Post by nocreditneo on May 12, 2022 3:50:57 GMT
ORCHARD SYSTEM The Orchard System was the ideal staging point for Operation Toro, the planned recapturing of the Whitewharf System which had so recently fallen to the Justicars of the Veronis Tribunal. The IJN was out for vengeance, as the Justicars had also killed the Jade Empress using a suicide bomber, but even so the political situation meant that the force gathering for the counter-attack was not overwhelming. The succession to the throne was still in question, Mitsuyoshi's unorthodox behaviour having led the local Daimyo and regional military commander to distance themselves from him. Rather than confront them directly and accelerate things, Mitsuyoshi had chosen to bypass their attempts at stalling altogether by seizing the initiative and attacking Whitewharf. A victory would solidify his claim and popularity, and would further endear the military and distant nobility to him whilst painting the Daimyo as a caviling politician. The 7th fleet, the 15th Tigers and the 31st Ice Bear regiments were all sympathetic to his cause, having served with him during the Sarnath Campaign and having a high population of Neusattrans. His known affinity for the Neusattrans and even rumoured sympathy for their struggles at greater political independence helped, but it was primarily his actions on Marchand, those same actions which had alienated him from the local political institutions, which had won him the loyalty of these soldiers, whose lives he had arguably saved by extinguishing millions of Marchanders with saturation bombing against the Marchander capital city. Admiral Nighthorse herself, who owed her position to Mitsuyoshi, had detached a small force to help him. Officially she was stationed at Marchand, and her duty was to garrison the system and provide advisory and strategic support to the fledgling Federal Republic of Marchand, but she had reasoned this was a 'patrol in force'. _
As such, a pair of hulking Cornewaille-class cruisers, more than a dozen kilometers long, were in-system, flanking a similarly-sized Ayuko-class carrier which was transporting the 31st Ice Bear regiment, more than 7,000 souls. Nighthorse herself was commanding from the IJN Mako, a smaller command cruiser, whilst the remaining eight ships consisted of two Takeichi destroyers, two Katsumoto combat frigates, two Minowara carrier frigates, a Takeshi support frigate and a spindly Odachi artillery platform. A small but formidable force, it waited in-system for the arrival of its allies, using the time to launch a probe towards Whitewharf. Mitsuyoshi and Nighthorse were sat in her quarters aboard the Mako, reviewing intelligence given to them by the Carnaithians for the hundredth time, when an urgent call came in to Nighthorse, her worried XO warning of a huge Slipgate signature just outside the FTLi ring. By the time the two of them had rushed to the bridge, the alert sirens were already turned off, but the consoles were flooded with hundreds of contacts. Captain Seawatcher, her XO, turned to her with a grin. "Admiral Chase is on the line for you, sir." The presumptive Emperor and the Admiral glanced at one another. Admiral Chase was a legend in the service. He had helped pioneer modern IJN strategy and regulations, and every officer quietly modelled themselves on his famously cool, disaffected demeanour and precise, almost haughty tones. He was also the commander of the First Fleet, an entire naval unit dedicated to the protection of the royal family. "Your Divine Majesty, Admiral Nighthorse, good day to you. I trust I find you well?" came his distinctive voice over the comms, causing a hush to fall over the bridge. Nighthorse replied for the both of them. "Yes, yes sir. We weren't expecting you, or the First Fleet..." _
There was a polite chuckle from the other end. "Absolutely capital. I didn't bring the first fleet!" he said, amused at his own deception, before his muffled voice could be heard issuing orders to someone, having obviously turned away from his mic a moment. Suddenly the vast flood of contacts disappeared, leaving only one huge one and a scattering of thousands of tiny, missile-sized blips which began flooding back towards the primary. Nighthorse gasped. "It's the Sun Wukong! I'd heard from Prescott about field tests at Kfar Tzvora but I didn't realise it was actually launched!" Chase laughed. "It wasn't! I learned about your splendid little 'patrol in force' and decided it was high time we took a look at this so-called superweapon, put her out to sea and find out whether she's worth the pocket money we paid for her!" The Sun Wukong was indeed impressive. It was colossal, more than five times the size of the hulking battlecruisers of the fleet, although it only carried armament equal to two of them, as the rest of its bulk was used for other purposes. An innumerable horde of Goldstar Drones, used for electronic warfare and deception measures, along with the vast Dawnstone-powered AI system required to manage them all; this was the real venom the huge ship contained... -
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM Whilst Chase was making a grand entrance with the superweapon he had commandeered, Yuye Park was making a less ostentatious entrance into the Whitewharf system. The akugara pilot, along with one wingmate and a shuttle, was performing a force-oriented area reconnaissance. They were to sweep the outer limits of the system, approaching as close as they deemed possible, and use the shuttle's powerful sensor suite to gather as much information as possible about the numbers and disposition of enemy forces in the area. Each fighter was short two atlatl missiles, mounting instead dumb probes that were fired using a single-shot disposable thruster that would propel them one time towards the inner system. With basic baffling measures, the small cylindrical probes were difficult but not impossible to spot, and were intended to simply harvest as much information as possible and transmit it back to the team before being discovered and destroyed. Yuye was nervous. Their parameters were clear and at the first sign of enemy intercept procedures they were to bug out to the dropship carrier just a few light-seconds away, which would FTL them away. Even if they didn't make it out, she was a Frame and would simply wake up back at Fleet, but dying was still not something she relished and there was always the chance something could go wrong....
—--
The iconic clean-entry signatures of Carnaithian forces, something the Ingenious were familiar with given their earlier meeting, arrived at the staging site in Orchard some minutes before the time they had more or less scheduled. Numbering fourteen in all, their ships were decidedly diminutive in comparison to the Jade vessels, though they were highly specialized in construction. "This is quite the presence you are already massing here," the familiar voice of General Victor Naelus broadcasted to the loitering green warships, evidently with a nod to the drones returning to the Sun Wukong. He hadn't led a force this strong in the twelve years since the war, and he was older than most officers then. But he never felt too old in the zero-gravity above battlefields, and this assault was just as likely to serve as a renewing spark in his career as it was to be a swan song. At any rate, it was much more exciting than another thankless counter-piracy campaign in unaligned space. "I hope my additions are welcome."
The cruisers leading the force, half the length of those they had come to assist, were not the same model that had been seen during their earlier meeting - newer, with a three-fold symmetry that permitted their stouter construction and heavier, more efficient armament layout. The groups that surrounded these flagships were based on the iconic formations frequently seen at the forefront of imperial responses to any given event in the galaxy, two units of six ships totaling twelve direct combatants. While six of these would usually be corvettes, this number had been exchanged for two Flechette- and Veil-class laser and sensor frigates, each and respectively, given the expectation of hostilities. The remaining four combatants were Arcelin-class destroyers, ships much the same size as the cruisers, though their mass was dedicated to engines and heavy missile armament. All of these escorted two assault ships, teeming with dropships and landers - with ninety-six hundred troops ready to deploy.
The old general looked over his forces, with much hidden within his holds. He wasn't just bringing Atmospheric Arms regulars; he was bringing REST elites. SRST special forces. And a Battlestance of Jagged Knights, clad with Blackstone armor and supported by their own unique vehicles, as a token gesture from High General Reik himself. These were forces that he had only read about being deployed back home, never in the colony. And he was the first to wield them against an enemy that not only refused to back away or surrender, but - seemingly out of spite - lash out at those entirely unrelated to any old grudges they could possibly brandish.
