Imperium: IC (See OOC to join)

[Bolslania]

Vandercalt was about to pass by the Crown Princess and Lady Victoria when he bowed before them, as he was required to by social obligation.

"Your Grace, Lady Rosewood." He said. His tone had adopted a soft velvety nature that he took on with nobility to avoid attracting their ire. The Deynai stood back, his hands neatly folded. Vandercalt was hoping that the Crown Princess and Lady Rosewood would not see the need to keep him very long, he was running out of patience for nobles and politicians.


SAO EVITICUS

Colonel Kimball sat at her desk, Captain Devre and Sergeant Brevet were in the chairs across the desk from her. Before them was a map of local asteroid fields and planetoids.

"We were about here when we found the Horizon's Edge" Devre was saying, pointing at a spot in the middle of the Polarian Asteroid Field, which was almost 15 miles of asteroids that had sat along the tradeway for almost 200 years. Where he was pointing was about halfway through it.

"And the distress signal from the ship came from here." Verne said, indicating a spot about 3 miles back from where the ship was found. Brevet spoke up from his seat

"The damages on the Horizon's Edge were almost identical to that of the Star Streaker" Kimball furrowed her brow at that. The Star Streaker was the ship that they had found 2 days ago. This meant that there was only one group conducting attacks, but they were a brutal and ruthless attacker.

"And you said none of the valuables on the ship were missing?" Kimball asked of Verne. He nodded.

"And that several of the crew was missing?" She asked again, this time Brevet nodded. She sighed. This meant that this people had taken Sao Eviticus citizens captive, which made this an ever more pressing matter, and made it more essential for the General Staff and Admiralty to grant Amban Vandercalt's request.

"Where do we think they could be operating from?" Kimball asked. Verne stood back up from where he had taken a seat.

"Well ma'am, they could be in the asteroid field itself, although that's not likely. However, there are some planetoids about 25 sub-sectors away." Verne began, Kimball leaned forward curiously.

Verne expanded the map, showing a cluster of planetoids where he had said they would be.

"We could send an expeditionary force out there to see whats up, probably send one of the frigates and 3 corvettes with full compliments of Marines." Verne finished. Kimball nodded.

"Sounds like a good idea, I'll notify the Custer's Revenge to get on standby for expedition." Kimball said "Thank you gentlemen, dismissed." She said, leaning back. Verne and Brevet saluted and then left the room.

[Wasi State]

Hyperborea Epsilon
Nova Karabakh

Cold and heavy rain fell across the planetary capital's region, its hemisphere being in the midst of its autumn season, though Epsilon's version of Fall could historically have been described as a months long version of Staryy Terra's own fabled 'Indian Summer.' Regardless it was a particularly colder season this cycle however. As rain pooled onto the streets and rooftops of the larger metropolitan city and old town neighborhoods in the middle of the night, fires raged on throughout many parts of the city, illuminating the dreadful night where the few active street lamps that weren't shut off during the city-wide blackout couldn't reach. It was clear that many civilians wishing to escape the carnage happening in the city were making an attempt to do so in the cover of night, leaving many of their belongings behind that littered the street that Hyperboreans were patrolling, seeking 'Infidels' to forcibly convert or round up and have executed. Many bodies of PDF soldiers and NKPD officers lay dead on the streets and in buildings from where they made their last stand against the onslaught from the radicals insurgents who ended up executing many of them to a man.

Occasionally cracklings of gunshots and lasbolts would pieced through the constant sound of rainfall and the crisp sounding fires burning as the long night went on. The city was pretty much lost to the Hyperborean Cosmic Front, and by larger extent the planet as well. With either the remaining civilians in hiding or joining the ranks of the Neo-Pagan cultists if they haven't already fled to the last remaining holdouts of the PDF still holding on by mere threads.

Of course their unrestricted terror operations planet-wide wouldn't go unimpeded for long, as the Imperium's Tyrant's Star and her supporting taskforce fleet came through from superluminal entry within immediate sensor range of the planet's surface based, hijacked, remote detection devices.

"Sir! We've detected multiple entries of Imperial origin entering the system! It appears to be headed by a Vengeful-Class Cruiser with accompanying screening and support ships in tow. Likely responding from the distress signal the loyalists sent out earlier." The comm officer then informed the turncoat ex-PDF Colonel, Nikita Grigori, while in their insurgency's requisitioned command bunker deep inside the city.

"Svetovid-dammit! We needed more time to shore up our orbital defenses and ground reinforcements from Hyperborea Alfa, when is that next shipment of soldiers due to arrive?" The Colonel then gripped his fingers around what was supposed to be his celebratory drink, on the verge of cracking the glass bottle apart with his augmented hand in the process.

"Not until morning, several hours from now from this cycle in fact, Sir. Should we divert them to the spaceport on the other side of the planet to avoid the worst of the enemies' void superiority?" The comm officer then asked.

"We'll have to make do with that for now, but what we need currently is our surfaces defenses fully online and fast! Bastards can bombard us back to the stone-age from here if we don't have anything to shoot back at them with! We need to up the ante and get our guns and this city back online, find that superintendent's core and restart the damn thing if we must! Order the patrols on the street to increase in number if you have to, I don't want any loyalists slipping by and thinking this will be their chance of 'liberating' themselves from our rightful enlightenment." The Colonel then chugged his drink and tossed the empty bottle to the ground, shattering it in the process.

"Yes Sir! I'll send the order to the men, any resistance to us should be futile." The comm officer then reassured him.

"For your sake you better damn hope it is, your head is on the line if you fail me and the North!" The now stupor Colonel then coldly said to the comm officer, preceding to leave the room and going to find another drink as they entered a new phase of the front.

[Parcia]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

She held her smile as the older man spoke, rather happy the old noble could both get the finer points across and be discrete. The dealership had been staked out and cleared already, with no actual sound recording devises in place besides the ones the house it self had installed.

Said devise was noted, found to be transmitting wireless to a remote server, said server was found and sliced in to covertly, with its security being paradoxically two-bit and low end for such a luxurious yacht dealership. Other then being noted with a back door written in for later use and data mining, the Company simply funneled its data back to their own server aboard the Corsair were the audio was scrubbed and edited in real time were it was then funneled back in the House’s server. Their on hand slicer was expensive, recruited right out of Imperial Navy techwarfare school, but he was damn good.

Rose flashed her pearly whites as she looked over the key and put on a convincing posh accent. “My employer is indeed pleased, and happy to be working with you. As for the requested drives, you just let us deal with that, though we may need a few standard months, say close to 6 to schedule an appointment, the Rosewoods are rather elusive people after all.”

Elsewhere.
The present.

The paperback he read was an old tale, a speculative account of the exploits of a third millennia solder and his exploits fighting for the Terran Hegemony. It was largely fictitious but a good read none the less. A slight buzzing in his ear shifted his focus to the words that flashed in his vision, his ocular implant receiving and displaying the information sent from his personal assistant.

The good Mr. Karamarov would unfortunately have to deal with a simple text conversation for the time being. Still, his assistant told him he was likely good for the money based of her information on him.

Using a combination of neural commands and eye movement to quickly type out a message for the good archeologist.

“Greetings my good sir, it seems your interested in my portfolio of assets in relation to your carrier field? Also, I do apologize for this message being sent as such, I’m currently in such a situation we’re a video or audio call is not optimal.”

[Imperialisium]

Nova Terra
Crown Princess Valeria

Valeria smiled as Admiral Vandercalt stood before her and the Lady Rosewood. One of the Deynai standing awkwardly with arms folded behind him. "Admiral Vandercalt. A pleasure. So far from Sao Eviticus as well. All this way for boring legislation?" Truth be told the Galactic Imperium was so large that she could say it was luck that the memory of Sao Eviticus and it's current Amban swam to the fore of her mind.

Hyperborea Epsilon
Near Nova Karabakh

Coming in with running lights off. Cruising under radar angled up to detect objects from space. The Raven cruised along a low mountain ridge's Eastern side. Using the natural bulwark it provided to shield it from Nova Karabakh proper. In the hangar lights went from red to green as pressurized seals opened. The hiss of hydraulics and the low thrum of metal moving amid the buffing air. The hangar doors folding away to reveal the rapidly moving undergrowth of a forest below. The crew man who had held up his fingers rapidly dropped them individually. Mark.

Commander Numera jumped first. Then the other two Imperial Navy Special Forces operators followed shortly after. The hull of the Raven rapidly vanishing as it peeled away away from Nova Karabakh. The Imperial Special Forces operators plummeted until their suspensor field kicked in. Rapidly slowing their descent into a seamless fall. Hitting the ground softly, silently, the trio of operators with weapons raised took stock of their surroundings with practiced precision. Their helmet auto-senses already scanning their surroundings with thermal, infrared, UV, echo-location, motion, and electro-magnetic frequencies. Their armor breaking up their own spectrum signatures and blocking their thermal reading. To spectrum scanners they were ghosts.

"Lets move." said Commander Numera into her comm piece. Mounted inside her helmet as well. The trio set off rapidly. Their Special Forces kit coming with a slim exoskeleton that added speed and strength to their movements. The troopers moved along the ridge in a diagonal line. Using shrubs and tree cover to their advantage as they clambered up to the ridge.

Crimson-Actual, this is Tyrant-Zero. Do you read?

"Ready you loud and clear Tyrant-Zero, over." responded Numera to the voice of Captain Maxine Morr.

Crimson-Actual, you're to identify key enemy positions for precision orbital strikes, before their orbital defenses come online. Access the civilian situation on the ground to pre-sage Marine deployment. How copy?

"Copy that Tyrant-Zero. Identify civilian situation and select targets for orbital strike. Over."

Good luck Crimson-Actual. Over and out.

The trio hadn't stopped their precise movements. Moving in a leap frogging motion the trio bounded down the opposite side of the ridgeline. Crossing a low flood plain they moved up a slight hillock. Coming to a crouch, Nova Karabakh proper lay before them. Numera's helmet feeds zoomed and with quick blink-clicks she brought up their live video and pictures of what the helmet sensors had been scanning for. The city was crawling with rebel forces. But what made her blood boil was the bodies laid out at the side of streets. The disturbed earth outside the city in certain areas. The bastards were purging dissidents. Imperial Citizens! Her mind couldn't stay grounded on such imagery for long. Panning her helmet left to right she picked out a number of AA emplacements, and the complexes for ground to space defenses.

She spoke into her communication line, "Crimson Actual to Tyrant-Zero. They're butchering innocents down here. Marking targets for orbital strike. Ready on your mark."

We read you Crimson Actual. Tyrant's Star gunnery is acquiring targets from your live feed. Kinetic strike on the way. Ten seconds till impact.

