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Post any year one story post that aren't roundups or super dramatic (trade...
Post any year one story post that aren't roundups or super dramatic (trade...
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Nexus Year 1: Spill Overs
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Xavier stiffened slightly in his seat as the question from Darlington came his way. He had been briefed about the Nine Star League and their possible intentions on trade beforehand, which meant that he knew that inquiries about Talos' new magical abilities were to be expected. Still, the question put him on an awkward spot, even after he had literally sat right next to person almost single-handedly responsible for their introducing and husbanding more or less all of Talos' magical capabilities at the conference earlier.
"Ahem, well," Xavier began to reply, clearing his throat. "I guess there's no use keeping our new-found capabilities secret. I can assure you that we would indeed be willing to commit to a sharing of magical techniques on our part, although to be honest we would not quite be the right department to ask about these matters." He said, perhaps a little sheepishly. "It's complicated." He finished, cutting off the Nine Star ambassador inquiry as soon as he could.
"I see." Darlington nodded, keeping a straight face as he digested Xavier's response. "But we would be able to count on you to vouch for us when we are able to contact the actual persons responsible for supervising your government's magic, correct?" He asked, brows raised as he awaited the Talos' representative's answer.
"Oh absolutely, unfortunately the executive responsible for that is currently partaking in certain… field operations at the moment and won't be returning to diplomatic contact for quite some time. However, when she does come back, and she will, I will inform her of your proposal as soon as she returns." Xavier explained, not disappointing him.
"Yes yes, that would be the girl wouldn't it?"
Xavier nodded in a mockly solemn manner before giving his counterpart a smile. "Yes indeed, that would be the girl and yes, she is every bit the handful she looks and then some." He disclosed, trying to best illustrate the complexities of working with a warrior demigoddess before moving on. "Now, about those mineral trade rights…"
"Ahem, well," Xavier began to reply, clearing his throat. "I guess there's no use keeping our new-found capabilities secret. I can assure you that we would indeed be willing to commit to a sharing of magical techniques on our part, although to be honest we would not quite be the right department to ask about these matters." He said, perhaps a little sheepishly. "It's complicated." He finished, cutting off the Nine Star ambassador inquiry as soon as he could.
"I see." Darlington nodded, keeping a straight face as he digested Xavier's response. "But we would be able to count on you to vouch for us when we are able to contact the actual persons responsible for supervising your government's magic, correct?" He asked, brows raised as he awaited the Talos' representative's answer.
"Oh absolutely, unfortunately the executive responsible for that is currently partaking in certain… field operations at the moment and won't be returning to diplomatic contact for quite some time. However, when she does come back, and she will, I will inform her of your proposal as soon as she returns." Xavier explained, not disappointing him.
"Yes yes, that would be the girl wouldn't it?"
Xavier nodded in a mockly solemn manner before giving his counterpart a smile. "Yes indeed, that would be the girl and yes, she is every bit the handful she looks and then some." He disclosed, trying to best illustrate the complexities of working with a warrior demigoddess before moving on. "Now, about those mineral trade rights…"
Migratory posts are common this time of year...
Devries Station
Mathison's World Orbit
The orbital space of Mathison's world was crowded with debris. Most of the shattered hulks of stations and ships – from destroyers all the way up to a massive superheavy battleship – had been towed out of the traffic lanes and arranged into vast graveyards, but the wreckage of the Fourteenth Battle of Mathison was so extensive that the job hadn't yet been finished. Mathison Orbital Traffic Control was not, however, overwhelmed by the crowded environment; the system's orbital industry had ceased to exist prior to the nexus event, and much of the surface based industry had been subjected to nuclear or kinetic bombardment. There wasn't enough produced anymore to justify many visits by the few freighters still plying the spacelanes.
Most of the ships that were in the system were military; a single carrier, two light cruisers and four destroyers, and a number of tugs. The fleet base had survived, albeit with damage, and although it was mostly empty after the destruction of the Mathison Sector Fleet – what was left of it – in orbit, it was still the operational centre of starfleet operations in the sector. Despite the cruel wounds inflicted on it, Mathison's World remained the sector capital, although said sector was much reduced compared to what it had been even three years earlier.
More importantly, the National High Energy Physics Lab still has its headquarters here thought Zriash Rrtupa, as he gazed out of the gleaming new window of the newly complete Devries Station. The eight foot tall, felinoid Ataxian was one of a small minority of non-humans that had risen to high rank within the League, rather than remaining refugees, but despite his size, the interior of the station was more than roomy enough.
"Mr Rrtupa? The Sylvan team is here."
"Excellent. Show them in, please."
The Sylvans had elected to send three of their number to see him, it turned out; Jan Vender, the leader of the entire expedition, Bert Janssen, who was apparently the purser, and a non-human female – presumably an 'elf' – named Serafina. He wasn't an expert at judging human body language, but she didn't seem particularly enthused to be there. Of course, she wasn't human, so his observations might not bear any relation to reality.
"Mr Vender, Mr Janssen, Miss Serafina, welcome to Mathison's World."
"Thank you. We're happy to be here," if the fact that he was speaking to an eight foot tall, onyx-black bipedal cat perturbed him, Vender showed no indication of it. "It's our hope that these talks will result in benefits to us all."
"Indeed, Mr Vender. As you probably gathered from the trip in, the League in its current condition presents quite a number of economic opportunities for somebody with freight ships at his disposal. I'm afraid that we're going to have to pay at least some attention to the formalities, however; if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to my team..."
Devries Station
Mathison's World Orbit
The orbital space of Mathison's world was crowded with debris. Most of the shattered hulks of stations and ships – from destroyers all the way up to a massive superheavy battleship – had been towed out of the traffic lanes and arranged into vast graveyards, but the wreckage of the Fourteenth Battle of Mathison was so extensive that the job hadn't yet been finished. Mathison Orbital Traffic Control was not, however, overwhelmed by the crowded environment; the system's orbital industry had ceased to exist prior to the nexus event, and much of the surface based industry had been subjected to nuclear or kinetic bombardment. There wasn't enough produced anymore to justify many visits by the few freighters still plying the spacelanes.
Most of the ships that were in the system were military; a single carrier, two light cruisers and four destroyers, and a number of tugs. The fleet base had survived, albeit with damage, and although it was mostly empty after the destruction of the Mathison Sector Fleet – what was left of it – in orbit, it was still the operational centre of starfleet operations in the sector. Despite the cruel wounds inflicted on it, Mathison's World remained the sector capital, although said sector was much reduced compared to what it had been even three years earlier.
More importantly, the National High Energy Physics Lab still has its headquarters here thought Zriash Rrtupa, as he gazed out of the gleaming new window of the newly complete Devries Station. The eight foot tall, felinoid Ataxian was one of a small minority of non-humans that had risen to high rank within the League, rather than remaining refugees, but despite his size, the interior of the station was more than roomy enough.
"Mr Rrtupa? The Sylvan team is here."
"Excellent. Show them in, please."
The Sylvans had elected to send three of their number to see him, it turned out; Jan Vender, the leader of the entire expedition, Bert Janssen, who was apparently the purser, and a non-human female – presumably an 'elf' – named Serafina. He wasn't an expert at judging human body language, but she didn't seem particularly enthused to be there. Of course, she wasn't human, so his observations might not bear any relation to reality.
"Mr Vender, Mr Janssen, Miss Serafina, welcome to Mathison's World."
"Thank you. We're happy to be here," if the fact that he was speaking to an eight foot tall, onyx-black bipedal cat perturbed him, Vender showed no indication of it. "It's our hope that these talks will result in benefits to us all."
"Indeed, Mr Vender. As you probably gathered from the trip in, the League in its current condition presents quite a number of economic opportunities for somebody with freight ships at his disposal. I'm afraid that we're going to have to pay at least some attention to the formalities, however; if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to my team..."
LNS Indomitable
Uncharted Star System
Red Minus Thirty Days
"There they are, sir, slap bang on top of that construct. Looks like they're taking on supplies."
"So I see, Mr Papadoulis. Have they seen us?"
"Doesn't look like it. We're pretty far out; if we didn't have drones already in-system, we wouldn't be able to see them, so I don't think they can see us either. Not with the range they've demonstrated so far."
"Not unless they have drones of their own out – or whatever they use as equivalents," Captain David Canavan mused.
Rear Admiral Justita Hernandez nodded at her chief of staff.
"That's something to consider. We treat this just the same as trying to infiltrate an Arar held system; I don't want any sloppiness; if they detect us before we're close enough to strike, they'll scarper again."
The subject of their discussion was centred in the main holosphere of the carrier's CIC; fifteen drow vessels, a small fleet of raiders that Hernandez's Force H had been playing tag with for almost two weeks since arriving from the League. All of the raiders had been spotted, at one point or another, inside Arbhen space, usually by merchants lucky enough to escape an attack or, occasionally, the warships sent to protect those merchants. Sometimes they struck individually, and sometimes they attacked in greater force; at least two ships weren't present in the gathering in the display; seventeen ships had attacked one particularly well defended convoy.
All of the drow ships were smaller than the smallest of Hernandez's units, but they were faster and more numerous. Her eyes glanced over the light codes of Force H; Indomitable herself, the flagship and main striking power of the flotilla. The Irresistible class carrier held eighty fighters in her hangars, a fighter wing powerful enough to smash an Arar battlescruiser under ideal conditions – not that those had occurred very often – and more than enough to reap a bloody harvest amongst the tiny ships in front of her. A pair of heavy cruisers, Chile and Angola floated off her flanks; normally, that duty would have gone to a pair of battlecruisers, just as Indomitable herself would have been replaced by a Glorious class ship for a mission like this. None of the Glorious class had survived Arcadia, however, and the last three Defiant class battlecruisers had died in the final Battle of Sol before the nexus event, so Force H had had to make do with smaller replacements. The task group had a screen of four light cruisers and destroyers – there should have been eight, but one had been damaged so badly it had been forced to return to the League for repairs, and the other three hadn't responded to the order to concentrate for the strike currently underway.
Hernandez didn't know what had happened to them, but given that they lacked FTL comms and were widely scattered about her area of operation, it didn't seem too unlikely that, forced to communicate by message drone, they simply hadn't had time to reach the rendezvous point before the deadline, or to send a drone acknowledging receipt of the orders.
"They could've given us more ships for this. We've been playing cat an mouse with these bastards since we arrived, and they do still outnumber us. If they can get in close..."
"Unfortunately, David, Admiral Khan needs to keep a fleet with the main body of the Crusade. That sort of limits the forces spare for this sort of work, especially given our low inventory of carriers."
"We turned up with half of Second Fleet."
"Yes, and this isn't the only area of operation or group of raiders that needs to be chased. Unfortunately, we get what we're given, and in this case, we haven't been give a lot. If they really haven't seen us, though, it shouldn't matter. Go ahead and prep the first strike. I want a fifty percent reserve just in case. We shouldn't need more than forty Tigersharks for fifteen frigates."
* * *
"They're right were they should be, Your Excellency. It doesn't look like they've seen us or the relay foci."
"As I thought," General Kornikos snorted. "No matter how fine their mundane craftsmanship, these fools lack of magic cripples them."
Kornikos stood on the bridge of the Crimson Kila Legacy of Red Sacrifice, watching the tiny images of the enemy ships in the scrying array crawl closer to the decoys. It was hard to tell at this distance, but the force appeared to be based around one of the enemy fighter-carrying warships. Nobody had any real informtion on the extent of their capabilities, but everything indicated that they performed best at long range, where their enemy would never get a chance to fight back. It was exactly the wrong sort of ship to bring to the battle that was about to play out."
"They have two of those cruisers as well, My Lord"
"Thank you Andronikos, but I have eyes in my head."
"Of course, General. It's my duty to bring these things to your attention, though. We have some information on those ships; they are formidable in ship to ship combat, whatever their deficiencies in terms of magical equipment. We think they carry sizeable contingents of soldiers as well as sailors also, better soldiers than our own without magical support."
"I read the intelligence briefs, Captain. More to the point, they have two of them; we have four such ships, and we do have magical support for our boarders. Support that they won't be able to counter, I remind you. Their escorts are more of an issue; they're outnumbered, but all larger than our 'loyal' subjects' ships."
"I don't think they're large enough to take two to one odds, My Lord."
"Let us hope not, Captain, for all our sakes. Are your mage cadres prepared?"
"Yes, My Lord. We will make transition upon your command, and the fleet will follow."
"Your Excellency, the enemy are launching fighters!" One of the slave-operators chained in the operations pit announced.
"Their target?"
"The decoys, My Lord. There are forty of them. They will be eight thousand leagues from their base ship in seventeen minutes."
"Very well. Captain? When the enemy fighters reach eight thousand leagues distance, initiate the ritual."
* * *
"New contacts! Twenty ships at bearing zero-zero-three, zero-zero-one at fifteen thousand klicks. Warbook says sixteen Drow frigates and four Crimson cruisers ma'am!"
"Task Group orders!" Hernandez snapped. "Reverse course one-eight-zero, maximum drive!"
"One-eight-zero, maximum drive aye!"
"David, get the first strike turned around; their targets are decoys, they have to be. Priority is the enemy heavy cruisers. Launch the reserve birds, same targets. Specific assignments are at Commander Isoroku's discretion."
"That won't leave anything for a CAP, ma'am."
"The Crimson don't use fighters; we won't need a CAP, but their escorts aren't going to want to tangle with Chile and Angola if we can knock out their heavies, especially not if we can still support them."
"I see the logic, ma'am, but they did summon those, ah, demons when they launched their first ambush."
"If they were going to do that, they could have dropped them right on top of us before we launched anything. Hell, I don't know why they didn't drop these people on top of us, before we launched or right now."
On the plot, the scarlet light chips representing the enemy force were almost dead ahead of the League ships. Indomitable's fighter strike had already passed them en route to the 'ships' at the resupply base, and the Crimson ships were chasing them down at the maximum acceleration they seemed to be capable of. Force H was following in their wake, steadily closing the distance between the two forces... until, abruptly, the entire formation simply reversed direction and began retracing their steps, returning to the maximum speed possible from an inertialess drive with barely thirty seconds of interruption, but on a bearing 180 degrees from their previous heading.
The Crimson ships maintained their heading for nearly two minutes, then flipped end over end and began powering after the League ships.
Canavan barked out a laugh.
"Care to let us in on the joke, Captain?"
"I think they screwed up, sir. They were treating us like we had reaction drives. If we'd had to execute a turnover like they just did, from the velocity we were travelling at, we'd have sailed right through their formation. I guess that was why they were headed away from us; so they could prolong the engagement time. That explains why they waited – they wanted to let us build up velocity so we couldn't avoid them – and why they jumped where they did. They thought that we'd be going too fast for them to catch, so appearing in front of us gives them more time to hammer us than appearing in amongst us. It would have been the perfect ambush. These people haven't adapted their tactics to inertialess drives yet."
"Unfortunately, they have the acceleration to catch us before we get far enough out in the system that the star's gravity well won't fry our stutterwarp when we engage it."
"There is that. Still, now they're in a stern chase, we have a chance to hammer them before they reach us. We should probably take it."
"On that, David, I agree completely."
* * *
"All right, we don't have enemy fighters to worry about, but these fuckers have point defence, so its not going to be a turkey shoot," Lieutenant Ramirez's voice hissed over Flight Officer Erika Pedersen's helmet. "Keep it tight, get to your firing points then bug out. Fifteen klicks minimum clearance from the target at all times on the way out."
The forty fighters were spread out over nearly five thousand square kilometres, hurtling towards the Crimson fleet at nearly three times the magical ships' current velocity. Pedersen could see the flare of their torch drives – or whatever it was they were using – on her visual display already.#
"Launch point in five."
The Tigershark fighters were stuffed with anti-ship ordnance, to the exclusion of all else. Beyond their single integral forward energy cannon and the rear mounted point defence cluster, none of them carried any weapons that could effectively be used against other fighters. Fortunately for Pedersen's peace of mind, there wouldn't be any enemy fighters to contend with. Against capital ships, the four antimatter-tipped missiles were devastatingly effective. Against targets as relatively small and fragile as the Crimson task group in front of the League fighters, they would be overkill.
"Lead, Five. I'm getting flashes from the targets. Is that their point defence?"
"Assume so, Five. Initiate..."
The order was cut off with a scream of static. Pedersen saw a flash of light on her left as something hit Ramirez's Tigershark. Cursing, she threw her fighter into a mad, erratic spiral that would have reduced her to paste had it been done with anything other than the false-motion of an inertialess drive.
"Holy shit, what is this!?"
"Keep going!" she snarled. "Three minutes to launch!"
A flash of pale light whizzed past her fighter, too fast to make out any details. A check of her rear display, however, showed that, whatever it was, it had reversed direction and was hurtling back towards her. There was a vague impression of a face and clawed limbs, before her point defence blasted it apart.
"Thirty seconds!"
The corkscrewing fighters snapped back into firing position for a brief moment as they followed their computer generated evasion patterns, and their missiles shrieked from their launch bays. Drives glowing like tiny stars, the missiles hurtled towards their targets; the four castle-shaped cruisers at the centre of the Crimson task group. They bounced and weaved madly, in unpredictable patterns randomly generated inside their electronic brains. Only twenty five fighters had survived to launch their payload, and their one hundred missiles briefly created a new star field between the two forces.
Then the missiles began dying. It took only eighty two seconds for the ordnance to cross the distance between the fighters and the Crimson, but only forty of them survived to reach terminal attack range. Of those, eleven lost lock, befuddled by technomagical countermeasures completely outside the parameters they had been designed for. Two of those failed to reacquire targets and self destructed, while the other nine sped for the smaller Drow frigates. All but three were blotted from the sky by close-in defences, but all three reduced a frigate to glowing plasma as missiles designed to batter down the shields and smash the armour of Arar capital ships vented their fury on targets that might as well have been constructed of paper.
Of the twenty nine missiles that maintained their lock, sixteen survived the final defensive envelope around the Crimson ships. Two of them veered off after a frigate that sped between them and their target, confusing their seeker heads, and another four smashed into a second frigate that placed itself in front of their target. One of the cruisers, protected by the sacrifice of its smaller companion,escaped unscathed. The other three lurched violently as the antimatter warheads tore at their shields. One, targeted by only a single surviving missile, escaped with nothing more than scorched paint and unconscious mage cadres, and a second, hit by only two, emerged from the fireball trailing atmosphere and wreckage, but still clearly under control.
The final cruiser vanished as nine missiles crashed into its shields, their detonations merging together into a short lived minature star that left no wreckage behind. By the time the Crimson fleet could retask their anti-missile elementals, the League fighters were out of range and fleeing back towards their carrier.
* * *
"That's going to be our last strike, ma'am. We've only got fifteen operational fighters left, and they can't saturate the enemy point defence."
"How long until they catch us?"
"Call it thirty minutes, based on their maximum observed range."
On the plot, the remnants of the third and final fighter strike fell back. All three Crimson cruisers survived, although all three were streaming atmosphere from dozens of hull breaches. Six more frigates had died or been incapacitated, but the main striking force of the ambush was still intact.
"Fine. Chile, Angola and [/i]Indomitable[/i] can't outrun them, and we've just lost our ability to destroy them from beyond their range. We're close enough to the warp limit that if we can delay them, our screen can get away, though; I'd back them against their light units without their heavies, if we can tie up some of those frigates as well. Get on the horn; Indomitable, Chile and Angola are going to reverse course as soon as we've recovered and rearmed fighters. Keep us in close behind the cruisers; we'll kick our fighters out into their teeth once we get close."
"I'll start transferring non-essential crew to the screen as well, ma'am."