—--
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM The star of Whitewharf shone brightly upon the glistening hull of the Abnegation. In contrast, the compartments and passageways bore not a single source of light as was standard for unengaged Justicar vessels. The crew continued to toil away in the absence of light, their natural biology lacking a sense of sight without their comprehensive suits and armor to grant it to them; the cells in the pitch-black veins working tirelessly to keep the behemoth of a vessel spaceworthy. The Abnegation was the personal flagship of the Prime Adjudicator who had tasked themselves with a review of Whitewharf; Akyrios. The vessel was situated in high orbit, parked over the coastal valley that they had seized from the flat-footed Jade; now a smooth ocean of blackness as they had artificially deprived it of light. The dreadnaught was flanked by two pairs of Restitution corvettes and dwarfed their four-hundred-meter length by a factor of thirty, making its own escorts look like a squadron of attack craft in comparison. In exception, there was one segment of the vessel where the lights did shine: Akyrios’ command decks. The gargantuan former-Kalaedan stood upon his captain’s platform overlooking the observation bridge, providing him a view of the vacant seats and consoles upon his bridge, the sharp horizon of his conquered planet, and the large holographic display showing him his disparaged Judge that he had granted this trial to. As to not delegitimize his appointed judge, he had dismissed all of his subordinates to the internal combat bridge, and to remain there until they made their return to Agnios. “In short, I am most displeased with you and a good number of your commanders. You may have tasted victory, but only through technicality. Several of your court, such as that bumbling fool Hanos, were only useful in death by allowing their subordinates to seize command,” Akyrios’ deep voice was projected through the modulators of his armor. His words were pointed and professional, but dripped with venom. “We will be discussing your position with the Exegetical Court shortly. I implore you to find successes and soon, Judge.” Bomani, who had remained in his ornamental underground court for the entirety of his surprisingly costly battle, lowered his helmed head in penance. His underestimation of his diminutive opponent had served him a humiliating victory and a loss of confidence among his peers and superiors. Now, one of the most influential Justicars, who served to interpret their foundational Charter directly, was on his doorstep and seizing authority over his charge. “I will redouble my efforts and complete the Veronal Heart shortly. Very soon we shall have a grand army upon this world. I will await your summon.” “You will.” Akyrios ended the transmission, leaving him alone upon the rear platform in the silence and stillness of his bridge. He was certain Bomani would not fumble again; he was a leader who worked best under fear of reprisal from his superiors. To him, it was preferential for a middling commander, but never more. The giant relished the quiet for a moment, enjoying the lack of endless chatter from the rabble scurrying and plotting around him before shaking his head and summoning the bridge crew back to their post. -
- Akyrios the Boar, as he was known for his demeanor and the décor upon his armor, had brought with him an impressive fleet to relieve the original invading force. On his vessels were embossed his insignia that marked his courts and his officials likewise; two links of chain, forged into one-another in the shape of an X. Aside from his Command Group, he had brought a force seven-times the size of the original attack. Seven Battle Groups and Maneuver Groups alike, the sets of battleships, cruisers, and frigates running routine patrols and operations throughout the system and deliberately spreading themselves wide. Insurance that Akyrios was sure to bring, however, was the addition of several Artillery Groups totaling in six vessels around the planet of Whitewharf with the intent of harassing the enemy at extreme ranges. Comparatively, this was a small force in comparison to the grand wars of the past. In present terms, it was significant. Akyrios had anticipated after Bomani had orchestrated the assassination of a monarch, the counterattack was going to be severe. This had been no ordinary monarch either; the Jade Empress of an empire that was famous almost entirely for its overreactions, and the late Empress’ children were similarly infamous for tossing themselves repeatedly into compromising positions. That was he x-factor that Akyrios had identified, and by all other metrics he did his best to prepare the system for a rather discontent armada of Ingenous guest. He had brought his seasoned fleet, filled the system with as many sensor and defensive platforms as he could, and scattered his assets in a classic formation for the Justicar cat-and-mouse naval strategy. Even so, he had not anticipated any real response for several days. Now, all Akyrios had left to do was guess: would it be the bumbling fool of a daughter managing to miraculously fumble her way to his court, or would it be the lunatic of a son charging forth with little more than apocalyptic guesswork in the name of revenge and prestige? -
- - “My Leros,” His Sensor Enforcer called out from the pit of activity beneath his vantage point, “FTL signature detected in the direction of sector-seventeen; no capital vessels.” Akyrios grunted, placing a hand on the ornate banister in front of him. “Inform Judge Sudi and the other Captains. Let them do as they please. Once they are upon us, lead them in a chase and pick them apart.” They had arrived much earlier than anticipated; it was no matter. Akyrios departed his observation bridge upon hearing an affirmative answer and ventured through dimly lit corridors until he reached his Prime Court; a structure that would serve to put most congressional buildings to shame. A panel and bench presided over the far end of the spacious room, looming ahead of a series of pedestals where proceedings occurred; the rear half of the room were partitioned rows of seating to fit many hundreds of people. For a dark-dwelling species, this room was meant to be viewed in full light and with their visual apparatus; to see engravings and tapestries of Akyrios’ own insignia lining the edges of the space upon gold and smooth, polished stone. It was here that several more amicable guests were waiting for him as he handled his affairs. The ten-foot Kalaedan Justicar approached the rogue Imperials of House Jaros, who were accompanied by their personal honor guard. “You have my apologies for your wait,” Akyrios curtly bowed to the foreign dignitaries, “But I must ask you to depart. It appears our enemies shall be upon us shortly, my esteemed guests.” -
NEUTRAL SPACE – MINEVAN REGIONAL COUNCIL – MAINTENANCE STATION JT-17 The regional council held at the local maintenance station of JT-17 had not gone as Serashee had planned, and she had not expected very much at all. An incredulous meeting and devolved into a bitter and spiteful debate over motivations and effect; most were currently rushing home to Alpha Ceti, some had argued against siding with a monarch during a succession crisis, and others even impugned Sera for a lack of judgement out of personal feelings and interest with the controversial prince. After the myriad of delegates had come to disagreement and gone their separate ways, the newfound Krisra Conditional Fleet was an unremarkable, motley assortment of ships. Sera’s own Velkna’s Plackart had temporarily left their disembarked party on Marchand, and was running purely on its naval staff and a small security detail. Sera herself was seated on the bridge in the shared desk with the acting captain; a hunched Valkarian man by the name of Janka Novik. The bridge of a Foss-class was usually small, with all other department chiefs and operations officers arranged in a semi-circle in front of the elected captain, workspaces directly against the transparent-alloyed viewport. Everyone present was working on their physical consoles in front of them, bright lights from their displays washing over them and contrasting with the dim cool-colored illumination of the bridge. “Receiving a hail,” Ivena, a Celvian girl serving as the temporary comms officer called out. Her six arms got to work, sorting out information on her screen and preparing for commands. “From Clan Vandar.” “On screen,” Janka nodded. In a flash, the viewport was consumed by a video feed showing a graciously bearded Minevan elder flashing a toothy grin. “Janka! Ian Vandar, checking in with our ship, Aces High. Got a few raider companies on board and ready to kill some plants, on your signal,” The white-haired Ian blurted out. “Sending you co-ords, friend,” Janka chortled, “Opening a Meridian gate momentarily, follow us through.” On cue, a second hail followed Ian’s face disappearing; this one from their more impressive asset that threw in with their lot. Another Minevan man, a rather well-known former member of the White Hand, captained this vessel and its unmanned escorts. Sera knew him as an old mentor; her being an initiate of the White Hand long ago before being conscripted into the provisional battalions. “Baseer Patel,” Sera offered a genuine smile, a simple gratitude washing over her as the old teacher now instead threw his lot behind her. “Ms. Krisra,” The renowned psion offered a curt bow of his head, “Still finding your way into drama and theater?” “Certainly there is no other way to go,” She remarked. “Checking in with the Sweetwater. Unfortunately, a number of our escorts are indisposed, but I bring the carrier and three escorts. Hopefully your courter brought more,” Baseer quipped, cutting his transmission short. The Schultes-class was an impressive piece on its own, designed to work with a complement of 10 escorts: five pairs of offensive and defensive unmanned destroyers. Classed as a battlecarrier, the Sweetwater cleared ten kilometers of length, with many flight decks and tender bays large enough to fit any Minevan vessel as well as a complement of weapons akin to battleships in a similar size class. Hopefully this would be the edge that their coalition would need to face their old foes. - -
ORCHARD SYSTEM The six Minevan vessels procedurally emerged from a gate from the Meridian, in the vicinity of the staging area coordinates that Mitsuyoshi had supplied Sera with. A collective breath of relief was sighed as the sensor officers read off a multitude of friendly contacts; surprised to see a colossal singular vessel, and evidently a handful of Carnaithian elements to their surprise. Sera eagerly commanded a transmission to the Mako, waiting for an affirmative response before offering her message. “This is the Krisra Conditional Fleet, reporting in with Velkna’s Plackart, Aces High, and Sweetwater! Transmitting our tactical packets now, confirm upon receipt,” Sera delved into the information on her console, offering the command group information on the assets she had managed to muster.
