capable organizations, although some of the spaceships do not have their transponder on and appear to be inactive: The Great Civilization of the C'tan, Foederati Olimpiada...

Active sensor burst also picks up multiple broadcasts. Opening the comm link, they show the following messages:

Birina wrote:“Greetings, fellow citizens of the galaxy. I am allegedly the leader of Birina and, as you can see, our ship is not exploding. All of our ships, generally, are not exploding.”

“The only people who say Birinian ships explode are dirty conspiracy theorists who don’t have abs. We came to Sunryria to teach them Democracy and not for any ulterior motives. Democracy is a system of government that is, effectively, magical and makes everything you do moral and okay. For instance, if you approach someone, beat the crap out of him, and rob him, that’s theft, right? But if you and a few other people get together, stop him, and hold a vote on whether or not to beat him up and rob him, that isn’t theft. That’s democracy and it’s great. And anyone who says it isn’t is a racist. Also, in Democracy women who attend parties can’t legally refuse sex as long as they didn’t have to pay a cover to get in. That has to do with taxation without representation, which we’ll get into when it’s time for you to make up your own rules. But let’s start with the very basics of Democracy: You need to gather your handsomest individuals and see which of them can promise to give poor people the most free shit.”

“Now, what’s currently happening to you Sunryrians (which is not what you call yourselves, but what I call you because I don’t care) is called ‘foreign intervention’. And that almost always works out well for the people being intervened upon. I’m going to transmit to you a list of rules that we claim we followed in the last election on Birina. If you’d like, we can offer the service of incredibly patronizing observers to watch you hold elections and make sure they’re rigged in the way we agree with. To conclude, it’s my pleasure to make first contact with you and everyone back home on Birina owes you a big ‘You’re welcome!’”

These Birinians sound very sarcastic, and their intended audience appears to be the Sunryria natives. Either way, a drone detaches itself from the Gibson Manufacturing industrial ship carrying a bouquet of vacuum-proof flowers and Angel Dust, and makes its way to the Birinian fleet, while broadcasting friendly intentions.

Unfortunately, the Birinia fleet appears to be deactivated; upon closer inspection the darkened hulk of the Birinia fleet drifts silently in the void. The drone returns back to the Gibson Manufacturing industrial ship with the sad news.

Riftan Alliance Trading Company wrote: “Attention all vessels orbiting Sunyria - This is the C.S. Octlien, here to intervene in the current war embroiling the planet” said Spade, pointedly leaving out who they would be supporting. “Repeat: This is the C.S. Octlien, a cargo ship here to intervene in the war here”

Proper communication is vital for long-term peacekeeping operations, and the Riftan Alliance Trading Company appears to be very polite people. A drone detatch itself from the Gibson Manufacturing industrial ship carrying a hand-written letter containing CPA's best wishes and packets of Angel Dust, and makes its way to the C.S. Octlien, while broadcasting friendly intentions.

CPA fleet transmits identification codes via the transponder to Cobb-Larson Traffic Control Towers for docking clearance, but only grainy static comes from the comm channel. It appears that ground-to-orbit communication infrastructure has been damaged. Rather than waiting for the system to re-establish a connection, CPA has deemed that direct military intervention is most suitable given the current chaotic situation. In addition, without access to proper space docks, deployment options become limited.

by **Observation Post 13** » Sun Dec 04, 2022 12:07 pm

The Admiral, Willis Philips, divided a packet of Angel Dust into tracks on the alabaster table. Within the shuttered captain's quarter, the powder glows with an appealing luminosity, light halos refracting off of the microcrystals within. Willis pressed his nose to the table and made an entire line disappear up his nose.

ooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! Feels like heaven.

Willis wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He blinked twice, and his implant projects a holographic screen into his cornea.

AUTHORIZE PLANET FALL?
TARGETED LOCATION: 41°24'12.2"N 2°10'26.5"E [Defunct Cobb-Larson mining operation last detected activity ~2 weeks ago] [See attached map]
FORCES AVAILABLE: [ONE] Brigade of Gibson-manufactured Military Robotic Infantry;
LAUNCH: Certification required...

Admiral Willis says: "Certification solitude-893."

Code solitude-893 accepted. Commencing operation.

Shuttles, each carrying a host of robotic infantry, detach from the Unity Coalition military cruiser and form into ORBAT formations with the grace of a ballet. The coordinates point to a now-defunct mining district that is occupied by Rebel forces and marked as DANGEROUS by Cobb-Larson, who do not have military forces within a hundred kilometers.

One by one, the members of the landing group report themselves ready for atmospheric drop. The main displays shut off, obscured by the layer of ablative heat gel which will protect the shuttles from the heat of re-entry.

The landing group positions themselves over the drop coordinates, flying on sensors alone. "Commencing re-entry," the AI announced. "All groups, follow follow follow."

With that, dozens of shuttles begin the blind descent into Sunryria's atmosphere.

by **Ella2 6** » Wed Dec 07, 2022 3:29 pm

Commodore Eileen William
The Vengence
Sunryria Orbit

"Yes, Sir. It appears that many third parties have started to take an interest in our operations here," Eileen said, "My detachment has already intercepted a few encroachments."

The smartly dressed figure displayed on the screen opposite her briefly scowled at this news before resuming a neutral expression. "Commodore Williams, you must maintain full and uncontested control of Sunyria's orbital space by any means necessary. Do I make myself clear?" The speaker was Xurxo Ferreira, a Terran of Galician descent and the chief planetary operations manager of Sunyria - the highest corporate authority present in the system.

"Yes, of course, Sir."

"Good." He turned to the tall, man standing to her right. "Captain Reijnders." The soldier came to attention. While Cobb Larson's security forces were very much a paramilitary organisation, the practice of saluting was never fully adopted within its ranks and was even considered inappropriate when speaking with management. "Is your unit ready for combat duties?"

"Yes, Sir. The Forsaken Regiment is ready for immediate deployment," Reijnders replied.

"Very good, Captain. You will be reinforcing the Prime Elevator and the surrounding sector. The local garrison is in dire need of relief."

"Rest assured that we can arrive in-theatre within ten minutes, Sir."

"Excellent. I look forward to the good news. I won't keep you any longer than I need to. You may go." The assembled senior officers bid the executive farewell and turned to leave when Ferreira spoke again. "Commander Simon. If you have a spare moment. The Special Branch has a special assignment for your Black Legion."

Simon turned back to face the screen. "Yes, Monsieur Ferreira. How can we be of assistance?"

Instead of answering immediately, Ferreira looked at the other officers who had also stopped to listen in on the details. "Commodore William, I wish to discuss this matter in private with Captain Simon."

Eileen nodded. "Yes, of course, Sir." She quickly ordered everyone else out of the conference room before leaving herself.

Reijnders, however, ignored the orders and stepped forward. "With all due respect, Mr Ferreira, the Black Legion is an integral part of the Forsaken Regiment. As my subordinate formation, their activities should be discussed in my presence."

"Captain Reijnders, I understand that you have operated alongside the Special Branch."

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you must understand the nature of their operations."

"... Yes, Sir." Reijnders glanced at his French colleague briefly and gave him a small nod, which Simon returned, before reluctantly turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

by **Observation Post 13** » Wed Dec 07, 2022 9:21 pm

Mine OU-598 'Lazy', Sunryria, Zunus Sector

Unity Coalition shuttles make landfall on the surface of Sunryria with all the subtlety of rolling thunder on a clear, summer day. The air rings with the crash of sixty-five metric tons of chrome hitting the ground, a cataclysmic racket after spending so long in the soundless vacuum of space.

Tiny sprinklers outside the shuttle are activated, spraying solvents to melt the re-entry gel covering the external sensors. With a heavy thump, the front and rear of the shuttles pop open and drop large ramps onto the ground, revealing armored troop compartments and their monochrome passengers, which are armed with shotguns, lasers, and grenade launchers. All around, robotic infantry exits the shuttles, wiggling their stainless arms and legs around experimentally, re-adjusting themselves to planetary gravity.

The 1st Chrome Rifle Company is comprised of 200 autonomous robotic soldiers, lined up in square formations, 16 on a side, ready for orders. Their sensors are linked to the experimental, semi-sentient AI cluster E4TER. The Mind-Cloud is housed in a server room onboard the Unity Coalition military cruiser, pining to build up its violence algorithm. How it handles the situation on the ground determines whether Unity will continue to finance Gibbson's pet project.

One after the other, robotic infantry reports themselves as functional and ready for battle. With most of the opaque heat gel that protected the shuttle craft during re-entry now puddling around the robot soldier's feet, the units look through their main display to get a clearer view of their surroundings.

All around the landing zone are columns of smoke and wrecked buildings that used to be a settlement for miners working at OU-598. The actual mine itself is situated a few kilometers further ahead, surrounded by wooden palisades and watch towers.

"Our one and only mission are to find the enemy and destroy the enemy. Time is of the essence. Breach Mine OU-598 and neutralize the threats." The AI ordered coldly.

The members of the company silently acknowledged their commander, forming a well-organized column that begins to slice through the shantytown making a beeline for the mine.

E4TER leads the 1st Chrome Rifle Company in headlong pursuit, throttle opened to maximum and weapons at the ready. Anyone that tries to interfere is met with waves of obliterating lasers, rocket-propelled grenades, and shotgun blasts to the chest and face. Any structure in their way gets crushed aside by the barrelling march of war machines. Soon, the company has created a swathe behind them of crushed adobe bricks and twisted tarp, a path cut in sheer destruction.

It does not take long to find the objective. Leaving mangled wreckage and crushed bodies in their wake, 1st Chrome Rifle Company tracks down the location of Mine OU-598, a huge combination open-pit underground mining complex, connected by a single road that runs past a walled compound directly to the city of Katou. The wall that surrounds Mine OU-598 is ten feet tall, and well-guarded—watchtowers of wooden scaffolding that peep over the wall surrounding the compound.

The only entrance to the mine, a sturdy wooden gate, has been shut and barred from the inside by guards wearing steel helmets and flying Katou's colors. Albalesters stationed on the watchtower and along the walls train their crossbow at the approaching column of robotic infantry from their vantage point, which can be easily tracked by the echoing sound of bombs and gunfire looming closer and closer.

Those Albalesters watching from atop the walls would soon see metal-man emerge from the shabby slum houses that encircle the compound. They are machine-folks carrying Outsider weapons - dangerous and armed to the teeth. An invader strode out of cover, into the cleared section of flatland around the compound, carrying a white flag. They point at the compound and back at the flag, emitting a string of high-pitched drones that increases in volume. The diplomacy droid is asking the besieged to surrender.

The only response the diplomacy droid received is the rapid snapping of bowstrings from the compound, followed by a volley of arrows. A single glowing beam pierces the droid's voicebox and causes a rope of clear liquid to leak out. The rest of the arrowheads ping off the monochrome shell and clatter onto the packed dirt.

"Diplomacy failed," E4TER observes. "Begin attack."

by **Rovaqa** » Thu Dec 08, 2022 11:39 am

ACT 1 / PART 3 / CHAPTER 1
TRADE OFFER

The General watched as the technicians slotted the module into the laser assembly, securing it with care. The lightstone disc at its center glinted, reflecting the harsh light of the test chamber. There was such a small amount, yet this was the majority of the lightstone present in the entire Domain. It was shameful. Of course, it wasn't for no reason. The stuff was exceedingly expensive. That disc was worth more to the country than the facility and everything in it. Lightstone's components were only formed in exotic stars. These components then had to be mixed and compressed in the right way. Then, of course, they had to be present in deposits large enough to be useful. It was a one in a billion chance.