"Yes, as much as we can. We're on a time limit, but I've no intention of killing people who don't have to die. Given what we know about the Crimson, though, I'd rather kill them than let them be taken captive."
"You and me both, ma'am."
* * *
"The enemy disposition has changed, My Lord. They're splitting their forces."
"What?" Kornikos frowned. "Show me."
"At once, My Lord," the mage waved a hand, creating a shimmering silvery disk in the air before the two men. "It appears that their fighter carrier and their two cruisers are turning back towards us."
"Their screen?"
"Continuing to head out-system, My Lord."
"They're going to suicide," Kornikos stated immediately. "There's no other explanation. If they escape be because of that fool Andronikos' incompetence, his family will suffer the same fate as him. Come, we need to return to the bridge, now. Alert your fellows that we will need the boarding spells soon."
* * *
The first shots of the battle fired by a warship against another warship came from the Angola. A blue white column of light spat from her single energy cannon turret, connecting her briefly with one of the crimson cruisers. Seconds later, Chile followed suit. Their targets' shields flashed brightly but held. The two League ships fired again, and a third time, without piercing the Crimson's protective barrier, before a torrent of smaller lights spewed from the floating castles and charged towards the League heavy cruisers. Both ships shook violently as the pinpricks of light hammered at their shields.
"If it doesn't get much worse than this, then we don't have anything to worry about," Canavan muttered.
"They're bound to get more effective as we get closer."
"Ah, ma'am? Captain Ishimura reports that we have boarders. They must have used magic to get aboard."
"Where?"
"Hangar 3, ma'am. We don't have any fighters in there, but they could reach the ready ordnance from there. The situation is under control."
"Very well. The captain can contin-urk!"
Hernandez choked as something was shoved into her from behind. She gaped and tried to speak for a moment, before recognising the tip of a sword emerging from the centre of her chest. The rest of the CIC personnel stared dumbly at the black skinned apparition that had abruptly appeared behind their admiral. The quicker ones scrabbled for sidearms, but more drow snapped into existence and slaughtered them before they could bring their weapons to bear. Canavan hammered the all speakers intercom button at his station.
"Boarders in CIC! Boarders in-"
"Naughty boy. You weren't supposed to tell anybody we were here," his murderer looked up from where his corpse was pinned to his seat by her sword. "Move fast. If they realise how many of us there are, they might try to scuttle the ship."
* * *
"Major Li has troops outside engineering, CIC and the bridge, sir, and we've got all our weapons under central command. Most of the ship is under hostile control, but we've locked out everything except from here and engineering, except for navigation from the bridge. They've physically disabled most of our weapons, though."
"Damn," Joseph Sampson, Angola's captain, pressed the dressing closer to the wound on the end of his right arm that had once been a hand. "Status of the flag?"
"So far as we can tell, sir, she's under hostile control. The bridge is still secure, but they hold her engineering spaces. Captain Ishimura intends to scuttle."
"Chile is still intact?"
"Aye sir, they've got the infiltrators contained."
"Very well. I want a collision course for Beta when or if that happens. If they want my ship so damn badly, they can have it!"
* * *
League reinforcements reach the Crusade... then some of them get blown up!
Losses:
1x Size 8 carrier (D
50% damage to one Size 7 flotilla.
1x Size 5.
Nine Star League Fleet Deployments
End of Year One
The Crusade
12x Size 10 battleships.
5x Size 8 carriers.
3x Size 7 flotillas + 1x 50% damaged Size 7.
7x Size 6 flotillas.
10x Size 5 flotillas.
Central Expedition
2x Size 7 flotillas.
1st Fleet (CON Space)
2x Size 40 superheavy battleships.
16x Size 10 battleships.
4x Size 8 carriers.
7x Size 7 flotillas
10x Size 6 flotillas
16x Size 5 flotillas
2nd Fleet (League Space)
9x Size 10 battleships.
3x Size 8 carriers.
5x Size 7 flotillas.
8x Size 6 flotillas.
9 x Size 5 flotillas.
Local Defences
12x Planetary bases.
Uncharted Star System
Red Minus Thirty Days
"There they are, sir, slap bang on top of that construct. Looks like they're taking on supplies."
"So I see, Mr Papadoulis. Have they seen us?"
"Doesn't look like it. We're pretty far out; if we didn't have drones already in-system, we wouldn't be able to see them, so I don't think they can see us either. Not with the range they've demonstrated so far."
"Not unless they have drones of their own out – or whatever they use as equivalents," Captain David Canavan mused.
Rear Admiral Justita Hernandez nodded at her chief of staff.
"That's something to consider. We treat this just the same as trying to infiltrate an Arar held system; I don't want any sloppiness; if they detect us before we're close enough to strike, they'll scarper again."
The subject of their discussion was centred in the main holosphere of the carrier's CIC; fifteen drow vessels, a small fleet of raiders that Hernandez's Force H had been playing tag with for almost two weeks since arriving from the League. All of the raiders had been spotted, at one point or another, inside Arbhen space, usually by merchants lucky enough to escape an attack or, occasionally, the warships sent to protect those merchants. Sometimes they struck individually, and sometimes they attacked in greater force; at least two ships weren't present in the gathering in the display; seventeen ships had attacked one particularly well defended convoy.
All of the drow ships were smaller than the smallest of Hernandez's units, but they were faster and more numerous. Her eyes glanced over the light codes of Force H; Indomitable herself, the flagship and main striking power of the flotilla. The Irresistible class carrier held eighty fighters in her hangars, a fighter wing powerful enough to smash an Arar battlescruiser under ideal conditions – not that those had occurred very often – and more than enough to reap a bloody harvest amongst the tiny ships in front of her. A pair of heavy cruisers, Chile and Angola floated off her flanks; normally, that duty would have gone to a pair of battlecruisers, just as Indomitable herself would have been replaced by a Glorious class ship for a mission like this. None of the Glorious class had survived Arcadia, however, and the last three Defiant class battlecruisers had died in the final Battle of Sol before the nexus event, so Force H had had to make do with smaller replacements. The task group had a screen of four light cruisers and destroyers – there should have been eight, but one had been damaged so badly it had been forced to return to the League for repairs, and the other three hadn't responded to the order to concentrate for the strike currently underway.
Hernandez didn't know what had happened to them, but given that they lacked FTL comms and were widely scattered about her area of operation, it didn't seem too unlikely that, forced to communicate by message drone, they simply hadn't had time to reach the rendezvous point before the deadline, or to send a drone acknowledging receipt of the orders.
"They could've given us more ships for this. We've been playing cat an mouse with these bastards since we arrived, and they do still outnumber us. If they can get in close..."
"Unfortunately, David, Admiral Khan needs to keep a fleet with the main body of the Crusade. That sort of limits the forces spare for this sort of work, especially given our low inventory of carriers."
"We turned up with half of Second Fleet."
"Yes, and this isn't the only area of operation or group of raiders that needs to be chased. Unfortunately, we get what we're given, and in this case, we haven't been give a lot. If they really haven't seen us, though, it shouldn't matter. Go ahead and prep the first strike. I want a fifty percent reserve just in case. We shouldn't need more than forty Tigersharks for fifteen frigates."
* * *
"They're right were they should be, Your Excellency. It doesn't look like they've seen us or the relay foci."
"As I thought," General Kornikos snorted. "No matter how fine their mundane craftsmanship, these fools lack of magic cripples them."
Kornikos stood on the bridge of the Crimson Kila Legacy of Red Sacrifice, watching the tiny images of the enemy ships in the scrying array crawl closer to the decoys. It was hard to tell at this distance, but the force appeared to be based around one of the enemy fighter-carrying warships. Nobody had any real informtion on the extent of their capabilities, but everything indicated that they performed best at long range, where their enemy would never get a chance to fight back. It was exactly the wrong sort of ship to bring to the battle that was about to play out."
"They have two of those cruisers as well, My Lord"
"Thank you Andronikos, but I have eyes in my head."
"Of course, General. It's my duty to bring these things to your attention, though. We have some information on those ships; they are formidable in ship to ship combat, whatever their deficiencies in terms of magical equipment. We think they carry sizeable contingents of soldiers as well as sailors also, better soldiers than our own without magical support."
"I read the intelligence briefs, Captain. More to the point, they have two of them; we have four such ships, and we do have magical support for our boarders. Support that they won't be able to counter, I remind you. Their escorts are more of an issue; they're outnumbered, but all larger than our 'loyal' subjects' ships."
"I don't think they're large enough to take two to one odds, My Lord."
"Let us hope not, Captain, for all our sakes. Are your mage cadres prepared?"
"Yes, My Lord. We will make transition upon your command, and the fleet will follow."
"Your Excellency, the enemy are launching fighters!" One of the slave-operators chained in the operations pit announced.
"Their target?"
"The decoys, My Lord. There are forty of them. They will be eight thousand leagues from their base ship in seventeen minutes."
"Very well. Captain? When the enemy fighters reach eight thousand leagues distance, initiate the ritual."
* * *
"New contacts! Twenty ships at bearing zero-zero-three, zero-zero-one at fifteen thousand klicks. Warbook says sixteen Drow frigates and four Crimson cruisers ma'am!"
"Task Group orders!" Hernandez snapped. "Reverse course one-eight-zero, maximum drive!"
"One-eight-zero, maximum drive aye!"
"David, get the first strike turned around; their targets are decoys, they have to be. Priority is the enemy heavy cruisers. Launch the reserve birds, same targets. Specific assignments are at Commander Isoroku's discretion."
"That won't leave anything for a CAP, ma'am."
"The Crimson don't use fighters; we won't need a CAP, but their escorts aren't going to want to tangle with Chile and Angola if we can knock out their heavies, especially not if we can still support them."
"I see the logic, ma'am, but they did summon those, ah, demons when they launched their first ambush."
"If they were going to do that, they could have dropped them right on top of us before we launched anything. Hell, I don't know why they didn't drop these people on top of us, before we launched or right now."
On the plot, the scarlet light chips representing the enemy force were almost dead ahead of the League ships. Indomitable's fighter strike had already passed them en route to the 'ships' at the resupply base, and the Crimson ships were chasing them down at the maximum acceleration they seemed to be capable of. Force H was following in their wake, steadily closing the distance between the two forces... until, abruptly, the entire formation simply reversed direction and began retracing their steps, returning to the maximum speed possible from an inertialess drive with barely thirty seconds of interruption, but on a bearing 180 degrees from their previous heading.
The Crimson ships maintained their heading for nearly two minutes, then flipped end over end and began powering after the League ships.
Canavan barked out a laugh.
"Care to let us in on the joke, Captain?"
"I think they screwed up, sir. They were treating us like we had reaction drives. If we'd had to execute a turnover like they just did, from the velocity we were travelling at, we'd have sailed right through their formation. I guess that was why they were headed away from us; so they could prolong the engagement time. That explains why they waited – they wanted to let us build up velocity so we couldn't avoid them – and why they jumped where they did. They thought that we'd be going too fast for them to catch, so appearing in front of us gives them more time to hammer us than appearing in amongst us. It would have been the perfect ambush. These people haven't adapted their tactics to inertialess drives yet."
"Unfortunately, they have the acceleration to catch us before we get far enough out in the system that the star's gravity well won't fry our stutterwarp when we engage it."
"There is that. Still, now they're in a stern chase, we have a chance to hammer them before they reach us. We should probably take it."
"On that, David, I agree completely."
* * *
"All right, we don't have enemy fighters to worry about, but these fuckers have point defence, so its not going to be a turkey shoot," Lieutenant Ramirez's voice hissed over Flight Officer Erika Pedersen's helmet. "Keep it tight, get to your firing points then bug out. Fifteen klicks minimum clearance from the target at all times on the way out."
The forty fighters were spread out over nearly five thousand square kilometres, hurtling towards the Crimson fleet at nearly three times the magical ships' current velocity. Pedersen could see the flare of their torch drives – or whatever it was they were using – on her visual display already.#
"Launch point in five."
The Tigershark fighters were stuffed with anti-ship ordnance, to the exclusion of all else. Beyond their single integral forward energy cannon and the rear mounted point defence cluster, none of them carried any weapons that could effectively be used against other fighters. Fortunately for Pedersen's peace of mind, there wouldn't be any enemy fighters to contend with. Against capital ships, the four antimatter-tipped missiles were devastatingly effective. Against targets as relatively small and fragile as the Crimson task group in front of the League fighters, they would be overkill.
"Lead, Five. I'm getting flashes from the targets. Is that their point defence?"
"Assume so, Five. Initiate..."
The order was cut off with a scream of static. Pedersen saw a flash of light on her left as something hit Ramirez's Tigershark. Cursing, she threw her fighter into a mad, erratic spiral that would have reduced her to paste had it been done with anything other than the false-motion of an inertialess drive.
"Holy shit, what is this!?"
"Keep going!" she snarled. "Three minutes to launch!"
A flash of pale light whizzed past her fighter, too fast to make out any details. A check of her rear display, however, showed that, whatever it was, it had reversed direction and was hurtling back towards her. There was a vague impression of a face and clawed limbs, before her point defence blasted it apart.
"Thirty seconds!"
The corkscrewing fighters snapped back into firing position for a brief moment as they followed their computer generated evasion patterns, and their missiles shrieked from their launch bays. Drives glowing like tiny stars, the missiles hurtled towards their targets; the four castle-shaped cruisers at the centre of the Crimson task group. They bounced and weaved madly, in unpredictable patterns randomly generated inside their electronic brains. Only twenty five fighters had survived to launch their payload, and their one hundred missiles briefly created a new star field between the two forces.
Then the missiles began dying. It took only eighty two seconds for the ordnance to cross the distance between the fighters and the Crimson, but only forty of them survived to reach terminal attack range. Of those, eleven lost lock, befuddled by technomagical countermeasures completely outside the parameters they had been designed for. Two of those failed to reacquire targets and self destructed, while the other nine sped for the smaller Drow frigates. All but three were blotted from the sky by close-in defences, but all three reduced a frigate to glowing plasma as missiles designed to batter down the shields and smash the armour of Arar capital ships vented their fury on targets that might as well have been constructed of paper.
Of the twenty nine missiles that maintained their lock, sixteen survived the final defensive envelope around the Crimson ships. Two of them veered off after a frigate that sped between them and their target, confusing their seeker heads, and another four smashed into a second frigate that placed itself in front of their target. One of the cruisers, protected by the sacrifice of its smaller companion,escaped unscathed. The other three lurched violently as the antimatter warheads tore at their shields. One, targeted by only a single surviving missile, escaped with nothing more than scorched paint and unconscious mage cadres, and a second, hit by only two, emerged from the fireball trailing atmosphere and wreckage, but still clearly under control.
The final cruiser vanished as nine missiles crashed into its shields, their detonations merging together into a short lived minature star that left no wreckage behind. By the time the Crimson fleet could retask their anti-missile elementals, the League fighters were out of range and fleeing back towards their carrier.
* * *
"That's going to be our last strike, ma'am. We've only got fifteen operational fighters left, and they can't saturate the enemy point defence."
"How long until they catch us?"
"Call it thirty minutes, based on their maximum observed range."
On the plot, the remnants of the third and final fighter strike fell back. All three Crimson cruisers survived, although all three were streaming atmosphere from dozens of hull breaches. Six more frigates had died or been incapacitated, but the main striking force of the ambush was still intact.
"Fine. Chile, Angola and [/i]Indomitable[/i] can't outrun them, and we've just lost our ability to destroy them from beyond their range. We're close enough to the warp limit that if we can delay them, our screen can get away, though; I'd back them against their light units without their heavies, if we can tie up some of those frigates as well. Get on the horn; Indomitable, Chile and Angola are going to reverse course as soon as we've recovered and rearmed fighters. Keep us in close behind the cruisers; we'll kick our fighters out into their teeth once we get close."
"I'll start transferring non-essential crew to the screen as well, ma'am."
"Yes, as much as we can. We're on a time limit, but I've no intention of killing people who don't have to die. Given what we know about the Crimson, though, I'd rather kill them than let them be taken captive."
"You and me both, ma'am."
* * *
"The enemy disposition has changed, My Lord. They're splitting their forces."
"What?" Kornikos frowned. "Show me."
"At once, My Lord," the mage waved a hand, creating a shimmering silvery disk in the air before the two men. "It appears that their fighter carrier and their two cruisers are turning back towards us."
"Their screen?"
"Continuing to head out-system, My Lord."
"They're going to suicide," Kornikos stated immediately. "There's no other explanation. If they escape be because of that fool Andronikos' incompetence, his family will suffer the same fate as him. Come, we need to return to the bridge, now. Alert your fellows that we will need the boarding spells soon."
* * *
The first shots of the battle fired by a warship against another warship came from the Angola. A blue white column of light spat from her single energy cannon turret, connecting her briefly with one of the crimson cruisers. Seconds later, Chile followed suit. Their targets' shields flashed brightly but held. The two League ships fired again, and a third time, without piercing the Crimson's protective barrier, before a torrent of smaller lights spewed from the floating castles and charged towards the League heavy cruisers. Both ships shook violently as the pinpricks of light hammered at their shields.
"If it doesn't get much worse than this, then we don't have anything to worry about," Canavan muttered.
"They're bound to get more effective as we get closer."
"Ah, ma'am? Captain Ishimura reports that we have boarders. They must have used magic to get aboard."
"Where?"
"Hangar 3, ma'am. We don't have any fighters in there, but they could reach the ready ordnance from there. The situation is under control."
"Very well. The captain can contin-urk!"
Hernandez choked as something was shoved into her from behind. She gaped and tried to speak for a moment, before recognising the tip of a sword emerging from the centre of her chest. The rest of the CIC personnel stared dumbly at the black skinned apparition that had abruptly appeared behind their admiral. The quicker ones scrabbled for sidearms, but more drow snapped into existence and slaughtered them before they could bring their weapons to bear. Canavan hammered the all speakers intercom button at his station.
"Boarders in CIC! Boarders in-"
"Naughty boy. You weren't supposed to tell anybody we were here," his murderer looked up from where his corpse was pinned to his seat by her sword. "Move fast. If they realise how many of us there are, they might try to scuttle the ship."
* * *
"Major Li has troops outside engineering, CIC and the bridge, sir, and we've got all our weapons under central command. Most of the ship is under hostile control, but we've locked out everything except from here and engineering, except for navigation from the bridge. They've physically disabled most of our weapons, though."
"Damn," Joseph Sampson, Angola's captain, pressed the dressing closer to the wound on the end of his right arm that had once been a hand. "Status of the flag?"
"So far as we can tell, sir, she's under hostile control. The bridge is still secure, but they hold her engineering spaces. Captain Ishimura intends to scuttle."
"Chile is still intact?"
"Aye sir, they've got the infiltrators contained."
"Very well. I want a collision course for Beta when or if that happens. If they want my ship so damn badly, they can have it!"
* * *
League reinforcements reach the Crusade... then some of them get blown up!
Losses:
1x Size 8 carrier (D
50% damage to one Size 7 flotilla.
1x Size 5.
Nine Star League Fleet Deployments
End of Year One
The Crusade
12x Size 10 battleships.
5x Size 8 carriers.
3x Size 7 flotillas + 1x 50% damaged Size 7.
7x Size 6 flotillas.
10x Size 5 flotillas.
Central Expedition
2x Size 7 flotillas.
1st Fleet (CON Space)
2x Size 40 superheavy battleships.
16x Size 10 battleships.
4x Size 8 carriers.
7x Size 7 flotillas
10x Size 6 flotillas
16x Size 5 flotillas
2nd Fleet (League Space)
9x Size 10 battleships.
3x Size 8 carriers.
5x Size 7 flotillas.
8x Size 6 flotillas.
9 x Size 5 flotillas.
Local Defences
12x Planetary bases.