—--
THE BATTALION AND THE BRIGADE Temple of the Spotted Seal, Prior to Present
Wind dances past Senaq Aglotach. Cast down from mountains to the north, they rush on through the courtyard, dulled only by the tall walls of the complex and myriad currents, rising from elsewhere, so poised to arrest them. Senaq - unbothered by them - sits with her back to the entrance of the commons, and when a voice drifts in on the wind, it brings her back to the present. nam-Aglotach. Glad I could find you here. Senaq sighs. I made no mention of coming here, she says, standing, and yet here you are. Tryna Pokyshak nods but does not grin. nam-Namglak and I both suspected you'd be here, she replies. I realize the unfortunate timing. She hesitates for a moment before walking forward. The open area where Senaq stands is windier than the entryway, and the wayward gusts catch on Pokyshak's shoulder-cape. Of course, Senaq says. With her back still to the other Pord, she looks up towards the distant sky. A few vessels hang in low orbit, only just discernible against the endless black. After a moment, she turns around. So why are you here? I have a favour to ask, Pokyshak says. A fairly urgent matter ha- -problematic developments? Senaq interrupts. Pokyshak nods. One thing after another. We've received some interesting intel. Concerns the late Jade Empress. Go on, Senaq gestures, and the two walk towards - and then through - the entryway. As Pokyshak explains, Senaq takes in her words and nods all the while. They soon come upon a room filled by only a table; they enter and seat themselves. I don't expect that this operation will be large. I will be committing my entire battalion to it. But orders for this one are coming all the way from division. Need ZJR support for this one. You came all the way out here to recruit my brigade for this mission? This must be urgent, Senaq chuckles. Tasi, yes. nam-Valyn has already made the arrangements between our commands. He left the ground complement to my discretion. Senaq drums her fingers on the table. Chor Valyn is a busy Pord; that he isn't meddling directly in the affairs of battalion commanders, rungs below him in the chain of command anyway, is hardly surprising. The arrangements have already been made? I don't have a communicator on me. Pokyshak shrugs, reaches for a small datasphere, then rolls it across the table; Senaq stops it with a finger. Everything else is on that, Pokyshak says. I had other brigadiers in mind, but nam-Namglak reminded me your forces are already in a state of heightened readiness. She looks down at the table, puzzled, then adds: your people seem to have a different idea of urgent than us. That's the only reason I'm here. The comment draws a shadowy smile from Senaq. It isn't untrue. I will look over this and prepare the brigade, she replies. We can be ready soon enough. Good, Pokyshak nods. She cues her communicator; the form of Ulyanov Namglak, her adjutant, materializes before them. Namglak salutes, crisply, and addresses the summons: nam-Pokyshak. Pokyshak returns the gesture. Ready the battalion. We have our ground support.
ORCHARD SYSTEM Pokyshak's Battalion, Present Day
Four Taldovat-type Rift Cruisers fade into reality not far from the IJN forces. Arrayed primarily around Pokyshak's flagship, the VRZ Y-5642, they are swift to take up position. A hail is sent out to the allied contingent: This is the Detached Picket Battalion Tryna Pokyshak, we are in position and ready when you are. Stand by for tactical data.
—--
ABNEGATION
Ateras Jaros inclined his head to their host. "While I appreciate and acknowledge your concerns, Adjudicator, we would be naught but fair-weather allies if we fled at this turn of events. No, we will hold the line with you. After these interlopers are driven back, we can resume our discussion." A gesture and a mental command to his implants brought up a homescreen displaying the House's assssts in the system. Another command established a comm link to the Archon on the bridge of the leading battleship, and a brief dialogue in High Speech followed. Then he turned back to Akyrios. "Our forces are at your disposal. House Jaros stands together with the Justicars on this day."
—--
ORCHARD SYSTEM Within moments a holoconference call was established, the shadowy forms of the various commanders beamed back and forth through the empty space between the flotillas. An extravagance, but one the situation merited. Mitsuyoshi was in uniform again, a crisp red kimono and black officer's hat over his worn-looking face. Beside him was Admiral Nighthorse, the dispassionate expression of a career officer carefully maintained. Admiral Chase, by contrast, had a faintly pleased expression crinkling the corners of his eyes above his thick, bristly beard. "Thank you for coming," began Mitsuyoshi after a brief pause. "I'm ashamed that Daimyo Toshi didn't see fit to dispatch a full fleet here, but I'm proud to see so many of you here to avenge my mother." With that, Chase pulled up a console feed which displayed the Whitewharf System and the known enemy dispositions. His tones were clipped and precise, almost haughty. "As you can see, our reconnaissance indicates that the enemy number approximately fifty ships at present. They are dispersed throughout the system, conducting area patrols, but a core of artillery platforms is stationed over Whitewharf itself. The enemy invite us to either make a thrust towards the center and then have their combat groups collapse onto us from multiple vectors, or to waste time hunting down individual combat groups whilst the rest of them reorganise and harass us at long range." He made a gesture and holographic representations of the allied fleets appeared at the edge of the system. "I intend to do neither. The following information is highly classified. This information is to be restricted to those present and their XO's. The Sun Wukong gives us a colossal tactical advantage. With it, we can simulate the presence of thousands of IJN and allied warships." -
The hologram suddenly flooded with thousands more allied ships, dimmer in colour than the real ones. The allied contingent now appeared to outnumber the defenders by forty to one, a colossal tide of warships. "We will use this to control the battlespace. To prevent the enemy discerning what is truly happening, we will concentrate our real forces in a central thrust against the planet, after which we can destroy the disparate groups at our leisure. Illusory formations will engage in standoff maneuvers with the outlying battle groups, keeping them separate and simulating long-range missile exchange by the sacrifice of individual drones. By the time the enemy realise what is happening we will have crushed their artillery group and the small force of what appears to be High Imperium vessels. At this point, our forces will then have the freedom to move within the larger illusory formations and engage individual enemy battlegroups at will, in particular using stealth capabilities to approach unseen." As he spoke the little holographic ships moved, demonstrating his plan. "Tactical data regarding the superficial energy outputs and readings of your vessels and missile systems will enable the Sun Wukong to emulate your ships, providing greater depth and realism to the charade, so if you could please provide that at your earliest convenience. Are there any questions?" -
SANRIN SYSTEM Toshi received the news with a quiet calm, thanking Chien-Po before terminating the call. She willed herself not to vent her anger, but it was difficult. Admiral Nighthorse, an officer she had trusted as a level and calm head, had abandoned her post over Marchand and taken a dozen prime warships to support Prince Mitsuyoshi's mad quest for vengeance. Worse, Admiral George Chase, another supposedly loyal officer, had used his authority to commander the Sun Wukong superweapon and slipped anchorage, apparently joining Mitsuyoshi's ramshackle coalition. Admiral Minowara's name appeared on her holo, a quiet chime announcing that he wanted to start a call with her. After a moment to compose herself she accepted. "Daimyo! This is unacceptable. I am gathering the 102nd Fleet immediate to arrest everyone involved and escort the warships back to the Sanrin System." he began, his fury masking absolute bewilderment that IJN officers would disobey the chain of command so. "I do not think that wise, Admiral," replied Toshi softly, hating herself for saying so. "Mitsuyoshi is headstrong. You would have to start a civil war to force him to concede. Do you wish to become known as the admiral who would rather fire on his own prince than on the Justicar enemy?" Minowara spluttered for a moment. "They...you...Daimyo, we cannot allow this to go unaddressed. Two Admirals of the IJN have openly disobeyed orders and-" Toshi cut him off. "It is a political question, not a military one. Admiral Chase in fact enjoys seniority over you, holding an older commission. They were ordered by myself as the civilian government not to attack the Whitewharf system, but whether I or the Prince take precedence is currently a matter of contention. Whether Nighthorse and Chase have committed treason rather depends on the outcome of that conversation, and to force it with guns is not something I am ready to do just yet..."