Of course, a one in a billion chance is nothing to the universe. The Domain did know of one lightstone-rich planet. A barren desert world, devoid of value apart from what lay inside of it. It had quickly become the epicenter of the latest galactic resource war. But of course, it was hundreds of lightyears away, far beyond the Border that the King so firmly insisted must remain intact. Trying to hold the planet themselves would be impossible. But, in the hands of someone amicable to Rovaqa, it could be very, very valuable. There were few candidates for the task. Most nations simply wanted the lightstone to themselves. The rest either knew of Rovaqa's nature or would learn of it before making any deals. Except, perhaps, the former rulers of the planet. They were fighting a war against a dozen enemies. They were surely starting to become desperate. Perhaps if they were given support and payment, they would be willing to... look the other way.

At last, the air had been sucked out of the room on the other side of the glass. Although he couldn't see the beam, he knew the laser had been fired because a meter-wide hole in the armor plate it had been fired at quickly melted into white-hot slag. Without looking away, he gestured towards the assistant at his side.

"Have a report drafted asking the King for permission to intervene in the Sunryrian War."

"Yes, sir." The assistant saluted before hurrying off.

Two days later, the Cobb Larson company received this message from a distant corner of the ansible network that kept the galaxy bound together.

VERIFIED TRANSMISSION (Encrypted)
Domain of Rovaqa Imperial Authority (@DRIA, Z8mnw7POtMizHcaAyaLDo8SzVg==)
Verified User
Tuva, Rovaqa, Domain of Rovaqa
15:53:48 CLST (222401539428)

Esteemed businessmen,

The Domain of Rovaqa presents an offer for your consideration. We have been following the events on Sunryria closely, and we see an opportunity for mutual support. You are in need of allies. We are in need of resources. We offer you support in combat in exchange for discounted access to lightstone. The specifics of these terms are negotiable. Note that rejection of this offer will not stop us from intervening; we will merely intervene for our own ends. As such a situation would be suboptimal for both of us, we strongly suggest that you accept our offer.

Thank you for your time.

by **Eisenstern** » Thu Dec 08, 2022 8:00 pm

【⁂】Sunryria【⁂】
【Goro, Vicinity of Prime Elevator】

RFWM - Benefactors

⠀

The golems moved swiftly, for how heavy they were.

The initial attack had seen them emerge in loose line formations around the battle’s perimeter - their ambush was aimed at encirclement, and in that it had more or less succeeded. Now, with the enemy in disarray, they advanced by way of a curious, shifting motion. They were like a kaleidoscope - clusters of bodies forming and dispersing at a moment’s notice, flowing around the dunes in eerie synchronicity. No concrete units could be made out, at any level - they moved as one cohesive whole, each individual intrinsically aware of every single one of its brethren. Beyond the thumping of limbs against soil, and the discharges of weaponry, they made no sound; not when seeking to coordinate with one another, nor when struck by enemy fire. Thus the only voices echoing out across the sands were those of the corporate soldiers, and the Ellians opposing them - for all the impact the golems had on the battle itself, they influenced its soundscape precious little.

Of course, they were being guided by channels entirely divorced from sound. In a place beyond, and in some sense above, the battlefield, the theoretical spectre-mind hung, observing all. The Immortal was vast, though there were vaster. And now it covered the desert, stretching out through each black-alloy surrogate body, each hollow limb, giving purpose. Motion. It did not think, as one would traditionally assume, but rather it knew. And shifted, between moments, to varying frames of knowledge. Its very existence, a paradox, shaped by a realm it found wholly alien. But it didn’t mind.

Legionnaires formed the bulk of its compound-body, here. They were simple things. Man-shaped, man-sized. Of course, they held a number of advantages when compared to their adversaries, on a one-to-one basis; such was the way of beings designed solely for war. But their approach to battle did not particularly differ from the norm, their uncanny formations aside - bullet-analogues did their work just as well as what they were mimicking. Each unit carried a blade, which efficiency saw fit to put away. Oh, they had their uses - wherever Cobb Larson’s sensory network happened to fail, through plumes of dust and across the burning hulls of tanks, one would occasionally see a blackened shape dashing in for a more up-close and personal experience of battle. But guns were the order of the day, and so gunmen they became. Their scatter-fire would occasionally be supplemented by something more substantial - lances of light, streaking deftly above and around them, seeking out the unwary vehicle or fortified position. The Immortal did not have a head, or rather it had thousands, but in its vast un-mind it nodded to itself. This was acceptable.

It would, perhaps, require changes soon. Cobb Larson were not sitting idle, and the breakout group they had dispatched did not escape the Immortal’s attention. It expressed something like puzzlement at their choice of forces - such a focus on anti-vehicle measures meant that they were either being overcautious, or were not targeting the golems themselves; the forces of Goro had appropriated some tanks, after all. This would have to be taken into account. The Guild was anything but unused to the protection of benefactors. Idly - though something like it would never truly be idle - the Immortal considered the scope of its forces, its unseen hand drifting to the orbital fort from which it could still draw strength. Perhaps it was time to reorganize.

The smaller, seated shape grunted.

“What’s up?”

Its larger compatriot leaned down, one massive elbow resting against a nearby rock. There was a glint of red from beneath its hat.

“Irregulars. Not locals, or corporate. Too advanced for either. Really fast.”

“A problem?”

There was an inflection to those words, a tinge of hopeful malevolence. It drained out just as quickly as it’d come, the smaller figure waving its hand dismissively.

“Not for us. They’re after-”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. However impatient, it seemed the larger of the two had some understanding, or perhaps respect, for their comrade.

“They lost one. Explosive. Could be internal.”

“Corpos?”

“Looks like it.”

“Our problem?”

“No…”

There was a thoughtful trailing-off this time, rather than the abrupt stop of external interruption. After a while, the seated man resumed.

“Maybe it should be.”

“Orders? Or your own reasoning?”

“My own.”

He stood, performing a few stretches. High above, the mobile blur continued its passes over the landscape, unabated.

“Grail? This is Sweitzer. Get me two Harrows.”

“Aww, what?”

The larger figure stomped its foot, “lightly”. Nearby vegetation trembled.

“You’re delegating to golems?”

“This is something I want done quietly. I’d like for us to look into these guys without glassing them over. Or anything around them, for that matter.”

He sighed.

“You’ll get your chance, I’m sure. Remember, we’re on a battlefield - someone’s bound to pick up on us eventually.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see the golems, then.”

As if on cue, two figures tore their way out of thin air. These columns were larger, more expansive, than what had been seen over in Goro’s capital - the forms that emerged would tower over any human, or human-sized golem. Yet for all their height, they remained rather slender; uncannily so, with arms of roughly human thickness extending down until they practically dragged on the ground. Each ended in five commensurately-lengthy, slender fingers, and each of those found its tip beset by a hooked claw. Proportions and overabundance of joints aside, they seemed similar in general design to the humble Legionnaire, their faceless heads adorned with the Guild’s crest. Yet the standard cloaks had been ditched for flowing vestments, embroidered in gilt; perhaps they had been magnificent, once. Now they were dusty, ragged - a tonal complement to the general air of unease exuded by the two constructs. The larger of the Operatives, nearly matched in height (though considerably larger of frame), took a step back upon their appearance.

“Yeesh. I’ll never get used to these things.”

“You don’t have to. We seldom work with them. Now, you two-”

The smaller Operative turned to address the golems. They craned their blank heads down, perhaps trying to indicate attention.

“I gave you the coordinates already. Recover the body. If you have to engage Cobb Larson, you may, but attacking them is a secondary priority. Avoid engaging anyone equipped similarly to the corpse. Oh, and match your Thuribles to the local dust storms as much as you’re able.”

There was no verbal reply, but each of the automata tilted its head left, then right. And then both vanished, as if sucked into some unseen otherspace.

“What’s got you so interested in the corpse?”

“A hunch.”

“Guess I’m not getting anything else out of you on this, am I? Egh, you and your hunches.”

The larger figure seated itself on the ground, still glowering somewhere under its hat.

“Fucking wizards.”

by **Riftan Alliance Trading Company** » Thu Dec 08, 2022 8:46 pm

Observation Post 13 wrote:
Riftan Alliance Trading Company wrote: “Attention all vessels orbiting Sunyria - This is the C.S. Octlien, here to intervene in the current war embroiling the planet” said Spade, pointedly leaving out who they would be supporting. “Repeat: This is the C.S. Octlien, a cargo ship here to intervene in the war here”

Proper communication is vital for long-term peacekeeping operations, and the Riftan Alliance Trading Company appears to be very polite people. A drone detatch itself from the Gibson Manufacturing industrial ship carrying a hand-written letter containing CPA's best wishes and packets of Angel Dust, and makes its way to the C.S. Octlien, while broadcasting friendly intentions.

“Ah, a reponse!” said Spade drily. He and the bridge watched as the drone sputtered its way over to the ship and land in the hangar, where he waited for an aide to bring its contents to him. After a few minutes, the attendant arrived, carrying a note and a few parcels. Spade read the note, nodded and, after passing it back to the aide, grabbed the parcels. “Angel Dust” he muttered, reading its label.

There was an uptick of muttering around the bridge as people heard and began whispering amongst themselves. There was no doubt that this was either an explosive or narcotics, though everyone knew it to be the latter. Generally, in the socially-acceptable class of Riftan society, such drugs are frowned upon. Such materials are frankly nonexistent, with the exception of the stockpiled supplies from off of Folderon. What a money-pit that was. After it had been mined to the core, it was scratched off with a single weapon, along with its fifteen-billion inhabitants. But what empire hadn’t gotten its hands dirty on the path to peace?

With the vast majority of the RATC’s personnel being there for the massive salary, few would risk their jobs just to use a brief line of Dust. But they were among friends here, and no one would tell. But, on the other hand, the Empire’s ISB was everywhere, especially within the independent company, on the lookout for dissent. Was it worth it?

With these thoughts rushing through his head, Spade decided it wasn’t. Maybe for a regular grunt, but as a commander, he would be watched carefully. Surely he was being watched by an informant now. He passed the parcels back to the attendant, where they would disappear to the highest bidders amongst the men. After all, why not turn a blind eye? Big ship, big Company, easy to overlook.

As for the note, he wrote a equally polite response, adding a few light complements as well, not too thick. He made sure to include thanks for the Angel Dust, complementing it. Despite not having any himself, he could reasonably assume the experience. Thinking deeply, he decided to return the favor with a gift of his own. After making a reasonable assumption of what his counterparts were like, he decided on his gift; a bottle of a Riftan alcoholic beverage known as the Royal Sun. Typically, a Royal Sun’s alcohol content is minimal, but since the vast majority of the population wanted something stronger, they added their own cocktails of spices and liquors. The Sun that Spade planned to deliver contained copious amounts of other powerful beverages, making it truly a feat to down. “They should enjoy this” he thought, as he wrapped it carefully.

Satisfied, he gave his response back to the drone, who once again sputtered its way back to its owner. In the coming hours, he couldn’t help but notice the surge in somewhat delirious men among his crew, clearly feeling the effects of the Dust.

by **Observation Post 13** » Fri Dec 09, 2022 9:03 am

Riftan Alliance Trading Company wrote:As for the note, he wrote a equally polite response, adding a few light complements as well, not too thick. He made sure to include thanks for the Angel Dust, complementing it. Despite not having any himself, he could reasonably assume the experience. Thinking deeply, he decided to return the favor with a gift of his own. After making a reasonable assumption of what his counterparts were like, he decided on his gift; a bottle of a Riftan alcoholic beverage known as the Royal Sun. Typically, a Royal Sun’s alcohol content is minimal, but since the vast majority of the population wanted something stronger, they added their own cocktails of spices and liquors. The Sun that Spade planned to deliver contained copious amounts of other powerful beverages, making it truly a feat to down. “They should enjoy this” he thought, as he wrapped it carefully.