Norseman
Entirely Wholesome
Stolen Crimson Elvish Frigate
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
The Elvish frigate had originally belonged to the Imperial Elvish Navy, then been taken by the crimson, before being re-appropriated by Elvish rebels. Of course in the good old day any Elvish admiral would have had an apoplectic fit from seeing the huge wing-like sails so badly managed, not to mention the catapult and ballistae unmanned. Indeed there was not a single crewmember visible on the deck.
Instead the crew were huddled together on the bridge, watching the looming bulk of the ship beyond them. Bright and colourful, made even brighter when something exploded in sparkles of piercing white light only a mile or so away from them.
"I think that's bad," Lores said as a flash of blinding white light appeared before the bow of the Elvish Frigate.
Vivane shuddered and covered her eyes, "Not now! We're so close!"
"That's a warning shot," Ethmir commented, looking thoughtful. "People usually try to talk when they're doing warning shots."
"Maybe they're just playing with us," Inera said looking out at the ship. "Like a cat and mouse. I can sense that they are locking onto us."
"I don't think so..." Kimara said, hunkered down around the ships crystal ball, using it to get a close look at the other ship. "Take a look at the decor."
"Do I have to?" Ethmir said, gazing down into the crystal. "I think that being blown up would be less painful on my..." Slowly his smirk turned to a frown, "That is the scene of the Huntress slaying the Avatar of Grumsh."
Kimara nodded, "I think we just found our Sylvan Commonwealth."
"They don't seem overly friendly," Inera said. "What in the pit do we do now?"
"Let's try alternate lines of communication," Ethmir said, quickly elaborating. "If they're not using magical methods let us try technological."
"Why would elves use technology?" Inera said, looking at the strange shape in the crystal ball. "Not to mention something so weird?"
"Try it Kimera, before they stop firing warning shots," Ethmir said, while offering up his prayers.
Kimera formed the arcane energies around herself. Letting her sense and understand any attempt at communications from the strange ship. Immediately her eyes widened, "They say they are the Sylvan Commonwealth!" She hesitated, "I think they are asking us to heave to and prepare to receive a boarding party."
"You think? That sort of thing is usually fairly straight forward!" Lores said, smirking as he added, "Heave to or we chop you into pieces!"
"Not now..." Kimera said, frowning as she concentrated on her own message.
**** **** **** ****
SCS Crataegus flava
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
"We are refugees fleeing from the oppressive Crimson regime. We have heard of a free Elvish state called the Sylvan Commonwealth and have come to seek refuge there."
The thought that first crossed Captain Serotina's mind was 'Why would anyone seek refuge with us?' followed quickly by a sinking realisation that these could be elves! "Tell them..." Captain Serotina began, with her voice slightly uneven, "Tell them to prepare to receive borders and that we are from the Sylvan Commonwealth. Then send over Lieutenant Boggard."
Moments later the response came from the other ship, "We will await your boarding party."
Captain Serotina rested her palm on her computer screen. Despite zero gravity she felt like she was being pressed against the ground by some enormous weight. If this was real she would almost certainly be promoted just for having been involved in the proceedings, but she was all too aware of the huge risks of bungling this.
"Get the Lorekeeper and a copy of the... the..." Captain Serotina nervously tapped the computer screen ahead of us. "Fourth Old Tome."
**** **** **** ****
Stolen Crimson Elvish Frigate
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
Lieutenant Boggard felt briefly confused and disoriented as he was teleported onto the frigate's look-out deck. In one moment he passed from the zero gravity teleportarium, onto this weird ship which apparently had gravity.
After staggering a little Lt Boggard ordered "Fingers off the triggers, then follow me." Desperately trying to hide how nervous he was. Moving forward he scanned the area ahead of him, amazed to see that he was apparently surrounded by breathable air. Then he realised that the ship seemed to be made from some sort of *wood* of all things!
His squad moved out behind him, their heavy gyroc rifles at the ready. Despite the thick power-armour he wore he felt incredibly exposed, expecting some horrible creature to leap up and shred his armour like it was a thin can. This ship was exposed to the void and yet it had air. This ship was going through space, yet it was armed with a catapult. This ship simply made no sense whatsoever!
Moving down the stairs he heard them creaking with each step. It was like entering a haunted house. Fortunately his radio worked perfectly, keeping him in touch with the Crataegus flava as well as letting him keep an eye on his men. Much to his relief all of them were professional enough to keep their weapons secure. None of them would shoot first, or second, of that he could be sure.
Reaching the lower floor he saw that a door was open. Apparently that was the bridge and every member of the crew was supposed to be in there. From his IR scanners that seemed to be true, but just to be sure that there were no shenanigans he sent a football sized drone onto the bridge and further down the stairs.
So far everything seemed alright, so he stepped onto the bridge and found... Something out of a history book, or one of those weird novels he sometimes saw about free Elven states. They were dressed in old fashioned armour or strange robes, all partly concealed by odd cloaks that shimmered and seemed to blend in with the background. Fortunately he didn't see any weapons, aside from swords, and a powder horn that might belong to the odd rifle leaning against a wall.
After clearing his throat he turned on the speaker on his suit, "I am Lieutenant Boggard of the Sylvan Commonwealth, come to inspect your warship."
**** **** **** ****
"I am Hadnagy Boggard of the Sylvan Commonwealth, come to inspect your hadihajó."
AT first Ethmir thought he was dealing with a particularly large iron golem, relaying voices from the Sylvan ship. It was not long though before he realised that inside of the massive metal suits there were fellow elves. Fellow elves who were armed with large weapons with enormous bores, over two inches to be sure.
"I greet you Hadnagy Boggard," Ethmir said, trying to get some feel for the man. "We have come to seek asylum in the Sylvan Commonwealth."
"Asylum?" Boggard asked.
"Our people have been conquered by the Drow, who were then conquered by the Crimson. Like a tiger devouring a wolf." Ethmir said in his most courtly voice.
For a moment the massive iron golems... no armoured elves... stood there silently, then the one called Boggard announced, "Most illustrious and welcome visitor. We humble soldiers shall safely escort you, courteously convey you, to stand before the Regent whose words are like silver. To that end we pray you will pardon our crude welcome."
"That sounds..." Ethmir began cautiously, watching the strangers stand at ease, "Acceptable."
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
The Elvish frigate had originally belonged to the Imperial Elvish Navy, then been taken by the crimson, before being re-appropriated by Elvish rebels. Of course in the good old day any Elvish admiral would have had an apoplectic fit from seeing the huge wing-like sails so badly managed, not to mention the catapult and ballistae unmanned. Indeed there was not a single crewmember visible on the deck.
Instead the crew were huddled together on the bridge, watching the looming bulk of the ship beyond them. Bright and colourful, made even brighter when something exploded in sparkles of piercing white light only a mile or so away from them.
"I think that's bad," Lores said as a flash of blinding white light appeared before the bow of the Elvish Frigate.
Vivane shuddered and covered her eyes, "Not now! We're so close!"
"That's a warning shot," Ethmir commented, looking thoughtful. "People usually try to talk when they're doing warning shots."
"Maybe they're just playing with us," Inera said looking out at the ship. "Like a cat and mouse. I can sense that they are locking onto us."
"I don't think so..." Kimara said, hunkered down around the ships crystal ball, using it to get a close look at the other ship. "Take a look at the decor."
"Do I have to?" Ethmir said, gazing down into the crystal. "I think that being blown up would be less painful on my..." Slowly his smirk turned to a frown, "That is the scene of the Huntress slaying the Avatar of Grumsh."
Kimara nodded, "I think we just found our Sylvan Commonwealth."
"They don't seem overly friendly," Inera said. "What in the pit do we do now?"
"Let's try alternate lines of communication," Ethmir said, quickly elaborating. "If they're not using magical methods let us try technological."
"Why would elves use technology?" Inera said, looking at the strange shape in the crystal ball. "Not to mention something so weird?"
"Try it Kimera, before they stop firing warning shots," Ethmir said, while offering up his prayers.
Kimera formed the arcane energies around herself. Letting her sense and understand any attempt at communications from the strange ship. Immediately her eyes widened, "They say they are the Sylvan Commonwealth!" She hesitated, "I think they are asking us to heave to and prepare to receive a boarding party."
"You think? That sort of thing is usually fairly straight forward!" Lores said, smirking as he added, "Heave to or we chop you into pieces!"
"Not now..." Kimera said, frowning as she concentrated on her own message.
**** **** **** ****
SCS Crataegus flava
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
"We are refugees fleeing from the oppressive Crimson regime. We have heard of a free Elvish state called the Sylvan Commonwealth and have come to seek refuge there."
The thought that first crossed Captain Serotina's mind was 'Why would anyone seek refuge with us?' followed quickly by a sinking realisation that these could be elves! "Tell them..." Captain Serotina began, with her voice slightly uneven, "Tell them to prepare to receive borders and that we are from the Sylvan Commonwealth. Then send over Lieutenant Boggard."
Moments later the response came from the other ship, "We will await your boarding party."
Captain Serotina rested her palm on her computer screen. Despite zero gravity she felt like she was being pressed against the ground by some enormous weight. If this was real she would almost certainly be promoted just for having been involved in the proceedings, but she was all too aware of the huge risks of bungling this.
"Get the Lorekeeper and a copy of the... the..." Captain Serotina nervously tapped the computer screen ahead of us. "Fourth Old Tome."
**** **** **** ****
Stolen Crimson Elvish Frigate
Outskirts of the Sylvan Commonwealth
Lieutenant Boggard felt briefly confused and disoriented as he was teleported onto the frigate's look-out deck. In one moment he passed from the zero gravity teleportarium, onto this weird ship which apparently had gravity.
After staggering a little Lt Boggard ordered "Fingers off the triggers, then follow me." Desperately trying to hide how nervous he was. Moving forward he scanned the area ahead of him, amazed to see that he was apparently surrounded by breathable air. Then he realised that the ship seemed to be made from some sort of *wood* of all things!
His squad moved out behind him, their heavy gyroc rifles at the ready. Despite the thick power-armour he wore he felt incredibly exposed, expecting some horrible creature to leap up and shred his armour like it was a thin can. This ship was exposed to the void and yet it had air. This ship was going through space, yet it was armed with a catapult. This ship simply made no sense whatsoever!
Moving down the stairs he heard them creaking with each step. It was like entering a haunted house. Fortunately his radio worked perfectly, keeping him in touch with the Crataegus flava as well as letting him keep an eye on his men. Much to his relief all of them were professional enough to keep their weapons secure. None of them would shoot first, or second, of that he could be sure.
Reaching the lower floor he saw that a door was open. Apparently that was the bridge and every member of the crew was supposed to be in there. From his IR scanners that seemed to be true, but just to be sure that there were no shenanigans he sent a football sized drone onto the bridge and further down the stairs.
So far everything seemed alright, so he stepped onto the bridge and found... Something out of a history book, or one of those weird novels he sometimes saw about free Elven states. They were dressed in old fashioned armour or strange robes, all partly concealed by odd cloaks that shimmered and seemed to blend in with the background. Fortunately he didn't see any weapons, aside from swords, and a powder horn that might belong to the odd rifle leaning against a wall.
After clearing his throat he turned on the speaker on his suit, "I am Lieutenant Boggard of the Sylvan Commonwealth, come to inspect your warship."
**** **** **** ****
"I am Hadnagy Boggard of the Sylvan Commonwealth, come to inspect your hadihajó."
AT first Ethmir thought he was dealing with a particularly large iron golem, relaying voices from the Sylvan ship. It was not long though before he realised that inside of the massive metal suits there were fellow elves. Fellow elves who were armed with large weapons with enormous bores, over two inches to be sure.
"I greet you Hadnagy Boggard," Ethmir said, trying to get some feel for the man. "We have come to seek asylum in the Sylvan Commonwealth."
"Asylum?" Boggard asked.
"Our people have been conquered by the Drow, who were then conquered by the Crimson. Like a tiger devouring a wolf." Ethmir said in his most courtly voice.
For a moment the massive iron golems... no armoured elves... stood there silently, then the one called Boggard announced, "Most illustrious and welcome visitor. We humble soldiers shall safely escort you, courteously convey you, to stand before the Regent whose words are like silver. To that end we pray you will pardon our crude welcome."
"That sounds..." Ethmir began cautiously, watching the strangers stand at ease, "Acceptable."
Outer Edge of Taran Space
A very temperate world and well suited for immediate colonization, MTE-32 had been one of the first worlds selected for colonization in the wake of the Nexus. Now, months later; farms, villages, towns, and even a singular small city had begun to cover the planet. Despite careful management of extensive natural resources, the star cluster that was home to the Taran Federation had grown crowded and there had been a rush to colonize new planets and systems. MTE-32, known to its inhabitants as New Arfan, was just the first of a sizable number of new colonies, though the majority of the other systems earmarked for colonization would require terraforming.
But today was a special day for the people of New Arfan, a kind of coming of age for any colony of the Taran Federation. For today was the day that the last ritual would be cast and the first planetary gate would be opened, linking the world with nearly every other inhabited world in the Federation. Crowds were already thronging in the streets of Eriholt, the rough capital and only city of the new colony. Many of the city's buildings were the still the magically created earthen dome like structures that had served the very first settlers as homes and community builders, but some of them had already been replaced or were being replaced with more permanent structures.
One such building had been completed several miles outside the city, and this massive and reinforced building was the focus of much of the crowds' attention. A large sign outside the building proclaimed it to be the Hall of Portals, the building that would one day contain the portals linking New Arfan with the rest of the Taran Federation. But today it was home to only one portal or rather the massive runed circle that would become the portal. The ritual itself was quite delicate work and as such the building was closed by the system constabulary to all but the specialists that had been brought in from the capital. But hundreds if not thousands of people lined the streets and cleared wilderness around the building – watching as the group of regalia clad mages made there way inside the building.
The stone circle of the first portal, the largest and most impressive of all the portals that would one day grace these halls, stood in a large room just a little ways past the reception and customs area into the depths of the building. Built of a specially processed and magically reactive black stone, the portal was marked with numerous and potent runes engraved into the stone and then further enlaid with some form of a magical material that seemed to shimmer and glow with its own internal light. A large crystal sat a short distance in front of the portal, surrounded by a massive ritual diagram that had been drawn out on the floor with chalk and various powders. This was the control crystal for the portal which would be later taken to the well guarded control room deep in the Hall and further attuned to the master crystal.
It that was that crystal, and the portal, that the red robed and veiled mages faced as they filed into the room and took their positions in the ritual formation, devices already materialized in their hands. The ritual team's leader took his place in the center of the diagram, just in front of the crystal, and closed his eyes for a moment before bring his sword-like device up in salute to the crystal and portal.
At that signal a low, sibilant, chant began to echo through the room – slowly picking up both speed and volume as they moved through the aria of the spell. The diagram on the floor began to glow softly as the gathered mana of the mages was fed into the ritual at the direction of their leader, soon followed by the runes on the portal itself. The chanting seemed to drone on and on for hours though in reality it could not have been more then ten minutes before the control crystal began to glow.
As the crystal awoke another mage, this one bearing an ornate staff, carefully stepped forward to stand before the portal. She drew a shimmering glyph in the air before the gate as she muttered a quiet word of command, causing the space within the stone circle to crack, twist, and warp. The chanting picked up in speed and changed as the ritual leader ceremonially stuck the control crystal with his sword three times, sending a strange chiming sound echoing through the building. It was quickly followed by a sharp cracking sound as space twisted inwards upon itself for the final time and crackling blue energy flashed over the glowing portal – leaving behind a mirror like "film" that strangely did not reflect anything.
A few moments passed as the glow and chanting died away, leaving behind a group of drained and exhausted mages, before a figure stepped through the newly opened gate to the capital – parting the mirror like film like water as he stepped through.
Results:
- Taran Federation continues to expand and colonize in an effort to deal with the overcrowding on its more settled planets.
A very temperate world and well suited for immediate colonization, MTE-32 had been one of the first worlds selected for colonization in the wake of the Nexus. Now, months later; farms, villages, towns, and even a singular small city had begun to cover the planet. Despite careful management of extensive natural resources, the star cluster that was home to the Taran Federation had grown crowded and there had been a rush to colonize new planets and systems. MTE-32, known to its inhabitants as New Arfan, was just the first of a sizable number of new colonies, though the majority of the other systems earmarked for colonization would require terraforming.
But today was a special day for the people of New Arfan, a kind of coming of age for any colony of the Taran Federation. For today was the day that the last ritual would be cast and the first planetary gate would be opened, linking the world with nearly every other inhabited world in the Federation. Crowds were already thronging in the streets of Eriholt, the rough capital and only city of the new colony. Many of the city's buildings were the still the magically created earthen dome like structures that had served the very first settlers as homes and community builders, but some of them had already been replaced or were being replaced with more permanent structures.
One such building had been completed several miles outside the city, and this massive and reinforced building was the focus of much of the crowds' attention. A large sign outside the building proclaimed it to be the Hall of Portals, the building that would one day contain the portals linking New Arfan with the rest of the Taran Federation. But today it was home to only one portal or rather the massive runed circle that would become the portal. The ritual itself was quite delicate work and as such the building was closed by the system constabulary to all but the specialists that had been brought in from the capital. But hundreds if not thousands of people lined the streets and cleared wilderness around the building – watching as the group of regalia clad mages made there way inside the building.
The stone circle of the first portal, the largest and most impressive of all the portals that would one day grace these halls, stood in a large room just a little ways past the reception and customs area into the depths of the building. Built of a specially processed and magically reactive black stone, the portal was marked with numerous and potent runes engraved into the stone and then further enlaid with some form of a magical material that seemed to shimmer and glow with its own internal light. A large crystal sat a short distance in front of the portal, surrounded by a massive ritual diagram that had been drawn out on the floor with chalk and various powders. This was the control crystal for the portal which would be later taken to the well guarded control room deep in the Hall and further attuned to the master crystal.
It that was that crystal, and the portal, that the red robed and veiled mages faced as they filed into the room and took their positions in the ritual formation, devices already materialized in their hands. The ritual team's leader took his place in the center of the diagram, just in front of the crystal, and closed his eyes for a moment before bring his sword-like device up in salute to the crystal and portal.
At that signal a low, sibilant, chant began to echo through the room – slowly picking up both speed and volume as they moved through the aria of the spell. The diagram on the floor began to glow softly as the gathered mana of the mages was fed into the ritual at the direction of their leader, soon followed by the runes on the portal itself. The chanting seemed to drone on and on for hours though in reality it could not have been more then ten minutes before the control crystal began to glow.
As the crystal awoke another mage, this one bearing an ornate staff, carefully stepped forward to stand before the portal. She drew a shimmering glyph in the air before the gate as she muttered a quiet word of command, causing the space within the stone circle to crack, twist, and warp. The chanting picked up in speed and changed as the ritual leader ceremonially stuck the control crystal with his sword three times, sending a strange chiming sound echoing through the building. It was quickly followed by a sharp cracking sound as space twisted inwards upon itself for the final time and crackling blue energy flashed over the glowing portal – leaving behind a mirror like "film" that strangely did not reflect anything.
A few moments passed as the glow and chanting died away, leaving behind a group of drained and exhausted mages, before a figure stepped through the newly opened gate to the capital – parting the mirror like film like water as he stepped through.
Results:
- Taran Federation continues to expand and colonize in an effort to deal with the overcrowding on its more settled planets.
National High Energy Physics Lab HQ
Mathison's World
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Janssen said to Vender as they watched the trio of League scientists on the other side of the observation room's glass figuratively pull their hair out – one of them had, in fact, grabbed his hair and started shaking his head from side to side. The two men had turned their translators off so as to be able to converse without being eavesdropped on by their League escort, so Vender had no idea what that chap was saying, but it certainly looked like something along the lines of 'this makes no sense, what the hell is going on!' Serafina, having demonstrated a simple light spell for the scientists, simply looked bemused.