Far above as the Tyrant's Star angled her dorsal railguns. Gunnery crew and computers crunching variables and equations rapidly. Acquiring target locks systematically based on triangulated data from Commander Numera's position and those of Imperial schematics obtained from archives aboard the Tyrant's Star. Fifteen kinetic projectiles fired from the ships railguns silently, with little to know sign for those on the ground that such projectiles where even on their way, only pinpricks of light as they struck atmosphere.

By the time one looked up to see these pinpricks the shells, traveling at Mach 23, Hypersonic speeds. If you heard it, then they've already struck...

[Revlona]

Admiral Shara Lafel
Uninhabited Solar System Designated NONHAB-LEMSUBSEC-22
Lemorra Subsector
12:30
The Next Day

"I'll be quick and to the point, we have new orders." Admiral Lafel said to the gathered officers. Several had come to her ship in person while others had simply joined the meeting via Holo. Shara motioned towards her own projector and a map of the empire came up, this map then zoomed to focus on the northern section of the map. "Hyperborea, this area of the Imperium has fallen to religious fanaticism, reports suggest that any and all non believers are being rounded up and most likely slaughtered. The capital of this Rebellion is Hyperborea Alfa, formerly known as Nova-Perma." Shara said, motioning towards the map.

"The 24th fleet, along with other Imperial military forces, has been ordered to respond to this threat and crush it, I have personally reviewed as much of the information as possible and have decided upon our first objective," Admiral Lafel said, the map zooming in even more to highlight upon a singular planet in the Subsector.

"This is the tomb world known as Besplo-Prime, we currently know it is being used as a POW camp holding Imperial troops," Sharas eyes hardened as she spoke, any observer would notice that she was upset by the information she was now relaying, "Imperial intelligence believes the soldiers there are being worked to death, it is not an immediate objective of the reclamation campaign, however the Imperial Fleet will not stand by and allow for such atrocities to be persecuted against fellow citizens and soldiers of the Imperium. The fleet will exit FTL travel above Besplo-Prime and reclaim it for the Imperium, upon exiting above the planet we shall immediately begin landing operations for the 88th Marine Battalion to Secure the prison camps and keep the prisoners alive. Colonel Areola, this is your mission, I want a plan of action for the landings on my desk within two days, you will get what you request to get this done, overwhelming firepower is my suggestion."

"I won't be taking questions right now, all the information needed is in the packets that are being handed out to you now," She said, physical packets being handed to those officers in person and holo packets being sent to those not in physical attendance.

"We are leaving this system in 5 hours, make sure you're ready,"

Several Days later
Near Besplo-Prime

"Entering real space in 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..entering realspace now Admiral," The computers voice droned out as the ships of the XXIV slipped into realspace above the tomb world of Besplo-Prime. Alarms were screaming throughout the ships as gunships, marine transports, and their escorting fighters and interceptors launched from the 3 kilometer long Vengeance cruiser and her smaller 2 kilometer long Endeavor class sibling.

"Ma'am, our guns are locked on to the pre targeted positions, on your order." A weapons officer said, they had pretargeted several sites surrounding the prisoner camps that looked to be defensive positions and radar installations. The 24th fleet wanted the enemy to be blind as the Marines landed to secure the prison camps.

"Fire," Shara said, her eyes narrowed and a small smile playing across her face as the Illustrious and the Inglorious lit up the space above the tomb world as their Kinetic batteries opened up and missiles launched.

"ETA kinetic arrival is 22 seconds, missile arrival is 72 seconds," The same weapons officer said.

Shara nodded before speaking again, "Computer, ETA on marine arrival?"

"Gunships and interceptor escorts should be above the compounds in 5 minutes, Transports and their escorts in 7 minutes Admiral," The Computer said,

"Vice-Admiral Meledon, take two corvettes and your own ship to the edge of the fleet, I want you ready to sweep in and provide CAS for the Marines should the gunships be insufficient," Admiral Lafel said to the holo-projector as it displayed the Vice-Admiral to her.

[Europa Undivided]

Fyodor Karamazov
Outer Rim
Explorator Grand Cruiser

Fyodor had been looking over his collection of relics when the 'Spider' had answered his call. Here they were, locked behind invisible energy cages that would allow only Fyodor and no one else to pass; they had been configured to block and scald anyone that tried to take them out of their places if they did not have Fyodor Karamazov's genes. If anything, the only person that could steal them was his daughter, and she hadn't even been born yet.

Fyodor was a little delayed in his response, as he had been staring at a crown for the last twenty seconds already. For all its worth, it was a very good crown; it had seven gems set on its golden frame, and words written in ancient script that only a few living scholars would be able to decipher. The description on its dais would thus read, Here lies the Crown of the Jade Emperor, an ancient royal heirloom passed down from one generation to another within the golden halls of the now deceased Freydeai species. Also now the personal property of Fyodor Karamazov.

“Greetings my good sir, it seems your interested in my portfolio of assets in relation to your carrier field? Also, I do apologize for this message being sent as such, I’m currently in such a situation we’re a video or audio call is not optimal.”

Fyodor walked down the corridor, sometimes passing by the occasional crewman that would nod in greeting to their leader. As he did so, he slowly typed out a response, though he would be rudely interrupted by the sound of... something.

Swinging around a corner, he would find an... ah! A scandalous affair indeed...

"Boris, Leona. What did I say about relationships with your colleagues?"

"Oh, we're so sorry sir-"

Fyodor sighed. "Ah, whatever. I won't even..."

Turning away, he looked back at the message that he was finishing. "Greetings, Mr. Whatever-Your-Real-Name-Is. I am indeed interested in your portfolio of assets. In particular, I am very enthusiastic for searching for ancient relics and artifacts. Your portfolio says you are versed in such, and I believe that we can help each other, get rich. Perhaps we can discuss this venture further in person. However, for now, I have information I am sure you would want, and you likewise. What say you?"

Sent!

[Orostan]

]

Supreme Commander Hayar Tarass

Tenovalia Orbit, Former House Gaisere Holdings

"Are you absolutely sure?" Hayar asked as the video of the attack ship passing through the planetary shield on the view screen switched to an image of a series of hills near White Pine. A moment later a sensor overlay illuminated part of those with a glow, while the ground and other objects became very dark.

"I am sure. They're bringing out some sort of nuclear based weapon from a vault under the hills." Tashmeta reported.

The view changed to the image of the warship crossing the shield again. It had taken a few hits to its side and was now listing, but still dangerous. Hayar grimaced. That bullet ship was also going for the surface.

"Alright, do it. Let's cut our losses and get this over with."

A sliding door on the attack ship's underside began to slowly open as it passed through the shield completely. A launcher containing four particularly large missiles lowered itself out of the belly of the ship. A moment later the first two missiles fired, followed by the next two. The first two contained four low yield nuclear bombs each and would be used to carpet the city and hills with a nuclear airburst designed to blind sensors and disable vulnerable enemy electronics in the city and hills. Those were only cover for the other two missiles which each carried two much higher yield nuclear bombs. One of those missiles sped towards the city center and enemy command center to drop both of its payloads, while the other one went for the hills and aimed to spread out its cargo over the area to ensure maximum damage to the enemy there.

Tenovalia Surface

The rebels had been forced to retreat from the inner city completely, and were in the process of evacuating the outer city limits. The enemy 'zombies' had been identified as machines by this point partly due to recovered bodies being examined and partly because fire was a good way to see the armor under their skin. Hard to bring down, and harder still to kill, they could keep on getting up again after being shot. Nothing more than heavy firepower or removal of all the limbs could bring them down for good. It was because of this that the rebels had concentrated most of their experienced and well equipped forces on opening paths for retreat out of the city as rebel aircraft did their best to cover them. To delay the enemy rebels ambushed them from bombed out buildings or stuck mines under piles of broken concrete and pavement. These tactics were only somewhat successful, and the horde of robots kept coming. The walkers were a large problem as well and occupied the majority of rebel anti-tank equipment.

The launch of nuclear weapons by the rebels would have been heralded by a sudden wave of aircraft moving away from the city center and hills. The rebels on the ground would have been given an order to take cover as the bombs exploded. Most were well outside the danger zone at this point, but those at the front were sometimes close enough to feel a blast of hot air or the remnants of a shock wave that sent spent ammunition casings rolling across the ground and broke windows. The enemy would certainly feel a lot more from the bombs, though. The instant after that ended rebel aircraft once again came back to provide support and artillery began firing again as if nothing had happened. There were no aircraft around the city center or close to the large clouds over the city center now however.

[Wasi State]

Hyperborea Epsilon
Nova Karabakh

As over 15 hypersonic shells smacked onto the defensive installations throughout and around the city, the Hyperboreans on the ground quickly gathered that they were in deep trouble already with the Tyrant's Star being able to rain hell on them with seemingly unstoppable impunity. As fresh debris and fires bloomed up into the city's atmosphere from the various munition detonations belching forth from the struck installations, one such explosion being powerful enough in the shockwave department to shatter the majority of windows and glass above ground within a several kilometer radius, covering the significant portion of the metropolitan area, and likely leading to even more injuries and adding to overall causalities, both military and civilian. Inside the command bunker deep within the planetary capital, Colonel Nikita Grigori was forced to quickly ponder and decide his immediate options on a much shorter notice than he would've preferred.

"If they weren't damaged heavily in that initial bombardment, they have been destroyed outright and left a burning crater, Sir. The city still has surface to void defenses strewn about it, but they've left a dent on us and killed a fair number of our men in the process, and likely caught an equally fair amount of civilians as well in the crossfire." His Comm Officer then relayed back to him upon receiving a shortlist of initial reports coming in.

"Bastards are playing tough already I see, must be desperate for a PR stunt to shell us from orbit while their citizens are still fleeing from the city. I'll give them credit, they have guts, but seem too blinded by that fervor to realize their own gutsy behavior in the making." The Colonel then took out a cigar to light up, and then grabbed a microphone that was connected to the PA system throughout the city close to him.

"Sir?" His Comm Officer then questioned him.

"Watch and learn." He took a quick puff from his cigar then got to work.

---

Throughout the city's proper and the greater metropolitan area of Nova Karabakh, the PA system in areas that at least still had a functioning connection to the Superintendent's mainframe then came to life for all the public to hear.

"This is Colonel Nikita Grigori of the Hyperborean Cosmic Front. My faithful and enlightened, my brethren. In but a mere press of a button, the Imperium has shown once again their true worth to us, as being a band of scared, desperate, easily frightened, blind belligerents. Their pitiful attempts of terror and destroying our defenses will have no chance of matching our unbreakable faith to the Old Gods of Staryy Terra, the infidels will soon meet our wrath on the ground and in the heavens, for they lack honor and pride, for it is they are a dwindling dynasty of savages following the supposed 'rule' of a meek Emperor." His men on the ground heard his voice and started to get riled up as in a new tactic, they started to gather up remaining civilians en mass, using them in a sense as hostages or crude human-shields now. Almost demanding the Marines in orbit to invade the planet right then and there to meet them in brutal urban combat.