Satisfied, he gave his response back to the drone, who once again sputtered its way back to its owner. In the coming hours, he couldn’t help but notice the surge in somewhat delirious men among his crew, clearly feeling the effects of the Dust.

The unmanned drone received a fine bottle of Royal Sun and a polite thank-you note, a bright blue light being emitted from a scanner as it checked the item's authenticity. A green light turned on, the drone beeping happily as its undercarriage opened up, slender manipulators deftly grabbed the bottle of Riftan alcoholic beverage and paper letter, storing the items inside the drone's storage compartment before sealing it shut.

The drone whirrs back to life and sputters its way back to the Gibbson-Manufacturing industrial ship, creating a trail of sparks as it propelled through space. The spacecraft arrives at the Gibbson docking bay and drifts next to the garage. Once security clearance was granted, the gate opened, the drone heading inside. "Decontamination Procedure Beginning! Please Wait Until The Light Turns Green!" A female computer voice said as gas began to fill the room, the roof of the drone automatically opening. Within a few minutes, the gas had dispersed, the drone driving forward before stopping at the cargo bay.

The cargo bay is a large room with big cargo, containers, and vehicles, and a hive of loading bots. Along the inner walls are several airlocks that lead to the rest of the ship, some entrances too small to be accessible by humans. On the ground are signs with instructions to other sectors. Clusters of cargo containers are mounted on the hull outside, shielded against heat and energetic radiation.

The drone follows a line on the ground, parks itself into a square, and presents the items it carried on a raised platform. A semi-autonomous spider lowers itself from a thin strand attached to the ceiling and scans the bottle and letter. The spider's spindly armaments weave a dizzying pattern as it wraps the items within an industrial-grade gossamer package designed for teleportation.

The bundle is placed on a foam shunting pad, activating hidden matter recompositors. A timer countdowns to zero. There was a bright neon-green flash, and the items disappear.

A bottle of Royal Sun, wrapped, and a hand-written note reappears on an alabaster table with legs decorated with ebony serpents, the lights from a holographic screen emitted from a chrome projector on the desk reflecting off of the spotless uniform of Admiral Willis who is sitting in front and an empty display case with a built-in stasis field generator.

"Hey, check this out," the Admiral grabbed the bottle and showed it to the Head Engineer of Gibbson-Manufacturing, a hazmat-suit-wearing man staring back from the holographic screen in a face-to-face video conference. "Shoutout to the Riftan Alliance Trading Company for sending me this amazing gift. Really cool guys. Anyways, I'll need your help in the upcoming operation..."

After the conference is over, Admiral Willis uncorked the bottle with his teeth and poured himself some Royal Sun into a crystal highball glass, the crimson liquid making a disturbing sizzle as bubbles rose to the surface. He nursed the drink as he read the polite note. The beverage singed his throat and his stomach feels like getting scorched by an actual red dwarf star. Nice!

Not wanting to waste even a single drop, Admiral Willis cleaned the shot glass with his tongue, before stashing the bottle inside the display case, the Royal Sun floating in suspended animation.

by **Rovaqa** » Fri Dec 09, 2022 9:22 am

ACT 1 / PART 3 / CHAPTER 2
YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

As soon as the frigates warped into orbit around Sunryria, they were barraged by various looping transmissions. While waiting for the dropships to be prepared, the bored ship commanders decided to bother listening to them.

“Greetings, fellow citizens of the galaxy. I am allegedly the leader of Birina and, as you can see, our ship is not exploding. All of our ships, generally, are not exploding.”

“The only people who say Birinian ships explode are dirty conspiracy theorists who don’t have abs. We came to Sunryria to teach them Democracy and not for any ulterior motives. Democracy is a system of government that is, effectively, magical and makes everything you do moral and okay. For instance, if you approach someone, beat the crap out of him, and rob him, that’s theft, right? But if you and a few other people get together, stop him, and hold a vote on whether or not to beat him up and rob him, that isn’t theft. That’s democracy and it’s great. And anyone who says it isn’t is a racist. Also, in Democracy women who attend parties can’t legally refuse sex as long as they didn’t have to pay a cover to get in. That has to do with taxation without representation, which we’ll get into when it’s time for you to make up your own rules. But let’s start with the very basics of Democracy: You need to gather your handsomest individuals and see which of them can promise to give poor people the most free shit.”

“Now, what’s currently happening to you Sunryrians is called ‘foreign intervention’. And that almost always works out well for the people being intervened upon. I’m going to transmit to you a list of rules that we claim we followed in the last election on Birina. If you’d like, we can offer the service of incredibly patronizing observers to watch you hold elections and make sure they’re rigged in the way we agree with. To conclude, it’s my pleasure to make first contact with you and everyone back home on Birina owes you a big ‘You’re welcome!’”

The Birinians had made the critical mistake of allowing enough time for the Rovaqi ships to triangulate their position. Two small torpedo boats were dispatched to the location, missiles primed. However, upon arrival, it was discovered that the ships had already been destroyed. It was determined that the cause was critical engine failure resulting in spontaneous combustion of several vital systems. In other words, the ships had exploded. Disappointed by the lack of an early victory, the commanders moved on.

“Attention all vessels orbiting Sunyria - This is the C.S. Octlien, here to intervene in the current war embroiling the planet”

“Repeat: This is the C.S. Octlien, a cargo ship here to intervene in the war here”

Another potential threat had been pinpointed, but there wasn't enough time to launch another assault. The commanders simply noted the position and approximate velocity of the sender.

The dropships poured out of the bay doors and glided to the surface at alarming speeds, guns at the ready in case of an attack. But the descent was uneventful, and a camp was soon set up near the middle portion of southern river that passed through Goro.

by **New Dornalia** » Fri Dec 09, 2022 7:17 pm

Ella2 6 wrote:
New Dornalia wrote:-snip-

Liuentant General Tora
Green Palm Army
Hollowland Refinery

Tora growled in annoyance as his camel riders fell from their saddles, picked off by accurate rifle fire from barely out of reach. The speed of the enemy's withdrawal surprised him as much as it angered and frustrated him. Soldiers that could shoot further than the kingdom's best bowmen and run faster than camels. The absurdity of it all! The camels were growing tired, but he reasoned that the enemy must be exhausted too from all the running they were doing. He would be able to catch up with them soon. The only question that remains now would be how many horsemen he would have by the time they entered the melee. He glanced back at his contingent. Their numbers had been reduced by almost a third.

Tora had not counted on a few things in his assessment of the foe. For one, he didn't count on the fact his enemy was mechanized, and as a result blessed with the swiftness usually reserved for gale force winds and the odd bird of prey--or the Cobb-Larson overlords that dominated this world. Secondly, the men and women of the Recon Company were hardened operators, with plenty of experience and peak physical conditioning amongst them--or in the case of some a bit mroe than that.

Third of all, he had not counted on the fact that the Recon Company was made up of Dornalians. A people that, even when they should know better, knew nothing of fear, retreat, or common sense.

And so, the Recon Company kept its forced ride, now breaking up into smaller formations that tried to stay within line of sight and radio communications with each other. And as they rode, more of the enemy would fall. For the men and women would rinse and repeat more of the same. Ride like hell. Stop. Attack targets of opportunity with weapons fire and explosives. Pack up. Ride again. Stop again. Shoot again. Ad infinitum.

All the while, the tide of friendlies could be seen on their sensors, moving inexorably towards the enemy. The gata smiled and privately thanked God, Jesus, and the Great Judges for the plan working out. And then, with her rifle--a M1197 Marksman's Rifle with a number of modifications and a shiny new scope--she aimed for a group of enemies from behind a crag, found the most important looking among them, and began shooting before she rode off again with the others.

Captain General Kuba Genta
Green Palm Army
Hollowland Refinery

With, what was in his mind, Red Cloak skirmishers routed by his cavalry, Kuba ordered his guns up to the walls once more. The artillerists dutifully obeyed, limbering their guns, hitching them to their camels, and advancing towards the refinery gates. They were greeted by scattered rifle fire as real Red Cloak sharpshooters began taking potshots at them with captured Cobb Larson guns. Unfazed, however, the men simply unlimbered the cannons and aimed them at the top of the gatehouse wall, firing volleys of relatively inaccurate cannonballs at the two cannons that were giving their infantry so much trouble. The Red Cloak cannons were unable to respond to the attacks since they had to keep the infantry below the gates suppressed with canisters.

Eventually, a cannonball struck one of the Red Cloak cannons, destroying its wooden mounting and sending it clattering off the walls into the mass of spearmen waiting below, crushing more than a dozen men and sowing chaos in the ranks. With the constant shelling interrupted, Katou archers were able to step forward while the remaining gun was reloading and shower the gunners with arrows. Now, with both guns silent, the infantry brought up a second battering ram and began hammering down the gates.

It was only a matter of time before the gates were breached and men rushed into the refinery. A wall of spears clashed with a wall of spears as Red Cloak and Katou infantry ground themselves against each other. While the Katou had the weight of numbers on their side at the start of the battle, the assault on the gatehouse had cost them dearly and the narrowness of the gate mitigated their numerical advantage. Red Cloak infantry held their own, holding the attackers in place while archers on the wall exchanged arrows with Katou archers on the ground. All the while, Katou artillerymen continued to fire at the tops of the walls, their cannonballs tearing out chunks from the plasteel battlements and suppressing the archers and riflemen positioned there.

Kuba drew his sword and waved to his retinue of bodyguards. He would join the battle in person and break the stalemate at the gate.

He would be joined soon by greater numbers.

The Dornalians had come, and had assembled in force near the enemy positions. Now, all the Volunteer Force needed was orders, someone and something to guide the controlled chaos that was the amassing groups of Dornalians ready to unleash hell. And as Susan von Falkenhausen stood proudly, her red uniform with its brass buttons shining as if daring the enemy to attack, she got onto the back of a pickup truck, turned to a group of soldiers and her officers, and shouted proudly:

"We are assembled. The Reconnaissance Company is doing their part. The Red Cloaks do their part. Now we will do ours. Move out and engage all targets of opportunity. If you can make them break and retreat, do so. If you can take their officers alive, do so. If you can take on those who surrender to us, do so. But either way, I will be taking action, and I expect all of you to do likewise! Is that clear!?" The last part was shouted in a loud, bellowing voice, with the assembled nodding and going, "Yes, ma'am!"

Susan then sat in the flatbed, and tapped the roof, ordering the driver, "GO! GO!! WE RIDE TO GLORY--GO!" She then sat down, her weapons at the ready along with a trusted group near her.

And with that, the Dornalians moved out. They may not have been as disciplined as the Recon Company, but the Dornalians moved in force, riding to meet the enemy however and whenever they could. They were positioned to hit the enemy flank now, and were going to make the most of it. But first, a little chaos.

***

The enemy would first notice a darkening sky and thunderclaps beginning to emerge in the clouds--as if it were beginning to rain. Then, they would hear a rumbling, like the sound of elephants, growls, and discordant music shredding in the distance. They would also hear chanting, faintly, but rhythmic and growing louder from all sides. And, shouts. So many shouts.

Something seemed to be coming. But what?

by **Observation Post 13** » Fri Dec 09, 2022 10:16 pm

Mine OU-598 'Lazy', Sunryria, Zunus Sector

The 1st Chrome Rifle Company belonging to Unity is taking fire from Katou forces garrisoning Mine OU-598. Arbalesters are on the walls firing their crossbow, while the entire company is spread out around the walls, taking cover using the slums which surround the mine. The abandoned shacks provide concealment and some cover.

The head of a diplomacy droid explodes as a beam of light from a Katou sharpshooter pierces its damaged voice box. Headless, it peddles backward and hits the wooden wall of a hovel, the walls collapsing and it falling backward kicking up a cloud of dust.