"Which bit? That they don't have any knowledge of magic, that they're so interested in some Elvish tricks that aren't really all that useful, or that Serafina didn't have any problem getting up in front of everybody like this and doing a demonstration?"
"Well, I was thinking of the fact that they don't have the first idea about magic, but I guess the other two are just about as unbelievable. I guess if you've never seen anything like it before, the ability to create a floating ball of light must be pretty impressive, so that, at least, I can understand."
"Ah, but its more than that," Vender indicated their escort. "They're used to thinking in military terms – rather understandable, actually, given the situation they were in before the Nexus event – and all they see at the moment is that some of their enemies or potential enemies have magic, and they don't. No matter how good their mundane technology, that leaves them dangerously vulnerable, if some of the reports coming from up by Monolith space are accurate. They're not even the most technically advanced navy in space, either, so I guess they're feeling a little vulnerable."
"Jan, did you miss that huge fleet in orbit just before we landed? It might be smashed up, but if I could build something that size just as a sector fleet, I wouldn't be scared of anything we could put in the field."
"Oh yes, I agree. But, who's to say that they can still build fleets that size? They've not given me any hard numbers, of course, but it's pretty obvious that they were in a desperate situation. If most of their industrial nodes suffered the same sort of damage as this planet, then they're going to have to rebuild their entire economy first; they wouldn't be asking us for something as relatively easy to obtain as industrial alloys if they weren't in pretty bad shape. I don't doubt that they would be formidable after doing so, but if I were them, looking around me at other powers with current parity in numbers and better technology, magic or both, I'd be getting uncomfortable."
"Okay, I'll grant you that point," Janssen rubbed his chin. "And if they're so impressed by a couple of tricks, I don't see why we shouldn't give 'em what they want and make as much profit off of them as we can on top of selling as many industrial goods as we can. If they're going to be so dangerous, though, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Certainly! After all, if they do rebuild their economy into something that can build and maintain fleets the size of the one near this planet, the best way to make sure they don't decide to cast a hungry eye over us is to make sure we're their friendly trade partners and have a healthy pre-existing relationship, yes? If they don't, well, we never had to worry in the first place. Now, we should probably start watching again; I want to see if Serafina can get that chap to start pulling tufts from his head."
Mathison's World
"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Janssen said to Vender as they watched the trio of League scientists on the other side of the observation room's glass figuratively pull their hair out – one of them had, in fact, grabbed his hair and started shaking his head from side to side. The two men had turned their translators off so as to be able to converse without being eavesdropped on by their League escort, so Vender had no idea what that chap was saying, but it certainly looked like something along the lines of 'this makes no sense, what the hell is going on!' Serafina, having demonstrated a simple light spell for the scientists, simply looked bemused.
"Which bit? That they don't have any knowledge of magic, that they're so interested in some Elvish tricks that aren't really all that useful, or that Serafina didn't have any problem getting up in front of everybody like this and doing a demonstration?"
"Well, I was thinking of the fact that they don't have the first idea about magic, but I guess the other two are just about as unbelievable. I guess if you've never seen anything like it before, the ability to create a floating ball of light must be pretty impressive, so that, at least, I can understand."
"Ah, but its more than that," Vender indicated their escort. "They're used to thinking in military terms – rather understandable, actually, given the situation they were in before the Nexus event – and all they see at the moment is that some of their enemies or potential enemies have magic, and they don't. No matter how good their mundane technology, that leaves them dangerously vulnerable, if some of the reports coming from up by Monolith space are accurate. They're not even the most technically advanced navy in space, either, so I guess they're feeling a little vulnerable."
"Jan, did you miss that huge fleet in orbit just before we landed? It might be smashed up, but if I could build something that size just as a sector fleet, I wouldn't be scared of anything we could put in the field."
"Oh yes, I agree. But, who's to say that they can still build fleets that size? They've not given me any hard numbers, of course, but it's pretty obvious that they were in a desperate situation. If most of their industrial nodes suffered the same sort of damage as this planet, then they're going to have to rebuild their entire economy first; they wouldn't be asking us for something as relatively easy to obtain as industrial alloys if they weren't in pretty bad shape. I don't doubt that they would be formidable after doing so, but if I were them, looking around me at other powers with current parity in numbers and better technology, magic or both, I'd be getting uncomfortable."
"Okay, I'll grant you that point," Janssen rubbed his chin. "And if they're so impressed by a couple of tricks, I don't see why we shouldn't give 'em what they want and make as much profit off of them as we can on top of selling as many industrial goods as we can. If they're going to be so dangerous, though, are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Certainly! After all, if they do rebuild their economy into something that can build and maintain fleets the size of the one near this planet, the best way to make sure they don't decide to cast a hungry eye over us is to make sure we're their friendly trade partners and have a healthy pre-existing relationship, yes? If they don't, well, we never had to worry in the first place. Now, we should probably start watching again; I want to see if Serafina can get that chap to start pulling tufts from his head."
Norseman
Entirely Wholesome
Regent's Palace
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
The Grand Marshalls voice resounded throughout the entire hall, making soldiers stand to attentions and servants jump. Waving his enormous double-headed axe he roared again, "Let us crush them utterly! Let us drink sweet wine from their skulls!"
"First you must get them," Grand Chancellor Broza said.
"Yes! I'll chop their heads clean off!" Grand Marshall Brianus Onnistus roared. Normally an elf with a double-headed axe would look a little silly, but Brianus Onnistus stood 6'2" and was a veritable mountain of muscle.
"With your axe?"
"Yes! Are you daft or something? Would you have me use a soup-spoon?"
Grand Chancellor Broza cast a pleading gaze towards the Regent Lianar, but he seemed resigned to letting the Grand Marshall rant and rave.
"We know nothing of the Drow," Grand Chancellor Broza said.
"Not so!" Brian Onnistus said, letting his axe rest against the ground. "We know that..." he grabbed his axe and swung it, cleaving a massive statue in two, "They die when you chop their heads off! Ahahahaaha!"
Now the Primate of Corellon stepped forward, swathed in her elaborate white and gold robes, her staff with holy symbol held high. Even the Grand Marshall fell silent as she began to speak. However any hope that she'd calm things down were soon squashed, "There is more wisdom in the Grand Marshall's axe than there is in the sweet words of diplomacy!"
**** **** **** ****
Stolen Crimson Elvish Frigate
Brongafo Orbit
The concentric rings of the city of Temenos were visible even from orbit. In fact the whole nightside of the planet was covered with shining lights and bright clusters. All around the planet the drive flares of hundreds of ships created artificial constellations forming and dispersing like swarms of fireflies.
Though the crew of the frigate were adventurers with years of experience this sight was different from everything else they had ever seen. Out at the bow Ethmir watched the scene with rapt fascination. There was no need for an icon or other items to bring the power of Corellan to this system; he could feel the faith of the locals like oceans waves crashing down upon him. After so many days spent out in space, with his god seemingly so far away, it felt good to be able to commune with him again.
"Hey look!" Kimara said, "Vivane is running around buck naked!"
Ethmir blinked, "What?"
"Wow, you really are far gone!" Kimara said, giving him a little elbow poke. "What's going on?"
"I feel the presence of the gods," Ethmir said, pointing at the world below.
"Oh..." Kimara said, feeling a little awkward about her joke. "At least we know that we got to the right place."
"Yeeeees..." Ethmir let the word draw out uncertainly.
"So there's something wrong?" Kimara asked, leaning against the railing and looking at her brother Ethmir. "What is it?"
"If I knew I'd tell you," Ethmir said, he shook his head. "Something isn't quite right, but I can't put my finger on it."
"What's not quite right? Are you sensing evil powers at work?" Kimara asked, but this time there was not a hint of mirth in her voice or expression.
Ethmir nodded, "That too... There's something, like a blot of darkness down there. Like a smudge."
"Really?" Kimara said, keeping her voice even. "I can't scry into the city. Neither can Inera. Those rings have to be wards of some sort."
"Yes really and no, neither can I, and no that's not what really worries me." After looking around furtively Ethmir began speaking in a low voice, "There's something... off... about our hosts."
"What? Are they planning something?" Kimera asked.
"No, they're not evil, they're just... Just..." Ethmir raised his hands in exasperation. "I don't know what to call it."
"Maybe I should talk to Vivane," Kimera mused thoughtfully. "She's used to dealing with this sort of thing."
"That might not be such a bad idea actually," Ethmir said.
**** **** **** ****
Regent's Palace
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
"Why oh why did they come now!" the Regent Lianar said as he paced the near empty meeting hall. "The Drow are bad enough, but this..."
"The Grand Marshall is quite axe-happy right now," said Grand Chancellor Broza. "He is gathering the Senat to convene a Parliament."
"Can he do that?" Lianar asked, "You're the Chancellor, aren't you supposed to make sure the actions of the high officials is legal?"
"It is his privilege to open and close Senat meetings," Broza said, he looked thoughtful. "There are no precedents as to whether or not he needs the Regent's permission."
"This cannot happen," Lianar said simply. "These elves are a foreign policy issue, which means we don't need to consult anyone else."
"Correct."
"Yes..." Lianar said, pushing the tips of his fingers together. "Have their ship hidden somewhere... Can it land on planets?"
"Not easily."
"Then hide it inside ..." Lianar smiled widely. "Hide it inside that large freighter we converted into a sensor array. No one will think it strange if that is shielded against scrying."
"And the crew?"
"Bring them into the palace, discreetly and secretly." Lianar was smiling now that he saw a way out. "Place them inside of a suite in my section, where I decide who comes and goes. Then block it off, claim that it's in preparation for receiving foreign embassies."
"And when the Senat asks?" Broza asked.
"They mustn't!" Lianar said in a startled voice, "We must prevent them from reaching a quorum, or at least from voting for war."
"The clerics want war."
"Try delaying tactics. If we can delay this long enough we can hopefully avoid a war."
"I will try." Broza said, but his voice said all too much of what he thought the odds were.
**** **** **** ****
"This place is strange," Vivane said, twitching a little as they looked around their quarters.
"So many wards... so many wards..." Inera said, pacing the place and testing each and every outer wall.
"Makes you wonder what they're afraid of don't it?" Vivane asked.
"Maybe they're just security minded," Ethmir said, trying to calm everyone down.
Kimera folded her arms and looked around the place, taking note of everything in their quarters. The accommodations were exceedingly luxurious, with separate bedrooms for all of them, soft carpets, rich furniture, and a small army of personal servants. The latter of course limited their privacy somewhat, even if for the time being they were alone.
"I like it," Lores said as he threw himself down on a silken couch. "It's like lying in a cloud! After all we've gone through we need some rest."
Once Ethmir retreated to his quarters he was surprised to see that Vivane was there, waiting for him. Still, he put on a big smile, "Hello Vivane. Always a ray of sunshine..."
"There's no sun in here," Vivane said, giving him a stern look. "In fact we have no windows, no balcony, and no way to leave."
"For our own safety."
"Bullshit. In fact I'll go one further," Vivane said, moving away from Ethmnir so he couldn't try to use physical charm to smooth things over. "Squatters."
"Excuse me?"
"We've raided a few dungeons together."
"It was an honour!" Ethmir said, smiling at her. "I mean it..."
"Cut the bullshit!" Vivane said rather louder than she intended. "I just realised what this place reminds me of. This place is what you get when someone else, someone powerful, builds an amazing palace or tomb or dungeon and then squatters move in. Look around you!" She motioned around the place, "On one hand you have an architecture that looks like a mixture of cut crystal and molten ice. All pure glass and light. Then you have the furniture which... Look at it! Bright colourful rugs, gilding pressed onto the crystal, and painted statues everywhere. These two styles do not come together!"
Ethmir's smile faded a little, he nodded, "No, you're right, they don't."
"And their fashions? Elves were all over the place before the Drow, but you know... there were always commonalities!" Vivane said, "Hell I've stolen enough art to know a thing or two about elvish design. The crystal spire stuff doesn't fit in anywhere. And as for the rest, it's... I can see where they come from, but it's..."
"Gaudy? Lower class?" Ethmir asked quietly. "I know, I really know. Want me to throw in how their words for ship, or gun, or machine, aren't elvish or even dwarven?"
Vivane's eyes narrowed, "You noticed?"
"Of course, but... I didn't want to worry the rest of you."
"This is so typical! If you can't fuck us one way you'll fuck us another is that it?" Vivane snapped, she turned around and went out. "Bullshit!"
ACTIONS
* Intrigue in the elvish court.
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
The Grand Marshalls voice resounded throughout the entire hall, making soldiers stand to attentions and servants jump. Waving his enormous double-headed axe he roared again, "Let us crush them utterly! Let us drink sweet wine from their skulls!"
"First you must get them," Grand Chancellor Broza said.
"Yes! I'll chop their heads clean off!" Grand Marshall Brianus Onnistus roared. Normally an elf with a double-headed axe would look a little silly, but Brianus Onnistus stood 6'2" and was a veritable mountain of muscle.
"With your axe?"
"Yes! Are you daft or something? Would you have me use a soup-spoon?"
Grand Chancellor Broza cast a pleading gaze towards the Regent Lianar, but he seemed resigned to letting the Grand Marshall rant and rave.
"We know nothing of the Drow," Grand Chancellor Broza said.
"Not so!" Brian Onnistus said, letting his axe rest against the ground. "We know that..." he grabbed his axe and swung it, cleaving a massive statue in two, "They die when you chop their heads off! Ahahahaaha!"
Now the Primate of Corellon stepped forward, swathed in her elaborate white and gold robes, her staff with holy symbol held high. Even the Grand Marshall fell silent as she began to speak. However any hope that she'd calm things down were soon squashed, "There is more wisdom in the Grand Marshall's axe than there is in the sweet words of diplomacy!"
**** **** **** ****
Stolen Crimson Elvish Frigate
Brongafo Orbit
The concentric rings of the city of Temenos were visible even from orbit. In fact the whole nightside of the planet was covered with shining lights and bright clusters. All around the planet the drive flares of hundreds of ships created artificial constellations forming and dispersing like swarms of fireflies.
Though the crew of the frigate were adventurers with years of experience this sight was different from everything else they had ever seen. Out at the bow Ethmir watched the scene with rapt fascination. There was no need for an icon or other items to bring the power of Corellan to this system; he could feel the faith of the locals like oceans waves crashing down upon him. After so many days spent out in space, with his god seemingly so far away, it felt good to be able to commune with him again.
"Hey look!" Kimara said, "Vivane is running around buck naked!"
Ethmir blinked, "What?"
"Wow, you really are far gone!" Kimara said, giving him a little elbow poke. "What's going on?"
"I feel the presence of the gods," Ethmir said, pointing at the world below.
"Oh..." Kimara said, feeling a little awkward about her joke. "At least we know that we got to the right place."
"Yeeeees..." Ethmir let the word draw out uncertainly.
"So there's something wrong?" Kimara asked, leaning against the railing and looking at her brother Ethmir. "What is it?"
"If I knew I'd tell you," Ethmir said, he shook his head. "Something isn't quite right, but I can't put my finger on it."
"What's not quite right? Are you sensing evil powers at work?" Kimara asked, but this time there was not a hint of mirth in her voice or expression.
Ethmir nodded, "That too... There's something, like a blot of darkness down there. Like a smudge."
"Really?" Kimara said, keeping her voice even. "I can't scry into the city. Neither can Inera. Those rings have to be wards of some sort."
"Yes really and no, neither can I, and no that's not what really worries me." After looking around furtively Ethmir began speaking in a low voice, "There's something... off... about our hosts."
"What? Are they planning something?" Kimera asked.
"No, they're not evil, they're just... Just..." Ethmir raised his hands in exasperation. "I don't know what to call it."
"Maybe I should talk to Vivane," Kimera mused thoughtfully. "She's used to dealing with this sort of thing."
"That might not be such a bad idea actually," Ethmir said.
**** **** **** ****
Regent's Palace
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
"Why oh why did they come now!" the Regent Lianar said as he paced the near empty meeting hall. "The Drow are bad enough, but this..."
"The Grand Marshall is quite axe-happy right now," said Grand Chancellor Broza. "He is gathering the Senat to convene a Parliament."
"Can he do that?" Lianar asked, "You're the Chancellor, aren't you supposed to make sure the actions of the high officials is legal?"
"It is his privilege to open and close Senat meetings," Broza said, he looked thoughtful. "There are no precedents as to whether or not he needs the Regent's permission."
"This cannot happen," Lianar said simply. "These elves are a foreign policy issue, which means we don't need to consult anyone else."
"Correct."
"Yes..." Lianar said, pushing the tips of his fingers together. "Have their ship hidden somewhere... Can it land on planets?"
"Not easily."
"Then hide it inside ..." Lianar smiled widely. "Hide it inside that large freighter we converted into a sensor array. No one will think it strange if that is shielded against scrying."
"And the crew?"
"Bring them into the palace, discreetly and secretly." Lianar was smiling now that he saw a way out. "Place them inside of a suite in my section, where I decide who comes and goes. Then block it off, claim that it's in preparation for receiving foreign embassies."
"And when the Senat asks?" Broza asked.
"They mustn't!" Lianar said in a startled voice, "We must prevent them from reaching a quorum, or at least from voting for war."
"The clerics want war."
"Try delaying tactics. If we can delay this long enough we can hopefully avoid a war."
"I will try." Broza said, but his voice said all too much of what he thought the odds were.
**** **** **** ****
"This place is strange," Vivane said, twitching a little as they looked around their quarters.
"So many wards... so many wards..." Inera said, pacing the place and testing each and every outer wall.
"Makes you wonder what they're afraid of don't it?" Vivane asked.
"Maybe they're just security minded," Ethmir said, trying to calm everyone down.
Kimera folded her arms and looked around the place, taking note of everything in their quarters. The accommodations were exceedingly luxurious, with separate bedrooms for all of them, soft carpets, rich furniture, and a small army of personal servants. The latter of course limited their privacy somewhat, even if for the time being they were alone.
"I like it," Lores said as he threw himself down on a silken couch. "It's like lying in a cloud! After all we've gone through we need some rest."
Once Ethmir retreated to his quarters he was surprised to see that Vivane was there, waiting for him. Still, he put on a big smile, "Hello Vivane. Always a ray of sunshine..."
"There's no sun in here," Vivane said, giving him a stern look. "In fact we have no windows, no balcony, and no way to leave."
"For our own safety."
"Bullshit. In fact I'll go one further," Vivane said, moving away from Ethmnir so he couldn't try to use physical charm to smooth things over. "Squatters."
"Excuse me?"
"We've raided a few dungeons together."
"It was an honour!" Ethmir said, smiling at her. "I mean it..."
"Cut the bullshit!" Vivane said rather louder than she intended. "I just realised what this place reminds me of. This place is what you get when someone else, someone powerful, builds an amazing palace or tomb or dungeon and then squatters move in. Look around you!" She motioned around the place, "On one hand you have an architecture that looks like a mixture of cut crystal and molten ice. All pure glass and light. Then you have the furniture which... Look at it! Bright colourful rugs, gilding pressed onto the crystal, and painted statues everywhere. These two styles do not come together!"
Ethmir's smile faded a little, he nodded, "No, you're right, they don't."
"And their fashions? Elves were all over the place before the Drow, but you know... there were always commonalities!" Vivane said, "Hell I've stolen enough art to know a thing or two about elvish design. The crystal spire stuff doesn't fit in anywhere. And as for the rest, it's... I can see where they come from, but it's..."