—--
ORCHARD SYSTEM In the conference was the stoic Janka as the technical commander of the Krisra Conditional Fleet, but aside him also stood the form of Serashee who had her arms crossed and was watching the updating maps and displays like a starving hunter. Janka watched Mitsuyoshi and his mannerisms intently, silently sizing up the young man's temperament via an over-analysis of body language and inflection as much as he was digesting a thorough plan. Aside from minor nitpicking, by the end Janka was overall impressed with the Prince's physical presentation and the straightforward plan he had craft. He showed that approval with a smooth nod of his head. Sera, on the other hand, only looked to Mitsuyoshi during his introduction and then hyperfixated on the visual presentation of the tactical plan. The intent tilt of her head and narrowed eyes were prime indicators of eagerness and ferocity. "The pleasure is ours, Mitsu," Sera's slow and verbose cadence rang out, followed by a cough and a quick correction, "Mitsuyoshi. My primary concern is the enemy commander; I may be able to ascertain the enemy's most probable course of action or temperament better if your scouts could identify any markings or insignia on those vessels. If the commander is cunning enough we may have no one left to liberate upon making planetfall." "Transmitting you that information momentarily," Janka added, "You have it spot on, I believe. As long as we maintain the bluff long enough and act swiftly we have the marked advantage by far."
ABNEGATION, GRAND COURT Akyrios paused in thought, not expecting House Jaros upon his own estimation to be keen on another fight. He was both baffled and thankful for the eagerness Ateras displayed. For a fleeting moment, it was given in just the slightest gesture; a slight tilt of the head before quickly straightening out. "A welcome surprise, honorable ones," Akyrios spoke, "Very well. I will give our unwelcome contenders the courtesy of escape. They will decline. Have your commanders coordinate with my trusted Judge, Sudi, and they will develop a new tactical plan." If there was anything that Bomani had actually done to help his cause, it was throwing his new Ingen rivals into total chaos. "They come to attack so soon; their force will be whatever scraps they could find on the way here."
—--
Mitsuyoshi's plan, for the most part, gives little cause for concern to Pokyshak. His demeanor, in fact, seems to match up well with what she came into this venture already knowing - perhaps a little too well. The nonchalant mention of High Imperium vessels, however, does elicit a response from Pokyshak and her chief tactical officer, the two of whom share a quick glance immediately upon hearing the comment. After muting her audio feed, she grumbles at the prospect: That's not what the intel said, she complains, why are they here? The tactical officer shrugs. Any prospect of greater caution with regards to engaging Imperium assets died in the fires of the worlds Alhergus reduced to cinders and the subsequent chaos that followed in their wake. Given this, they have leeway - even while ostensibly being advised to avoid undue escalation - and so can exercise appropriate discretion on how best to proceed. Thus to engage or not - these are choices that reside with Pokyshak and the command staff of her charge. The tactical officer turns back to Mitsuyoshi's holographic display with this thought in mind: I don't think they'll be numerous, he says finally, and they may not even be there to fight. Pokyshak tosses a scowl in his direction for a moment before composing herself. The Justicars are the primary threat; best avoid letting thoughts of the Imperium distract her from the task at hand. I suppose you're right, she agrees after some contemplation. But let's keep an eye on them regardless. Of course, the tactical officer nods. With that decided, she turns her attention back to the Prince. Her scowl, by now, has fled, but the somber blues of her garb - and the furs trimming them - nevertheless give her countenance a weathered air, in contrast to the nigh regal presentation of Mitsuyoshi and his crimson kimono. The tactical data you are needing should be included within what we just sent over, she explains; if you need more detailed information I will have it prepared.
—--
The Carnaithian general quickly connected to the quickly-assembled conference, greeting all present with a nod. Naelus' uniform had been replaced by a more-or-less standard voidsuit as he reclined in a neuroconnection-capable seat in his CIC. A pragmatic situation, far less regal than his allies. "I'm placing my trust with your plan, your highness. Transmitting information appropriate - including heavier assets for variety, and common formations and tactics for more accurate simulation if desired." He paused for a moment. "Are the drones capable of faster-than-light transport while outside of the Sun Wukong? It may be a problem if they can't ride the signature of such a large ship." "Requesting intelligence transfer on new contacts, High Imperium," a second voice, if not a second image, chimed in. "Even though they weren't part of the plan, their name is familiar. If we're going to be sharing data, may as well make it a trade." The general scowled. It was mildly embarrassing, even though the other voice was right. This was his force, and he had already been deigned the combat leader of the Carnaithian forces in this foray. Unfortunately, he was technically outranked. The second display came through, showing a high-ranking female CIGO officer in a different model of voidsuit, "MALKORVIC" written across the high-vis nameplates. There hadn't been any prowlers assigned to this mission for her return to their territory, it would seem.
—--
It was some time before the commanders had fleshed out the details and shared the information each deemed necessary, but finally the armada was ready to depart. A friendly IFF system had been established, a chain of command and a detailed action plan established and signed off on by all parties. From the hull of the Sun Wukong, a glittering cloud began to grow and expand. At this distance it looked like a timelapse of a nebula, swirling outwards in a seemingly random and yet graceful pattern, but advanced optics would reveal it was not gas and stardust but a colossal swarm of drones, two metres in length. They formed up into odd clusters, hundreds of them. The whole process took some time as the other warships of the armada got into position, but eventually Chases' console glowed with a pattern of green lights as the fleet reported readiness. As senior admiral in the IJN contingent, with the agreement of the other contingents, Chase had assumed overall command of the mission. He did not make a grand speech, simply pressed the dispatch button which sent a signal to the fleet to commence their FTL jumps... -
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM The Sun Wukong was the first to arrive, 72 kilometres long, flanked by a dozen ships - a threat to the defenders, to be sure, but not an overwhelming one. Over the course of the next minute, however, contact after contact flooded the Justicar's sensors as battlegroup after battlegroup emerged; Carnaithian, Pord, Minevan, Jade all arriving in a vast arc that covered nearly a third of the system's circumference. Their sensors reported that groups lay to spinward, spaced in several large clusters with smaller groups either side, whilst a huge central formation of nearly two hundred warships surrounded the Sun Wukong. A broadcast went out on an open channel from the flagship. "Attention, Veronis Tribunal. This is Admiral George Chase of the Imperial Jade Navy. You are trespassing on Imperial territory and all members of the Tribunal present in this system are wanted for the crimes of murder, kidnapping, robbery and aiding and abetting such. As no declaration of war was received prior to the commencement of hostilities all within this system are regarded as common criminals and pirates and will be tried as such. Your only chance at clemency is to immediately and unconditionally surrender to myself as the appointed and lawful authority of this system." He cut the feed and then glanced at his XO. "Let the weaselly lawyer bastards figure that one out. Full speed ahead, all formations."
—--
ABNEGATION, BRIDGE
Akyrios leered over his crew as they scurried to confirm their reports and frantically communicate their findings. A single large vessel making its appearance in a grand gesture did nothing to surprise him; he patiently waited to see what his adversaries had in store for him. His expectant demeanor was rattled as dozens of contacts snowballed into several hundred, throwing his sensor operator into a momentary stupor. It should have been impossible to muster a force of this size given the notice and circumstances, yet his innumerable foe lay before him. "My leros, a transmission from their flagship!" Akyrios uncrossed his arms, balling his fists as the message and charges were relayed to him. Surely he was hallucinating; a force worthy of a major engagement in the wars of an era long past, and dared to challenge the rightful property of his brood as dictated through treaty by making a mockery of his law. "We shall see who will be asking for clemency, Admiral Chase," Akyrios muttered aloud. He slammed a fist upon the banister, demanding the attention of his bridge crew, "So it shall be. Offer him a reply; he and his improptu alliance will be allowed to leave this system without pursuit. Otherwise, his trial will be combat." Akyrios the Boar; a reputation he intended to uphold regardless of his odds. Unfortunately, his well had been poisoned and his first consideration was withdrawal. If he were so severely outmatched, then leaving Bomani to his fate on Whitewharf was the easiest answer. On second thought, he pondered how the Jade response could be so forceful amidst the opening stages of severe political turmoil. Were they running skeleton crews or bringing towed ships in a display of force to shatter his resolve? He was smart enough to know his new Jade rivals were both extremely brash and tactically cunning. "Have our maneuver groups maintain standoff and maintain contact with their splinter fleets. Those groups closest to Whitewharf shall establish a defensive battlespace and protect our batteries," Akyrios issued his orders in a calm cadence betraying his flustered state of mind, waiting for affirmative responses from his subordinates, "The Headsman batteries will immediately focus their fire on that titan once in range and crush their resolve. Present me Judge Bomani." Akyrios watched the wide display showing the void before him, in the extreme distances being able to make out the distortions of slipspace gates glittering away. In his armored suit, tactical maps were sorted directly into his field of view showing his various pieces moving about the board. A video conference had been opened centering the bear helmet of Judge Bomani, also bordered by smaller displays of subordinate commanders such as Sudi and others. "The interlopers are upon us, Judge," Akyrios remarked, "I suggest you prepare for an army on your doorstep." There was a long pause before Bomani was able to reply, voice laden with a layer of barely-detectable contempt. "I understand, Adjudicator. Battlegroups were preparing their complements of strike craft and interceptors, those closest to the oncoming horde already beginning to sortie their fighters in preparation for the exchange. As it stood, only four Maneuver and Battle groups were within long-engagement range with the Jade fleet, dispersed far and wide and gunning outboard to maintain both their standoff and firing solutions. The Headsman batteries tucked by the conquered planet oriented themselves, traversing their twenty-kilometer spinal guns to stare down the Sun Wukong and offer them a sample of decadizing shells.