Most of the robotic infantry is clustered in the main group attracting the most enemy fire, but two flanking squads are nicely separated from the center. E4TER, the AI commander, assesses the distance to the outer walls protecting Mine OU-598. There's no natural cover in-between.

"All 1-CRC units," E4TER says on the platoon circuit, "this is 1-CRC Leader. Squads One and Five commence full covering fire. Squads Two, Three and Four advance to this line." E4TER draws a line on the tactical map and transmits it to every robotic infantry's display.

On the left and right, blistering laser fire erupts from behind the shacks as E4TER's two flanking squads open up on full automatic. Ahead of the units, the enemy rise is peppered with fire as laser beams scythe across the palisade indiscriminately. It may score a few kills, but mostly the purpose is to get the Katous' heads down as the main body reposition themselves.

The attack was too effective. Part of the wooden palisade catches on fire and crumples as the support beams are cut down by laser beams. A wooden watchtower falls over and crashes into the wall facing the east, turning into a burning heap. A few charred bodies missing an arm or a leg are left in the gaps in the wall after the attack.

The remaining defenders stop firing from the wall, climbing down and rallying in the courtyard under the order of a Katou supervisor wearing a bright plumed hat. He is defended by 4 burly veterans wielding enormous Lightstone halberdiers, who stay by his side in full chainmail to make sure that anyone who tries to escape or surrender is put to the blade.

The robotic infantry outside the burning walls spread out as directed, carving a shape in the sea of tents and dirty shacks that the workers from Mine OU-598 used to live in. They have finished repositioning themselves. From all down the line, robots aim their grenade launchers and lob projectiles into enemy positions. Explosions ripple from inside. 3 bodies are flung into the air, one of them wearing a bright-feathery hat.

E4TER transmits new orders to the 1st company. 2 squads of robotic infantry carrying heavy riot shields and shotguns charge forward, leap across a burning wreck, and dash through fire and smoke only to see the Katou forces fleeing their positions and disappearing into Mine OU-598. The ground shakes as the main tunnel to the mine collapses from multiple black-powderkeg detonations. It appears the Katous have blown up the main entrance to Mine OU-598 to cover their escape.

Smoke clears from the grenades dropped by the 1st Chrome Rifle Company. Dust swirls through the area of tilled soil, the effects of the company's assault evident in the shattered bone fragments crunching under metallic boots. A sign covered in the splattered remains of a katou soldier who took an explosive to the chest reads: WELCOME TO QUARRY LAZY. There are 26 bodies in the courtyard, and an additional 7 near the walls, adding up to a total of 33 Katous killed in this engagement.

And just to the left, cowering behind a shattered boulder, is a Katou soldier. He has a crossbow in his hand, but it wavers as he tries to raise it at the advancing robotic infantrymen.

"Drop your weapon," A squad of robots says in unison. "If you surrender you will not be harmed."

He stares at the robots in a mixture of fear and hatred, but eventually the crossbow clatters down against the rock. He raises his hands to place them on his head. All around, reports of other surrendering Katous, mostly miners, come in from the robotic infantry. Orders were given for the POWs to be collected together, so that E4TER is free to focus on the real objective. Others went to gather the spoils (especially those Lightstone crossbows that could fire lasers), clean up the mess, and burn the bodies.

"Okay, we're done here." E4TER relays the good news back to headquarters. "Mine OU-598 is safe. Found some interesting weapons. All clear for the next step."

Stepping forward through the dust, a robotic infantry places down a penetrating scanner near the inaccessible mining complex and switches the device on, the 3D outline of a vast network of tunnels and mining shafts emerging before a display screen mounted on the scanning device.

by **Observation Post 13** » Sat Dec 10, 2022 3:22 pm

Mine OU-598 'Lazy', Sunryria, Zunus Sector

The 1st Chrome Rifle Company has secured Mine OU-598 from the hands of Katou forces. Shuttles are called down from orbit to put out the raging fires which are rampaging all around the mine.

The shuttles are visible now, casting shadows on the ground as they glide overhead, dispensing a sticky-water-based foam onto burning buildings. The white foam hardens and grows upon contact, transforming the landscape around Mine OU-598 as if winter has arrived.

A dark, long shape is being assembled piecemeal by a small army of construction robots, creating complex logistical patterns on the foamy ground as they collect components and parts airdropped in crates, to fill the guts of the bore.

A kilometer-wide mining bore, shaped like a great wurm, rests its steely body coiling along the spirals of Mine OU-598. Dozens of robots have pushed aside the debris around the mine to make room. The machine has two fully automated hole-pattern drilling mouths fitted front and back, for one-sided drilling operations. The Gibbson-manufactured bore is fully capable of independent operations and requires a manual activation key to use on inhabited worlds.

The wind is pushed back down as shuttles take off into orbit. Thunderheads cover the sky as the Unity Coalition military cruiser draws from its power grid in space.

A bolt of lightning strikes the head of the bore, crackles around it, and travels along the body until reaching the other end. The air smells like burning ozone. A red light turns on as the Autonomous Layered Bore whirrs to life, drillbits spinning madly about the axis inside its body. It makes a lifting motion with its head, pointing its drill-mouth at the blocked entrance to Mine OU-598, and lurches directly into the mouth of the cave, making a sound loud enough to shatter eardrums and spraying rock everywhere.

The drilling began, and the bore drilled a new tunnel into Mine OU-598, stretching and contracting as they moved deeper into the cave system with a contingent of robots riding on each of their segmented body. The Autonomous Layered Bore is navigating a path to Sunryria's geothermal hotspot, where that energy can be tapped to create a stable source of power.

by **Observation Post 13** » Sun Dec 11, 2022 8:39 am

Mine OU-598 'Lazy', Sunryria, Zunus Sector

Mine OU-598 is controlled by Central Planning Authority. Katou prisoners are kept together in a deep dugout in the courtyard, only given water occasionally. Outside, foamed-covered woodlands and settlements have their humble ground ravaged into a chrome horizon, forming a solid foundation to build infrastructure ontop.

Portable lithium flares, designed to burn for years, create patches of light in the darkness where Admiral Willis, through a portable laptop computer camera held by a robot, can observe the robots hard at work replicating themselves. The old mine, which winds under the tall peak of a nameless mountain, was abandoned by Cobb-Larson years ago because it was too Lightstone scarce, but it is a rich source of all the rare earth and iron ore the robots need to create more of themselves.

The robots crawl over the mine like metal ants, long articulated arms shoveling materials left behind by the Autonomous Layer Bore into an undercarriage where they are processed into parts. Fine manipulators and micro printers push these parts out the back, and assemble them into more chromelings.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the cave near the entrance are lined with mirrors designed to scatter any signals coming in from outside that do not possess a particular set of frequencies—a kind of analog encryption designed to keep sensors from finding this place. Robotic infantrymen patrol the grounds, vigilant for any intruders.

"That is the hundredth robot," E4TER informs Admiral Willis as one of their winged worker robots has its fusion welder attached. "Didn't you say that was when we would be ready to take down a major target?"

"I suppose I did," the Admiral said. "But first, we build a factory."

Fracturing thousand-pound bedrock formations, the Bore eats deeper into Sunryria's mantle with the sound of rolling thunder and stops just shy near the boundaries of Sunryria's tectonic plates, where a field of volcanoes are located. An underground laboratory is constructed with the purpose to conduct experiments designed to draw immense power from the geothermal reservoirs. The AI overseers use this power to make gears spin, axles turn, and levers lift in increasingly large models of factory machines. In these models, tiny jets of plasma blast off pieces of raw material from iron bars, crafting more cogs for ever-larger machines.

by **Riftan Alliance Trading Company** » Sun Dec 11, 2022 9:02 pm

Observation Post 13 wrote:
Riftan Alliance Trading Company wrote:As for the note, he wrote a equally polite response, adding a few light complements as well, not too thick. He made sure to include thanks for the Angel Dust, complementing it. Despite not having any himself, he could reasonably assume the experience. Thinking deeply, he decided to return the favor with a gift of his own. After making a reasonable assumption of what his counterparts were like, he decided on his gift; a bottle of a Riftan alcoholic beverage known as the Royal Sun. Typically, a Royal Sun’s alcohol content is minimal, but since the vast majority of the population wanted something stronger, they added their own cocktails of spices and liquors. The Sun that Spade planned to deliver contained copious amounts of other powerful beverages, making it truly a feat to down. “They should enjoy this” he thought, as he wrapped it carefully.

Satisfied, he gave his response back to the drone, who once again sputtered its way back to its owner. In the coming hours, he couldn’t help but notice the surge in somewhat delirious men among his crew, clearly feeling the effects of the Dust.

The unmanned drone received a fine bottle of Royal Sun and a polite thank-you note, a bright blue light being emitted from a scanner as it checked the item's authenticity. A green light turned on, the drone beeping happily as its undercarriage opened up, slender manipulators deftly grabbed the bottle of Riftan alcoholic beverage and paper letter, storing the items inside the drone's storage compartment before sealing it shut.

The drone whirrs back to life and sputters its way back to the Gibbson-Manufacturing industrial ship, creating a trail of sparks as it propelled through space. The spacecraft arrives at the Gibbson docking bay and drifts next to the garage. Once security clearance was granted, the gate opened, the drone heading inside. "Decontamination Procedure Beginning! Please Wait Until The Light Turns Green!" A female computer voice said as gas began to fill the room, the roof of the drone automatically opening. Within a few minutes, the gas had dispersed, the drone driving forward before stopping at the cargo bay.

The cargo bay is a large room with big cargo, containers, and vehicles, and a hive of loading bots. Along the inner walls are several airlocks that lead to the rest of the ship, some entrances too small to be accessible by humans. On the ground are signs with instructions to other sectors. Clusters of cargo containers are mounted on the hull outside, shielded against heat and energetic radiation.

The drone follows a line on the ground, parks itself into a square, and presents the items it carried on a raised platform. A semi-autonomous spider lowers itself from a thin strand attached to the ceiling and scans the bottle and letter. The spider's spindly armaments weave a dizzying pattern as it wraps the items within an industrial-grade gossamer package designed for teleportation.

The bundle is placed on a foam shunting pad, activating hidden matter recompositors. A timer countdowns to zero. There was a bright neon-green flash, and the items disappear.

A bottle of Royal Sun, wrapped, and a hand-written note reappears on an alabaster table with legs decorated with ebony serpents, the lights from a holographic screen emitted from a chrome projector on the desk reflecting off of the spotless uniform of Admiral Willis who is sitting in front and an empty display case with a built-in stasis field generator.

"Hey, check this out," the Admiral grabbed the bottle and showed it to the Head Engineer of Gibbson-Manufacturing, a hazmat-suit-wearing man staring back from the holographic screen in a face-to-face video conference. "Shoutout to the Riftan Alliance Trading Company for sending me this amazing gift. Really cool guys. Anyways, I'll need your help in the upcoming operation..."

After the conference is over, Admiral Willis uncorked the bottle with his teeth and poured himself some Royal Sun into a crystal highball glass, the crimson liquid making a disturbing sizzle as bubbles rose to the surface. He nursed the drink as he read the polite note. The beverage singed his throat and his stomach feels like getting scorched by an actual red dwarf star. Nice!

Not wanting to waste even a single drop, Admiral Willis cleaned the shot glass with his tongue, before stashing the bottle inside the display case, the Royal Sun floating in suspended animation.

C.S. Octlien
“More friends, it appears” said the Captain, watching yet another party arrive over the planet. This time, the newcomers reacted quickly, sending a team of drone-like vehicles out of their hangar immediately, though they didn’t cause any harm. After observing the wreckage of another party’s ships, the drones returned, apparently determining that the damage was sufficient.

“Indeed” answered Spade in a measured tone, unease growing. “Prepare our defenses. Alert the OCDAS as well. Make sure our guns don’t turn. We don’t want any suspicions. And mobilize the advance party. Let’s secure the Campsite”

The Captain left to carry out his orders, leaving Spade contemplating the situation.