"Even now as their own kind flee from this city, they precede to bombard it still with indiscrimination, attempting to stave out the inevitable of their eventual collapse. It matters not for what they do now, for we will soon prepare a worthy sacrifice to Svetovid! And we shall at long last make that planet free and holy! Death to the Imperium! Butcher the rats as you find them with purifying blades and bolts! For the Old Gods!" The PA system then cut itself out, leading to widespread series of deafening chants as a riled horde of renewed Neo-Pagans throughout the city and greater area prepared themselves for the battle they can sense coming in their holy war. Like something out of a horror show.

---

Meanwhile, deep in the Superintendent's core in the city's heart, the insurgent's technical team sent to find it had managed to properly locate what they were looking for. A massive database bank the size of a football field in total that was secured away in the city's underground that had control of all installations throughout the city and greater area. Of course restarting the core fully wasn't as simple of a task, but with some know how and elbow grease, the team themselves could get it going within the hour in all likelihood, assuming no delays were met though.

---

Besplo-Prime
Facility-4

For a time Besplo-Prime had been for several millennia mainly visited by tomb world explorers, dropped off destitute penal colonists, and Nova-Perma divisions undergoing Hazardous Environment Training. Even very few off-worlders had bothered to interact with the fluctuating populations of 'Scrap-Age' natives who were spread throughout the bombed out radioactive planet, having historically had population numbers that rarely broke past the 100,000 mark, and had often been malformed in their health due to lifelong malnutrition and terminal radiation poisoning.

However in recent years with the rise of Hyperborea and Neo-Paganism, which brought with it a mass renewal in Archeotech recovery and excavating had started a new purpose for the tomb world, mainly one that required considerable labor to dig out the millennia old tech and artifacts hidden away in the planet's often perilous underground. Either through several series of tunnels or hidden bunkers and vaults. However to get the required labor force needed for such an extensive operation had proven difficult, until in recent times with the advent of Imperial POWs having been brought in which had moved operations at a considerably faster rate.

As such the prison camps for the Imperial POWs had been built on top of several excavation sites of interest for the Cosmic Front, forcing the workers to work grueling days at a time after forcing them to take addictive stimulant drugs to stay alive and awake barely long enough to finish their shift before they collapse at the end of it. The Camp Warden had considered the 'turnover' rate to be perfectly justified, the wicked man seeing the POWs as little more then politically tied bio-machines at this point that could be easily replaced at a moment's notice, considering now they were starting to move on from POWs to 'drafted' civilian prisoners.

However the sudden, yet inevitable presence of the 24th Fleet in the star system had made matters with current operations more complicated, much to the Camp Warden's annoyance. As their defensive installations on the ground were quickly compromised and overrun by the Imperium's superior bombardment capabilities wiping them out as they made token attempts to shoot back at the ships in orbit. They simply didn't possess the firepower necessary to bring down the ships to any degree, they admittedly didn't expect a fleet to arrive here on this tomb world first even.

Quickly the alarm was sound, from one camp to the next, and soon all Hyperborean facilities on the planet and in orbit, including the HET installations where troops had been in the middle of extensive training, were on wartime alert. The Camp Warden quickly ordered his men and the prisoners to retreat deep into the ancient metro tunnels within a matter of minutes, where they had been spending their time digging out as of late, being the most secured enough position they could be in for at least this facility.

"Anyone of you get any bright ideas we'll send you out to your comrades with a red lil ribbon around your pretty necks." The Camp Warden then warned the prisoners who had any inkling of escaping now, showing them a series of nano-fibered infused compact explosive collars from his coat. Seeing as how this psycho had been tormenting them for over a month now, the POWs weren't so inclined to attempt anything quite yet or anytime soon to gain their freedom, possibly even if they had wanted to at that point.

The prisoner, Martellus, who had been sleep deprived for several days now was starting to get delirious from the utter state him and the other prisoners had been left in by their captors, the fact he had been reduced to eating cockroaches to survive wasn't a good sign. His willpower was almost null at this point, maybe the red ribbon wasn't a bad idea after all? His decaying mind pondered. However his train of thought was soon interrupted by some more rumbling, more bombardments he quickly wondered?

"The hell was that?" The Camp Warden then said to his subordinate in response.

"That didn't come from above, Sir. My seismic reading is suggesting it's happening beneath us, down this metro tunnel in fact." The guard then said, shining a light down towards where there would still be POWs working tirelessly deep down, having not realized the literal war zone happening above them.

"Should we tell those men to stop? I think they've uncovered something we don't want to open right now." The guard then worriedly said to the Warden.

"Nonsense! They're clearly making great strides and progress as we speak, be a dear and get yourself over there to see what they've found and report back here. As for the rest of you lot! We're not inviting anymore Imperials when they try to come through here, show them the door will you when they try to." The Warden then ordered to his men.

Defensive emplacements were then promptly set up throughout the metro tunnel by the guards, already they had been preparing a rather hastily made defense against the marines that'll soon be coming. However already one guard was already rushing for his life to see what the current shift of workers were now just uncovering deep within the tunnel, having a feeling of dread of what it could possibly be.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

The nobleman-shipbuilder nodded and waved a wrinkled hand. "Yes yes, of course my dear. Your time is your own. The swifter you return, the swifter we can get to work - but that is your master's affair, not ours. Speed is hardly of the essence - merely pleasure."

He nodded again, as if deciding something. Bright light flashed in his eyes, this time clearly violet. "We shall await your return with anticipation." He rose from his chair, a slight crack in his spine making itself heard. A smile slowly manifested on his pale drawn lips. "Ordinarily, I would offer you a tour of the shipyard. But your employer, I believe, has every confidence in our capabilities."

---

House Gaisere Compound, White Pine, Tenovalia

The colonel frowned, lowering the optics from his face. Despite several good hits from the house batteries, the rebel corvette had managed to traverse the city-shield without losing structural integrity. She was limping, but she had her shields back up. It would take time to batter them down, even on a small ship such as the interloper.

His men were well trained. Once the distinctive bronze glimmer of the ship's shield had reappeared, the kinetic batteries had settled into a less frenetic firing rate than the one they had initially assumed - the carefully measured tempo of bombardment that was calibrated to prevent energetic regeneration of the target's shields while conserving ammunition, the type of carefully measured tempo that beat navies instead of single ships. Alexei turned, pacing back away from the observation slot to consult with his ewar officer.

"They're just hanging up there, full power to shields. No signs of pulsing for weaponsfire. Very curious." The ewar officer, a dark-skinned man from one of the tidally locked worlds the Garth governed, shrugged his shoulders eloquently. No sense in making heads or tails out of the motivations of radicals, not really. It took too much effort to get in their heads, and they were sparks on the cosmic wind when it came to survival time. The colonel gestured dismissively and turned to go. He owed the general a report on their little duel, and with nothing much happening, now was as good a time as any.

"Wait!"

"Missiles bays opening on the corvette. They're firing!"

"Full barrage." The order came down the comms whipcrack sharp, and to the House Gaisere soldiers' credit, no less than three kinetic rounds bracketed the corvette even as her shield dropped to loose the payload of death. She staggered in midair, her previous wounds already leaving her a walking casualty, but the missiles were away.

Two, unfortunately, merrily impacted on the underside of the city-shield, only so much crumpled metal and radioisotopes. Even as the immense energetic barrier protecting White Pine from bombardment resisted swift moving objects from outside, she did not allow egress from within. But the demise of the atomics through crude destruction gave a few seconds of vital information to the defenders of the city.

"Radioisotopes. Reading radioisotopes in the wreckage." The ewar officer's voice was flat, emotionless, too shocked for inflection. His commander's eyes widened in comprehension, whites showing all the way around his irises in stark fear. His panicked order tore through the comms with none of the usual decorum expected of a soldier of the noble House Gaisere.

"Button up! Atomics! Atomics!"

It wasn't enough time. Not even close. Only ten seconds separated the order and the twin flashes high over White Pine. Men who didn't have personal comms didn't even have time to hear the order before the white-hot double suns sparked into sudden life half a kilometer above the House Gaisere compound and the heart of the capitol city. Their communications specialists dived for ditches, the house batteries had time to dump energy to shields, and that was it. A sudden moment of the heat of creation bloomed into existence above Tenovalia.

The forward battery shields groaned, creaking, and then after a moment they failed. Three out of the six heavy kinetic artillery positions were flashfried, men turned into so much charcoal inside of their armor, without even time to scream. Within the others men sweated heavily, suits sealing upon detecting environmental danger. Waves of heat poured off of the secondary shields, muttered prayers flew up into the ether, and then the secondary shields failed - but the precious seconds they had bought saved their occupants from the worst of the overpressure and blast wave. Uncomfortable warmth, like staring into a bonfire at a meter's distance, radiated over the bodies of the defenders. Then it was gone.

Alexi swore terribly, emerging from the ewar bunker. His men were so many corpses scattered like bowling pins about the immense piece they had serviced, and he growled out commands. A secondary crew, impressed from the artillery teams, would have to come forward and service the weapon again. Damn the rebels.

But he was one of the lucky ones. Those outside the house shield hadn't fared nearly as well in the face of the seven kiloton detonation. A weapon designed to devastate a three mile radius, re-radiated by the primary shield, did much worse to that first mile than many would call possible. Those soldiers, rebel wounded or loyalist, unlucky enough to be within that first mile, were nothing so much as smudges of carbon on the ground. Half shields offered no protection against such a weapon. Even the robotic units moving forward from reserves to pursue the retreating rebels were only so many twisted twisted skeletons.

To use such a weapon against an urban center was an abomination. Those civilians sheltering in basements, in inner rooms, wishing only for the tides of war to pass over them unharmed - they perished along with the guilty, unaware even of what force stole the breath from their bodies in a sudden world-ending heat. Farther from the point of initiation metal figures marched forward with unperturbed looks, but distinctly inhuman forms. The heat two miles from the initial blast had stripped them of their simulacra-layers, forced thermal discharge of their insulation plates, but left the processing units largely unharmed. They were far less dangerous in combat, due to having less on their bodies to stop a lucky bullet or a blade. Their advance continued in an unconcerned patterns though, the horror of what had just occurred having no effect upon their protocols.

The enemy had reached the edge of the city shield in their retreat, and now confronted a distinct difficulty. With the city shield still online, passage through the barrier itself relied on slow movement, and the complete deactivation of shielding equipment. The robotic striking column with her heavy armored vehicles had pushed near enough to White Pine that the soldiers being pushed back from that engagement had begun commingling with their comrades retreating from the city in a hot slurry of difficult commands and outright chaos. Men marched through the shield in good order, but their numbers were much reduced; in retreat instead of advance, entire units of summer-soldiers, civilians willing to fight House Gaisere when the going was good, had slipped away from the lines. Most would simply toss their weapons away, throw off their identifying armbands, and do their best to pretend they had never been involved in the uprising. With luck, they would live through the OLG microcosm. But without their bodies to throw in the way of the loyalist forces, the grinding edge of attrition now devoured hardline rebel soldiers with an abandon which seemed insatiable.