—--
--- WHITEWHARF SYSTEM The bridge of Velkna's Plackart was quiet, her crew reveling smugly as they watched their age-old enemy be thrust into a dilemma. It was satisfying to watch, and very moralizing to most of the individuals there who had experienced Justicar injustice firsthand. Janka interrupted, laughing loudly. "I bet they're shitting themselves, condescending pricks. Keep us all with the main group, we need to drop troops in the initial wave." "Got it, Janka," The tactical officer responded, "Letting Vandar and Patel know now. Yeah... acknowledged." Janka reciprocated the thumbs-up from the human. "Get the pilots in react-two, groundsiders on thirty. These times can crush any moment." The Foss-class corvette was a very precise type of machine, utilizing more refined techniques of deception and cover to hunt their quarry. The Sweetwater, on the other hand, was a battlecarrier built around a single psionic commander rigged into a network of weapons and destroyers; linking it to the mind and body of the psion hooked up to the beast and into a network of diverse artificial minds running their systems. Both the Velkna's Plackart and Aces High mixed into the massive formation, but Patel chose to keep Sweetwater with the vanguard.
—--
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM VRZ Battalion Commander, Tryna Pokyshak Standing before Pokyshak and the Pords of her bridge crew - eyeing them from the center of the chamber - flicker the crimson, aureate, and alabaster indicators of the allied fleets. Pokyshak watches them as they form up; things seem to be in order. Her gaze shifts past the Sun Wukong and the diminutive escorts scurrying within its shadow to the Pord standing across from her. Well, she says, you were right. The tactical officer gives a satisfied nod and adjusts the central displays. Imperium forces are not present in great capacity here, he confirms. If you were thinking of moving against them primarily, I don't recommend that course of action now. It would be a waste. We're going to need to engage them eventually anyway, Pokyshak seethes privately, eventually. Yet while mulling this over, her thoughts arrive again and again at the same conclusion. Chor Valyn, and then K.T.G. Plachov, proved too cautious for her liking. Without them here, she just might yet finish what was never truly started - but even still, these are not those who slipped out from under her, and she settles her thoughts with this in mind. It isn't comforting, but it is enough. One thing at time. Are we steady? she shifts the subject. Again the tactical officer nods. All vessels reporting smooth transitions to real-space. Interdiction nominal; Natyl and Mylchar Arrays nominal; meridian-aligned Chürzhna nominal, He turns to the holograms of the other vessels-captains present. They too are in the midst of completing their own system reviews. We are ready for long-range battle, he continues with a wave across the central holograms. I can only imagine the confusion Sun Wukong is sowing. Fresh contacts flash into existence as the tactical officer finishes speaking. Pokyshak turns to the sensors officer with a narrowing gaze - her questioning glimmer of hazy emerald purpose all too revelatory. Contacts? Tasi, the sensors officer responds, tasinehdao! Multiple contacts, long range, ordnance signatures! Vectors... Vectors indicate Sun Wukong as the target! So - it would seem - they are the rejection of Admiral Chase's offer. Bring us up to speed, Pokyshak orders; prepare to engage! Tasi, come the replies; Tasinehdao!
—--
Forming a protective screen around the central formation, the smaller formations advanced towards the outlying Justicar battlegroups. They moved steadily, not rushing to chase them wildly but rather coming onwards deliberately, slowly. A few missiles hissed out in tentative probes from the battlegroups, moving in small clusters to scream towards the Justicars, testing their defenses. The central formation, meanwhile, had slightly hotter work ahead of it. Already the enemy were firing at long-range, artillery emplacements near the planet firing decadizing shells. At these ranges, it would take a few minutes for the rounds to arrive, giving the Sun Wukong and her escorts plenty of time to react. The IJN Mako fired up its Thunderhead TILT generator, sending out gravatic ripples that would nudge the shells ever so slightly off-target. Admiral Chase knew, however, that the closer they got the more exposed his ship would be. Their own artillery piece, the Odachi warship IJN Sea Room, remained silent as they advanced, waiting until it could make the shots from its T40-K relay count. Chase's whiskery head appeared on Nighthorses' console. "Away fighters," he said simply, waiting for Vic's terse affirmative before disappearing again. Snubfighters of various makes and models began boiling around the central formation, forming into five strike groups of 72 each ahead of the capital ships. In reality, only three squadrons were actual fightercraft, the remaining 324 being simulcra projected by little two-metre Goldstar drones. Further drones attached themselves behind the cockpits of the real craft, waiting for their own moment. After the allied fighters, real and simulated, had formed up, they began accelerating. They would race ahead to perform a first-strike on the enemy, softening the planetary defenders before the hammerblow of the main formation hit. -
Ciri Brigantum glanced over at her new wingmate. A brightly-glowing Akugara, Yuye Park was barely months old, but apparently parts of her neural matrix had been sourced from former fighter pilots, which apparently was meant to replace the years of training and experience a biological pilot had. Ciri knew plenty of RAI, was friends with some even, but she had never personally had her own life in the hands of one. Park kept her senjin fightercraft steady, at least, as around them the illusory forms of dozens more fighters kept in formation with them, roaring ahead. The plan was confusing to Ciri, but she understood the gist. The drones would provide enough cover for the real fighters to close in and deliver a devastating first strike. The sheer volume of drones meant that the attack could appear to suffer greatly whilst still delivering most of its firepower on-target, and in fact the plan relied on the 'real' fighters appearing to be destroyed. On the approach, they would react to near-misses by deactivating their systems, relying on inertia and flight-suit life support to glide undetected onwards. The Drones mounted behind their cockpits would detach and give off energy readings consistent with weapons fire impact, before detonating their own engines. There were far too many variables for Ciri to be happy with, and the idea of waiting for enemy shots to get close gnawed at her, but the chance of delivering a brutal opening strike was tantalising and the clouds of pseudo-fighters around them offered a strange form of protection. "You ready Doro?" she asked, using Park's callsign which literally meant 'lantern'. A gloved thumb came up in response, and Ciri forced a smile to give Park and herself confidence, knowing that the mind often followed the body. Absently, she thought that the bright blue glass of Park's helmet contrasted awfully with the poor woman's glowing pink skin. She wondered if Park cared.
—--
The precision drops of the imperial ships were by this point nothing novel, and the tightly-maintained pre-jump formation immediately began to scatter to a pattern that better complimented the united fleet. FTL scanners aboard the Carnaithian craft made no hesitation to flag the quick response from the defending hostiles in the face of Ingenious admiral Chase's transmission. "Carnaithian void arms elements maneuvering to defend the core of the force; transmitting laserline of planned movements for accurate simulation," Naelus announced on the closed communications of the fleet in the clinical style so stereotypical of Imperial officers after the war. "Launching standoff countermunitions." A dozen missiles soft-launched from cells positioned along the hulls of the destroyers, drifting a kilometer away from their launchers before igniting engines, burning forward to intercept the incoming shells in twisting, yet efficient, trajectories optimized to avoid damage to friendly ships.. The fighter compliments of the fleet were held for the time being; most of the flights were exo-atmospheric or lacked the carrier infrastructure to facilitate effective long-range use. The veil-class escorts, however, maneuvered in tandem with their flechette-class partners and intensely tracked the rounds as they approached uprange, ready to provide the mid- and short-range defensive envelopes, consisting of lasers and scalar batteries, respectively, for the allied flotilla. "You seem pretty focused on your troops," Felicia prodded Naelus over the Imperial ships' closed laserline network. "I can take up void command if you necessitate it." The atmospheric arms officer nodded to himself, watching as landing suggestions constantly updated as higher-resolution readings of the assailed planet came through. "That would be optimal, ma'am," He responded shortly.