The team of four drop ships glided out of the capital ship’s hangar, stocked with men. There was a distinct lack of fighter escort, which despite their protection from the ships above, left the crewmen feeling naked. But, the SecOps men remained unscathed as they entered the atmosphere. Each ship, carrying twenty men apiece, stayed in a loose formation as they neared the ground below. Eventually, the ships were safely within sight of the ground, and began their descent towards, what they hoped at least, was a native village. The dropships landed outside the village limits in a staggered line, their top-mounted guns swiveled. Wearing a heavy plate of body armor, the operation’s Sergeant stepped out of one of the dropship’s doors, eyeing up the village.

Clearing his throat, he shouted out, “This is the Riftan Alliance Trading Company, here to assist you!” he paused, before going on, “To assist you in a just and noble fight against the Cobb Larson group!” He waited.

by **Ella2 6** » Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:31 am

Commodore Eileen William
The Vengence
Sunryria Orbit

When Eileen returned to the bridge, she found her second-in-command, a white Morimpan with one side of his body covered by a green pattern, waiting for her. The aquatic creature quickly updated her on the deteriorating situation in Sunyria's orbit, wriggling around in the water-filled cockpit of its human-sized mech suit as a synthetic voice translated its movements into speech. "There's been more vessels arriving in the system, Ma'am. Many military-grade. Our detachment might not have enough firepower to stop all of them if they try to get past us. Some of them are broadcasting."

Eileen rubbed her forehead wearily. "That's not good. I just got orders from the executives to maintain full orbital control." She made her way to her command chair and sat down. "Have someone send headquarters a high-priority request for orbital reinforcements." As the Morimpan turned to leave, she called him back. "Wait, One Side Green, did you say some of them are broadcasting? What are they saying?"

"The usual interventionist junk. One says it's a cargo ship. One says it's a hospital ship. One says it's a civilian ship. But who knows what they've actually got on board?"

"I'd rather not start a shooting war in space," Eileen said, "I just spoke with the CPOM. We've got enough problems on the ground as it is."

"Well, if we don't do anything, there's only going to be more where that came from. Take a look at this." The Morimpan pointed towards the fleeting sensor readings that blinked on and off at irregular intervals as small craft entered the atmosphere. "Some of the third parties have started landing troops."

Eileen brought her fist down on the arm of her chair in frustration. "Weapons free. Declare a blockade. I want nothing moving in or out that isn't one of ours." She rubbed her forehead again. She knew that she did not have enough ships to enforce a proper blockade of the planet and that it would be relatively easy for other parties to run the gauntlet. And if anyone actually decided to shoot back, she could only hope that the company's ships were actually as sturdy as they were advertised to be. "God help us if anyone actually tries to test this blockade."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Code: Select all: ALL STATIONS. This is the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces. A blockade has been placed on Sunyria. Cobb Larson has not requested and does not require intervention. All unauthorised vessels must maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from Sunyria. All vessels within 100 light seconds of Sunyria must depart from the planetary system immediately. Any vessel encroaching upon Sunyria space will be fired upon. Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces, OUT.

Rovaqa wrote:-snip-

VERIFIED TRANSMISSION

Cobb Larson Corporation (✓) Verified

Distinguished Minister,

We are very pleased to accept your offer of mutual support and benefit. Cobb Larson will be more than happy to supply the state of Rovaqa with all of its Lightstone needs. We prefer to settle on the terms of this business proposal early. As such, a high-ranking company representative will be in touch to negotiate the specific terms upon your arrival in the Sunyria system.

We look forward to the fruits of our cooperation.

by **Merrick Protectorate** » Mon Dec 12, 2022 5:04 pm

14th Fleet 'Golden Shields', Merrickan Protectorate Navy
Task Force 1059 'Albatross'
MPV 'Matador'
Cmdre Scott T. McDouglas
------

Mid Bethel Gate jump inbound to Sunryria, Zunus Sector

------

Commodore McDouglas and the rest of his command staff stood around the holo-map in his CIC looking at their incoming mission. Commodore Scott Terry McDouglas: Gray, shaggy hair almost fully covers a round, charming face. Aging green eyes, set within their sockets, watched intently over the the holo-map almost to attempt to discern what secrets they potentially may hide. Freckles are spread across his whole face with seemingly a wrinkle to match each one. A set of scars on the left side of his face, that leaves a bittersweet memory of a unfortunate adventure within the Merrickan Protectorate Navy. A true idealist among Merrickan Navy officers, he stands as one of the oldest ship captains in the Navy. Despite his elderly appearance, he still hits the gym every morning like clockwork.

The Zunus Sector and more importantly the planet Sunryria and it's moon was the only thing on his mind. "A planet rich in lightstone: a rare crystal used in the manufacturing of highly advanced laser weapons and electronics." McDouglas recalled from his briefing he had almost a fortnight ago. "Something that the surrounding empires and nations used quite heavily". The Merrickan Protectorate did without this precious crystal and they didn't use it in their weapons or electronics. The Protectorate relied on mass driver and missile technology for their high end weapons. As for their electronics they used common elements readily available in their sector of space.

"Agnes," McDouglas spoke with the gruffy voice of someone who had been smoking cigar's for half his life. "How is our forward element doing?" Light brown, layered hair hangs over a lean, time-worn face. Squinting amber eyes, watch guardedly over her console at the holo-map. The ship MPV 'Polaris' winked into existence, It was a small unarmed patrol craft attached to Taskforce 989 "Pathfinder". "Here they are sir, just beyond the lunar terminator of Sunryria's moon." McDouglas looked towards his comms officer. She looked from the display as she finished typing into her console. Lieutenant Agnes Towle is a veteran of 10 years in the navy, however this is the first time she has served with McDouglas. "To my reckoning," McDouglas thought, "She will try to impress me with her skills to hopefully stay on." The MPV 'Matador' is one of the few Battlecruiser's in service with the Merrick Protectorate, and one of the few that had the new Railguns: the Mk81 Railgun. This would be one of her more prestigious postings".

"Good," McDouglas proclaimed, "How are they looking?"

"They are in position with their Prowler stealth drive activated. They are holding down their end of the lay-line," Lt. Towle spoke calmly. "When we come in we should be blocked by anyone looking in the moons direction hiding us from view. They will be able to withdraw and allow us to move in and take up their position and observe Sunryria". The Bethel Gate is an ancient precursor construct that allowed the nations from the Protectorate region of the galaxy to accelerate their ship to faster-than-light speed. This allowed them to move faster than they would with the homebrewed FTL the Marrickan scientist cooked up. The Bethel Gate, when used, could lay Lay-lines of charged particles of unknown origin to allow a ship to travel along them. This is similar to the Hyperspace Lanes that the Marrickan Scientists attempted to perfect. The downside with it was the ships that use the lay-line would need to flip around and shut down the FTL Drive a few thousand kilometers before the intended spot where they wished to stop. If the ship didn't perform this maneuver, the ship would continue to travel at the full speed of FTL and also feel the full effects of the speed they were going. This would promptly kill everyone on board and creating a several thousand ton projectile, according to the scientists that is.

"Thank you for that Lieutenant Towle when are we expected to arrive?"

"About fifteen minutes give or take," the navigations officer spoke as McDouglas looked over to him. A curly head of ginger hair is pulled back to reveal a fine, yet worried face with a few freckles dotting the nose and below the equally worried hazel eyes. Eyes that were focused on the terminal Infront of him. Sub-Lieutenant Murdoch Angwin was the ships Nav. Officer, under him he had two sailors manning the helm; Sailor 2nd Class Jeanie Woodmore: a raven haired ace pilot being rain in by, Petty Officer 2nd Class Vernon Bosley: a bald veteran that McDouglas handpicked. "We are coming up quickly with the MPV Oblivion about 250 meters off our Port Stern about 50 meter over us, If they don't make their timing they shouldn't hit us. Sub-Lt. Angwin was a nervous fellow but McDouglas trusted him, so he disregarded a few of the more over-zealous remarks of the skill of other Nav. Officers. He never really learned to trust the Bethel Gate's system of FTL.

"Steady as she goes, Mister Angwin," McDouglas said leveling his gaze at the Nav Officer. "Lieutenant Towle, Alert the rest of the crew for me I will call up the Oblivion to let them know our intention. Sub-Lieutenant Angwin hit the maneuver alarm and conduct your lay-line maneuvers," McDouglas continued as he sat down in his captain's chair and brought up the ship to ship communications console on his own.

Code: Select all: TO: Lima-Charlie-1-0-8-5 FROM: Bravo-Charlie-1-0-5-9 | | | \\: Point to Point Communication Established \\:Message Start | Lima-Charlie- One-Zero-Eight-Five, This is Bravo-Charlie-One-Zero-Five-Nine. | | Heave and stand to, the Matador will be conducting lay-line exit maneuvers in T Minus - One - Four Minutes. | | Conduct your ship as follows, Prepare for Lay-line FTL exit, then maneuver to our starboard side and move with us to link up with Papa-Tango-Sierra-Zero-Nine-Zero-Three: Polaris. | |I Say Again, | | Conduct your ship as follows, Prepare for Lay-line FTL exit, then maneuver to our starboard side and move with us so we may link up with the Polaris. | Message End :// | Point To Point Communication Closed://

Glossary

For the peace of mind that can't recall all my lore off the top of their head :roll:

BC-1059 MPV 'Matador' Battle Cruiser
LC-1085 MPV 'Oblivion' Light ECM Cruiser
MPV: Merrickan Protectorate Vessel
ECM: Electronic Combat Module - A series of Modules that can effect the battlespace using hardware and software aboard the ship making simple sensor tracking almost impossible. Can also defend from similar attacks on friendly provided they are near by.
Bethel Gate : a ancient extra solar construction that allows the Merrickan Protectorate Navy (and other nations within the same realm of space) to conduct faster-than-light jumps using supercharged particles.

by **Eisenstern** » Mon Dec 12, 2022 6:41 pm

【⁂】Sunryria【⁂】
【Orbit】

The shelves were moved, noiselessly. Shuffled and stacked, forming two composite pylons. Book-spines jutted out at intervals, like vertebrae - nested mimicry. Between the prongs, at the apex, Alcinne rotated gently within her crystal throne.

“Emil.”

He arrived seconds later, clearly disheveled. One hand trailed a length of wire into the darkness.

“Yes?”

“There has been a complication.”

“Do I need to get ready for deployment, or-”

She waved at him, dismissively. From the angle at which he stood, her face was impossible to see, but the gesture conveyed enough meaning. She sounded oddly drained.

“Nothing so serious. A new potential enemy. A clear broadcast of intentions, and an incursion into territory of relevance. The schedule is shifting. I will need to focus.”

“What does that mean?”

As if in answer to his question, the throne began to move. Panels slid aside, distended, forming a network of petal-like fronds. The bookshelves trembled, as a crystalline flower came into being in their midst.

“It means I will not be able to mediate for a while. I leave that duty to you. If Finlay needs anything, provide it.”

The petals began to close up, moving from flower to chrysalis. With each inch of travel, Alcinne’s voice appeared to recede somewhere, by fractions. Emil, still not entirely certain what was going on, hurried to interject.

“Wait so I’m supervising? What if I need-”

“If you need anything, contact headquarters. There is a contact in place, for you. But I trust that you will…”

The petals had closed fully. The structure as a whole was delicate, whorled into a spindle, but somehow unmistakably solid. A hardness conveyed at a glance, stemming from somewhere deep, fundamental. Two more words seeped out from within, conveyed through alternate means; they wormed their way into Emil’s mind in a way that was not entirely unpleasant, but certainly was disquieting.

“...make do.”