"Gaudy? Lower class?" Ethmir asked quietly. "I know, I really know. Want me to throw in how their words for ship, or gun, or machine, aren't elvish or even dwarven?"
Vivane's eyes narrowed, "You noticed?"
"Of course, but... I didn't want to worry the rest of you."
"This is so typical! If you can't fuck us one way you'll fuck us another is that it?" Vivane snapped, she turned around and went out. "Bullshit!"
ACTIONS
* Intrigue in the elvish court.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Regent's Palace
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
"Well, they definitely are odd." Inera looked over, hands completing a spell to prevent eavesdropping, then continuing in elfin battle code sign language "Vivane, go take a look outside at the city. We saw it from orbit, so it must be here. Inspect the place, find out what's actually going on. If we've stumbled across a crazy faction or something."
Ethmir answered in the same way. "Yeah. Sorry Vivane, you're going to have to do this alone."
"Won't they notice I'm going?" the younger elf asked, meantime continuing the conversation about how odd the elves were in
"Inera and I will create an illusion to cover you." Kimara sent, hands moving imperceptibly "We'll tell them you've gone to meditate."
"Alright." Vivane frowned "never thought I'd be sneaking about when we got here..." she stepped into her room, and a moment later felt the illusion draw round her. She donned her cloak and other equipment, pulled up the hood and vanished, working a spell of concealment around herself, and adopting a certain posture to render herself harder to see. Finally she pulled a spider silk blindfold from her pocket and pulled it around her eyes, activating the enchantments on it and shifting her vision from the normal elvish sight into the realms of the unseen light that were usually invisible to all but savants with their enchanted glasses. She'd always loved this part. Even when she'd been a small girl she'd enjoyed hiding, and later hunting. Her family had rather disapproved of such pursuits. The military had been a natural place for her.
She moved up to the outer door and waited, perfectly still, muscles relaxed and limber for a servant to come in, provided food and fussed around for a while before leaving again. Vivane slipped out behind her, matching her steps and posture, moving only when he moved, following him closely, but never looking at him as they walked through the exterior corridor.
Several guards in the strange ceramic armour the Sylvan's used, with heavy, large barrelled weapons stood at a security station there. The servant pulled out a card and swiped it, then pressed a hand to the gate, and typed in a short code. It beeped, the red light going from red to green and the gates opened. Vivane noted the pressure sensors and activated a minor enchantment, briefly neutralizing her weight as she stepped through with the servant.
It was no more complicated than walking on top of snow.
Beyond the security gate her blindfold showed her a set of sweeping radio waves, pulsing across the corridor, as well as heat lights meant as tripwires. Vivane grinned under her hood. These people really must think her laughably primitive if they thought she couldn't neutralize such things. Indeed her cloak on it's own would protect her from either precaution.
She continued to follow the servant through another set of security doors, then, realizing he was leading her deeper into the building, stepped off to one side. There were many cameras around, but none of them were able to pierce her cloak. Stopping briefly to sniff the air Vivane turned and headed towards the outside of the building, coming eventually to a balcony of gleaming crystal, arranged above a beautiful, but quite alien looking park below. The elf paused, pausing for a moment, pulling up her blindfold, green eyes blinking as she gazed down into the city.
It... was incredibly unelfin. Huge blocks of greyish concrete pushed skywards, decorated with garish paint schemes and glittering ornaments. signs glowed above it, flickering on and off in the darkness. Vivane's nose wrinkled under her hood as she smelled burning oil, alcohol and other fumes. It smells more like a dwarfish city than one of ours.
For a moment the elf almost turned back, but there was no help for it. She attached her rope, tested it once then began to rappel down the side of the building. She wasn't wholly sure her boots would grip the crystal wall. At the bottom she landed lightly and tugged on the rope, the enchanted silk unwinding and coiling back down into her kit.
Turning, Vivane headed into the city. She had no idea what to do now, but there was one sign she did know, and hoped wouldn't have changed: The temple of Corellon Larethian. There, maybe she could get some answers.
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
"Well, they definitely are odd." Inera looked over, hands completing a spell to prevent eavesdropping, then continuing in elfin battle code sign language "Vivane, go take a look outside at the city. We saw it from orbit, so it must be here. Inspect the place, find out what's actually going on. If we've stumbled across a crazy faction or something."
Ethmir answered in the same way. "Yeah. Sorry Vivane, you're going to have to do this alone."
"Won't they notice I'm going?" the younger elf asked, meantime continuing the conversation about how odd the elves were in
"Inera and I will create an illusion to cover you." Kimara sent, hands moving imperceptibly "We'll tell them you've gone to meditate."
"Alright." Vivane frowned "never thought I'd be sneaking about when we got here..." she stepped into her room, and a moment later felt the illusion draw round her. She donned her cloak and other equipment, pulled up the hood and vanished, working a spell of concealment around herself, and adopting a certain posture to render herself harder to see. Finally she pulled a spider silk blindfold from her pocket and pulled it around her eyes, activating the enchantments on it and shifting her vision from the normal elvish sight into the realms of the unseen light that were usually invisible to all but savants with their enchanted glasses. She'd always loved this part. Even when she'd been a small girl she'd enjoyed hiding, and later hunting. Her family had rather disapproved of such pursuits. The military had been a natural place for her.
She moved up to the outer door and waited, perfectly still, muscles relaxed and limber for a servant to come in, provided food and fussed around for a while before leaving again. Vivane slipped out behind her, matching her steps and posture, moving only when he moved, following him closely, but never looking at him as they walked through the exterior corridor.
Several guards in the strange ceramic armour the Sylvan's used, with heavy, large barrelled weapons stood at a security station there. The servant pulled out a card and swiped it, then pressed a hand to the gate, and typed in a short code. It beeped, the red light going from red to green and the gates opened. Vivane noted the pressure sensors and activated a minor enchantment, briefly neutralizing her weight as she stepped through with the servant.
It was no more complicated than walking on top of snow.
Beyond the security gate her blindfold showed her a set of sweeping radio waves, pulsing across the corridor, as well as heat lights meant as tripwires. Vivane grinned under her hood. These people really must think her laughably primitive if they thought she couldn't neutralize such things. Indeed her cloak on it's own would protect her from either precaution.
She continued to follow the servant through another set of security doors, then, realizing he was leading her deeper into the building, stepped off to one side. There were many cameras around, but none of them were able to pierce her cloak. Stopping briefly to sniff the air Vivane turned and headed towards the outside of the building, coming eventually to a balcony of gleaming crystal, arranged above a beautiful, but quite alien looking park below. The elf paused, pausing for a moment, pulling up her blindfold, green eyes blinking as she gazed down into the city.
It... was incredibly unelfin. Huge blocks of greyish concrete pushed skywards, decorated with garish paint schemes and glittering ornaments. signs glowed above it, flickering on and off in the darkness. Vivane's nose wrinkled under her hood as she smelled burning oil, alcohol and other fumes. It smells more like a dwarfish city than one of ours.
For a moment the elf almost turned back, but there was no help for it. She attached her rope, tested it once then began to rappel down the side of the building. She wasn't wholly sure her boots would grip the crystal wall. At the bottom she landed lightly and tugged on the rope, the enchanted silk unwinding and coiling back down into her kit.
Turning, Vivane headed into the city. She had no idea what to do now, but there was one sign she did know, and hoped wouldn't have changed: The temple of Corellon Larethian. There, maybe she could get some answers.
Norseman
Entirely Wholesome
City of Temenos, Brongafo
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
To Vivane Temenos seemed so crowded, so impossibly crowded! Wherever she looked there were people, teeming around on the sidewalks, crossing skywalks linking tall skyscrapers, or packing the vehicles on the roads. Along with the crowds came a near constant attack on your senses. The noise of the traffic and of the people mixed with snatches of loud music from the buildings. Gaudy neon signs flashed and flickered everywhere you saw, using everything from elvish script to dwarven, though human letters seemed remarkably popular and used even when it made little sense. Then there was the smell, the city was dirty, it was like being in a not too clean kitchen while everyone was smoking.
Normally making her way through a city would be easy, with her skills and her elvish cloak she could hide in the shadows so no one would see her. But here she ran into the problem that there was nowhere to hide and so many people that she could scarcely move without bumping into them. A lot of the time she simply had to take refuge in audacity and push her way through the crowds, as if she was just another commuter.
Sometimes someone would notice her, a few of them frowned a little or looked surprised, but most just seemed to ignore her and keep moving. Not so strange perhaps, there were weirdoes and people in exotic dress all over the place. Mostly elves though, in fact she'd scarcely seen a human or a dwarf since she began.
At last she saw something she recognised, a cleric in ornate robes, wandering down the streets. Vivane recognised the holy symbol at the top of the cleric's staff, it was that of Corellon. So she approached him quietly, "Where is the temple to Corellon?"
The cleric seemed confused for a moment, not quite able to see the source of the voice. She repeated her question once more before he answered, "The Cathedral is that way, about a mile or so, but you..."
She was already gone, moving forward roughly in the direction he indicated. The tall buildings made it hard for her to pick out any landmarks, but luckily she spotted a group of worshippers carrying flower garlands. Following them she soon found herself in a large plaza, quite a shock after the tight and cramped surroundings of the city. The plaza had a lot of people in it, but there was more room here, even with the market stalls selling garlands, perfume, and pictures of the gods.
There was something different about this. Elves were not all that solemn, so the festive, carnival atmosphere didn't faze her. On the other hand they tended to seek ought their devotions privately, and generally didn't go for gaudy icons. Nor were their temples so big and colourful. The Cathedral rose several stories, each story decorated with paintings and statues. The double doors were enormous, fifty or sixty feet high, with bas-reliefs of worshipping heroes. There were trees yes, but they seemed more like decor than parts of the structure.
Fortunately it was easy to enter the temple through one of the smaller side doors. In the middle of the temple there was an enormous open hall, with clear glass windows and even a glass ceiling. A giant tree, possibly an oak, grew in the middle of the hall, garlanded with flowers and surrounded by various statues. Toward the far end, away from the main doors, there stood an enormous statue of Corellon. A scent of incense attacked her nostrils. It was thick and heavy, perhaps to hide the scents of the city outside.
Once more Vivane got this feeling that something was simply wrong about this place. The tree made sense, she supposed, but an outdoors temple should have trees, not necessarily an indoors place. It reminded her a bit of the time she read a human novel about someone travelling in elvish lands, but the author had gotten so much wrong that it turned into inadvertent comedy. On the other hand these were actually elves, so...
It was time to find someone with authority.
She stepped out of the shadows and dropped her invisibility, startling a few nearby worshippers. In her peripheral vision she noticed that a small group of elves in well made, silvery armour were moving towards her. Quietly and discreetly, but never the less... Perhaps she could avoid them, but why bother? It seemed quite likely they'd take to someone in authority.
Gerdicrog System
The Sylvan Commonwealth
To Vivane Temenos seemed so crowded, so impossibly crowded! Wherever she looked there were people, teeming around on the sidewalks, crossing skywalks linking tall skyscrapers, or packing the vehicles on the roads. Along with the crowds came a near constant attack on your senses. The noise of the traffic and of the people mixed with snatches of loud music from the buildings. Gaudy neon signs flashed and flickered everywhere you saw, using everything from elvish script to dwarven, though human letters seemed remarkably popular and used even when it made little sense. Then there was the smell, the city was dirty, it was like being in a not too clean kitchen while everyone was smoking.
Normally making her way through a city would be easy, with her skills and her elvish cloak she could hide in the shadows so no one would see her. But here she ran into the problem that there was nowhere to hide and so many people that she could scarcely move without bumping into them. A lot of the time she simply had to take refuge in audacity and push her way through the crowds, as if she was just another commuter.
Sometimes someone would notice her, a few of them frowned a little or looked surprised, but most just seemed to ignore her and keep moving. Not so strange perhaps, there were weirdoes and people in exotic dress all over the place. Mostly elves though, in fact she'd scarcely seen a human or a dwarf since she began.
At last she saw something she recognised, a cleric in ornate robes, wandering down the streets. Vivane recognised the holy symbol at the top of the cleric's staff, it was that of Corellon. So she approached him quietly, "Where is the temple to Corellon?"
The cleric seemed confused for a moment, not quite able to see the source of the voice. She repeated her question once more before he answered, "The Cathedral is that way, about a mile or so, but you..."
She was already gone, moving forward roughly in the direction he indicated. The tall buildings made it hard for her to pick out any landmarks, but luckily she spotted a group of worshippers carrying flower garlands. Following them she soon found herself in a large plaza, quite a shock after the tight and cramped surroundings of the city. The plaza had a lot of people in it, but there was more room here, even with the market stalls selling garlands, perfume, and pictures of the gods.
There was something different about this. Elves were not all that solemn, so the festive, carnival atmosphere didn't faze her. On the other hand they tended to seek ought their devotions privately, and generally didn't go for gaudy icons. Nor were their temples so big and colourful. The Cathedral rose several stories, each story decorated with paintings and statues. The double doors were enormous, fifty or sixty feet high, with bas-reliefs of worshipping heroes. There were trees yes, but they seemed more like decor than parts of the structure.
Fortunately it was easy to enter the temple through one of the smaller side doors. In the middle of the temple there was an enormous open hall, with clear glass windows and even a glass ceiling. A giant tree, possibly an oak, grew in the middle of the hall, garlanded with flowers and surrounded by various statues. Toward the far end, away from the main doors, there stood an enormous statue of Corellon. A scent of incense attacked her nostrils. It was thick and heavy, perhaps to hide the scents of the city outside.
Once more Vivane got this feeling that something was simply wrong about this place. The tree made sense, she supposed, but an outdoors temple should have trees, not necessarily an indoors place. It reminded her a bit of the time she read a human novel about someone travelling in elvish lands, but the author had gotten so much wrong that it turned into inadvertent comedy. On the other hand these were actually elves, so...
It was time to find someone with authority.
She stepped out of the shadows and dropped her invisibility, startling a few nearby worshippers. In her peripheral vision she noticed that a small group of elves in well made, silvery armour were moving towards her. Quietly and discreetly, but never the less... Perhaps she could avoid them, but why bother? It seemed quite likely they'd take to someone in authority.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Tau Ceti Directorate Earth
Paris
June Clarkson lay back in her chair and sighed, looking at the blinking data set on the computer before her and took another sip of her French coffee. The office that PSICOM was using was old, and the heating system rendered it nothing less than stuffy. "Urgh. This is not how I wanted to spend my time in the City of Romance." June looked down the list "Shouldn't we be attending elegant balls to ferret out enemy agents in high society by using the dances to get close enough for a scan or something?"
Harry shrugged "Least the food's good." He said, taking another bite of his fresh baguette and bacon sandwich. "Could be a lot worse."
June began reading the list. "So far in this unit's remit we have one thousand two hundred and thirteen counts of embezzlement, two thousand one hundred and twenty one taking bribes, plus another five thousand counts of improper relationships with private clients, one thousand five hundred and thirteen illegal gamblers, Three thousand users of illegal drugs or improper use of painkillers and about three hundred who are pushing, nineteen murders, some eight hundred sundry offenses of a sexual nature and" She sighed, rubbing her eyes "twenty eight thousand counts of stealing office supplies. . . this is not worth our attention Harry."
"Well, how about this then?" Harry grinned "Take a look." He swung his monitor around on its trundle as June came over to perch on the edge of the desk and look into it "Travel plans for about thirty of our POIs." He pressed a key, showing another file "According to city infrastructure, they were on the move at these times. Meantime their read transcript reports all of them to have been at home at the time."
"Were they travelling to anywhere in particular?" June peered down at the screen. Harry pressed a key and new data came up. June read off the name: "Allee des Effes, Fresnes." Walking back to her own terminal she began to pull up information. "Looks like a street of private houses."
Harry grinned and got up and stretched "Won't be too private much longer." He said "I'll make the call to have this lot picked up, you call operations for the door knockers." A grin "Looks like we're finally going to get to have some fun in Paris."
Paris
June Clarkson lay back in her chair and sighed, looking at the blinking data set on the computer before her and took another sip of her French coffee. The office that PSICOM was using was old, and the heating system rendered it nothing less than stuffy. "Urgh. This is not how I wanted to spend my time in the City of Romance." June looked down the list "Shouldn't we be attending elegant balls to ferret out enemy agents in high society by using the dances to get close enough for a scan or something?"
Harry shrugged "Least the food's good." He said, taking another bite of his fresh baguette and bacon sandwich. "Could be a lot worse."
June began reading the list. "So far in this unit's remit we have one thousand two hundred and thirteen counts of embezzlement, two thousand one hundred and twenty one taking bribes, plus another five thousand counts of improper relationships with private clients, one thousand five hundred and thirteen illegal gamblers, Three thousand users of illegal drugs or improper use of painkillers and about three hundred who are pushing, nineteen murders, some eight hundred sundry offenses of a sexual nature and" She sighed, rubbing her eyes "twenty eight thousand counts of stealing office supplies. . . this is not worth our attention Harry."
"Well, how about this then?" Harry grinned "Take a look." He swung his monitor around on its trundle as June came over to perch on the edge of the desk and look into it "Travel plans for about thirty of our POIs." He pressed a key, showing another file "According to city infrastructure, they were on the move at these times. Meantime their read transcript reports all of them to have been at home at the time."
"Were they travelling to anywhere in particular?" June peered down at the screen. Harry pressed a key and new data came up. June read off the name: "Allee des Effes, Fresnes." Walking back to her own terminal she began to pull up information. "Looks like a street of private houses."
Harry grinned and got up and stretched "Won't be too private much longer." He said "I'll make the call to have this lot picked up, you call operations for the door knockers." A grin "Looks like we're finally going to get to have some fun in Paris."
Altico
Flowers decked the cathedral facade, around the enormous video screen. The sun bathed the crowd in light. Anton Marvas raised his hands to the sky and listened to their silence. The day had come. Today the saviours would be seen, today they would appear in the sky.
It had been revealed to him.
Most of the people of Altico were hiding underground, or in asteroid colonies. Many cities had gone over to scavengers, the remainder were under tenuous martial law. Only his Church was a beacon of stability, because his message was truth and it resonated with the souls of the masses.
Mere minutes remaining.
"People of Altico!" His voice was multiplied by loudspeakers across the square, across the city his Church controlled. "Your faith has carried you here and it will carry us forward into the new era!
All faces turned to the screen, which showed a starfield. Anton knew that there would be others, in the remnants of the government or other powers, watching those stars. Watching and waiting for him to be proven wrong. He watched and waited.
In the starfield, impossibly, without a warning or a deceleration flare, a fleet appeared.
***
The Returning Ark
Kyou watched Altico appear in the window and felt a sick feeling rise in her throat. Her world was out there. Waiting for her. And she was going to return to it, and return with lies.
Sometimes couldn't do it. She couldn't bring them salvation only to let some deranged preacher twist it. A chosen one? An angel? She was neither. She was a lucky girl sent on a mission far from home, now with a chance to save it and return. If she spoke against Marvas he would be discredited, and the government would be able to retain power. The government she had sworn loyalty to more than a century ago.
All she had to do was...
All she had to do was ignore the darkness that haunted the edge of her mind. The future she could now see. The future that had been revealed to her. She couldn't ignore it. The future that meant the very psychology that had made her abandon the world for the first time was now forcing her to abandon it once more.
Agent Reginleif turned away from the window.
Flowers decked the cathedral facade, around the enormous video screen. The sun bathed the crowd in light. Anton Marvas raised his hands to the sky and listened to their silence. The day had come. Today the saviours would be seen, today they would appear in the sky.
It had been revealed to him.