—--
ABNEGATION, BRIDGE To Akyrios, it appeared that his displays and the warnings from his bridge crew only continued to multiply exponentially. A thousand-ship fleet, and an incoming screen of fighters of a likewise amount had him on the precipice of breaking contact immediately. His tactical officer relayed to him that the Maneuver groups were exchanging light rounds with the enemy, a testing engagement. Why was such an overwhelming force bothering to just probe him after reconnoitering? The far-flung Justicar groups that were in contact with the enemy had turned perpendicular on their own long axis to the oncoming armada of mixed vessels, in order to be able to present the majority of their weapon systems to bear. The commanders of the other various groups were reluctant to maneuver towards the wall of advancing vessels; Akyrios thought he could even notice a few of them beginning a retrograde on his own displays. Steadying his shaking fists, the Prime Adjudicator ordered a conference with all of his key leaders. In short order, a series of helmets filled the viewport embracing the bridge with backgrounds in varying states of intensity depending on the ship’s proximity to the engagement. “Here are my orders,” Akyrios began, “Our mission here will be to delay; Judge Bomani will make final preparations to hold their ground and we will withdraw with haste. To those engaged, stay engaged and bring them in range of our batteries. All else, prepare to use and scuttle our gates.” His commanders acknowledged, and he could witness the personnel in the background carrying out his orders. His tactical feed showed him the same; forward elements engaged with the smaller groups were beginning to spew out loitering munitions and waves of strike craft, creating a forward shroud ahead of the defenders in hopes of at least disorienting the wall headed their way. Akyrios noted that the preliminary engagements had begun. The outliers and splinter groups were now exchanging long range missiles, the interceptors moving to meet their rival groups in hopes of disorienting them. “First attack inbound! Sizable small craft formation taking vanguard,” The sensors operator bellowed out from below. Akyrios grunted in contempt. “Sudi, move your group to low orbit. Grea, continue to bombard their flagship. We will make them earn it.” The Headsman batteries continued to fire their spinal cannons at their maximum rate, glowing energy visibly surging down the struts of their guns and flashing outwards as Decadizing warheads were sent careening to the heart of the Ingen formation. The ornate vessels of the various Justicar groups did not advance; those in the path of the main force stood fast in preparation for the multi-hundred armada coming down on them. Other maneuver groups, as Akyrios had ordered, were priming FTL beacons on the far end of Whitewharf from the fighting. Sudi’s nearby pair of battleships and six smaller vessels made their way over the planet, with Whitewharf’s massive continent as their backdrop. Initial scans would show a great number of transports descending onto the surface below to reinforce the defenders, as well as various anti-orbital batteries beginning to receive power along the coastal mountain ranges. Akyrios had hoped he had given Bomani ample time to prepare; while he was not keen on yielding Whitewharf so soon, he was not willing to sacrifice a significant fleet or several army groups to do so. He would need to delay, withdraw, regroup, and reattack once the absurdity of a thousand-vessel fleet was unable to be maintained.
- His one saving grace; Bomani had not yet rendered the whole of the population into hosts. Akyrios watched his plans unfold, silently seething that he was absolutely on the back foot. He sent an open message that was sure to give him momentary reprieve during the initial jabs.
Now hear this, Admiral Chase and company. One-hundred thousand souls still breath on Whitewharf. I recommend prudence.
VELKNA’S PLACKART, BRIDGE “Green light from Vandar, landers on standby.” “Excellent,” Janka replied, much more focused on the naval exchange. From the nature of the conflict, he expected their opponent to toss down a wild card; instead, he witnessed a tame and timid response of munition exchange and meandering retrograde. Janka was confused, but reminded himself he was used to being on the outnumbered end. “Stay the course. Ensure Vandar’s Raiders are ready to hit the dirt with the first. Check with the armor and make sure they’re up-“ “Got them just now,” His tactical officer shot, “We’re ready.” ACES HIGH, HANGAR Hendrik clenched the bar overhead tightly, dim red light washing over the troop space of the gunship. The compartment was simple; two long rows of seats facing inboard with harnesses securing every member of the platoon safely in place. The ensemble contained forty men and women, conducting final inspections of their personal equipment and prayers to the old gods alike; whatever they could to fight the feeling in their gut. Hendrik knew it all too well. Most of the troops before him were rugged and battle-weathered saboteurs, and they all had one universal truth between them; every combat drop could be their last. The burning feeling in their chests, the sweat beading underneath their suits, the intermittent loss of fine motor skills, and the aching tunnel vision beginning to form only broken by their individual pre-combat rituals. “Tops on,” Hendrik shouted, using his diaphragm to speak with inflection well over the humming of electronics and machinery. He waited as everyone donned their helmets and sealed their suits, some muttering out final curses or taking their last deep breath of open air. Hendrik was the last to seal his armor. He shook his head hard, giving the side of his helmet a habitual smack as his displays began to initialize. He could see information ranging from a confirmation of departure from the pilot to markers above the members of his platoon. “We’ll be with the first feet on the ground,” Hendrik looked over each individual as he spoke, ensuring his message was received over the local net, “We’ll get dirty and sack the orbital guns so the main body doesn’t get smoked on the way down. Small craft will guide us down but the airspace will be contested. Keep your chin up and get ready to fry these plants.”
—--
The Cruisers of the Carnaithian element engaged monolithic reverse-thrust panels, a hundred meters of metal clamshells closing on one of each of their three engines, turning the ships to face the closest picket of the hostile occupiers before halting thrust altogether, drifting alongside the rest of the half-false formation once more. Their forest of sensor antennae, meant for tracking massive shipping lanes' worth of traffic as much as they were for hunting stealthy intruders, fed observation data to AI cores adjacent to the CIC - information the brainlike constructs, made of layer upon layer of micrometer-tolerance materials sandwiching similar-width channels of coolant, fed to their bridge crews, and, in turn, the fleet at large. "Engaging proximal contacts." The two cruisers thunderously shuddered as three-round bursts of spinal EMACCS rounds silently screamed through space, leaving a wake of ablation from the railgun magnets to create a secondary sandcaster effect behind them. Excess molten solaris was pumped from the subcapital warships' hulls, magnets hidden under armor manipulating the clots of radioactive material into standoff shields before they cooled and condensed - increasing hit survivability for when the inevitable return fire came into play. Missiles, once again, drifted lazily from their holding cells before zipping off in kinetic bursts. "Brace. Rounds approaching. Brace." The frigate formations tracked the incoming rounds from the batteries in-system, their own missiles not stopping the barrage - though it wasn't expected to halt them all. Lasers began flashing to life, coherent beams tracing into the void at ranges where the FTL screens used by the CIC crews would show the arc of the beam as their lenses had to lead targets. "Charging howitzer capacitor systems."
—--
Pordish Fleet Pokyshak's tactical officer takes note of the swarms of signatures streaming planetside from craft hanging in orbit. No doubt they are forces slated to serve in some sort of reinforcing capacity. He looks over to the silent hologram of Senaq Aglotach and adjusts the settings of the feed. Did you catch all of that? he asks with a single, swift, gesture towards the displays. Senaq turns from the few Pords holding her attention. They are not visible through her hologram. I did, she replies to the tactical officer, and have taken their presence into consideration. The tactical officer nods. We will keep you abreast of further developments, he goes on to say; these, though, do not hold his attention. More contacts springing to life fill his feed with the signatures of strike craft and ordnance; they both seem to grow in volume with each passing moment. The sensors officer, oddly quiet, has nothing to add. Probably a good thing, all things considered. By now, as per Pokyshak's orders, the Pordish contingent - burdened with speed - alights for the planet. Ahead of the main force but still lagging well behind the friendly strike-craft contingent, Pokyshak is determined to avoid a slower, more hesitant, approach. She leans over her command console and rests her chin on interlaced fingers. Hold only the relativistic mortars back in defense. Everything else - full offensive stance. Two of the vessel-captains nod - their holographic forms remain silent - but the third voices a muffled affirmation and swiftly adjusts to carry out the command.