And with that, she really was gone. Emil looked up, forlornly, at the cocoon. Whatever she was doing, it was too subtle for him to feel, all training aside. But there was something entirely unrelated to the magic apparently at work. A vague sense of loneliness. The Bastion was vast, after all, and now it was his alone to fill. With a sigh, he ambled back along the path of the cable.

【⁂】Sunryria【⁂】
【Goro, Vicinity of Prime Elevator】

The Protomen - Danger Zone

⠀

Over the dunes, between the rocks, there came two blackened shapes.

The Harrows were deft in their movement, and swift on their feet, but they could not be called graceful. The way in which they moved was, if anything, deeply unsettling - their pace did not entirely match their gait, and periodically they would vanish from sight, reappearing some distance ahead, frames of motion eaten away entirely. Hiding behind nothing, flickering in and out of being as they went. Making up for speed they didn’t have, shouldn’t have had, yet inexplicably did. Their limbs undulated in defiance of substance, with all the fluidity granted by their additional joints immediately stripped away by the eerie stop-motion that gave them their pseudo-velocity. To a bystander, they will have been terrifying.

Thankfully for all involved, among their greatest assets was their intrinsic understanding of stealth. Their patterns of movement were intricate, calculated, and periods of vanishing were synced flawlessly with their passing across potential sightlines and sensory hotspots; they would bend low to match protrusions in terrain, never breaking stride, and fold their lithe bodies in line with whatever momentary sources of cover they passed. Most of all, they seemed to be shadowed by a strange fortune - wherever hiding proved impossible, they were saved by whipped-up plumes of dust, as if the winds themselves moved to suit the golems’ purpose. Of course, it wasn’t as simple or intrinsic as all that - the attentive, nonexistent observer could note the discrepancy between wind direction and movements of this un-dust, and the subtle shifting of ports atop the Harrows themselves, trailing near-imperceptible plumes of mist.

They neared their objective, now. The buildings ahead bore the scars of a not-so-distant battle, and one particular furrow in the sand seemed to have been made by more than simple explosives or debris. A shape lay within, tattered, motionless. It was this shape that caught the silent, expressionless attention of the Harrows, and thus they converged upon it. Animalistic, but not entirely predatory; driven not by a desire or curiosity, but rather a certainty that something had been expected, and found exactly where it should be. One unit wove ahead, came to a contorted halt against a nearby wall-stump, and immediately stretched its fingers to wrap around the fallen thing - as it was lifted from the sand, it quickly resolved itself into the body of the fallen Cadaz operative. The golem took its cargo into what almost looked like a bridal carry - despite its appearance, it was very much capable of precision-movement, and here it had to take great care to avoid damage. The body was in one piece, for the most part, but sections of equipment were in tatters. Not that the Harrow had the capacity to make any inference from its assessment. Its intellect, if it could be called that, was of a very specialized sort. It had a job, and it would see it through. Thus it lifted itself into an adjusted running posture, having spent barely a second securing its target - in the open, stillness was death. It let its partner move ahead; with its hands occupied, its options for combat were limited.

And so the two golems set off, mostly, but not entirely, in the same direction from which they’d come. Their exact path would have to be varied, though their destination was identical. They had to account for lessened combat capacity, and a need to protect their freight.

The Immortal frowned with a face it did not have. New declarations, new decisions to make. Internal balancing against internal. It was the dam, the valve. Orbital control fell under its mantle. A call had been made to relinquish a position that, currently, could not be relinquished without sacrificing time-efficiency. Losses weighted against risks, combat projections flashing in and out of being one after the other.

Something of a compromise was settled upon. And so the decision was noted, and moved aside in favour of more pertinent maneuvers. On the ground, there was still a battle to win.

【⁂】Sunryria【⁂】
【Orbit】

The Bastion did not move from its position, nor respond in any way to the transmission it had received. But something did change, on some level - across the featureless metal, ripples began to flow. Were one to look closely, one could observe patterns in the flux; symbols linking up into soul-circuitry, flashing patterns unto the void. Beneath the external shell, equipment was shuffled around in preparation. The Bastion was a pale, reproducible imitation of the Tower; thus its defenses, too, had been made to mimic. It was not the famed, absolute shell, product of legend, fortress impregnable.

Here, it would have to suffice.

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Mon Dec 12, 2022 10:51 pm

Cadaz First Group, Squad One
Approaching Building 227 "Main Data Centre"

The ground shook, and Squad One lost one of its dots on the map.

Missiles streaking in at exactly the moment each squad took its turn to dash through an intersection. Vehicles on the roof sending the Aggressors into a panic, chewing up the ground all around them and even melting them down. And the men in the buildings, again in the buildings, pouring gunfire into the mess like they'd been waiting their whole lives. Cadaz First Group had little choice but to scatter: their troops leapt out of the lanes of death, right into the firing lines of the ambushers on the rooftops, so from there they split further and made about-faces to put distance between themselves and Building 227. For maybe sixty seconds, all was noise. Explosion, laser crack, explosion once more. But one look at the group's coordinated map would reveal that not all was lost: four trickles of operatives, matching the four squads who'd entered the city, had escaped the kill zones, their drones dashing to and fro to jink enemy fire and record everything they could of Cobb Larson's positions.

Through the wall of panicked updates over the radio — overheating callouts, enemy shot markers, anything and everything the First Group's operatives could say that might help save each others' lives — leaked one line, growing louder and louder as its speaker approached.

"What the fuck... how did they... they fucking knew..."

Mé, catching his breath, ducked behind an air conditioning unit, flicking his wrist to throw one of his nearby Winkers into a diversionary flight away from the retreating Squad One. All he could see were the dots and lines through the air — a particle beam here, a volley of laser fire in return there. He knew the heat in his suit was his own sweat, but it felt all too much like the air itself was churning up sickening eddies under the endless claps of ionization.

Finally, the voice caught up to him. Or stumbled, perhaps, as the scrapes of running blade against concrete implied. He knew the voice now — one Corporal Abì — and the face through the visor — veins flushed to sickly purple and giving away the young man's throbbing headache. The radio hiccuped and gave way to short-range mode.

"They knew... they must've been listening in, maybe... fuck, fuck, I..."

Abì's legs collapsed out from under him, and he slumped down with his back against the faceless metal, hands on his knees, still panting. Mé knelt down beside him and jostled his shoulder. It was hard for him to think of anything to say, especially through the adrenaline. He figured just being here would help.

"Get up. We've got work to do, kid — you've got guys in our squad still counting on y—"

Abì interrupted him with a word that came out like a cough. "Can't. Can't do shit. They knew we were... we were coming, they... oh, what the fuck, I think I saw his hand coming out of that..."

It clicked. The missing dot: Shan. One of the weapons specialists. Shan was the sort to keep to himself most of the time, always staying out of trouble. He was a dabbler at heart — bit of a foodie, bit of a game player, bit of a gambler. Whenever things got hot on a mission, he'd spend the next day saying almost nothing and trying to stay away from people, just to bring himself back down to normal. Some folks in the other groups called him 'blank' or 'boring'. First Group called him their 'ground'. Reliable sort — seemed to keep everyone else from surging too hard and blowing each others' fuses.

Abì must've been running right behind him when the missile hit. The shock in his eyes was deeply familiar now.

"Yeah," said Captain Mé finally, trying to clear his throat, "we all knew this op'd be shit. But you're gonna make it out of this, alright?" He reached out a hand, then, hearing no response, grabbed Abì's motionless wrist and dragged him to his feet. Seeing the corporal stumble, he used his other arm to steady him, dusting off the legs on his suit for good measure. Now was the time for action. "You're gonna run your Winkers up and over —" he gestured back to Building 227 "— and give the arty some markers on those tanks. Then you're gonna take your Aggressors, help your sarge clear whatever road he tells you. Then you're gonna follow 'em out. We'll meet up at the trucks, we'll get you a shower. Can you do that?"

"I—"

"Shan would tell you to keep going, just for a bit. You'll have all the time in the world to fizzle out when we're done, you got that?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. Shouldn't have let this get to me. I'll..." A distant explosion made Abì tremble. "Don't they know what we're saying? That was... this is a pretty wild ambush... again, I still think... maybe..."

"If they know, that's their problem. We're Cadaz First Group, you hear me?" Mé tried to give him a grin. It was tough, knowing what they'd all been through a minute ago. "By the time they can set up anything that'd stop us, we're already home."

Airborne

For the loss of a few Winkers — anti-aircraft fire of any sort was nasty at ranges this short, even if it was from the sort of particle weaponry that Entakian technology tended to resist — Squad Three's artillery, who'd brought up the rear of the attack group, had earned some coordinates and a short list of rounds to fire off. Six Amblers — a pack of horses, to the metaphor-inclined — had fired off six rounds each, then stormed down the street to evade the inevitable counter-battery fire and rendezvous with the retreating infantry.

The twirling fist-sized shells saw the very same web of dots and arrows that Cadaz First Group's operatives used to keep each other alerted. They saw a road flanked with machine-gunners, or so claimed one of the Aggressors who'd blown through it at spindle speed before darting out of the way of return fire. They saw a burst of gunfire from a window high up in an office building. And, most importantly for the first two volleys, they saw a cluster of tiny armored vehicles perched atop Building 227 itself, marked highest-priority and swept over and over by constant scouting runs by Winkers checking the whole vicinity.

Gravtech was power-hungry, but it could be cheap if one simply didn't worry about packing a reactor. Falling down the steep tail ends of their ballistic arcs, the leading sixty-millimeter shells extended tiny fins and slowed to a crawl, swinging to point dead towards the ground like hanging blades. They had all the data they needed. They'd be expected to hover for a few minutes at most, but this time it took about ten seconds before twelve midair explosions sent twelve penetrators hurtling for the last hundred meters or so onto the tankettes' heads.

The four volleys tailing them had taken a more leisurely high-angle route, and were already coming all but straight down over two of the lanes marked for assault. These shells burst quietly at first, exposing in sevens the same type of patient, independent munitions, but instead at the scale of heavy machine gun rounds. Their range was limited — they fell to fifty meters altitude before kicking on their drive units — but infantry running cover to cover tended not to notice little dots hanging in the sky quickly enough to dodge the bullets they'd let fly.

The latter part was a diversion, naturally, a round of suppression to keep heads down. All the while, however many stories up, Squad Two's hackers and the psion Osí moved into position. Operatives dashed from rooftop to rooftop while their attack drones sprinted down the roads with impunity. If the data center's roof was clear, and the men on the ground were kept in their holes for a moment longer, then leaping atop the facility and smashing open a hole from the top would be simple.

So when the rain of steel began against the infantry, it didn't matter if it wasn't all that effective, or that there weren't quite two hundred rounds in the entire short "barrage". An Aggressor at spindle speed could cross a small city block in about three seconds. Ann operative spent a mere blink between each building performing a leap. That was the kind of timescale to be concerned about.

by **Observation Post 13** » Tue Dec 13, 2022 9:40 am

Unity Coalition Military Cruiser

"I could use some R&R." Admiral Willis said to the ship's AI as he's escorted to an elevator, statues of Greek Gods on either side of the hall. Once they reach the elevator, a Laser Turret drops from the ceiling and points at the Admiral, uttering a warning in Galactic Standard as Willis places his hand on a palm print scanner and stares at a retinal scanner.

"Nihilo Magna," Admiral Willis says into a voice recognition device as he types in the nine-digit code, the Laser Turret withdrawing into the ceiling as the elevator doors opened. "Get me to the operations center." Admiral Willis said to the AI as he entered the elevator, activating his mag-boots which locks onto the floor, the elevator closing. The lights flicker as the elevator is transported through a series of procedurally generated paths.

Ding. The elevator doors open to a white room filled with data. The nerve center at the heart of the cruiser.