Most of the people of Altico were hiding underground, or in asteroid colonies. Many cities had gone over to scavengers, the remainder were under tenuous martial law. Only his Church was a beacon of stability, because his message was truth and it resonated with the souls of the masses.
Mere minutes remaining.
"People of Altico!" His voice was multiplied by loudspeakers across the square, across the city his Church controlled. "Your faith has carried you here and it will carry us forward into the new era!
All faces turned to the screen, which showed a starfield. Anton knew that there would be others, in the remnants of the government or other powers, watching those stars. Watching and waiting for him to be proven wrong. He watched and waited.
In the starfield, impossibly, without a warning or a deceleration flare, a fleet appeared.
***
The Returning Ark
Kyou watched Altico appear in the window and felt a sick feeling rise in her throat. Her world was out there. Waiting for her. And she was going to return to it, and return with lies.
Sometimes couldn't do it. She couldn't bring them salvation only to let some deranged preacher twist it. A chosen one? An angel? She was neither. She was a lucky girl sent on a mission far from home, now with a chance to save it and return. If she spoke against Marvas he would be discredited, and the government would be able to retain power. The government she had sworn loyalty to more than a century ago.
All she had to do was...
All she had to do was ignore the darkness that haunted the edge of her mind. The future she could now see. The future that had been revealed to her. She couldn't ignore it. The future that meant the very psychology that had made her abandon the world for the first time was now forcing her to abandon it once more.
Agent Reginleif turned away from the window.
Duneczan
Wandering Oracle
- Location
- In Hiding
Marina's Ring
The Palace
"We must be careful," the commander of the Emerald Knights had said as they reached a different part of the palace. "This area is mostly secure, but it lies close to the outside of the palace itself and may be prone to attack. Unfortunately, it is the only route to our command post. From there, we can attempt to find safe passage from the palace for the Empress."
If anything portended trouble, it was a simple statement as that. They proceeded much as they had been before, the armed retainers taking up the rear, the two Arcadians providing a guard for the empress herself. Now they were led by the Emerald Knights, each in their heavy armor and weapons held at the ready. They moved cautiously, keeping a wary eye out for any ambushes. When the attack did come, however, it wasn't the knights who noticed it first.
Angeline made a motion with her hand, and Empress Marina found herself in the firm grip of Archon Nerim, abruptly thrown to the floor and covered by his body. Immediate terror overrode her senses, but she did manage to see through the cloud of shock and surprise as Advocate Nerim raised her hands and she saw her Emerald Knights go flying down the corridor. And then the world seemed to explode.
The wall between them and the esplanade surrounding the hanging gardens outside had been blown apart. Rubble, mortar and metal and glass, was strewn everywhere, flung through the air by the explosion. Marina opened her eyes in time to see Archon Nerim raise himself up onto his hands, having used his body to protect her from the worst of it. Dust and other particulates, and the occasional piece of shrapnel slipped off him and fell onto the floor, some of it onto her.
Blinking, the royal looked around from her prone position. Her retainers were on the ground, some bleeding, others clutching their heads to, most likely, stop the ringing. Down the hall her Emerald Knights were also recovering, only this time from the powerful telekinetic shove Advocate Nerim had given them. Of the Arcadian woman, there was no sign, only a large pile of broken construction where she'd been standing.
The pile shifted, and a fist punched its way out from beneath the rubble. More debris flew aside, and Advocate Nerim rose from the mess, the faint sheen of blue energy cascading down her body sloughing off the detritus. The blue-white eyes of the woman's helmet were glowing more fiercely than ever before. There was a sudden chill in the air, atmosphere began popping. She raised her hand and forks of crisp, freezing, lightning lanced from her fingers and shot out through the opening.
Fire from the outside answered her attack, but she was no longer there. With no hint of movement, she was on the other side of the hole, on the floor and leaning up against the cracked wall. She held one of her pistols in her hand. Argus moved to a position opposite her, his EMG at the ready.
Despite herself, and despite warnings from her retainers, Marine crawled onto her knees and stared out the shattered window above her. There were Roman troops out there, slowly moving into position to continue their attack. Another of them appeared to be preparing a launcher of some kind, probably the same weapon that took out the wall. She wondered if they would survive a second assault.
The sudden, loud, roar of gunfire made her wince. The sight of the Roman soldiers being torn to shreds made her sick to her stomach, but she was strong. And surprised. It was the surprise more than anything that kept her together. The gruesome scene ended quickly, and the gore covered grass and plants began to wave under some unseen current. Then she saw what had caused the wind, caused everything.
Sleek, black, heavily armed, the ship shimmered into sight, dropping its camouflage and hovering a bare two meters above the ground. It was not one of hers, she did not recognize, so she knew it could only belong to one people. Six figures dropped from the attack shuttle, five of them huge, hulking figures in heavy armor bristling with weapons. The sixth was shorter, slighter, in armor very much akin to the man and woman who had been protecting her for some time now. Something else dropped from the shuttle, an eight wheeled device that appeared to be carrying a large crate.
The six figures stepped forward, the wheeled vehicle slowly following after them a moment later. The shuttle shifted position and slowly lifted away, reactivating its cloak and disappearing from sight. Archon and Advocate Nerim both stood, the sister walking off towards the Emerald Knights, the Archon stepping aside to help the empress to her feet.
"Archon Mikaila has sent us to aid you," the leader of the newcomers said, bowing to Archon Nerim.
"Warden," Argus replied with a nod. He then held up a hand to forestall further conversation. "Questioner?" The smaller of the figures came forward, removing the helmet and revealing a young woman who seemed barely out of her teens. "See to the Empress and her retainers, then to the Advocate."
"I am fine, Master Nerim, and my people are strong. It is your sister-" Marina began, but the Archon brought up a finger to silence her.
"My sister has magic and armor to protect her, neither you nor your people can say the same. Please your Grace, do not argue." With that he turned back to his soldiers. The Questioner dropped to her knees and began fussing over Marina. Warmth flowed through the woman's body, and almost as soon as it began it stopped, the Questioner quickly leaving her side and moving to her retainers. Down at the other end of the hall the empress saw Advocate Nerim performing similar duties for her Emerald Knights. Her attention though was brought back to the conversation going on near her.
"-has gone off to locate the beacon it picked up on our way here." The large Warden finished saying.
"Likely the Wardens protecting the queens children, and those of the other nobles that were trapped in the palace," Argus replied. "With luck they are all unharmed. What else?"
"We are currently holding the docking bay. The Roman nuclear weapons are too inefficient to be used against that area, so we did not have to face those at least. Their soldiers are tough, and we have lost some of our own, but we hold strong. The other three ships remain on standby."
"There is blessed little they can do anyway," Argus replied.
"Archon," the empress said, stepping up to the two figures, "why do your fellows not assist you?"
"It is not our way, Your Grace," Argus said with a slight shrug. "My crew aids us because my sister and I were in danger, as was our ship. We do not ask the others for help, and they will not come to us. They observe, but it was my decision for me and mine to come this far. Unless orders come down from the Patriarch himself, so long as my sister keeps her intentions unknown, they will stay out of this fight until the end, no matter the outcome."
"Something that, for now, is changing," Angeline declared as she strode towards the trio, the young Questioner walking in her wake. Behind her the Emerald Knights were on their feet and heading outside to look over the bodies of the Romans. As the Advocate came to a halt, the blue slits of her optics died, and the helmet once more folded in upon itself until it could no longer be seen. She nodded to the Wardens and her brother, who all removed their helmets as well.
Marina wasn't surprised to see that two of the Wardens were women, their leader among them, but what happened next she did not expect. They went to their knees and bowed their heads, at least one of them uttering some silent statement, most likely a prayer. Behind the Advocate, the young woman stood at attention but kept her eyes held shut. Only Archon Nerim seemed to stand at ease, whether it was because it was his command or because he was Angeline's brother, the ringworlds ruler wasn't sure.
The Advocate reached into her belt pack and removed the slip of paper from earlier. "You know what this is?" She asked, holding it up.
"Only that it has my name on it," Marina replied.
"Yes. It is a simple ritual that we Advocates perform during our negotiations. The fate of this insignificant piece of parchment defines how the negotiations have progressed. Three ways there are to decide their ending. One means that negotiations have failed, and that war, denunciation, or cessation of all ties will ensue. Another, and a bond of friendship has been, or can be, formed. The third…has not been done in nearly two and a half millennia." She placed the folded paper into the palm of her hand, cupped it with her other, and held it out for the empress to take. Reluctantly, she did so. "The third signifies a provisional contract, very much similar to what I and my brother have pledged to you. For now, you are an ally, if not a friend. This may change, and it most certainly will when this is over, but until then we fight by your side against a shared threat."
It was, Marine thought to herself, more than she'd actually expected to hear from the strict woman. "I thank you," she began to say, but she stopped. Shaking her head, she changed her words. "No, my people thank you."
Angeline said nothing, merely nodding at her words. Some of the solemnity left the other woman's expression and she leaned forward and spoke softly. "If you could hand that back to me, Your Grace, so that I may keep it safe."
"Of course," she replied and returned the slip, which was quickly pocketed. Already the sober atmosphere was clearing, as the Advocates helmet was once more sliding over her body and the rest of the Arcadians were returning theirs to their heads. A question came to the rulers mind. "Advocate, how will your people know?"
"They just will."
**********
Sol
Bastian Kazimir Derelict
A slow smile, hidden from view by her helm, crept across Vindicator Calli's lips. She didn't like the sound of it, but another part of her couldn't help but be excited. "Communications," she said, talking to the Solarian man who had been accompanying them through their trip through hell, "I am afraid it has come time to part."
"Excuse me?" the man said, sounding surprised. Calli turned to face him.
"We shall remain here and face whatever menace lurks behind this door. That is what we do. We are the Sword and Shield of the Arcadian Order. Any threat, no matter how big, no matter how powerful, that may turn its eyes towards our people must go through us first. It is our duty, but you are not one of us, and I will not ask you to make the same sacrifice. We have seen that whatever defenses may have been activated seem to have stemmed the tide, so you should be safe, and I pray that it stays such."
"I can't just leave you. I could call for help…" He tried to do that even as he said it, but all he got was silence. "I don't understand."
"Perhaps what is behind there is affecting your equipment. It may lessen the further you get away from it." She could see that the Solarian did not like the idea of leaving them, but whether it was out of respect for them or wariness of what they may do without him around, she didn't know, nor did she care. "Go, you should have a schematic of the ship, just as we did. Find the bridge and the others, and if you find you can contact them, then do so. But we will not wait." He stood, silent, mulling it over. Then, with a salute in the Solarian style, he headed away from them. "Godspeed, Solarian," Calli said, quietly, and turned to her team. "Artificer, perhaps you should leave too."
"No," the other woman said rather adamantly. "You may have forgotten than I we Artificers are combat engineers. Emphasis on the combat. I stay."
"Very well," the Vindicator said with a sigh. "I hope you are prepared."
"Quite so," the Artificer replied, and brought forth her backpack. Calli vaguely remembered seeing her hold the bag up before her in the more dire fights they'd encountered. She opened it and pulled out a thick, white, cloak that, when worn, would cover the body head to toe. As well as reflect its surrounding area. The Vindicator refrained from asking why the other woman had an operatives cloak, knowing the response would be something along the lines of 'we created them, we should be able to use them'. The Artificer removed nothing else from the pack, but she did hold it up to show the contents. The two Knights and the Questioner made hasty steps back. Calli knew what those thin disks entailed.
"Artificer…"
"Yes?"
"Have you been hiding behind your explosives?"
The woman had the audacity to shrug. "Only when it seemed like we were all going to die."
Calli wanted nothing more than to run her hand across her face, but instead of removing her helmet and jabbed a finger at the room behind them. "Get me a schematic, woman." She heard the chuckle as the Artificer shuffled past and inserted several wires into the control pad next to the door. A wireframe drawing of the room was quickly etching itself onto the HUDs inside each helmet, the Questioner occasionally adding a comment here and there about where he felt the presences. "A decent enough sized chamber. A cargo hold, perhaps?" Neither the Artificer nor the Questioner had an answer. Calli reached for her polearm and detached it from her back. The blue light and faint hum of the vibrating blade was a welcome sound. "This may be our last stand, brothers and sister."
"When isn't it?" One of the Knights replied. Calli felt herself chuckle this time. He was right.
"Artificer, if we fail, can your explosives finish the job for us?"
"Oh it shouldn't be a problem," the woman replied in a more-than-chipper voice, "they're shaped charges."
Somehow the response, and the way it was said, did not put the Vindicator at ease. "What kind of shape?"
"…Spherical." The Knights took another step back.
"At the ready," Vindicator Calli said instead of what she really wanted to. The Questioner moved behind her and the two Knights flanked the both of them. "Questioner, prepare a flash. Artificer, open the door on my mark." She raised her finger, listening to the near-silent chanting coming over the comm channel. She knew the language enough to recognize when to act. She dropped her hand. The Artificer punched in a command on her pad and the door opened. The Questioner recited the last word. The room before them exploded in more than light as the raw power of the Arcadians psionics wove through the air.
Calli charged in, cleaving a white, multi-limbed abomination in two as she did. She spun and stabbed a second monster, one that defied any sort of explanation or description, slicing the polearm up through its fleshy body. The two Knights came in after her, firing their heavy rifles as they sought cover, the Questioner providing a shield for them as they did, while occasionally adding some of his own fire, both from his pistol and magical. Of the Artificer there was no sign, but that wasn't surprising.
With her Knights and Questioner supporting her, she continued her advance, alternating fire from her EMG and slicing with her spear. She saw the focal point of these monstrosities, but she knew not if it was their source, or if it was merely something they were protecting. It was obvious what it was though. The Questioner had said as much. Shaped like an egg, black as the void, covered in green symbols that gleamed with some fel power. A sense of dread emanating from it, almost making her want to fall back, only her Faith keeping her strong.
The Seed of a Dead God.
The Palace
"We must be careful," the commander of the Emerald Knights had said as they reached a different part of the palace. "This area is mostly secure, but it lies close to the outside of the palace itself and may be prone to attack. Unfortunately, it is the only route to our command post. From there, we can attempt to find safe passage from the palace for the Empress."
If anything portended trouble, it was a simple statement as that. They proceeded much as they had been before, the armed retainers taking up the rear, the two Arcadians providing a guard for the empress herself. Now they were led by the Emerald Knights, each in their heavy armor and weapons held at the ready. They moved cautiously, keeping a wary eye out for any ambushes. When the attack did come, however, it wasn't the knights who noticed it first.
Angeline made a motion with her hand, and Empress Marina found herself in the firm grip of Archon Nerim, abruptly thrown to the floor and covered by his body. Immediate terror overrode her senses, but she did manage to see through the cloud of shock and surprise as Advocate Nerim raised her hands and she saw her Emerald Knights go flying down the corridor. And then the world seemed to explode.
The wall between them and the esplanade surrounding the hanging gardens outside had been blown apart. Rubble, mortar and metal and glass, was strewn everywhere, flung through the air by the explosion. Marina opened her eyes in time to see Archon Nerim raise himself up onto his hands, having used his body to protect her from the worst of it. Dust and other particulates, and the occasional piece of shrapnel slipped off him and fell onto the floor, some of it onto her.
Blinking, the royal looked around from her prone position. Her retainers were on the ground, some bleeding, others clutching their heads to, most likely, stop the ringing. Down the hall her Emerald Knights were also recovering, only this time from the powerful telekinetic shove Advocate Nerim had given them. Of the Arcadian woman, there was no sign, only a large pile of broken construction where she'd been standing.
The pile shifted, and a fist punched its way out from beneath the rubble. More debris flew aside, and Advocate Nerim rose from the mess, the faint sheen of blue energy cascading down her body sloughing off the detritus. The blue-white eyes of the woman's helmet were glowing more fiercely than ever before. There was a sudden chill in the air, atmosphere began popping. She raised her hand and forks of crisp, freezing, lightning lanced from her fingers and shot out through the opening.
Fire from the outside answered her attack, but she was no longer there. With no hint of movement, she was on the other side of the hole, on the floor and leaning up against the cracked wall. She held one of her pistols in her hand. Argus moved to a position opposite her, his EMG at the ready.
Despite herself, and despite warnings from her retainers, Marine crawled onto her knees and stared out the shattered window above her. There were Roman troops out there, slowly moving into position to continue their attack. Another of them appeared to be preparing a launcher of some kind, probably the same weapon that took out the wall. She wondered if they would survive a second assault.
The sudden, loud, roar of gunfire made her wince. The sight of the Roman soldiers being torn to shreds made her sick to her stomach, but she was strong. And surprised. It was the surprise more than anything that kept her together. The gruesome scene ended quickly, and the gore covered grass and plants began to wave under some unseen current. Then she saw what had caused the wind, caused everything.
Sleek, black, heavily armed, the ship shimmered into sight, dropping its camouflage and hovering a bare two meters above the ground. It was not one of hers, she did not recognize, so she knew it could only belong to one people. Six figures dropped from the attack shuttle, five of them huge, hulking figures in heavy armor bristling with weapons. The sixth was shorter, slighter, in armor very much akin to the man and woman who had been protecting her for some time now. Something else dropped from the shuttle, an eight wheeled device that appeared to be carrying a large crate.
The six figures stepped forward, the wheeled vehicle slowly following after them a moment later. The shuttle shifted position and slowly lifted away, reactivating its cloak and disappearing from sight. Archon and Advocate Nerim both stood, the sister walking off towards the Emerald Knights, the Archon stepping aside to help the empress to her feet.
"Archon Mikaila has sent us to aid you," the leader of the newcomers said, bowing to Archon Nerim.
"Warden," Argus replied with a nod. He then held up a hand to forestall further conversation. "Questioner?" The smaller of the figures came forward, removing the helmet and revealing a young woman who seemed barely out of her teens. "See to the Empress and her retainers, then to the Advocate."
"I am fine, Master Nerim, and my people are strong. It is your sister-" Marina began, but the Archon brought up a finger to silence her.
"My sister has magic and armor to protect her, neither you nor your people can say the same. Please your Grace, do not argue." With that he turned back to his soldiers. The Questioner dropped to her knees and began fussing over Marina. Warmth flowed through the woman's body, and almost as soon as it began it stopped, the Questioner quickly leaving her side and moving to her retainers. Down at the other end of the hall the empress saw Advocate Nerim performing similar duties for her Emerald Knights. Her attention though was brought back to the conversation going on near her.
"-has gone off to locate the beacon it picked up on our way here." The large Warden finished saying.
"Likely the Wardens protecting the queens children, and those of the other nobles that were trapped in the palace," Argus replied. "With luck they are all unharmed. What else?"
"We are currently holding the docking bay. The Roman nuclear weapons are too inefficient to be used against that area, so we did not have to face those at least. Their soldiers are tough, and we have lost some of our own, but we hold strong. The other three ships remain on standby."
"There is blessed little they can do anyway," Argus replied.
"Archon," the empress said, stepping up to the two figures, "why do your fellows not assist you?"
"It is not our way, Your Grace," Argus said with a slight shrug. "My crew aids us because my sister and I were in danger, as was our ship. We do not ask the others for help, and they will not come to us. They observe, but it was my decision for me and mine to come this far. Unless orders come down from the Patriarch himself, so long as my sister keeps her intentions unknown, they will stay out of this fight until the end, no matter the outcome."
"Something that, for now, is changing," Angeline declared as she strode towards the trio, the young Questioner walking in her wake. Behind her the Emerald Knights were on their feet and heading outside to look over the bodies of the Romans. As the Advocate came to a halt, the blue slits of her optics died, and the helmet once more folded in upon itself until it could no longer be seen. She nodded to the Wardens and her brother, who all removed their helmets as well.