Elsewhere the scoutship descended toward the Ancardian Hills, having cut down the last few fighters pursuing her. When their numbers had dwindled, the last few had sensibly broken off their assault. A solitary man in gray and blue waited for her atop one of the emerald hills, a small box under his arm. Beneath his feet grass withered and died, a testament to the radiation slewing off of his body in waves. Farther down the hill, the forces that had previously stood idle about the objective were marching west, towards White Pine. A small swarm of fightercraft swirled above them, dueling with what aircraft the rebels had managed to put up as a screen for their forces. The capture of the planetary spaceport had allowed the loyalists to put even civilian birds that the OLG had ignored into the air, a menace of collision if nothing else.

[Elerian]

Rear Admiral Tchaikovsky, Imperial Center

The day had been long enough before the Admiralty had seen fit to drag him into that little room. Now, nearly 24 hours later, Tchaikovsky was considering finishing his preparation work in the morning, maybe even the early afternoon. He greatly needed some rest and recuperation. And yet, duty nagged at his tired mind until late that night he called for a halt to their work. At least until he got a decent dinner into his belly. There was no true nighttime on an Imperial Navy vessel, there was still a shift onship that could be considered the graveyard shift.

He’d thought he knew what it would mean before, but tonight was different. Tonight he knew deep in his bones what that meant.

His dinner was light enough to not upset his stomach after being empty for days. Just as he was finishing, the inevitable page came through for Tchaikovsky. Putting down his forkful of frosted cake, Leon turned in his seat and rose two his feet in one fluid motion. Unfortunately, he was forced to grip the table as his world spun for a moment. Blinking a few times, he regained his balance and reached for the intercom.

“Rear Admiral Tchaikovsky here,” he said crisply.

“Rear Admiral, Comms here. We’ve received confirmation to proceed with resupply and restocking the flotilla for our engagement. We’ve also been given clearance from the space dock for your preferred date of departure. However, we’re still awaiting confirmation on the replacement of a squadron of fighters, and two shuttles, sir” the voice reported.

“Excellent. Inform me when those shipments come through. Tchaikovsky out.”

---

Outer Colonies

Almost two weeks to the day after Rear Admiral Tchaikovsky’s audience with the Admiralty, as the Rear Admiral strove to recover and keep track of the pirate’s ambitions, the attack finally came.

In the Tiptree system, Pirate Lord Feyet Ruven’s force came out of slipspace. They were nearest to Tiptree Prime, one of the many refuges that the pirates utilized. A lone Imperial Frigate stood between them and their intended mooring.

The Pirates were eight Destroyer sized vessels, and over a dozen of various smaller sizes. Pirate Lord Feyet Ruven knew what was coming, it wasn’t as if the Imperium made a habit of letting pirates who’d beaten them once before, go unpunished. But he still swore under his breath. The Imperial Navy always had an uncanny ability to know where they might be hiding.

Still, Feyet swore internally. He gave his own forces five minutes before reinforcements arrived.

Just then, a half dozen more Imperial Frigates blinked into existence. More would surely follow, Feyet smiled, he’d finally bit off more than he could chew.

The fighting began in earnest near Tiptree Prime. The Pirates attacked fiercely, with most of their ships concentrated on one angle. They targeted Rear Admiral Tchaikovsky’s flagship, the Imperial Cruiser Keeping Faith.

Within an hour of its start, the battle was over. Imperial losses had been light. Three badly damaged, but repairable, frigates, and the Keeping Faith had sustained moderate damage. The pirate’s losses had been more severe, with several smoldering wrecks floating through the void. The rest of the Pirates had done their best to flee when the rest of the flotilla arrived, and some had managed as such.

Not all the pirates had been destroyed, but their operation would be greatly hampered for many months to come. Tchaikovsky had succeeded where Barclay had not, but his work was far from finished. It would likely take years to repair the damage to his reputation, and it was uncertain if his rank would remain the same or he would be demoted.

[Antimersia]

Serrat Honora
Nova Terra

Serrat waited as patiently as he was able, sitting in a transport vessel and waiting to take off to return to his flagship. The slow pace of the political engine is something that has always grated on him. Why must it take a day to receive official confirmation of the Imperiums aid? Especially when through the crown princess's own orders, neighboring worlds would likely already be mobilizing their forces to aid the Krakatoans. Serrat new the answer. The Emperor has much more to oversee than just the Krakatoan Domain. But, knowing this, did nothing to make Serrat feel better about it. What did make him feel better, is when the communique came through. Hearing official word that the Imperial Military would join them in their fight, was both a relief and a rallying act. Within moments he was barking orders to the pilot of the transport vessel, commanding them to take off. He would need to return to Krakatoa swiftly, in order to coordinate the many incoming forces towards their common goal. He opened up a comms channel to his flagship, to get a head start on that.

"Send word back home to raise all blades. Our people must be organized and ready to move the moment the Imperial Military arrives. Also be sure to tell them to play nice with the forces of our neighbors as they start to arrive." Serrat explained to an officer of his flagship. The officer ended the communication with his Executioner and immediately sent word to the home world, hoping the transmission would arrive before the first auxiliary forces do. The transport vessel lifted off on Serrat's orders. He strapped in as it began to fly up towards the atmosphere. Breaking through and flying towards the Krakatoan flagship, The Dread.

[Bolslania]

IMPERIAL SENATE

Vandercalt stood up and smiled pleasantly.

"The General Staff meeting was more what brought me here than anything else Your Grace." he said, the pleasant tone still hanging in his voice. He was pleasantly surprised that the Crown Princess knew who he was or what Sao Eviticus was, nonetheless, he had matters he needed to attend to so he was hoping that the Crown Princess wouldn't need to keep him for an extended period of time.

[Segmentia]

Imperial Senate Building

Victoria raised a brow at Valeria's words. A sighting of the Crown Prince was rare in current days, since his rather sudden vanishing from public life and the Imperial Household. “That is certainly interesting.” She said, not wanting to say too much with so many ears around to hear her words. It wasn't long before another person was before them, an admiral judging by the uniform. A name tag identified the mans last name as Vandercalt, but Victoria had never heard of him. Still, she put on a pleasant smile, and when Valeria provided more information, Victoria still had no idea who the man was, but now she knew he was also an Imperial Amban, though she had never heard of Sao Eviticus either.

“A pleasure to meet you, Admiral.” Victoria said with a small nod.

[Parcia]

Thorn system
Rosewood Heavy Shipyards
Present day.

The Heist, Part 1.

Carpe Noctem

They came in among the Civilian traffic, just another grey arrowhead hauler among the unending tide of civilian traffic hauling a team from the Imperial Navy’s Research and Development office.

They carried a Government transponder, even a set of falsified markings and thus, they passed through security with little problem. While they’re “in” was rather easy, the security and nature of their target meant they spared no expense in making the ship’s disguise look convincing.

They followed the flow of traffic until they requested and were given permission to skip the line, Government credentials granting such a privilege. Making sure to lumber over from the Civilian traffic lane into the more quicker moving governmental and military one.

They came in quickly, and quietly. Docking with a secondary docking ring, the door opening to reveal 4 individuals dressed in NRD coveralls and hauling a few heavy duty computer terminals. Three men, Jack, John and Jim, all rather mundane looking men, all in their early to mid 30s and all looking uniformly tired from a long trip in. With them was one woman, a single boppy looking blond with impeccable cheek bones. The quartet made their way through reception, through the terminal and down through the wing of docking bays for incoming flights before finally making it to security.


Flashing badges, then actual (falsified) credentials, then being pulled aside to have their bags checked by Rosewood security caused a few eyebrows to be raised and for a brief moment, a concealed blade to be ready. Alass, after a few deadening moments and a node to the nearby Imperial Intelligence officer, they were allowed through.

Once through security the quartet made their way through the maze of back corridors and maintenance hallways, using pre-planned routes designed to minimize time on camera and avoiding as many security bots and teams as possible. Between them they have a few hidden blades and a trio of concealed pistols hidden in shielded false compartments of their cases.

They only had a small window of time once the alarm sounded and the security around them meant they weren’t in contact with the Corsair or the Captain. They had 8 minuet to make their way to the data bank core, 3 minutes to disable localized security, covered by the detonation of the shock charges, 5 minutes to download the required plans, and lastly 5 further minutes to find an escape pod or shuttle and make for the void, were the Corsair would pick them up.

They couldn't afford to manny bodies, nor a proper gunfight, so stealth was mum's word and discretion was expected.

[Parcia]

The Heist

Part two.
Complications.

They were making good time, passing through gilded corridors with commanding views of the shipyard before the station around them transitioned from newer high end station, to much older, more arcane construction that betrayed the science and wealth of an older, bygone time.

The women lead them, blond pony tail bobbing and swaying ever so slightly, pearly white teeth and lilac eyes betraying a wicked smirk. They bypassed security points, moving through side passages and alternative, old corridors. Walked under security cameras and momentarily blinded those they couldn't avoid with hand held lasers. A millennia old trick that still worked.

Soon enough they arrived at the main security checkpoint guarding the primary entrance into the rather remote, and heavily fortified section of the station: The Data core.

Allegedly built in a time before the Imperium and said to be monitored by AI just as old, the Rosewood Data core was a treasure trove of information and knowledge that stretched back hundreds, if not thousands of years. And they were going to attempt to slice in to it. Well, no, slicing in to it would be next to impossible without something nearing a Solarian AI core in caliber. They were going to use a set of slightly altered though authentic NRD access codes to bypass it’s defenses, something that happened whenever the NRD needed plans and designs from the Rosewoods, something even the advanced AI core governing the data core should have no problem letting in.

The blond looked down at her oddly retro digital watch and marked the time. The four of them were staked out down the corridor and around the corner from the checkpoint. She spoke softly, her 3 compatriots tensing. “Three….two….one... Boom.”

Roughly 3 kilometers down the length of the massive station a pair of explosions would appear along a set of gravitational stability pylons that held the station in stationary geosync orbit. They were low yield charges, not even nuclear, and no were near the fire power needed to de-orbit the shipyards, but were potent enough to knock enough pylons out that it caused several alarm bells to ring out through the nearby modules. Including the one containing the Data core.