The walls are monochromatic, but they’re covered by holographically-projected algorithms, shifting white-blue numbers which calculate so quicky that eyes can’t even begin to follow the math. A large round table dominates the space, a 3-D map of the Zunus Sector projected upwards from a chrome projector in its center. A large glowing holographic sun floats in the center, with Sunryria and its moon orbiting the closest, a gas giant, then loosely surrounded by an asteroid belt. Gridlines are painted across the pocket-sector, and simple rectangles depict fleet and troop movements scattered across the map.

There is only one chair with 2 huge armrests facing the end of the round table. A tray with a cup of hot coffee and fresh-baked cookies lays on one armrest, and a jet-black telephone with a rotary dial on the other. The chair automatically inclines back as Admiral Willis took a seat, walls of green text scrolling past his Cornea as his implant establishes a connection to the operations center.

Admiral Willis took a sip of coffee and pulled up information and reports related to the latest development in Sunryria. Virtual screens lining the walls react simultaneously to his thoughts, projecting diagrams and data. A looped transmission reads:

Ella2 6 wrote:
Code: Select all
ALL STATIONS. This is the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces. A blockade has been placed on Sunyria. Cobb Larson has not requested and does not require intervention. All unauthorised vessels must maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from Sunyria. All vessels within 100 light seconds of Sunyria must depart from the planetary system immediately. Any vessel encroaching upon Sunyria space will be fired upon. Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces, OUT.

The Admiral's expression darkens. An orbital blockade imposed by Cobb Larson to prevent the movement of goods and people in or out of Sunryria.

His eyes flicker to a holographic screen labeled 'Mine OU-598', the footage playing of a team of robots moving with precision and efficiency on a slope, laying down neocrete foundations, and installing structural beams. As time goes by, a factory begins to take shape.

A furious response is sent to Cobb Larson's Branch Office on Sunryria:

To the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces,

We have received your message regarding the blockade on Sunryria and would like to inform you that we do not recognize the legitimacy of your actions. We do not consider Cobb Larson to have the right to impose a blockade on Sunryria, and we will not comply with your demands.

We believe that all planetary systems should be free and open to peaceful exploration and trade, and we will not allow your blockade to hinder our activities. We will continue to operate in the Sunryria system and will not maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from the planet.

We urge you to reconsider your actions and to remove the blockade on Sunryria. If you attempt to fire upon our vessels, we will defend ourselves and will not hesitate to use force to protect our interests. Any acts of aggression toward our assets will be grounds for the invocation of article 69, and be interpreted as a direct provocation against the collective defense forces from the Central Planning Authority.

Sincerely,
Admiral Willis Philips
Unity Coalition

The console beeps. The Admiral licks his lips. "Tell Gibbson's to evacuate. Elevate Threat Alert Level to Yellow. Get E4TER ready for a scrap." He said to the ship AI.

Admiral Willis picks up the receiver of the black telephone and dials the number for the secretary-general of the World Assembly. After some terse conversations and back-and-forth negotiations, he hangs up and redials the spaceline to the Ellian Assembly. The Admiral makes the argument that the blockade violates intergalactic law, and seeks a ruling from a judge or other legal authority that orders the blockade to be lifted. Without pause, Admiral Willis then waves his hand at one of the holographic panels, and it began the task of contacting the Human Rights Watch, various media outlets, and non-profit organizations, publishing evidence of gross human rights violations, of deliberate attempts at impeding the delivery of humanitarian assistance, and use of coerced slave labor by Cobb Larson's Branch office in Sunryria, funding organized protests, boycotts, or other forms of civil disobedience, in order to raise awareness of the issue and put pressure on Cobb Larson to change their behavior.

by **Riftan Alliance Trading Company** » Tue Dec 13, 2022 8:45 pm

Observation Post 13 wrote:Unity Coalition Military Cruiser

Ella2 6 wrote:
Code: Select all
ALL STATIONS. This is the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces. A blockade has been placed on Sunyria. Cobb Larson has not requested and does not require intervention. All unauthorised vessels must maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from Sunyria. All vessels within 100 light seconds of Sunyria must depart from the planetary system immediately. Any vessel encroaching upon Sunyria space will be fired upon. Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces, OUT.

The Admiral's expression darkens. An orbital blockade imposed by Cobb Larson to prevent the movement of goods or people in or out of Sunryria.

A furious response is sent to Cobb Larson's Branch Office on Sunryria:
To the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces,

We have received your message regarding the blockade on Sunryria and would like to inform you that we do not recognize the legitimacy of your actions. We do not consider Cobb Larson to have the right to impose a blockade on Sunryria, and we will not comply with your demands.

We believe that all planetary systems should be free and open to peaceful exploration and trade, and we will not allow your blockade to hinder our activities. We will continue to operate in the Sunryria system and will not maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from the planet.

We urge you to reconsider your actions and to remove the blockade on Sunryria. If you attempt to fire upon our vessels, we will defend ourselves and will not hesitate to use force to protect our interests. Any acts of aggression toward our assets will be grounds for the invocation of article 69, and be interpreted as a direct provocation against the collective defense forces from the Central Planning Authority.

Sincerely,
Admiral Willis Philips
Unity Coalition

The console beeps. The Admiral licks his lips. "Tell Gibbson's to evacuate. Elevate Threat Alert Level to Yellow. Get E4TER ready for a scrap." He said to the ship AI.

Admiral Willis picks up the receiver of the black telephone and dials the number for the secretary-general of the World Assembly. After some terse conversations and back-and-forth negotiations, he hangs up and redials the spaceline to the Ellian Assembly. The Admiral makes the argument that the blockade violates intergalactic law, and seeks a ruling from a judge or other legal authority that orders the blockade to be lifted. Without pause, Admiral Willis then waves his hand at one of the holographic panels, and it began the task of contacting the Human Rights Watch, various media outlets, and non-profit organizations, publishing evidence of gross human rights violations, of deliberate attempts at impeding the delivery of humanitarian assistance, and use of coerced slave labor by Cobb Larson's Branch office in Sunryria, funding organized protests, boycotts, or other forms of civil disobedience, in order to raise awareness of the issue and put pressure on Cobb Larson to change their behavior.

C.S. Octlien - Bridge
“We’re receiving a transmission from the Corpos” reported a techie from his bridge terminal.

“Put it through” said Spade, turning. The message beeps and buzzes momentarily before delivering its message.

Ella2 6 wrote:
Code: Select all
ALL STATIONS. This is the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces. A blockade has been placed on Sunyria. Cobb Larson has not requested and does not require intervention. All unauthorised vessels must maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from Sunyria. All vessels within 100 light seconds of Sunyria must depart from the planetary system immediately. Any vessel encroaching upon Sunyria space will be fired upon. Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces, OUT.

Spade licked his lips and hesitated. “Prepare all our defenses. Alert the OCDAS. All nonessential personnel should report to their quarters. Upgrade our readiness to a 3.5”

“Aye, sir” answered the techie, turning to relay the orders. As his message began to transmit over the intercom, and the ship’s crew moved to their locations, Spade began to address the techie nearest him.

“Respond to the Corpos. Everything I say” said Spade. The techie nodded, and Spade cleared his throat.

“Your message informing us of a blockade has been received, and met with disgust. The Cobb Larson Corporation has no right to blockade a planet to which it has no claim. With this in mind, the RATC will not comply with your actions. Any attack against us results in equal retaliation against yourselves.

Given that the Cobb Larson Corporation has no claim to this planet or its surrounding areas, the RATC will continue to operate in this area and will not be retreated to a distance of 100 light seconds from the planet.

Actions against the RATC, including but not limited to its personnel, assets, property, or its operational allies will result in due retaliation that can be avoided. The Company urges you to reconsider your blockade and take your business elsewhere. Good day”

by **Merrick Protectorate** » Wed Dec 14, 2022 6:59 pm

14th Fleet 'Golden Shields', Merrickan Protectorate Navy
Task Force 1059 'Albatross'
MPV 'Matador'
Cmdre Scott T. McDouglas
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Exiting Bethel Gate Jump inbound to Sunryria, Zunus Sector

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The 'Matador' and the 'Oblivion' were more like a star it the far distance. As they exited their long FTL jump from the Bethel Gate the single star that they looked like turned into two. They were coming into the orbit of the moon, and to that both ships were flipped in the reverse, to facilitate the completion of the FTL jump. Both ships shuddered as they slowed to be locked into an stationary orbit around the moon. Once in place Cmdre McDouglas gave his orders.

"Mr. Angwin! Bring us about one hundred and eighty degrees to starboard! Mrs. Towle! Let the Polaris and Oblivion know our movement, and let our intel shop link systems with the Polaris so they can get going, I don't want them around longer than we need them." McDouglas barked.

"Aye Sir" they returned in unison.

"Mr. Angwin," Cmdre McDouglas continued, "Bring us up to the terminator of the moon." he then stood and called out to the rest of the CIC. The CIC itself was simple; in the center of the back side of the room was the Holo-map with the captains chair right behind it, to its rear was the officers quarters and the way to the berthing and to one of the central stairways that allowed you to traverse each of the decks, surrounding the Holo-map was a series of consoles that the command crew used, surrounding that in a lower den like area was the rest of the CIC comprised of each of the critical regions of the ship.

"Alright people," he called which caused the entire command staff turn in the seats to look at him. "We are going to further intrude into this sector. Cobb Larson is a inter-stellar, extranational corporation that has taken the planet of Sunryria as its own plaything." he paused walking to the front of the dais like area that he was in which was in between the two helm controllers. "It is my Intention, to remove their ability to do that. We don't know alot about Sunryria or its people right now, but seeing how the wind is blowing, alot of nations do not like what Cobb Larson has done here. We have some hands to grease, allies to make. So lets get out there and make a good first impression on Cobb Larson and the other factions that we will run into out here."

"Aye Sir" the crowd of 34 command staff called back. The all turned to their work and McDouglas turned to his officers.

"I want a drone launched as of yesterday and have it take a higher orbit to see if we can't get eyes on the planet." McDouglas ordered. The gunnery officer replied immediately. Sub-Lieutenant Jean Northway, with purple dyed hair cut into a pixy bob accents a lean friendly face with a few freckles spattered on her nose and below her eyes. Smart aquamarine eyes are a unique addition to a charming figure. She stood and leaned forward over her console.

"Petty Officer Mellors! Fire orders coming to your console!" She barked turning her friendly face serious.

"Lieutenant Towle," Cmdre McDouglas then turned to his comms officer. "I want to know when Polaris returns to the Bethel Gate. I don't want any of our actions in system effect their escape. We may have to get into a fight here to secure the planet. Not all of us are going to like what we are going to do in sector."

"Aye Sir," Lt. Towle replied. Just so you are aware I'm sending a brodcast we just picked up and the information from the Polaris. I'm going to put it up on the Holo-map now." The Commodore walked back over and sat down at his seat. The ship: The Vengence, a Cobb Larson vessel was broadcasting a message. It seems from reading it, it was addressed to anyone who could pick up the transmission.

Code: Select all: "ALL STATIONS. This is the Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces. A blockade has been placed on Sunyria. Cobb Larson has not requested and does not require intervention. All unauthorised vessels must maintain a minimum distance of 100 light seconds from Sunyria. All vessels within 100 light seconds of Sunyria must depart from the planetary system immediately. Any vessel encroaching upon Sunyria space will be fired upon. Vengence, Cobb Larson Security Forces, OUT."

"Cobb Larson Security Forces..." McDouglas mused. "Gunnery could you work with Comms and Intel to get me a solid track on this vessel I want to know where this is before we come around the moon."

"Aye Sir," Both Lt. Towle and Northway replied, along with the Intel officer, Lieutenant Murdoch Griffith. A genuinely handsome man with Chestnut, short hair gently hangs over a furrowed, warm face with Small amber eyes and a medium build. He and Sub Lieutenant Northway came to the Holo-map and began hashing out where. With those three plus the drone that the gunnery team was sending out they would have that information soon.