Marina wasn't surprised to see that two of the Wardens were women, their leader among them, but what happened next she did not expect. They went to their knees and bowed their heads, at least one of them uttering some silent statement, most likely a prayer. Behind the Advocate, the young woman stood at attention but kept her eyes held shut. Only Archon Nerim seemed to stand at ease, whether it was because it was his command or because he was Angeline's brother, the ringworlds ruler wasn't sure.
The Advocate reached into her belt pack and removed the slip of paper from earlier. "You know what this is?" She asked, holding it up.
"Only that it has my name on it," Marina replied.
"Yes. It is a simple ritual that we Advocates perform during our negotiations. The fate of this insignificant piece of parchment defines how the negotiations have progressed. Three ways there are to decide their ending. One means that negotiations have failed, and that war, denunciation, or cessation of all ties will ensue. Another, and a bond of friendship has been, or can be, formed. The third…has not been done in nearly two and a half millennia." She placed the folded paper into the palm of her hand, cupped it with her other, and held it out for the empress to take. Reluctantly, she did so. "The third signifies a provisional contract, very much similar to what I and my brother have pledged to you. For now, you are an ally, if not a friend. This may change, and it most certainly will when this is over, but until then we fight by your side against a shared threat."
It was, Marine thought to herself, more than she'd actually expected to hear from the strict woman. "I thank you," she began to say, but she stopped. Shaking her head, she changed her words. "No, my people thank you."
Angeline said nothing, merely nodding at her words. Some of the solemnity left the other woman's expression and she leaned forward and spoke softly. "If you could hand that back to me, Your Grace, so that I may keep it safe."
"Of course," she replied and returned the slip, which was quickly pocketed. Already the sober atmosphere was clearing, as the Advocates helmet was once more sliding over her body and the rest of the Arcadians were returning theirs to their heads. A question came to the rulers mind. "Advocate, how will your people know?"
"They just will."
**********
Sol
Bastian Kazimir Derelict
A slow smile, hidden from view by her helm, crept across Vindicator Calli's lips. She didn't like the sound of it, but another part of her couldn't help but be excited. "Communications," she said, talking to the Solarian man who had been accompanying them through their trip through hell, "I am afraid it has come time to part."
"Excuse me?" the man said, sounding surprised. Calli turned to face him.
"We shall remain here and face whatever menace lurks behind this door. That is what we do. We are the Sword and Shield of the Arcadian Order. Any threat, no matter how big, no matter how powerful, that may turn its eyes towards our people must go through us first. It is our duty, but you are not one of us, and I will not ask you to make the same sacrifice. We have seen that whatever defenses may have been activated seem to have stemmed the tide, so you should be safe, and I pray that it stays such."
"I can't just leave you. I could call for help…" He tried to do that even as he said it, but all he got was silence. "I don't understand."
"Perhaps what is behind there is affecting your equipment. It may lessen the further you get away from it." She could see that the Solarian did not like the idea of leaving them, but whether it was out of respect for them or wariness of what they may do without him around, she didn't know, nor did she care. "Go, you should have a schematic of the ship, just as we did. Find the bridge and the others, and if you find you can contact them, then do so. But we will not wait." He stood, silent, mulling it over. Then, with a salute in the Solarian style, he headed away from them. "Godspeed, Solarian," Calli said, quietly, and turned to her team. "Artificer, perhaps you should leave too."
"No," the other woman said rather adamantly. "You may have forgotten than I we Artificers are combat engineers. Emphasis on the combat. I stay."
"Very well," the Vindicator said with a sigh. "I hope you are prepared."
"Quite so," the Artificer replied, and brought forth her backpack. Calli vaguely remembered seeing her hold the bag up before her in the more dire fights they'd encountered. She opened it and pulled out a thick, white, cloak that, when worn, would cover the body head to toe. As well as reflect its surrounding area. The Vindicator refrained from asking why the other woman had an operatives cloak, knowing the response would be something along the lines of 'we created them, we should be able to use them'. The Artificer removed nothing else from the pack, but she did hold it up to show the contents. The two Knights and the Questioner made hasty steps back. Calli knew what those thin disks entailed.
"Artificer…"
"Yes?"
"Have you been hiding behind your explosives?"
The woman had the audacity to shrug. "Only when it seemed like we were all going to die."
Calli wanted nothing more than to run her hand across her face, but instead of removing her helmet and jabbed a finger at the room behind them. "Get me a schematic, woman." She heard the chuckle as the Artificer shuffled past and inserted several wires into the control pad next to the door. A wireframe drawing of the room was quickly etching itself onto the HUDs inside each helmet, the Questioner occasionally adding a comment here and there about where he felt the presences. "A decent enough sized chamber. A cargo hold, perhaps?" Neither the Artificer nor the Questioner had an answer. Calli reached for her polearm and detached it from her back. The blue light and faint hum of the vibrating blade was a welcome sound. "This may be our last stand, brothers and sister."
"When isn't it?" One of the Knights replied. Calli felt herself chuckle this time. He was right.
"Artificer, if we fail, can your explosives finish the job for us?"
"Oh it shouldn't be a problem," the woman replied in a more-than-chipper voice, "they're shaped charges."
Somehow the response, and the way it was said, did not put the Vindicator at ease. "What kind of shape?"
"…Spherical." The Knights took another step back.
"At the ready," Vindicator Calli said instead of what she really wanted to. The Questioner moved behind her and the two Knights flanked the both of them. "Questioner, prepare a flash. Artificer, open the door on my mark." She raised her finger, listening to the near-silent chanting coming over the comm channel. She knew the language enough to recognize when to act. She dropped her hand. The Artificer punched in a command on her pad and the door opened. The Questioner recited the last word. The room before them exploded in more than light as the raw power of the Arcadians psionics wove through the air.
Calli charged in, cleaving a white, multi-limbed abomination in two as she did. She spun and stabbed a second monster, one that defied any sort of explanation or description, slicing the polearm up through its fleshy body. The two Knights came in after her, firing their heavy rifles as they sought cover, the Questioner providing a shield for them as they did, while occasionally adding some of his own fire, both from his pistol and magical. Of the Artificer there was no sign, but that wasn't surprising.
With her Knights and Questioner supporting her, she continued her advance, alternating fire from her EMG and slicing with her spear. She saw the focal point of these monstrosities, but she knew not if it was their source, or if it was merely something they were protecting. It was obvious what it was though. The Questioner had said as much. Shaped like an egg, black as the void, covered in green symbols that gleamed with some fel power. A sense of dread emanating from it, almost making her want to fall back, only her Faith keeping her strong.
The Seed of a Dead God.
Neresa XXI
CON – Sol
"Sir, we're detecting something from the inner system! It's Luna!"
Shimazu looked up from his repeaters at the announcement. The voice of the sensor tech was high and panicked, and Shimazu could see the man's eyes through his helmet visor.
"What about Luna?"
"I-It's hard to tell at this range, sir, and the drone we left further in system isn't giving us any data that makes sense, but... I think somebody just used a crust-buster on Luna."
"WHAT!?" He was on his feet and nearly running over to the tech's station.
"Like I said, sir, it looks like a crust-buster," his hands danced over his console. "See, here? We've got low resolution at this range, but that's a huge thermal bloom, and it looks like there's ejecta as well, here and here. It can't be anything natural; you just don't get volcanoes large enough to generate a thermal bloom from the other side of a solar system, and, well, we knew there was fighting going on around Luna when we quit the inner system. I don't know whether it was the Coalition or the ships the Cacophony left behind, or something else, but whatever it was, it just took a huge chunk out of the Moon."
"Thank you. Comms, put me through to Commander Richards."
"Aye Sir."
Richards was a tall blonde woman with green eyes, but her pretty face was marred by a mess of scar tissue at the corner of her mouth, curling along her right cheek and up towards her ear.
"Commander, what's the status on the evacuation?"
"Overall, sir? We've gotten at least two thousand people, and a fair quantity of equipment and technical data. I can't say how useful any of it is, but we're loading the last of it now."
"Are we still getting survivors out of the tunnels?"
"Haven't had any for the last forty minutes, sir, but I've got people in there right now."
"Very well. I want you to withdraw those teams right now, Commander. Prioritise getting the refugees loaded before technology, and prepare to withdraw from the surface."
"The espatier offices aren't going to like getting cut off at the knees like this, sir."
"I don't give a damn if they like it! Somebody's just used a crust-buster on Luna, Commander, and I have no intention of getting caught in a battle where that sort of weaponry is being used. Evacuate anybody the espatiers bring back with them, or who gets out on their own before we pull out, but the deadline is that they get there before the last shuttle leaves. Once we're clear of the surface, I'm leaving; we've gotten what we came for, and more besides."
"A cru... Right, sir. I'll get right on it. Richards clear!"
CON – Sol
"Sir, we're detecting something from the inner system! It's Luna!"
Shimazu looked up from his repeaters at the announcement. The voice of the sensor tech was high and panicked, and Shimazu could see the man's eyes through his helmet visor.
"What about Luna?"
"I-It's hard to tell at this range, sir, and the drone we left further in system isn't giving us any data that makes sense, but... I think somebody just used a crust-buster on Luna."
"WHAT!?" He was on his feet and nearly running over to the tech's station.
"Like I said, sir, it looks like a crust-buster," his hands danced over his console. "See, here? We've got low resolution at this range, but that's a huge thermal bloom, and it looks like there's ejecta as well, here and here. It can't be anything natural; you just don't get volcanoes large enough to generate a thermal bloom from the other side of a solar system, and, well, we knew there was fighting going on around Luna when we quit the inner system. I don't know whether it was the Coalition or the ships the Cacophony left behind, or something else, but whatever it was, it just took a huge chunk out of the Moon."
"Thank you. Comms, put me through to Commander Richards."
"Aye Sir."
Richards was a tall blonde woman with green eyes, but her pretty face was marred by a mess of scar tissue at the corner of her mouth, curling along her right cheek and up towards her ear.
"Commander, what's the status on the evacuation?"
"Overall, sir? We've gotten at least two thousand people, and a fair quantity of equipment and technical data. I can't say how useful any of it is, but we're loading the last of it now."
"Are we still getting survivors out of the tunnels?"
"Haven't had any for the last forty minutes, sir, but I've got people in there right now."
"Very well. I want you to withdraw those teams right now, Commander. Prioritise getting the refugees loaded before technology, and prepare to withdraw from the surface."
"The espatier offices aren't going to like getting cut off at the knees like this, sir."
"I don't give a damn if they like it! Somebody's just used a crust-buster on Luna, Commander, and I have no intention of getting caught in a battle where that sort of weaponry is being used. Evacuate anybody the espatiers bring back with them, or who gets out on their own before we pull out, but the deadline is that they get there before the last shuttle leaves. Once we're clear of the surface, I'm leaving; we've gotten what we came for, and more besides."
"A cru... Right, sir. I'll get right on it. Richards clear!"
- Location
- The City of Big Shoulders
Due to gridlock in the Council, the budget for the Directorate wasn't made public till now for the rest of the year.
Quater 3:
30 points 2 (15 size dreadnoughts mea culpa talk with FBH error about quarter 2 production)
10 points reparing battleships x2
10 points worth size 2 patrol cruisers
20 points of assault rockets squadrons (10)
Quater 4
70/100 points Battlemoon
Quater 3:
30 points 2 (15 size dreadnoughts mea culpa talk with FBH error about quarter 2 production)
10 points reparing battleships x2
10 points worth size 2 patrol cruisers
20 points of assault rockets squadrons (10)
Quater 4
70/100 points Battlemoon
- Location
- Checkpoint Civil Court
Sol
Meeting Room
The holographic image of Vincent Agnelli looked on at the meeting at hand, the Talos director of construction broadcasting the bust of himself from lightyears away. Around him sat Olivia and Vanessa, and across from him sat Andrew Dow, commander of all Sol remnants in system and the man they had already spoken with once before.
"So, now that you've got me on, what can I do for you all today?" Vincent asked, his projection eying the three figures seated around the conference table.
"Good of you to join us Mr. Agnelli." Vanessa cooed as she started stating the purpose of this meeting. "We were wondering if you would be willing to conduct a transfer of whatever excess stocks of vessels Talos has accumulated to our new-found Sol friends."
"We will of course, try to see if we can't work out some sort of agreement between all three parties so that this transaction is not entirely one way." Dow clarified, as he tried to make it clear that Sol did not come off as too much of a charity case.
"Absolutely." Vanessa nodded, as she awaited Agnelli's response.
"I wasn't aware that Seraphim did donations." Vincent said wearily as he mulled the point over. "It's true that thanks to the Nexus event we've built up some surplus of craft we can't currently support , unlike some parties," he explained, pausing and eying the two Seraphs for a brief moment before readdressing the room, "however I can't release war materiel without authorization from the head execs no matter how much easier it'd make my job."
Olivia blinked, then spoke. "We've sent one in, that request should be processed by now and relayed over to you. I'm sure we can send it in agai-"
Suddenly Vincent's attention was focused somewhere else, his eyes darting outside of the projection. There was a brief pause, and then he turned his head back to the projector with face curled in surprise and no small amount of relief.
"Well speak of the devil, looks like you two were right after all! Just got the memo in from Nelson. Well, if it's going to be like that, I'm sure we can work something out…"
Olivia smiled. "Glad to see this moving smoothly then." She said, as the meeting continued in earnest.
IC Actions:
130 Ship pts passed on to Sol in exchange for TBD
Meeting Room
The holographic image of Vincent Agnelli looked on at the meeting at hand, the Talos director of construction broadcasting the bust of himself from lightyears away. Around him sat Olivia and Vanessa, and across from him sat Andrew Dow, commander of all Sol remnants in system and the man they had already spoken with once before.
"So, now that you've got me on, what can I do for you all today?" Vincent asked, his projection eying the three figures seated around the conference table.
"Good of you to join us Mr. Agnelli." Vanessa cooed as she started stating the purpose of this meeting. "We were wondering if you would be willing to conduct a transfer of whatever excess stocks of vessels Talos has accumulated to our new-found Sol friends."
"We will of course, try to see if we can't work out some sort of agreement between all three parties so that this transaction is not entirely one way." Dow clarified, as he tried to make it clear that Sol did not come off as too much of a charity case.
"Absolutely." Vanessa nodded, as she awaited Agnelli's response.
"I wasn't aware that Seraphim did donations." Vincent said wearily as he mulled the point over. "It's true that thanks to the Nexus event we've built up some surplus of craft we can't currently support , unlike some parties," he explained, pausing and eying the two Seraphs for a brief moment before readdressing the room, "however I can't release war materiel without authorization from the head execs no matter how much easier it'd make my job."
Olivia blinked, then spoke. "We've sent one in, that request should be processed by now and relayed over to you. I'm sure we can send it in agai-"
Suddenly Vincent's attention was focused somewhere else, his eyes darting outside of the projection. There was a brief pause, and then he turned his head back to the projector with face curled in surprise and no small amount of relief.
"Well speak of the devil, looks like you two were right after all! Just got the memo in from Nelson. Well, if it's going to be like that, I'm sure we can work something out…"
Olivia smiled. "Glad to see this moving smoothly then." She said, as the meeting continued in earnest.
IC Actions:
130 Ship pts passed on to Sol in exchange for TBD
Norseman
Entirely Wholesome
Office of the Primate of Corellan
City of Temenos
The Primate of Corellon was an old woman, though as elves hardly age she didn't look it. As she listened to the story told by this strange woman, Vivane, the Primate felt at a loss for the first time in centuries. Though all the spells said that the woman was telling the truth and not insane, it was still very hard to believe.
"That is a very interesting story," the Primate said.
Despite the looming presence of the Templars Vivane managed to stay quite calm. "It's the truth," Vivane said, meeting the Primate's gaze. "Come to the Regent's palace if you have any doubts, or look at the starship docks where they hid the frigate."
Once more the Primate got the feeling that the ground was giving way under her. Everything this woman said seemed to be the truth, at least she believed in it herself, and the sheer power of her magical items suggested that something odd was going on. On the other hand perhaps this was a madwoman who had somehow raided the special collection at the Ethnographic museum, though that seemed rather unlikely.
No, no, thinking so was just deluding herself, and the Primate knew that. Already her spies had told her of strange goings on at the palace, a whole section being sequestered and guarded by the Regent's personal bodyguard. Supposedly to prepare the section for the foreign embassies that were coming, but as strange as it might seem this other elf's explanation made more sense.
"I will convene the College of Clerics," the Primate said at last. "Until then you are welcome to stay here as our guest... In fact I'd rather you would, since the Regent might take it badly if he found out that you had come here."
At the surface this seemed like the sort of internal scheming and politics that you might expect anywhere, but Vivane got this strange feeling that everyone wanted to hide something specific from her. Now all she had to do was find out what.
**** **** **** ****
The mood was tense inside the Primate's private meeting room, a small heavily warded chamber to the side of the main sanctuary. Priests and Templars were huddled together, often literally rubbing shoulders. Their collective body heat was enough to make the room uncomfortably warm, which added to the tension.
The Primate had just finished explaining things to the College of Clerics, and she was summarizing their options, "We have two choices: either convene the Senat, and summon the Regent to explain himself, or else we can go over there and demand to see the elves in the palace." She let out a sigh. "I must confess I find both options unpalatable."
"Surely the Grand Marshall will be on our side..." said one of the High Priests. "At least if what we hear about the drow is true."
"It would be best if we were subtle, I think the Grand Chancellor once described just how subtle the Grand Marshall is. I won't repeat his words here though."
There were chuckles from the audience.
"Marching up to his palace isn't very subtle either!" Another high priest said.
The Primate nodded, "True enough, but it has the benefit of surprise! If we convene the Senat the Regent will have time to cook up some excuse, or do some mischief." Her eyes narrowed a little, "I don't want to accuse him of anything... But he is capable of anything."
"I fear I must correct you Holy Mother." The speaker was Arun Redthorn, a sallow faced high priest in dark robes, marking him as one of the priests of the Night Hunter. "We have only one choice, to go out to his palace right now. Force his hand, making him reveal his deceit, shame him, we must move so fast that he has no choice but to come along for the ride. Anything else will only result in him tying the Senat up for months to come, having his supporters block any proposal that might take us to war."
"I should think you of all people would be in favour of subtlety," the Primate said, trying to ignore the whispers that Redthorn's speech brought.
"True subtlety requires you to know when to be subtle," Arun Redthorn said before he clenched his fist and held it up. "And when to walk up to someone and punch them in the nose when they least expect it."
Quite a few of the assembled priests nodded and seemed to agree with this. Though there were several holdouts that seemed deeply sceptical of the whole notion.
"If we do this then the Regent becomes our enemy," one of the priests said. "Can we truly afford a schism in the government in a time of war?"
"If we don't do this then there won't be a war," Arun Redthorn said. "If the Regent has time he can call a General Parliament, refusing to mobilize for war until it has assembled. In the meantime he can continue to spread rumours of the strength and danger of the Drow and their conquerors. If we want a war we must move quickly and decisively, so that the people will be swept up in a patriotic furore and eager to go help their brethren."
"Is war something we want?" The Primate asked. "If we are to act we must first ask ourselves that."
"War!" Arun Redthorn said, "And trust in the gods to deliver us!"
"War!" Another voice said, then another, and another.
The Primate nodded, "War it is!"
**** **** **** ****
The Regent's Garden
City of Temenos
The scene was one of splendour and utter chaos, the sort of things painters would immortalize for centuries to come. Hundreds of clerics, Senators, and High Officials milled around the Regent's Garden shouting for the guards to let them inside. Surrounding them on three sides were their bodyguards, thousands of Templars in full plate armour with face concealing masks; heavily armed bodyguards in everything from high-tech armour to light magical leathers; and of course the Grand Marshall who would count as an army in of himself, but had brought the men under his command just for good measure. Between them they had torn up the grass and crushed the elaborate flowerbeds underfoot.