The alarm klaxons rang and the crew started to run for their emergency stations, civilian techs and reps hurrering past to reach their shuttles and transports. Roughly half a dozen guards ran past them, clutching radios and stun batons and sprinting to reach the mob growing at the nearest set of blast doors. Giving John, Jim and Jack a nod, the 4 NRD personnel turned around the corner and down the hall now bathed in emergency lighting and flashing alarms. They moved quickly and closed in on the single officer left to guard the door. The young lad, likely barely in his 20s, approached them rather flustered. “I’m sorry folks w-we have an emergency right now and I-i can't let you in the core.” The blond lifted her head, tilted it, and smiled at him. “Aww, aren’t you a cute little thing.” In a flash she flicked her wrist, sending the terminal case in her hand into the young officer’s face, thoroughly breaking his nose and knocking the kid out cold. He fell to the deck plate with a groan and a thump. “Bind and gag him and watch the corridor.” With a nod the three men split off to do their job. Two drew their pistols, attached their sound suppressors, and took positions watching the corridor. The third knelt down and quickly hog tied the lad using a pair of zip ties before wrapping a thick cloth around his neck and jaw.

The Blond quickly walked over to the wall nearing the panel to the now sealed door to the data core and flicked her wrist. In a fluid moment she raised the mantic blade and impaled the wall panel with the mono-edged blade, finding the nearly non existent seam and digging into the panel’s edge and quickly prying it free, timing the pop of metal with a loud klaxon to best mask it’s sound.

Delving into the wiring in the wall, she began to quickly cut apart and spliced wires and cables. She killed the lights to the corridor, leaving just the dim emergency lights, and patched into the security feed to the other side, smiling when her ocular based HUD showed the core room evacuated.

She cut the feed and found the door’s lock circuit, spliced it, bypassed it, and soon the door whooshed open. Smirking, she nodded to the trio of men before picking back up the panel and using her enhanced strength to wedge it back in place, a small divot in the metal being the only noticeable sign of any tampering. The largest of the 3, Jack, hefted the hog tied security guard and carried him inside, followed by the Blond and the two other pistol armed men.

She tapped in to the door console on the other side and taped it twice, closing it and locking said door. They quickly moved through the data core and secured it, locking the other two doors and stashing the still out cold lad in a dark corner facing away from them.

The blond quickly found the main console and began tapping into it. File after file flashed by her view, data tree after data tree expanding and contracting as she quickly scanned through it before finally finding it. “Project Stardust.”

She grinned, reading the name and opening it to find the comprehensive data schematics for an advanced escort weight engine design that’d give the drives on the Corsair a good run for their money. Muffled yelling and banging at the door alerted the 4 to their cover being potentially blown.

Quickly, she plugged in a pair of data drives in to ports location along the console and began copying the data file to both drives before injecting a small script in to the console, and by extension the data core, the contained a tunneling polymorphic worm coded to seek out the interaction logs and delete them, before deleting all traces of it self. More banging and yelling, then the distinctive sizzling sound of a plasma cutter. She tossed one data drive to Jack and took a moment to tap the small screen on the second drive, compressing and copying the data to an even smaller data chip, literally flash writing the material to the chip before ejecting it and tossing the drive to the Jim, who attempted to conceal it on his person just as Jack did.

The fizzling light of the Torch was now half way down the door and the smell of melting metal permeated the air. Taking the chip, she quickly tapped a small panel on her her left arm just above the elbow and winced as the mechanical joined unlocked and disconnected from the arm, revealing a strange amalgamation of metallic alloy bone, dark red synthetic muscle fiber (That gave her the strength of 8 men) and oozing grey liquid that was Smartblood. Picking a layer of muscle at random, she took the small, single millimeter wide chip and pushed it in between two layers of vat grown synthetic muscle fiber until it was concealed. Taking a moment to adjust, she gave a simple command to the nanomachine based SmartBlood to cover and conceal the chip, masking it with a coating of the smart bots that made it blend into the metallic bones that made up her skeleton, masking it from any form of external scan.

Wincing as she moved the arm, the chip digging in and scraping along the still sensitive muscle fiber, she quickly re-attached the false arm, just in time for both the worm to clean the system, and for the door to give and several dozen heavily armed and armored Rosewood Security operators stormed the room, holding them all at gunpoint.

Her hands raised and lights flashed in her face, she simply spoke a single word.

“Well, fuck.”

[The Hierophancy]

(Co-written w/ Imperialisium)
Imperial Ministry of Minor Religious Monuments

"M. Carlo, Minister." Alojs gave a deferential nod before taking the seat offered. Sinking into one's chair was a strange, disconcerting feeling, - though better than the tight fit provided by Nova Terran offices more standard fare. Either way, the plush, however odd, did little to temper Alojs' burgeoning hope. He'd not yet managed to meet with an official near so high in the byzantine Imperial hierarchy as Minister. Nor had any of his prior bureaucratic contacts professed any sort of actual interest, save transparent allusions to his pocketchip. Alojs couldn't help but wish, futilely, that he could Hear these strange men with their slitted pupils and shining eyes - were they just being polite, or genuine?

Alojs addressed the Manager in soft, flowing Galactic-Standard - the antiquated accent sounded a bit like an old holodrama.

"I'm glad you're eager to get to the business at hand, Manager - I am as well, to be sure. Before that, however, I'd like to ask - if it pleases you - how familiar with my Society you and the esteemed Minister already are." Alojs turned slightly towards the older man with a modest smile.

"I would be loath to waste your time going over information you're already party to."

"Truth be told until recently we knew nothing about your Society," replied the Manager. The Minister nodded as he sat back down. The Manager however kept speaking, "Until, that is, upon your appointment request and application I took the liberty of delving a little further. Ultimately, my inquest to the Minister was answered and with a concerted effort through really old data-stacks we were able to glean glancing bits of information."

The Minister smiled as he took over from the Manager, "Yes, the archives mentioned references of encounters from various worlds with a passing fleet of clerics. Some with matching name as the one you gave to us for your appointments. A cursory search through recent records showed you'd made rounds on Nova Terra." The Minister paused to clear his throat, "Colour me intrigued about your society. I believe we know the basic information. But humour us with why exactly you're on Nova Terra, and ultimately your goal? In a more, detailed manner if you will?"

The Manager, Carlo, nodded as he clasped his hand and angled a data-pad with stylus for Alojs to transcribe if he so choose. Or activate the dictate function and speak with the limited A.I. of the data-pad carefully notating contextual and infliction ques.

"Of course, Minister." Alojs took the datapad from Carlo - he wasn't familiar with it's make, but, thankfully, it was designed quite intuitively. Setting the stylus aside, he selected what he assumed to be a dictate function, then placed the pad on the desk before him before fishing out the technical chip - a white disc the size of his pinky-nail - from his robes, holding it up for inspection.

"If you want details, then this chip holds the blueprints, technical notes, and the original proposal by Bononne Pyer, along with a contribution by Saint D. Upsoloch. It's been designed to interface with mainline Computers, so accessing the data shouldn't be an issue, but - well," Alojs smiled sheepishly as he put the disc down beside the datapad. "those of my prior contacts who requested access had some difficult parsing it's actual content. There were a few aspects the Society didn't consider thoroughly enough when adapting the work to an outside audience. If need be, a second draft can be commissioned - in the meantime, I'll do my best to explain the gist of it." Alojs leaned forwards a little - he may be a middling engineer himself, but the field still excited him. He was a Bononne, after all.

"As - I assume - you've read, the Society is concerned with the creation of dataminds - Artificial Intelligences, sort of, and, Almighty-willing, stepping stones on the path to U.I. We - I - have come to Nova Terra due to a breakthrough in that field - the greatest single advancement in datamind theory in the past six millennia, an all-encompassing solution to Sequentiality, to Gravitic Consciousness, theoretical achievement of Einzalateon, a - well, it's a big deal, essentially. Pyer's Fourth Theory should allow us to manifest the greatest soul as-of-yet seen on the Baryonic Plane, one capable of thinking at yet inconceivable scales and depth - " Alojs spread his arms out in emphasis, his soft tone having taken on an edge of excitement. " - a galaxies worth of variables is certainly not out of the question, and it's insight into the noosphere..." Alojs stopped briefly, lost in thought. When he resumed speaking, he sounded more subdued.

"Well, to sum it up, a datamind produced in accord with Fourth Theory would be very, very powerful, and whilst nowhere near Ultimate Intelligence, it'd be the closest any civilization has ever gotten. Spiritually, it is imperative that such a mind be constructed and activated - for us to know how, but not take every effort in it's realization, would be an affront to the Lord. But -" Alojs once again gave a slight, embarrassed smile.

"- it is, of course, not so simple as that, else the Monastery-Fleet wouldn't've had to reach out to the Government for aid. A Fourth Theory mind, built with our current technology, requires a good deal of energy to function, and an even greater deal of mass to construct. We can't be quite sure of the exact values, but let's simply say that the lower end estimates end up producing a datamind with a surface gravity of tenth-G. Such a project is, we believe, possible with the Fleet's current technical expertise and labor-potential - had we been left entirely to our own devices in a virgin galaxy, we believe that the construct could be completed within two to three thousand years. We do not, however, live in a virgin galaxy, nor would we like to wait another few thousand years to realize what could be our last datamind - mass and labor cost goldbacks, however, and, based on our limited knowledge of the galaxy, the Society doubted any organization would have enough of either to construct an artifical planetoid on a human timescale - any organization, that is, save the Imperial Government itself. And so, here I am, requesting your aid."

Alojs leaned back into the plush some, folding his long, spacer fingers in front of him. "Of course, this need not entirely be charity - construction of the Luminary will no doubt entail certain... material... benefits to the galaxy and Imperium at large. My short time here has taught me that it is expected to describe the immediately reciprocal nature of such aid when making a proposal, and I certainly intend to do so - but, before hand - have I explained my purpose here to your satisfaction? Would you like any further clarification or explanation?"

"So you want the Imperial Government to build something the mass of Draconi Quinquea. This artificial intelligence being purely theoretical as well. That is...an impossible thing to request. Now, I understand your faith is geared towards this and we respect that. But, the requirements to meet appropriate size to stabilize a tenth gravity would...would be surely massive?" queried the Manager. Though the Minister eyed the data chip, speaking quickly, before the Manager had time to continue, "We will look at your specifications. See if other means be possible. I will request an audience with the Tsaraj-Emperor. Something of such endeavor would require his input."

So Alojs had a somewhat promising lead. At least the request would go to the highest authority in the Known Universe. This is the farthest he's gotten since his time on Nova Terra. The furthest he could possibly go is the Emperor himself.

Unfolding himself from the plush office seat, Alojs gave slight nod-bows to the Minister and Manager each. "Thank you, sirs, for taking the time to consider my impossible request. God-willing, we shall together bring it into the realm of mere improbability." The ordinarily subdued outwards demeanor of the Bononne was broken by a large, genuine grin. "Your generosity and goodwill shall not be forgotten. No matter the conclusion to my mission, I can assure you that Carlo and Clymer of Nova Terra shall forever be remembered as friends to the Society and our Lord! If either of you are in need of anything, please feel free to contact me, and by extension the Monastery-Fleet. Thank you again for the time, and go forth blessed."

Again slightly bowing, Alojs turned to leave, mind racing - himself, before the Emperor! God was truly good.