TR;LD
-=-=-=-=-=-

1 .The intention of the Merrikan Protectorate is to move into the sector and advance slowly towards the planet of Sunryria. With the shape of the Protectorate Navy ships it is hoped that the FTL exit behind the moon and the careful maneuvers of the ships may save the ships from being spotted immediately.

2. Both ships will advance keeping the signatures low by turning off their active radar and relying on semi-active radar to pick up other ships and entities like a submarine in the water. They will advance on the Star Port (outlined in the next one - two posts)

3. Using the Oblivion, the ship will conduct and Electronic Warfare campaign of the Vengence at the opportune time to distract and disorientate to allow the Matador to come in closer to the Spaceport and secure it with the Ship Board Company of Protectorate Infantry and attempt to take the station. Depending on how I do this the Electronic Warfare Campaign may effect other factions and or the Spaceport itself. Mostly because of how long range (12'000 Meters and further) uses cones of effect filling radars with junk or false positives making it difficult to get an accurate radar track.
-=-=-=-=-=-

Glossary

For the peace of mind that can't recall all my lore off the top of their head :roll:

BC-1059 MPV 'Matador' Battle Cruiser

LC-1085 MPV 'Oblivion' Light ECM Cruiser
MPV: Merrickan Protectorate Vessel
ECM: Electronic Combat Module - A series of Modules that can effect the battlespace using hardware and software aboard the ship making simple sensor tracking almost impossible. Can also defend from similar attacks on friendly provided they are near by.
Bethel Gate : a ancient extra solar construction that allows the Merrickan Protectorate Navy (and other nations within the same realm of space) to conduct faster-than-light jumps using supercharged particles.

by **Excidium Planetis** » Thu Dec 15, 2022 10:15 am

Unregistered Excidian Cruiser Plague Ten - near Sunryria system

The steady clank of a single metallic footstep rang out down the corridor. Peter Gibbenson, a deckhand on mop duty today, looked up from his full chore to see none other than the Captain approaching. The replacement of her right leg with a cybernetic prosthetic had done little to add to Vivienne Wolf's height (standing only a few centimeters past the meter-and-a-half mark), but what she lacked in stature she made up for with an intimidating aura, which tended to remind the crew of the animal for which she was named.

Gibbenson stood up straight and saluted her, a habit from his days of military service, before remembering he was a wanted criminal serving on a pirated ship, not a proper navy vessel, and relaxed. Captain Wolf nodded at him and carried on with her march towards the dining hall, the sounds of laughter and singing ringing out from the room ahead.

The Navis spot a minor pip
A cargo ship, a lidar blip
We'll plot it out quick as a zip
And set a course to jump the ship!

We'll tow you in before you slip
We'll make sure you know you're whipped
While nervously you bite your lip
We'll steal your shit and jump the ship!

The Navy? We don't give a rip
For when they've got us in their grip
We start shooting from the hip
We give 'em hell, then jump the ship!

At the conclusion of this last uproarious verse, the Captain, who had stopped at the doorway to the hall to listen, announced her presence. "DEATH ANGELS, LISTEN UP!" she barked. "Our arrival in the Sunryria system is in 57 minutes ship time. I want all hands to stations, finish up your slop and get your asses up! Boarding Party, suit up and prepare for void combat. Everyone else: sober up, we might need you. Get moving!"

A resounding "Yes, Captain!" echoed through the hall. A few of the mates chugged what was left of their beers, while the rest of the crew scraped what was left of their dinners into the compost bins. The din of silverware being piled into the dishwashing machines filled the hall. The Captain turned and strode back out of the dining hall, and a wave of excited crew members poured out behind her.

Gibbenson finished up his mopping and stowed the dry mop in the nearest supply compartment. As he was a general systems engineer, he was to report to Engineering Bay 3 before battle, and had just turned to do so, when he felt the weight of a cybernetic hand fall upon his shoulder. He looked down to see Captain Wolf smiling up at him.

"Don't be nervous kid," she said. "I've done this hundreds of times, and all it cost me was an arm and a leg."

Gibbenson gave a nervous laugh. This was his first raid since coming aboard the Plague Ten and he couldn't entirely tell if the Captain's joke was meant to relieve him or remind him of the risks in this occupation. But before he could reply, she had already disappeared into the sea of people heading to their posts.

Captain's Quarters - Unregistered Excidian Cruiser Plague Ten

Vivienne Wolf stared at the mahogany wardrobe before her. It was real mahogany, not synthetic, and as non-food producing trees were very rarely grown in Excidium Planetis, the wardrobe was quite expensive. She hadn't paid for it, of course, but neither could she bring herself to sell it off to someone who shared her tastes in furniture.

She opened the wardrobe to reveal her favorite EVA suit, a custom made piece she had commissioned from a private armorer based in Silent Fleet. The titanium alloy frame and joints had been tinted black, and the whole suit was armored up in dark segments of para-aramid and obsidian-colored ceramic plates. The visor was tinted so dark that the wearer's face could not be seen, but a gold tinge traced the outline of an eyepatch over where the left eye would be, a small nod to her fellows of two millennia ago. The suit, overall, was colored much the same as the vessel that she captained, or at least the parts that hadn't been added on after the ship's construction.

A hologram of the Plague Ten was displayed on a desk beside her. It was very much recognizable as a Halberd-class Cruiser, the workhorse of the Excidian Navy, but how Vivienne Wolf had come to be in possession of it was a secret even the Excidian government had chosen to cover up, likely out of embarrassment. The vessel carried a number of strange additions and modifications to its original design. The large frontal dome of a Crossbow-class Carrier had been fitted to the front of the cruiser, shielding the warp ring structure, and positioned around the barrel to the railgun were what appeared to be ultra-heavy vessel landing gear such as those used by the Gladius-class Corvette. The ship's main engines had been modified to be more maneuverable, allowing for tighter rotations at the expense of ∆v, and docking bays for two large craft had been installed, one for a Zeta-Farron Shipworks Executor Heavy Shuttle, the other for a Blue Skies Mining Prometheus Heavy Transport.

Vivienne's attention returned once more to her suit. She took the pieces down from the wardrobe one by one and laid them out on her bunk. The torso piece was of solid construction, and was slipped into from the bottom. Smart foam filled out the piece so that it fit comfortably but loosely enough to absorb the shock of impacts. The pants had a ring about the waist that locked with the bottom of the torso piece to form an airtight seal. They likewise had a locking portion at the end of each pant leg that locked into her boots. Each arm was similarly connected by a joint at the shoulder, but these also had an exoskeleton frame that was separately connected to a harness that fit over the torso piece. Where the suit was loose, external straps were tightened to keep the whole getup firmly in place and reduce the chance of anything getting snagged unexpectedly in extravehicular maneuvers. Lastly, her helmet: this locked into the neck of the torso. The helmet only offered side-to-side movement, but the visor extended far up the helmet so that one could look up at a 90° angle at what was directly overhead without even needing to move the helmet.

To the back of the helm she clipped a black, gold-trimmed tricorn hat. This addition was pure vanity; it served no purpose and only increased the mass of the suit. It also made her stand out from the crew and made her a target for her enemies, but she liked this about it. There was nothing quite like the feeling of your enemy's recognition: the hatred that dies in their eyes as they breathe their last, the fear on their face when they realize that it is no common brigand aboard their vessel but the great Captain Vivienne Wolf, terror of the Fleets.

The EVA equipment, grappling hooks and maneuvering jets, would be saved for when we needed to actually leave the vessel. The only remaining things she needed to complete her attire were weapons.

From a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe she removed The Scabbard, a bulky rectangular metal thing that seemed far too large compared to the hilt and handguard showing at one end. But it was designed to carry a very dangerous weapon: the replaceable monomolecular cutlass blades she liked to use in boarding actions. They degraded rapidly but could cut through any molecular substance as easily as you could part water with your hand: an elegant weapon, from a more civilized age. The whole rig went on her left hip.

To her right him she affixed a holster for a peculiar type of weapon: a custom-made autopistol. The pistol was entirely gas operated and fired flechette rounds from a small magazine in front of the trigger guard; the handgrip housed the gas cylinder that powered the weapon. Operational in both void and atmosphere, and entirely devoid of electronics, the weapon was not unlike some of the more conventional military weapons of Excidium Planetis, but the ammunition choice was very odd: steel flechettes designed for armor penetration, and laced with a fast-acting neurotoxin that made the weapon highly illegal in any WA member nation. Compared to the blades on the opposite hip, a random and clumsy weapon.

At last, she was ready for battle. Just in time too: there were only five minutes left. Good thing the bridge was next door.

Captain Wolf was the last to arrive at the bridge: that was good, a punctual crew was quite desirable. But Captains could do as Captains wished.

Chief Navigator Huang Wu addressed her first. "Captain, we will drop out of warp in 2 minutes. As you instructed, we're coming out twenty-five light-minutes from Sunryria."

"Excellent. As soon as we emerge, I want identification of a solid target and I want those warp drives firing up again. I want to be jumping before anyone near the planet gets visual on us." Captain Wolf replied, hauling herself into an acceleration couch at the center of the bridge. The suspension foam embraced her form as lay back against the headrest.

There was a loud humming noise throughout the bridge as the ship ceased to warp space around itself and the universe set everything right. The starfield appeared on the holographic display of the bridge, and slowly the passive sensors on the ship began filling out the three-dimensional space with markers for ships and satellites. Vivienne browsed the personalized screens in front of her. "Spotting Vessel 3, zoom in on the main planet."

The starfield shifted and a simulation of Sunryria filled the bridge. "Right there," the Captain pointed out. "Two space elevators. At the end of them there's a couple of stations tethered. My bet is that any valuable shipments they're trying to move off world would go through there for the sake of efficiency.

"We'll designate this one as the prime target." she continued. "Navi Wu, how close can you get us?"

"Well," the Navigator replied, "Since it's a stationary target on a planet with a known rotational period, even though the data is 25 minutes old… there's a high degree of certainty about the future position of the station. I think if we jump, I can get us to within a few kilometers."

"Excellent. I'll address the ship." Vivienne commanded the bridge computer to open the all-ship comm channel. "Attention Death Angels. Combat shall begin momentarily. Our target is a space elevator station. Weapons technicians, prepare for counter-battery fire to eliminate any of the station's defenses. Engage point defense. Boarding Party: get ready for boarding in twenty-three minutes. All crew remain alert."

Wolf disabled the all ship comm and addressed the bridge. "Set course for the Prime Target. I want us jumping the second the warp drive is ready."

The spotting vessels were recalled, the ship maneuvered into position, and the wait for jump began.

Prime Starport - Sunryria System

Amid the plethora of other concerns, Cobb Larson may not have noticed the arrival of a single warship far out in the system. But if they did, they only had a couple of minutes to analyze the light signature of the new arrivals before they received a very up close and personal visit.

Plague Ten appeared only slightly more than two kilometers away from the station, and immediately sprang into action. The maneuvering jets worked to bring the ship around to face the station head on, while point defense lasers began to fire offensively at anything that looked like sensor equipment. Magnetic fluid streamed out from the cruiser and quickly formed itself into a protective shield around the ship.

As the ship came around to face the station, the command was given to fire the spinal mounted railgun. What issued forth from this weapon was not an ordinary kinetic kill vehicle, but a cluster of massive harpoons, designed to penetrate armor just deep enough to stick. Trailing behind these projectiles were long threads of carbon nanomaterial, chosen for their high tensile strength to anchor an object as massive as the cruiser to its target. Once the cruiser was fastened to the station, the engines would bring it in slowly to close the gap.

In Pursuit of Profit [Open][FT][IC]

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