The Regent's Guards were at a loss as to what to do, so mostly they just stood there, trying to seem intimidating in their black Bael armour. Yet the crowd kept pushing forward, forcing them to either withdraw or start pushing back.
"We are the Senat and Clergy of the Commonwealth!" The Primate called, clutching her staff of office. "And we demand to see what the Regent is hiding!"
"Holy Mother," the captain of the guard said, trying to calm things down. "I cannot let you in without the Regent's permission..."
"If the Regent is asleep then have no fear, I'm sure he'll wake up if we blast our way in!"
**** **** **** ****
Korben Mansion
City of Temenos
The wide holo-wall displayed the scene in the Regent's garden, showing Peren Korben everything that went on. There was no sound, but it wasn't hard to guess what was going on, not least because his informants had told him. This then was what the elves did with their independence, ridiculous show-downs and political street theatre.
"Disgraceful," Korben said, frowning. One of his servants poured him some more wine, but even the sweet Takan wine couldn't remove the foul taste from his mouth. "Something has to be done about this!"
City of Temenos
The Primate of Corellon was an old woman, though as elves hardly age she didn't look it. As she listened to the story told by this strange woman, Vivane, the Primate felt at a loss for the first time in centuries. Though all the spells said that the woman was telling the truth and not insane, it was still very hard to believe.
"That is a very interesting story," the Primate said.
Despite the looming presence of the Templars Vivane managed to stay quite calm. "It's the truth," Vivane said, meeting the Primate's gaze. "Come to the Regent's palace if you have any doubts, or look at the starship docks where they hid the frigate."
Once more the Primate got the feeling that the ground was giving way under her. Everything this woman said seemed to be the truth, at least she believed in it herself, and the sheer power of her magical items suggested that something odd was going on. On the other hand perhaps this was a madwoman who had somehow raided the special collection at the Ethnographic museum, though that seemed rather unlikely.
No, no, thinking so was just deluding herself, and the Primate knew that. Already her spies had told her of strange goings on at the palace, a whole section being sequestered and guarded by the Regent's personal bodyguard. Supposedly to prepare the section for the foreign embassies that were coming, but as strange as it might seem this other elf's explanation made more sense.
"I will convene the College of Clerics," the Primate said at last. "Until then you are welcome to stay here as our guest... In fact I'd rather you would, since the Regent might take it badly if he found out that you had come here."
At the surface this seemed like the sort of internal scheming and politics that you might expect anywhere, but Vivane got this strange feeling that everyone wanted to hide something specific from her. Now all she had to do was find out what.
**** **** **** ****
The mood was tense inside the Primate's private meeting room, a small heavily warded chamber to the side of the main sanctuary. Priests and Templars were huddled together, often literally rubbing shoulders. Their collective body heat was enough to make the room uncomfortably warm, which added to the tension.
The Primate had just finished explaining things to the College of Clerics, and she was summarizing their options, "We have two choices: either convene the Senat, and summon the Regent to explain himself, or else we can go over there and demand to see the elves in the palace." She let out a sigh. "I must confess I find both options unpalatable."
"Surely the Grand Marshall will be on our side..." said one of the High Priests. "At least if what we hear about the drow is true."
"It would be best if we were subtle, I think the Grand Chancellor once described just how subtle the Grand Marshall is. I won't repeat his words here though."
There were chuckles from the audience.
"Marching up to his palace isn't very subtle either!" Another high priest said.
The Primate nodded, "True enough, but it has the benefit of surprise! If we convene the Senat the Regent will have time to cook up some excuse, or do some mischief." Her eyes narrowed a little, "I don't want to accuse him of anything... But he is capable of anything."
"I fear I must correct you Holy Mother." The speaker was Arun Redthorn, a sallow faced high priest in dark robes, marking him as one of the priests of the Night Hunter. "We have only one choice, to go out to his palace right now. Force his hand, making him reveal his deceit, shame him, we must move so fast that he has no choice but to come along for the ride. Anything else will only result in him tying the Senat up for months to come, having his supporters block any proposal that might take us to war."
"I should think you of all people would be in favour of subtlety," the Primate said, trying to ignore the whispers that Redthorn's speech brought.
"True subtlety requires you to know when to be subtle," Arun Redthorn said before he clenched his fist and held it up. "And when to walk up to someone and punch them in the nose when they least expect it."
Quite a few of the assembled priests nodded and seemed to agree with this. Though there were several holdouts that seemed deeply sceptical of the whole notion.
"If we do this then the Regent becomes our enemy," one of the priests said. "Can we truly afford a schism in the government in a time of war?"
"If we don't do this then there won't be a war," Arun Redthorn said. "If the Regent has time he can call a General Parliament, refusing to mobilize for war until it has assembled. In the meantime he can continue to spread rumours of the strength and danger of the Drow and their conquerors. If we want a war we must move quickly and decisively, so that the people will be swept up in a patriotic furore and eager to go help their brethren."
"Is war something we want?" The Primate asked. "If we are to act we must first ask ourselves that."
"War!" Arun Redthorn said, "And trust in the gods to deliver us!"
"War!" Another voice said, then another, and another.
The Primate nodded, "War it is!"
**** **** **** ****
The Regent's Garden
City of Temenos
The scene was one of splendour and utter chaos, the sort of things painters would immortalize for centuries to come. Hundreds of clerics, Senators, and High Officials milled around the Regent's Garden shouting for the guards to let them inside. Surrounding them on three sides were their bodyguards, thousands of Templars in full plate armour with face concealing masks; heavily armed bodyguards in everything from high-tech armour to light magical leathers; and of course the Grand Marshall who would count as an army in of himself, but had brought the men under his command just for good measure. Between them they had torn up the grass and crushed the elaborate flowerbeds underfoot.
The Regent's Guards were at a loss as to what to do, so mostly they just stood there, trying to seem intimidating in their black Bael armour. Yet the crowd kept pushing forward, forcing them to either withdraw or start pushing back.
"We are the Senat and Clergy of the Commonwealth!" The Primate called, clutching her staff of office. "And we demand to see what the Regent is hiding!"
"Holy Mother," the captain of the guard said, trying to calm things down. "I cannot let you in without the Regent's permission..."
"If the Regent is asleep then have no fear, I'm sure he'll wake up if we blast our way in!"
**** **** **** ****
Korben Mansion
City of Temenos
The wide holo-wall displayed the scene in the Regent's garden, showing Peren Korben everything that went on. There was no sound, but it wasn't hard to guess what was going on, not least because his informants had told him. This then was what the elves did with their independence, ridiculous show-downs and political street theatre.
"Disgraceful," Korben said, frowning. One of his servants poured him some more wine, but even the sweet Takan wine couldn't remove the foul taste from his mouth. "Something has to be done about this!"
Norseman
Entirely Wholesome
Regent's Palace
City of Temenos
Normally Lianar would have ample warning to prepare explanations and to summon his supporters, but this was like a bolt out of the blue. Looking out at the garden he wracked his mind trying to think of some way to get out of this mess.
"Lord Regent," Grand Chancellor Broza said. "I don't think they'll leave."
"No. No they won't."
There was a long uncomfortable pause before Grand Chancellor Broza spoke again, "Do we yield or fight?"
"IF we fight, won't we have a civil war on our hands?"
"Yes."
Lianar bowed his head, "In a normal country this wouldn't happen..."
"Lord Regent," Broza said cautiously, "You need to make a decision."
"Fine! I will speak to them!" Lianar said and strode off towards his throne room."
"They want to do more than speak Lord Regent," Broza said quietly as Lianar left.
**** **** **** ****
The throne room was packed with dignitaries and guardsmen, the former were shouting accusations and demands, while the latter quietly faced up against each other. Tempers flared and it seemed that at any moment a fight might break out, a fight which would surely be quite lethal given all the firepower available.
Vivanne had trouble relating to that, intellectually of course she knew that the local leadership was divided, but this was not what she expected. Certainly she could have expected backstabbing, ritual, technicalities, and plotting, but out and out facing against each other and seeming to be about to start a small war?
The tensions only grew worse when Lianar recognised Vivanne, rising from his throne he pointed an accusing finger at her, "IT is not proper for a guest to leave without informing her host!"
AT once the Primate yelled back, "It's not proper for a host to keep his guests prisoner!"
"They are not prisoners! But that does not mean common courtesy should be put aside!"
By now all pretence to courtesy or ritual were swept aside, replaced by shouting and more posturing.
"If they are not prisoners may we see them?" The Primate shouted.
"It is a diplomatic matter and therefore entirely under my command!"
"If they're an embassy they should present their credentials in the presence of the High Officers of the State! If they're not..."
"... they're not!"
"Then the Senat and the High Officers of the State have every right to speak to them! We will not be kept in the dark if there are free elves out there!"
There was a chorus of agreement to that, which seemed to energise the crowd further and make them surge forward. Immediately the Regents guards tried to hold the crowd back but at any moment things might snap. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, like the moment before a thunderstorm.
"This is an outrage!" Lianar roared, loud enough to be heard. Then, seeing Brianus Onnistus in the crowd he made a desperate bid, "Grand Marshall! Call the assembly to order!"
The voice of Brianus Onnistus filled the room, "ORDER! ORDER IN THE HALL! STAND TO THERE AND LISTEN!" Here was the thunderclap, even if there was no lightning. The crowd fell silent.
"I am calling a meeting of the Estates General!" Lianar said, gritting his teeth he added, "And of course any guest of the Regents will be free to speak to the delegates before and during the meeting."
City of Temenos
Normally Lianar would have ample warning to prepare explanations and to summon his supporters, but this was like a bolt out of the blue. Looking out at the garden he wracked his mind trying to think of some way to get out of this mess.
"Lord Regent," Grand Chancellor Broza said. "I don't think they'll leave."
"No. No they won't."
There was a long uncomfortable pause before Grand Chancellor Broza spoke again, "Do we yield or fight?"
"IF we fight, won't we have a civil war on our hands?"
"Yes."
Lianar bowed his head, "In a normal country this wouldn't happen..."
"Lord Regent," Broza said cautiously, "You need to make a decision."
"Fine! I will speak to them!" Lianar said and strode off towards his throne room."
"They want to do more than speak Lord Regent," Broza said quietly as Lianar left.
**** **** **** ****
The throne room was packed with dignitaries and guardsmen, the former were shouting accusations and demands, while the latter quietly faced up against each other. Tempers flared and it seemed that at any moment a fight might break out, a fight which would surely be quite lethal given all the firepower available.
Vivanne had trouble relating to that, intellectually of course she knew that the local leadership was divided, but this was not what she expected. Certainly she could have expected backstabbing, ritual, technicalities, and plotting, but out and out facing against each other and seeming to be about to start a small war?
The tensions only grew worse when Lianar recognised Vivanne, rising from his throne he pointed an accusing finger at her, "IT is not proper for a guest to leave without informing her host!"
AT once the Primate yelled back, "It's not proper for a host to keep his guests prisoner!"
"They are not prisoners! But that does not mean common courtesy should be put aside!"
By now all pretence to courtesy or ritual were swept aside, replaced by shouting and more posturing.
"If they are not prisoners may we see them?" The Primate shouted.
"It is a diplomatic matter and therefore entirely under my command!"
"If they're an embassy they should present their credentials in the presence of the High Officers of the State! If they're not..."
"... they're not!"
"Then the Senat and the High Officers of the State have every right to speak to them! We will not be kept in the dark if there are free elves out there!"
There was a chorus of agreement to that, which seemed to energise the crowd further and make them surge forward. Immediately the Regents guards tried to hold the crowd back but at any moment things might snap. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, like the moment before a thunderstorm.
"This is an outrage!" Lianar roared, loud enough to be heard. Then, seeing Brianus Onnistus in the crowd he made a desperate bid, "Grand Marshall! Call the assembly to order!"
The voice of Brianus Onnistus filled the room, "ORDER! ORDER IN THE HALL! STAND TO THERE AND LISTEN!" Here was the thunderclap, even if there was no lightning. The crowd fell silent.
"I am calling a meeting of the Estates General!" Lianar said, gritting his teeth he added, "And of course any guest of the Regents will be free to speak to the delegates before and during the meeting."
Landing
Tethys
The light over the airlock blinked green. Tyrone Supple adjusted the filter mask over his face and checked behind him. The diplomatic team – or what passed for a diplomatic team in the League – that had been aboard Argentina was crowded into the shuttle's walkway like the passengers of a jet airliner from the 21st century, eager to leave their uncomfortable transportation and enjoy their holiday... even if this particular resort would kill most tourists in not too great a time span. That, of course, was the reason for the filmy filter masks secured over each man and woman's mouth and nose. The thin devices weren't any use in unbreathable atmospheres, but in the conditions outside – a breathable atmosphere contaminated by heavy metals and other undesirable toxic compounds – they worked wonders, and they also meant that the League wouldn't have to conduct diplomacy in vac suits. They were also small and flexible enough that spares could be rolled up and shoved in a pocket, so that when one expired, a new one could be applied immediately.
The view as he descended the ramp to the landing pad wouldn't have been out of place on any League world; he could see buildings and vehicles moving about, the sky was blue and there was a light wind blowing. It was, however, damned hot, hot enough to be immediately uncomfortable. The people waiting for them on the pad, however, were not what he would've expected to see. They were simply too beautiful, like somebody had taken the computer generated images of fashion magazines and made them a reality. Nobody in the League was that pretty, and certainly nobody in a position of authority. Almost everybody who might be called on to perform a duty like this has some sort of scar or disfigurement as a result of their military service. He clenched his left had, suddenly more aware of the missing ring finger than he had been in years.
"Hello and welcome," one of the Mnemosyne representatives, a stunningly beautiful woman, stepped forward, a broad smile on her face and her hand outstretched. "I'm Anne Hawthorn, the head of our diplomatic team here."
"Ah, Tyrone Supple, ma'am. Captain of the Argentina. This is our diplomatic team," he waved to the people exiting the shuttle behind him.
"Excellent, Captain! I'm sure we'll be able to come to arrangements that benefit everybody. I propose, however, that we conduct our introductions inside the terminal building; I'm assured that the atmosphere won't be a problem for you, " she glanced at the filter over the lower half of his face. "However, the terminal is air conditioned."
"Ms Hawthorn, that's an excellent suggestion."
* * *
Unknown Megastructure
It wasn't the first time Sarah had worked with espatiers, but it was the first time she'd had to be carried like an invalid. The boarding specialists moved in great, leaping bounds that she couldn't have hoped to match – their armour had an extremely limited ability to generate its own artificial gravity precisely for this sort of situation, whereas her own didn't. Had she tried it, she simply would've gone flying off into nowhere. The antigrav sleds they had with them were just as capable of making the jumps as the espatiers themselves were. When she'd first seen them, she'd wondered how they'd managed to load three sleds so quickly, then she'd realised that they'd probably stored them ready to go, just in case. One of them was filled with scientific equipment that was mostly useless right now – but which probably included a more powerful transmitter that might be able to reach the ships outside when they had a chance to set it up – but the other two were laden down with ration packs, water and air purifiers, and even a pair of nutrient paste synthesisers. As long as there were organic compounds on the megastructure, they'd be able to survive, although considering the taste of the paste the synthesisers produced, they probably wouldn't want to after too long.
"Sensors show something up ahead, Sarge," the pointman's voice crackled over their com net. "Some sort of access tube, I think; it's hollow and runs from one side of the tunnel to the other. More to the point, it's got a hatch of some sort in it."
"That's where we're headed." There wasn't any hesitation in the sergeant's voice. "We clear out of this tunnel, find somewhere to set up the comm and contact the outside. Then we do what we came here to do and make our way to a pickup point. Hopefully, there won't be any other surprises."
Behind them, the first of the defence bots reached the shattered dropship. Inside the hulk, a counter rand down to zero, and the dropship and nearest bots vanished in an angry column of fire.
Tethys
The light over the airlock blinked green. Tyrone Supple adjusted the filter mask over his face and checked behind him. The diplomatic team – or what passed for a diplomatic team in the League – that had been aboard Argentina was crowded into the shuttle's walkway like the passengers of a jet airliner from the 21st century, eager to leave their uncomfortable transportation and enjoy their holiday... even if this particular resort would kill most tourists in not too great a time span. That, of course, was the reason for the filmy filter masks secured over each man and woman's mouth and nose. The thin devices weren't any use in unbreathable atmospheres, but in the conditions outside – a breathable atmosphere contaminated by heavy metals and other undesirable toxic compounds – they worked wonders, and they also meant that the League wouldn't have to conduct diplomacy in vac suits. They were also small and flexible enough that spares could be rolled up and shoved in a pocket, so that when one expired, a new one could be applied immediately.
The view as he descended the ramp to the landing pad wouldn't have been out of place on any League world; he could see buildings and vehicles moving about, the sky was blue and there was a light wind blowing. It was, however, damned hot, hot enough to be immediately uncomfortable. The people waiting for them on the pad, however, were not what he would've expected to see. They were simply too beautiful, like somebody had taken the computer generated images of fashion magazines and made them a reality. Nobody in the League was that pretty, and certainly nobody in a position of authority. Almost everybody who might be called on to perform a duty like this has some sort of scar or disfigurement as a result of their military service. He clenched his left had, suddenly more aware of the missing ring finger than he had been in years.
"Hello and welcome," one of the Mnemosyne representatives, a stunningly beautiful woman, stepped forward, a broad smile on her face and her hand outstretched. "I'm Anne Hawthorn, the head of our diplomatic team here."
"Ah, Tyrone Supple, ma'am. Captain of the Argentina. This is our diplomatic team," he waved to the people exiting the shuttle behind him.
"Excellent, Captain! I'm sure we'll be able to come to arrangements that benefit everybody. I propose, however, that we conduct our introductions inside the terminal building; I'm assured that the atmosphere won't be a problem for you, " she glanced at the filter over the lower half of his face. "However, the terminal is air conditioned."
"Ms Hawthorn, that's an excellent suggestion."
* * *
Unknown Megastructure
It wasn't the first time Sarah had worked with espatiers, but it was the first time she'd had to be carried like an invalid. The boarding specialists moved in great, leaping bounds that she couldn't have hoped to match – their armour had an extremely limited ability to generate its own artificial gravity precisely for this sort of situation, whereas her own didn't. Had she tried it, she simply would've gone flying off into nowhere. The antigrav sleds they had with them were just as capable of making the jumps as the espatiers themselves were. When she'd first seen them, she'd wondered how they'd managed to load three sleds so quickly, then she'd realised that they'd probably stored them ready to go, just in case. One of them was filled with scientific equipment that was mostly useless right now – but which probably included a more powerful transmitter that might be able to reach the ships outside when they had a chance to set it up – but the other two were laden down with ration packs, water and air purifiers, and even a pair of nutrient paste synthesisers. As long as there were organic compounds on the megastructure, they'd be able to survive, although considering the taste of the paste the synthesisers produced, they probably wouldn't want to after too long.
"Sensors show something up ahead, Sarge," the pointman's voice crackled over their com net. "Some sort of access tube, I think; it's hollow and runs from one side of the tunnel to the other. More to the point, it's got a hatch of some sort in it."
"That's where we're headed." There wasn't any hesitation in the sergeant's voice. "We clear out of this tunnel, find somewhere to set up the comm and contact the outside. Then we do what we came here to do and make our way to a pickup point. Hopefully, there won't be any other surprises."
Behind them, the first of the defence bots reached the shattered dropship. Inside the hulk, a counter rand down to zero, and the dropship and nearest bots vanished in an angry column of fire.