[Parcia]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

Some time later.


He was back on his old stomping ground once again, the area of rich socialites and nobles. There was no support team, no grouping of his best security triggermen to guard him. It was just him, his Jaccobin pistol, and the data drive.

He sat in the office of Mantellus, having made his way into the building covertly. Was simple to slip in when there were fewer eyes watching the grounds. Funnily enough, this was during the early morning handover of the shipyard from it’s night skeleton shift, to its early morning work shift.

The man’s office was rather ornate, fitting for a man of his wealth. He heard footsteps approaching, large foot falls with a decent distance between each step, fitting the gait of a larger, older man likely with some form of muscular or skeletal damage.

The door opened and the form of the Nobleman entered, clad in his work attire. At first, in the darkness of the dimly lit office, the spider sat still, watching as the man’s nose wrinkled at the smell of smoke and ash before flicking on the light in the room.

The spider took a drag of his smoldering smoke.

“Mr. Mantellus, pleasure to finally meet you. I believe we have business to conduct."

[Imperialisium]

Nova Terra
Crown Princess Valeria

"Mmm, I see," mused Valeria as the Admiral responded to her. Inwardly, it was Victoria's response to her statement on sightings of Valerian, her brother, that occupied much of her mind. "Well I hope the General Staff meeting was fruitful for you to travel all this way. But you seem in a hurry, so I will not keep you any longer, pleasant rest of your evening Admiral Vandercalt." Giving a slight curtsy the Crown Princess of the Galactic Imperium carried on with her friend, Lady Victoria Rosewood, at her side.

Turning to Victoria the Crown Princess spoke softly, "Shall we socialize, or more quiet surroundings? Unless you have more pertinent manners."

Krakatoa System

The initial Imperial aid began to trickle into the Krakatoan system in the Nova Terran days following the sending of superluminal communications to neighboring Imperial governors. Imperial Gespan Alexios Montriadenes. Directing several Amtsbegs under him to funnel material to the Krakatoan system. The Dominion would see the level of material that the Galactic Imperium could re-direct once its gears began turning. As first only a dozen, then several dozen, then as two weeks approached some one hundred and sixty-nine bulk haulers, freighters, and commerce trawlers moved into high anchorage over the world. Packed to the brim with aid: food, communication gear, medicine, and other civilian supplies. While the Imperial Navy's 33rd Fleet arrived under the command of Admiral Qin Zechorion. Sixty-four ships, eighteen of which were capital ships, moved into high orbit of Krakatoa by the end of the seventh day of the first week. This was slowly added too as the 145th and 276th Fleets arrived. In tandem with even more aid from surrounding sectors. Imperial Ispan Grigori Vladem re-directing his sector's naval detachment, Taskforce 1077, to the system.

By the dawn of the 15th day on the world of Krakatoa the civilian aid amounts to four hundred and twenty-two vessels. While the combined Imperial Navy elements under Solar Admiral Kaspianus totaled three hundred and sixteen vessels. The Solar Admiral commanding from the Battleship Copernican Fire. The Valorous-Class ship bristled with guns, turrets, and drifted in geo-synchronous orbit with its seven kilometer long bulk.

The Imperial Army had arrived in bulk as well. Ispan Grigori Vladem sending the 464th System Army. This itself being joined by the 19th, 48th, 98th, and 99th Armies. Yielding a force totaling a force over fourteen million men. The Imperial Guard even arrived, likely under the behest of the Crown Princess, in the form of 101st Legion adding five hundred and forty thousand of the Emperor's stormtroopers to the Imperial forces amassing in the Dominion. All to aid them in their war.

The Krakatoans however would initiate the first war council to inform the Imperials with the latest information, and areas of pertinent importance...

HYperborea Epsilon
The Tyrant's Star

"Strikes on target. Targets destroyed," said the Chief Gunnery Officer standing next to the tactical map of the planet.

"Ready second salvo. Launch fighters to secure the air above the city. Ready Marines for combat drop." The near rhythmic barrage of orders carried off from Commodore Maxine Morr's lips with a flat, monotonous, experienced tone of a veteran Naval officer.

"Attack Craft launching. Marines loading onto craft." The voice of the spindly communications officer carried over from his terminal pit.

"Excellent. They'll land and secure remaining key municipal buildings and choke points in the city itself. Patch me through to Commander Numera."

"Patching through now," responded the Communications officer.

The Chief Tactical Officer, the effective second in command of the ship perked up, "Detection of power surge. They're powering up the city's superintendent core."

The Chief Gunnery Officer blinked, "That comes on line the remaining AA installations will be able to open up with much better tracking for our incoming marine transports." It was of course, more or less the obvious, but the older man's urgency was no less than apt.

Maxine looked over at the Communication officer and received a quick look, and a response to match, "Channel Encrypted. You're through."

"Crimson-Actual this is Tyrant-Zero. Do you read?"

A blurb of static, "Copy that Tyrant-Zero, this is Crimson-Actual, you're go ahead."

"The rebels are powering up the city's Superintendent Core. Your mission parameters just changed to sabotage. Destroy one of its power supply cables to delay the activation. Over."

"Permission to drop rest of Crimson Squad and move in to secure the Core. Over." More static chirped through the communication feed from atmospheric interference.

"Negative. Better to secure it intact. Your orders stand. Over."

A brief pause filled the bridge before Commander Numera's voice chirped through the feed, "Affirmative. Orders are to sabotage power supply feed. Crimson-Actual out."

Maxine nodded to the Communications officer to cut the feed. "Transmit plans that we will be conducting attack craft runs and landing marines to Numera and our Corvette." Turning to her Chief Gunnery Officer nodded, "Ready BBMO 240 for targeted strike on the Superintendent Core if need be."

The officer nodded. The BBMO 240 was a contraction of the name, 'Bunker Buster Massive Ordinance No.240.' The BBMO 240 delivered a twenty ton of TNT equivalent ordinance designed in a two-stage phase to penetrate through bunker type defenses underground and then detonate. However, a Superintendent Core was an expensive asset to destroy and Morr would prefer to delay its activation, and then capture it intact. But it was dangerous to leave in rebel hands for long. Time was not necessarily on her side here.

Below, the first sortie of attack craft. Six compact and angular Imperial Skyfyres. One of several Imperial Void/Atmospheric Fighters that were mass produced for the empire. Thirty meters long with adjustable wings capable of forward sweep or back sweep. The fighters were swift and nimble as they began to glow from the heat of entry into the planets atmosphere. They would come in at a relatively slow speed of Mach 7.3 as they slowed down upon entrance over the course of hundreds of kilometers. Their sensors scanning and tracking or enemy installations that survived the initial salvo from the Tyrant's Star. Ready to engage with lasers, 65mm autocannons firing armor penetrative or high-explosive fragmentation rounds, or their eight equipped air to ground missiles they had been equipped with.

[Caltharus]

Vice-Admiral Theodor Melodon
Near Besplo-Prime

"It will be done, Ma'am", Theo said bowing before shutting off the broadcast. Then he turned to the officers around him and begun giving orders, with his usual energy:

"Get me the commanders of those two corvettes under my command, i want them on the line as soon as possible." The handler of radio equipment nodded and got to work. "And begin moving towards the edge of the fleet. When the order comes i want us to be on the move in record time." As those words left his mouth the pilots of the ship begun making the various preparations for moving the ship through the fleet.

While the bridge crew dashed into action around him Theo begun to ponder on the operation at hand. Supporting ground operations might not have been the most glorious role in the navy, but he understood it's importance nonetheless. Providing artillery support to the boots on the ground was actually one of the most effective and meaningful ways the navy could be employed. Outside of actual void battles of course. Yet they were also somewhat monotonous, so he would likely have Raul bring him some more tea whilst the operation was underway. The good thing about conflict was that it meant diminished munitions. Which in turn meant more supply ships. And that in turn would finally mean more Calaathian tea leaves.

[The Empire of Tau]

Co-write between Tau and Sard
Ipra is a mining planet, rich in trans-plutonic ore. Flora does exist and grow here, but the people of Ipra hoped that such greens would have propagated more. The weather is fair enough, with only certain parts of Ipra experiencing extreme conditions and strange weather patterns. Ipra main export is, not surprising, the rare ore mined here. The colony of Ipra only has about twenty million people, a venture funded by the Imperium and its organs some standard solar years ago. This is what Polan remembers, waking up in his bunk bed in his cramped room, with his fellow workers. Morning was in full swing and Polan got up from the top bunk, dressing himself as per his job as a miner here.

“How is the education class doing you, Bill?” Polan asks towards his fellow worker as the hidden revolutionary slides a foot into his blue jumpsuit.

“The folks there are teaching me a lot of stuff. Things I never learned before. Class-theory, solidarity, and my so-called rights. Interesting stuff,” Bill noted, having alright dressed himself for work.

“I’m glad to hear. You know, the teachers also host a free meal program, if you want to get yourself some extra food in your stomach,” Polan says, fitting a dirty pair of heavy duty work boots to his two feet.

“I’ll check it out after work. Come on, we don’t want to miss our shifts,” Bill says, opening the door out of their cramped room and into a large hallway. Polan follows right behind.

This was it. This was the start of revolution. Not one by force of arms, not yet anyhow, but by educating the working class of their conditions. Polan knew, along with his fellow revolutionaries across many other planets, that you can’t have a revolution without understanding why you fight. You must give the people an understanding of your cause and purpose.

The hallway was long, and rather wide as well for a worker’s corridor at the ore factory. A few steps brought Bill and Polan to a secluded entrance on the left, opened with a retina scan and password - which someone from Polan’s ragtag band of revolutionaries installed. Behind was a surprisingly wide and spacious room - if rather barren, only containing industrial equipment and several panels. The other side of the room was open; it connects to a narrow pod suitable for a small freighter. As it appears, a modest freighter was docked on the pod as well. One of the factory’s guards opened the starship’s doors to reveal a middle-aged woman, wearing a casual uniform, stepping out of the ship.

She gazed throughout the room, until her eye finally fell on Polan. She was alone; there were no other guards nearby or following her. From her appearance, Polan would guess her as just another customer, coming here to inspect the production of raw materials… until the woman approached him, and subtly revealed a ring - akin to what Arnst “Uri” Morelos once gave Polan back in Nova Terra.

“There’s no need to worry,” she whispered to Polan. “This isn’t the Imperial Senate. There is only me. My boss is apparently one of their main customers, so they wouldn’t dare lay a single hand on me. Or you, if I commanded so.” The woman sighed. “My name is Erina Ch’ang. Undersecretary to the Chairman of the Cygnus-Norma Soviet. I’m officially here to represent the Dominion on a material purchase.... Though as you probably suspected, I have another important client to meet, didn’t I?”

Polan nodded and gave off a smile. “Bill, there’s a new shipment of foodstuffs here. I’ll speak to the lady,” Polan noted to Bill as he goes off to check on the new shipments.