Incoming fire, more long range salvoes, the sensors officer says, somewhat unenthusiastically. In response, a grouping of "near" warships are marked, for the time being, as the target of the battalion. The great spherical turrets of the Pordish host rotate to face their counterparts and open in concert; shimmering in the dim sun but silent to distant observer, the barrage races past the incoming enemy fire as the vessel-AIs consider their best mitigatory options for when the hostile rounds near...
—--
FIGHTER ATTACK The first enemy fire stretched out to challenge the incoming allied fightercraft, and Ciri tensed herself. At this range the fire was not greatly threatening, but they were flying unaided directly into the muzzle of the enemy guns. Some of the 'fighters' ahead began juking to avoid incoming rounds, and she glanced over at Park, waiting. "Cloud this is Doro!" came the frantic call over comms "I'm hit, I'm hit! Flameout!" Park's wings waggled in a convincing imitation of distress, but her fighter seemed fine until suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. Brigantum knew what to look for and even then she couldn't see it - the electroluminescent paint on Park's fighter had faded to black and Park glid forwards on momentum alone, her systems shut down, even her glowing skin hidden by her helmet and gloves. Behind her, the drone that had been attached behind her canopy span wildly for a moment before exploding in a facsimile of a dying fightercraft. Ciri was surprised - she had expected this plan to be far less convincing, but she had to admit it seemed like it might work. She waited tensely for her own cue to 'die'. She hadn't acted since school, but there was always time to learn right? -
IJN SUN WUKONG The threat came in over the comms and Chase seemed impassive as his crew watched, but those familiar with him caught the tiny giveaways that distaste and anger were battling on his brow. He watched as the fighter attack closed in, moving his main force slowly ever forwards, waiting for the opportunity to pounce. He opened comms to reply. "This is Admiral Chase, IJN Sun Wukong. I am glad to hear that there are civilians still alive on Whitewharf. Thank you for informing us. We trust that as noncombatants they will be safeguarded by your personnel. Anyone found guilty of engaging in criminal acts against them will be tried and executed by a Jade military tribunal once we have retaken this system. I look forwards to taking custody of all one hundred thousand." He cut the feed. One hundred thousand, out of more than seven hundred thousand who had not escaped the system? These Justicars had killed or transported more than half a million civilians already, it seemed. He was shaken from his thoughts by the impact of long-range fire. As the distance between the two fleets slowly shrank so the efficacy of their guns increased. He watched as the Sun Wukong simulated losses, small 'ships' at the fore of the formation taking damage or in one case exploding spectacularly in a blinding flash of light, but then there was an urgent cry from his shipwright over the comms. "Foremast signal tower is offline, sir. We may have to cut it loose!" The masts contained the drone signal boosters. To lose all three would be a disaster. Chase turned to his gunner station. "Return fire. Give them missiles and Type 85's.". He was rewarded moments later with the thump of the heavy q-cyl cannons and the roar of missiles launching from their bays across the fleet, streaking forwards alongside Goldstar decoys to claw at the Justicars from afar.
—--
BENEATH STAKESBY, BOMANI’S COURT The Judge presided over his court, alone and still. The dimming light washed over his intricately ornate armor, the ablative gold plating shining less and less as the room filled with blackness. For the first time in weeks, the Justicar commander stripped his helmet and allowed his imitation of flesh to feel the cool air without guarantee of immediate death. Alone in the dark and without the scorn of his superiors, he began to reflect. It was fortunate that Akyrios had convened a conference when he did; Bomani was moments short of sentencing the remaining prisoners to join their brood one way or another. He stepped down from his bench, brushing by the stand where he had sentenced the young Yokari nobleman to serve as his Enforcer. There were other converts, willing and otherwise, sentenced in the same spot and charged with the handling of their former constituents. Bomani ordered a smaller fraction of his captives to be held in detention north of Ruswarp. The majority of his prisoners, however, were hurriedly marched to the caverns of the unforgiving coastal mountains to the north of Stakesby. He had already issued his orders. All there was to do now was to brace for the initial waves of planetfall. Stakesby itself was covered in a shroud of darkness, infested with an entire Armored War Group and saturated with a spiderweb of sensors and anti-orbital defenses. The coastal mountains were dotted with defensive batteries and mountain infantry. Even now, they were receiving reinforcement and aircraft from his associates in orbit. Bomani was never a fan of playing defense; he had earned his stripes fighting Kalaedans onto their back foot. He set his helmet back to his head, feeling pressure as the inner lining fit snugly to his form. He was forced to allow his foe to exercise initiative, and forced to trust his subordinates’ resolve.
ABNEGATION, BRIDGE “I do not care if they are having a crisis of command,” Akyrios bellowed. His crew fell silent at his word, his very voice demanding attention and commanding authority. “Advise the Jaros vessels to either execute the plan or they will be escorted to safety as a courtesy.” The Prime Adjudicator shook his head, maintaining his temperament at yet another tactical inconvenience. What was more concerning to him was the myriad of updates appearing on his own displays, watching one of his maneuver groups suffer a catastrophic loss of a Penance frigate and another suffer the loss of its aft pedestal cannon. “Small craft and missiles entering threat range!” Another move to react to; his opponent was putting him into check rather quickly. He was going to have to redefine the battlespace to protect his most important pieces; the Headsman batteries were his best tool of crushing their center of gravity. “Respond in kind,” Akyrios looked to his weapons officer. The reports were troublesome; their own fightercraft were having mixed effects, having issues finding advantageous fights against a numerically superior wave. Still, they were scoring a surprising number of hits and evidently causing a fair amount of chaos proven by the transmissions of distress they were intercepting. “Pull the groups back to protect our artillery,” Akyrios shot a look over to his busy operations center. “Their mission is to delay the attack on the Headsman batteries by any means necessary.” He was cut short by another warning; one of his batteries suffered what appeared to be a glancing hit. From his bridge, all he could see was a small burst of bright material reaching out into distant space, but forwarded to him was a structural analysis of the Headsman that was struck. One of the Jade guns had clipped the forward support ring of the spinal Decadizing Cannon, the initial impact passing through the first ring without issue, but the secondary blast of superheated fluid causing massive structural damage to the rear ring and bottom strut of the gun. “Penant Grace reporting: chain reaction imminent, shutting down weapon systems.” Akyrios gripped the bannister hard enough to leave a dent in the carbide. It did not fare him better to receive further reports that Carnaithian guns were scoring good effects as well, one unfortunate Arbiter cruiser suffering a catastrophic hit. Even the muonized compounds protecting them would not serve well from a centrally-placed EMACCS round. The kinetic impact shredded the metal like wet paper and caused a sympathetic detonation of the reactor, rendering the Arbiter into a sphere of nuclear fire and then little more than vapor and stardust. The Justicar groups resolved to execute orders, breaking contact and making their way back to orbit. All the while, their torpedo bays, spinal cannons, and pedestal guns fired as quickly as their systems would allow. ---
VANDAR’S RAIDERS The initial salvos had been exchanged and the battle was quickly being shaped, but the grand scheme of naval maneuvers was lost on Hendrik. He took his seat facing the rear of the troop compartment, harness lowering to secure him neatly in place. The hangar of the Aces High released three transports carrying his raiders. It didn’t rest his mind at ease, but the brief had a mention of drones and decoys that were going to mask their entry north of Stakesby. He’d leave the fancy flying up to his pilot and the tech-savvy plan to the creative eggheads that cooked it up; his creativity was nested in his ability to close with and destroy an enemy by fire and movement. Masked by the movement of fighters and the exchanges of capital weaponry, they followed their course. They could hear the thunderous engines blast through their noise-cancelling helmets, and no one spoke a word. Hendrik’s eyes darted to each of his team leaders, silently evaluating their body language and monitoring their elevated vitals. Finally, his eyes stopped on the individual seated nearest to him. Though they all looked virtually identical clad in their combat gear, the one seated by him was Ansel; his nephew, and assistant raid leader. Ansel had seen fights before, but never a combat drop onto a hostile planet. In the cockpit, the navigator was intensively searching for the signals they were supposed to follow and make contact with; a connecting file with a Minevan flight of close support running the callsign Bender and a Jade contingent who, by judging the timeline, were likely still running the rabbit against the Justicar guns.