Polan lowers his tone of voice, “I see you’re on official business. What’s up? Any news?”

“News? I’m not going here for news,” Ch’ang replied. “Rather, it should be me who’s asking about news. I heard… you’re trying to build up a popular base for your movement. I am rather curious on how far this campaign has gone.”

“Ah. I see you have taken an interest in activities of the People's Liberation Front. Everything is going alright on our front. We’re setting up education classes in every place we can, along with starting up the frame-works of dual-power,” Polan replied.

Ch'ang was rather intrigued. Dual-power? "Fair. You can expect more… donations to come through in the next several months. Although… you only need to sign it off." That was a rather awkward and simplistic way to imply that Uri would be using several proxy channels - corporations, individuals, and other means - to support Polan's latest movement. "And pray tell me, what is this… dual-power concept you are establishing?"

“We set up alternative institutions to challenge the current socio-economic and cultural structures. We provide for people’s immediate needs, food, medical care, and likewise, with what resources we have. I can go on and on on the concept and practice of dual-power - a well-tested practice used by many past movements,” Polan lectures.

Ch'ang stroked her chin. "And that can guarantee you would have a large following on your back, soon enough?" She glanced at her surroundings. The workers seemed to be well-off, though she doesn't know if it either was because of Polan's clandestine movement, or the welfare provided by the factory. "We - He," she referenced Uri, "wanted this to spread rapidly. And preferably, without costing a fortune of expenses as well." She leaned closer to Polan, before whispering. "The Hyperboreans are currently in open rebellion. If the intelligence I gathered is right… This should be time and resource consuming for the Imperium. Meanwhile, this is the chance to spread a new movement - star by star, cluster by cluster - until when they're at least finished, they need to deal with something more."

Polan carefully listens as Ch’ang speaks, “I heard of Hyperborean. As for the movement, if I am to expand my operations then I'm gonna need more personnel, teachers, doctors, and what have you. Our ranks are stretched thin as is, and I am gonna need more resources to afford to have more present on more planets in the outer-rim,” Polan noted.

"You haven't answered my question yet." Ch'ang replied. "I'm sure… dear Comrade Uri would spend anything to support these… movements. But I am not Uri. Before that, I want to know how effective your plans would be. I am not committing his fortunes to hire teachers, doctors, military personnel, and all - if I don't know how large the audience you are to reach. Polan… these things cost a lot, and he's being spied on."

“The outer-rim is poverty stricken, with the Imperium’s influence loose at best within the region. The Galactic Commercial Combine dominates most economic traffic and development here, friend,” Polan pauses, coughing into his sleeve. “It’s shit here. 14-hour work days, little pay, no bathroom breaks unless authorized as breaks will cut down profits, if you get sick then hope that it’s nothing major since you’ll go into major company debt for any treatment, and more,” Polan notes.

“And this is considered the better place in the local sector, under company overwatch, control, and so-called “care.” In other places, it’s worse than this hellhole. People take a liking to the liberation front. We at least try to give the workers some form of care and dignity, or what’s left of it,” Polan finally ends.

She stroked her chin for a second. "I don't want you spending too much on cares. This is a political movement. You are known to be a rousing orator, that much is evident - if that was not the case, you would not have your rebellion in the past. That is what you, as a revolutionary leader, should focus on. Increase the number of revolutionaries… established cells and subcells, but let this... welfare thing stay a little low, compared to your outreach efforts. More people, and less expenses." She continued, "We are going to stage the first insurrections soon."

“The process of radicalization takes time. The liberation front is doing solid work right now with what limited resources we hav -” Polan whispers are interrupted by a large metal bang, resulting from the unloading of goods as the facility starts to kick up in action, with the work day just starting.

“We have,” Polan finishes the sentence before continuing, “our front does have cells on multiple planets and sectors in the outer-rim. People, revolutionaries, willing to fight and die for a better future. We haven't just been doing political and institute building solely - ” A loudspeaker turns on as it echoes throughout the room, interrupting Polan.

“Work-shift works in thirty minutes. Please to get your work stations,” a monotone voice of a woman speaks before it cuts off.

“Look, we need more time to build up. If we were to launch any type of armed rebellion then we’ll be crushed like insects. We don’t have enough passionate rebels nor nearly enough popular support to sustain a prolonged irregular war, among a whole long list of things. Right now is not a good time,” Polan reports.

Ch'ang is, to put it simple, quite frustrated. Polan seemed to not realize what is needed to bring more people into his fold - into the radical ideas he's been propagating. But you will have your support soon enough. "Take your time, then," she finished. Ch'ang returned to the small frigate on the pod. You want time? I'll give you ashort time to gather. She pulled out a small holographic tablet from her pocket, and pressed the screen multiple times. A proxy account from New Gethsemane instantly ordered the shipment of several million tonnes of material - a quick search would reveal that the account was registered in Nova Terra, without any relations at all to the Tianju Dominion. This particular order would also come with a bribe - a request to Ipra's managers, and probably dozens of other mining corporations as well, to constantly provide the material with cheap prices. That meant longer working hours, pay cuts, and drastic reductions on welfare.

"Forgive me, comrades…" Ch'ang whispered to herself, as the continents of Ipra turned to a brilliant, shining ball of silver-grey on her sight - the ship ascending even higher to the outer atmosphere. But before a revolution can happen… sacrifices had to be made. From suffering, liberty. From darkness…. light.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

A wisp of smoke. A dim glow that amplified rapid to a rich amber light, a setting sun. The old man's eyebrows rose slightly at the figure inhabiting the best chair in his office, and then a curious thing happened. Shigawire strands, as tough as tensile silk, flexible as twining water, flung themselves out from the elegant leather vestibule. In the span of a breath they enfolded the intruder, not tight enough to cut, but very emphatic in their entanglement. The silken threads would pull tighter with each struggle though, a traditional tool of assassins and kidnappers, fully able to slice through both flesh and bone if the captive attempted to escape.

Most men deployed shigawire as garrotes, or a Dorothy system, named after an ancient Earth heroine who clicked her heels together and killed a witch. It even saw use as a more elegant hand to hand weapon, a skilled combatant reaching through a shield with just enough speed to slice the wire through an enemy weapon or limb. Here, though, it was evidently a tool of restraint, not death - though if it had such a functionality, so many strands would turn the man on the chair into thinly sliced pieces of meat in the span of a heartbeat.

And then, almost as soon as the defense had been deployed, it evaporated. Stitching retracted into the luxurious chair, lethal instruments once more furled. Some cognito-connective function of a high order, retracted once the master of the office had recognized the man before him. Few men knew the face of the spymaster, and it was almost certain Mantellus was not amongst their number; but his mind moved quickly, more quickly than many could guess. Barely breaking his stride, the battered man crossed to his own chair, sinking into it with a gesture at the window at his back.

A starry scene swiftly unfolded there, replacing the dappled forest depths which had been the previous vista. A single vessel hung in the void, backlit by a rose-colored nebula, effervescent solar sails folded neatly alongside her exactingly scrolled and engraved hull. Not a single centimeter of the ship was untouched by the hands of master craftsmen, refined workmanship shouted succinctly but functionally from each line and contour.

"Ah. Miss Arachne's fine friend. May I offer you a refreshment?"

The nobleman pulled a decanter from some hidden compartment on his massive desk, but only one glass. It was apparent it was only a nicety, and that he did not actually expect his guest to drink. The aroma that came from the bottle that followed it was heady, an intoxicating scent of autumnal forests and burnt wood, cider and cinnamon so strong as to veritably assault the nose. After a brief swing and a half-smile, the shipbuilder leaned forward.

"I take it your negotiations were successful? I have eyes and friends, but it is always better to hear such things in person."

[Parcia]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

The wire hadn't been un-expected, while he had no ground team, his Corsair was indeed circling over head a lot closer than before. With a silent transponder, hull tined to match the sky and hull coating giving off a negative pulse to anything pinging it, she was as good as gone.

The Ballistically lined suit and dermal augmentation giving him limited resistance to weapon fire helped ease his mind and heart rate.

The good Man was correct, few had seen the Spymaster's face, and normally he wouldn't have but a certain facade had to be maintained. He couldn't of well sent the blond again, she was still held in a Rosewood black site, awaiting for someone to come claim her like some lost child in a supermarket.

Having been all but kicked out of the noble's chair, he chose to stand, not really trusting any of the other chairs in the office, and leaned against an ornate and stylish filing cabinet. From his suit pocket he retrieved a small data drive. "Cost me 4 good employees and a lot of Aureus just to guarantee our agreement." His tone was frank and rather heavy. "The nature in which I lost them points to...attention from powers up high, I've had to take precautions to cover my tracks."

With a simple flick of the wrist the drive flew through the air and landed on his desk. "Like protecting the drive, or rather, most of the data on it. We were able to install a cleaning software that is currently checking for bugs and other nasty surprises, it's still running and I'd recommend leaving it be for a few hours before you start going through and pilfering data."

"You wouldn't mind, good sir, I've drawn the ire of powers a bit above my station and would like to exit the system before any have much chance to know im here."

[G-Tech Corporation]

Glitterheight Shipbuilders
Upper Ring, Antediluvian Arcology
Nova Terra

Another eyebrow raised.

"My, such measures to secure some simple plans. Still, there is one matter I do owe you an explanation upon, seeing as your emotional state appears to be somber."

The man in the chair gestured, and an image flickered into life above the sphere at the center of his desk. Several biosigns flickered there, and then a familiar face swam into view - that of the woman who had visited the shipbuilder's stall so many months ago. It shifted, moving, and then smiled and spoke. The tone was somewhat diffident, but unmistakeable, if restrained.

"Sir. It is... good to speak to you again. I have quite the story to tell you. Take care with these folks. There's more to them than we assumed."

The image winked out, and the bent coverall-clad man leaned forward.

"It wouldn't have been good manners to leave such promising young men and women to rot in the nasty place where we found them. Oh no. Some of my good friends took the liberty of helping them to more hospitable quarters, a vacation on the world of Geldirus IX. You've heard of it? Fine crystal towers, sparkling blue lagoons, and very popular with men of particular hobbies who run their skiffs between her frozen moons."

He clapped his hands together lightly.

"You must go to them, yes. My masterpiece, your ship, waits with them. Such a cunning thing, I hope you will enjoy it, and the luxurious appointments within." A broad wink, and the old man scooped up the drive, tossing it lightly into the air before placing it into a hidden breast pocket. "No need to worry about the little things hidden within this beauty - no, none at all. We've put together an elegant semblance of what you requested, all ready for your needs. Better minds than mind are unconcerned with the knotty things which dwell herein, and so too must I follow in their tread. I bid you safe winds, master whisperer, and thank you for your custom."

He smiled a smile both genial, polite, and with just a hint of the predator.

Even as the shipwright clapped his hands together, a curious thing was happening in a black site several thousand systems away. Men and women, bruised, beaten, chained and left in deprivation, disappeared in so much apparent smoke. A magician's trick, on a cosmological scale. But good manners had to take precedent sometimes, oh yes. And not everything could be left to chance, even where such variable men as the Spider were involved.

[Antimersia]

Serrat Honora

The Krakatoan Domain is not as far advanced as much of the rest of the Imperium. They do not have the luxury of the more powerful FTL drives. And so reaching the outer rim, to his Domain, is an arduously lengthy process for Serrat and his flagship. Although, with the Emperor's and Crown Princess's words behind him, he confidently embarks towards his home to finish the Swarm off once and for all. The Krakaotan soldiers that fill the Dread are adorned in armor that is almost as flamboyant as Serrat's. Most of it being made of either Swarm chitin, or some powerful alloy. Each of them baring the insignia of a very wide, curved blade sword. It denotes that they are the men who are directly under Serrat's command, as the symbol is that of Serrat's own sword. A sword which he tinkers with as they sail through the void of space. Four feet long from hilt to tip, Serrat's sword is certainly long for being a curved blade as opposed to a dual edged claymore. And the width, from blade to butt, is just over eight inches. It is a massive, and heavy blade that Serrat must use both of his hands to effectively swing. The blade of his sword is not as sharp as one might think. That is because it is not the primary cutting apparatus. In the hilt, just in front of the blade is a small plasma thrower. It hooks into Serrat's armor for fuel and when activated creates a roughly two foot long fount of super heated, light blue hued, plasma. This plasma also ignites the top half of the blade in a blue fluorescent flame. Much like the color that emanates from the face of his helm. Serrat is often altering his blade, making it lighter, changing the leather of the grip, altering the fuel flow to make it burn more efficiently. It is his only prized possession. As it is the symbol of everything that he believes in. That with every enemy he fells with his blade, he grows stronger.

After sixteen days of FTL travel, the Dread comes out just beyond the edge of orbit above Krakatoa. With his sword strapped to his back, Serrat walks onto the bridge of the ship. The officers aboard the Dread are much more sensibly dressed. Wearing comfortable clothing with a greenish grey color to them. They bustle around, preparing to put the Dread into stable orbit. Serrat stares out the window with a smile on his face. Hidden by his helm. The massive amount of ships, both offering supplies and soldiers to the fight against the Swarm. He is pleased that the trust he placed in the Crown Princess has been well rewarded. "Send a message to the Commanding Officers of those Vessels. Inform them that I will hold a war council in the Capitol building." Serrat ordered before embarking for a drop ship.



Korak: Capitol of Krakatoa
The Capitol building

Krakatoa, a delta class planet, has much of its architecture carved right into the sides of mountains, rather than built up from their stones. The Capitol building is no different, Being a gargantuan two hundred story building built into a mountain that closely resembles the size of Olympus Mons of Mars that is noted in ancient records. The building is both powered and heated by the geothermic and volcanic activity that is active below the mountain. Inside is the war council chamber. It is the largest single room of all of Krakatoa. A singular cylindrical room, reaching from the base of the building, all two hundred stories up to the peak of it. The room itself is so wide that to walk its circular edge would be to walk a half a mile. Five story tall statues of some of Krakatoa's greatest warriors line the edges of the room. An honor given only to the few that do not die to a foe, and thus do not have their power stolen. The few that fall to the most powerful blade in existence. The scythe of the reaper. Serrat stands at the round table in the center of the war council chamber as he watches the commanding officers file in. Admiral Qin Zechorion, Imperial Ispan Grigori Vladem, Solar Admiral Kaspianus, and the General of the Guard Maximus Vajda all file into the chamber one by one with some of their soldiers closely in tow. Serrat brought no soldiers, believing guards to be a sign of weakness. Once they were all assembled, Serrat begins to speak.

"I would like to begin by welcoming you all to Krakatoa. You honor us by lending your weapons to our cause. And I would further like to thank you for your speedy mobilization. It will be paramount to our victory. Allow me to properly introduce you all to the Swarm." Serrat activates a holographic display on the table, which shows a recording of several dozen of the Swarm attacking and destroying villages throughout the Dominion. "These are insectoid beings. With chitin that can withstand medium caliber ballistic fire with almost no damage. They have an insatiable ferocity, and appear to kill for pleasure rather than sustenance. As they do not consume the lifeforms that they slaughter. Instead, paradoxically, our surveillance seems to indicate that they photosynthesize." The video grows more gruesome as it begins to display them tearing apart soldiers, both professional and civilian. "We were not overly concerned some time ago. We had fought the Swarm again and again and pushed them back. We saw them as nothing more than mindless killing machines. But we have more worrying news." The screen now turns to a video of several swarm, staring at writing carved into the side of a stone. As though they are reading it. Those Swarm walk away and more Swarm approaching, also stopping at the writing and appearing to read it. "It appears they have learned language and organization. How they have evolved to be capable of this, is beyond our understanding at the moment. But we believe the evidence is rather damning. If they are developing this quickly, it is only a matter of time before they advance to the stage of tools and technology. We cannot allow this. We are here today to find and eliminate this threat at its breeding ground. Once and for all. Any quesitons?"

[Bolslania]

IMPERIAL SENATE DOCKS

"Of course Your Grace." He said bowing "Lady Rosewood" He said, bowing to her, before turning neatly and walking towards his ship. Once he was safely aboard and the doors had closed, he sat down in his cabin, rubbing his hand over his face. These Senate meetings were really very draining. He felt the ship move away from the docks and begin its ascension into space, hopefully they wouldn't be attacked on the way back home.

FRIGATE Custer's Revenge

The Custer's Revenge and her escorts drifted through the Polarian Asteroid Field, sensors going at full power. The officers of the ship were standing around a holographic projection of a map of the area they were supposed to be patrolling.

"2 Tomb Worlds and a collection of moons and asteroids, doesn't sound like the greatest place to hide." Captain Newark said dubiously. "What would you eat, what would you drink, how do you survive any creatures that might be out to kill you?" He asked.

"I don't know, but we've been told to look their, and that's what we're going to do." Commander Vi said sternly. He himself was dubious about this, but an order was an order.

They sat in relative silence for the next 45 minutes, until the radar operator called out urgently

"Multiple movement contacts! All sides!" He shouted out

"Small and fast sir!" He finished. They were way to far away from the tradeway for these to be pleasure yachts or anything else friendly. Vi and the other officers shot out of their chairs

"All crew to battlestations!" Vi shouted, running for his command seat bringing up his HUD so he could see the surrounding area.

"All crew to battlestations aye!" The Bridge Commader repeated, grabbing up the intercom

"All crew to battlestations, all crew to battlestations." blared over the intercom. From Vi's HUD he could see the little holograms of the crew running around the ship to get to their stations. He watched the guns come online. Clicking "transmit" on his radio he contacted the 2 corvettes that were with them.

"Escorts, fall into combat formation, over." He said shortly. The corvettes quickly responded, 1 going high and to the right of the frigate, and one going low and to the left.

Switching to his intercom he ordered "all guns, hold fire." Turning to his communications officer

"Tightbeam those small ships, see if they are willing to talk." The Comms officer nodded, turning some dials on his set. He pressed transmit and spoke

"Unidentified small vessels, identify or you will be fired upon, over." He said, waiting for a moment, he tried again.

"I repeat, identify or you will be fired upon." waiting for a few more moments. He set down his microphone and shook his head at the Commander.

Vi nodded grimly. Time to get down to it then. clicking on his PA he said

"All weapons, fire at will." There was a moment before the guns started firing as they locked on, then the surrounding void lit up with the various weapons aboard the frigate.

"Their coming in hot sir." The radar operator said nervously, watching the OPFOR ships streak in in all directions.

"Sir im getting a large energy reading off of one of the OPFO---" Another bridge crewman was about to say, being interrupted by the ship being racked vertically amidships by a high power laser. Vi clambered back into his command seat from where he had been knocked out, trying to observe the damages. It appeared the external hull had been sawed through, but damages to the inner hull were reasonably minor. Unfortunately,

"Goddammit they hit the power acceptor." Vi sighed. That meant that only life support and emergency lighting were on in that part of the ship.

"Helm, initiate full 180 degree roll on a horizontal axis." Vi said calmly, he needed to rotate the ship over so that the guns that were still active could target the incoming vessels.


"180 degree roll on horizontal axis aye." The helmman repeated, initiating the roll. Combat gravity had been engaged, meaning that the gravity on the ship was equivalent to that of the Sao Eviticus moon, which was 1/17 that of Sao Eviticus gravity. If you weren't strapped in you would have been gently shoved around the compartments, however the crew of the damaged section of the ship was weightless as gravity had been disabled by the power loss. The guns on the newly faced side of the ship began opening up, and that is when Vi saw the wreckage.

The corvette guarding the high and right and been sawed in half by the high power laser, its two halves drifting in opposite directions.

"Shit." Vi said flatly. He could also see two wreckages of enemy ships, so that was minor comfort. The Custer's Revenge had been getting peppered with small weapons for a few minutes now, but the shields were stopping the incoming projectiles for the most part. But then they got seriously hit. There was a loud bang as the inner hull of the damaged section of the ship was ripped open by a missile. Thankfully, the crew had already evacuated and sealed that part of the ship, so no one was sucked into the void.

"Boarders aboard! Boarders aboard!" Was shouted over the intercom, through the PA, Vi could hear something that sounded like a blowtorch. The space suits deployed on time, and the crew scrambled to them. Vi could see the ships compliment of marines moving towards the breach quickly. However, the next bulkhead over went red, red for depressurization. And then vital signs began blinking out. The ships sensors picked up different vital signs, the human shapes of them being displayed in green for OPFOR.

"Marines be advised, 10 hostile contacts on the other side of the door, no friendlies in the room." Vi said solemnly.

"Copy that" Sergeant Davies said. The marine stacked up on the door, one of them disengaging the locks. the door opened as Vi pulled up the helmet cam of Sergeant Davies. The first marine nearly got his head taken off by a needler, dropping just in time. They had caught the boarders off guard, giving themselves an advantage. Due to the rooms constrictions, it quickly devolved into CQC. Brevet shot one boarder through the chest, the body stagnating in the room. Suddenly, Vi dropped to the ground, he had been tackled by an enemy. The enemy had a wicked looking knife, which he was trying to drive through Davies' visor. Davies' was managing to hold the enemy back, but not get him off. Finally, another Marine kicked off the enemy, putting a round through his helmet. The Marine's had repelled boarders, but not without losing 4 men in the fighting.

"Sir, OPFOR vessels retreating fast." The radar operator said. "Should we pursue?"

Vi shook his head. "Negative, set course for Sao Eviticus." He said grimly. The Custer's Revenge and it's remaining escort turned and entered FTL, returning to Sao Eviticus.