—--
ABOARD THE IJN LAVER BREAD Incoming fire had mostly been wasted against the drones of the Sun Wukong, but even so the simulated explosions and destruction were hard to ignore. Captain Talida pushed the sights from her mind. She had been in command of the Full Lobster Pot during the first Battle of Whitewharf and had briefly been a prisoner of the Justicars. A court martial had found her blameless in the matter and she had been reinstated, and she had volunteered to join the Prince. Whitewharf was unfinished business. Even as she watched, however, disaster struck. Another decadising round flashed into their formation, and this time it hit home. The strange two-stage munition was unfamiliar to the ship's defenses, and it slipped past the hardlight phase shield. Two gyaku-ko defense points lit up with argent blue beams, but the round was too close to be stopped. There was a cloudy impact burst, followed by a flash of light, and the foremost Type 85 gun disappeared in a blast of fire, the whole ship trembling. As the flame cleared, the half-cratered forward gun emplacement was visible, lit by guttering fire as smoke and wreckage drifted from the impact site. For a moment there was comparative calm, and then the ready rack ignited. Although not containing the full complement of Murasa Q-CYL shells, it was enough to send a second, saccarine blast of energy ripping out of the flank of the ship. Nearly thrown off her feet, Talida listened absently as the shipwright frantically reported damage to her XO, who in turn was bellowing out orders. He turned to her and pointed out of the forward viewport. "Sir, Coxswain Adashi is reporting the starboard strakes are deforming under pressure. The whole side of the ship is going to cave in. We need to evacuate," he said, keeping his voice low. Talida nodded, then gathered herself and confirmed aloud. "Yes, Lieutenant, please issue a general evacuation order." --
ABOARD THE IJN SUN WUKONG Chase felt a pang of sympathy for Captain Talida. Despite being cleared of any failings, and having fought valiantly at the last engagement over Whitewharf, the sting of losing one ship must have weighed heavy on her, and now by sheer bad luck she was losing another. Even as the ship began to founder, its RAI was transmitting technical data of the round that killed it, data that would help their own vessels better resist these odd fungal rounds, but that was cold comfort to a post captain with two ships sunk beneath her in as many months. He turned his attention to the primary assault. Any moment now, his fighters would strike, and then it was up to him and his force to crush the central opposition over Whitewharf.... PARK AND BRIGANTUM The mechanical timer, all gears, gave a loud ding. It was time to strike. Ciri glanced out of her cockpit as the engines of the rest of the strike team fired back into life, lights winking in the darkness. Where moments before there had been the appearance of a battered and badly depleted combat wing dancing amid the spreading wreckage of their former comrades, now there were dozens of active fightercraft at knife-fight range, and they were already unleashing missiles. Ciri squeezed the trigger of her own fightercraft and a pair of atlatl missiles hissed out from her wings, screaming towards a nearby Headsman battery. The rest of the strike team was doing the same, pouring lethal anti-ship missiles at close quarters into the Headsman batteries before turning their attention to nearby escort craft, unleashing a second volley against them. At the same time, many of the surviving Goldstar drones accelerated rapidly, trajectories aiming for whatever point defense systems their limited AI could identify. --
ABOARD THE IJN MAKO "That's it! They've struck!" called out Nighthorse, "all advance." The central formation of allied ships accelerated rapidly, now racing to outpace the distant maneuver groups and put down the survivors of the stealth fighter strike before the Justicars realised they had been duped and collapsed their forces in towards the centre. The IJN Sea Room finally opened fire, the long and ungainly artillery platform sending coruscating, iridescent beams of gravatic spin foam distortion towards the enemy positions. Practically unimpeded by the laws of space-time, the bursts flashed past the advancing allied warships to strike at the enemy, but Mitsuyoshi knew from experience that graviton weapons had a surprisingly muted impact. Explosions and carnage usually came later - at the first point of impact, nothing more than a faint buckle as the elasticity of the target matter's atomic bonds was increased, warping it as it expanded to just a small fraction of its usual size. This subtle effect was more than enough to cause damage, however, trashing fine electronics, buckling tightly aligned plating and dismounting carefully tuned machinery, not to mention instant cell death for biological matter in its path. The ugly ship looked like it would shake itself apart as it fired, and it was soon exhausted, the fire ceasing as it allowed its systems to recover and recharge, but Nighthorse was hoping that initial barrage would throw the enemy into further confusion, enabling her to get her warships into prime engagement range. --
TROOP HOLD, IJN EYEMOUTH The 31st Regiment had volunteered for the mission, although more accurately enough of the assembled troops had cheered enthusiastically for their commanders to consider the regiment 'volunteered'. Aboard their Kankyo dropships, they waited for their launch down to the surface, but they wouldn't jump off until the carrier itself was practically on top of the planet. For now, the marines were busy using electrostatic applicators to change their armour's appearance. As the current buzzed through each suit, it slowly began to fade from the royal and ice blues of their parade colours to a muted black-and-grey scheme suited for urban and night operations. Their helmets had dour bear muzzles beneath their blank visors, and the low chatter and dim lighting made Major Andersen think of so many grumbling bears in their cave, just a few seconds away from erupting into vicious aggression. Andersen checked his holo again. No news from headquarters, who were in a different dropship, but he assumed that was good news. The 31st had been the reserve force at the Battle of Cass City, and they had marched into the wreckage of a disaster. His marines had formed a cordon, rescuing the scattered and desperate survivors of the 203rd and 642nd as they withdrew from the nightmarish bloodbath, but his own troops had done well. He hoped they would prove just as reliable in the darkness of Whitewharf
—--
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM VRZ Battalion Commander, Tryna Pokyshak The first shell to rocket past Pokyshak's flag hurtles with frightening quickness (and the foul weight of godclip dripping from its alacritous countenance) and trembles along through the void with darkened resolve. Though a muted chorus of defensive counterfire comes forth to meet it, the main effort comes not from them but the maneuvering ablation drives of the cruiser; the shell misses by perhaps no more than a dozen kilometers before being swatted down by an Array probe trailing in the cruiser's wake. To the planet, Pokyshak orders, and retrain to the warships to our fore! Give us more speed! She feels them - the reactors thrumming with power so many decks away, beating with rhythmic certainty - forging reality of her command. A decadizing shell thunders into the flank of the second cruiser in the line (helmed by a burly Zhyssian with sea-dark hair and unkempt garb) and disassembles in a brilliant golden flash against her entropic barriers. The Zhyssian gestures on Pokyshak's displays and she watches his holographic form flicker, then flicker again, as a more damaging impact clearly registers on his vessels moments later. Her tactical officer grimaces. Chonaq's cruiser has taken a significant hit. From what I can see here, her AIs are worried about these shells. They don't want them loose in the interior. Pokyshak - with eyes glued upon the velocity and power output displays for her own vessel - says nothing; a raised brow is enough, and the tactical officer watches her, then glances to the main display, then to the sensors officer sitting not far across the command room. After a moment, he questions: Do you have full readings on those shells yet? Parsing, the sensors officer says, nodding, we're getting a decent amount of data in concerning them. Send me what you have. I will look over it and see what can be done. Before the sensors officer can respond, however, a low rumble shudders through the chamber then an indicator - swiftly joined by a cascading torrent of words from the captain's hologram - blinks into being. His form flickers some distance from the other officers; he mistimes unmuting himself and, with a gesture to a Pord off-screen, stammers: -drive and it is now offline. The tactical officer sits still but his eyes trace a line to the blinking indicator. We are reducing speed, he observes dryly. Yes, the captain says. His hologram turns to yet another Pord off-screen, then turns back to the tactical officer: I will see about maintaining this pace, but we may not be able to. You won't need to, Pokyshak interjects. Just maintain until we are in position. The captain nods. Very well.
—--
House Jaros A ragged gasp filled the air as the cadet slumped backwards to clutch at the gaping hole where her heart had been, and Ateras flexed his hand and grimaced at the tacky feel of the drying blood. This particular assassination attempt had been particularly ill-timed, and the blaring demands from the Abnegation for a response merely served to illustrate such. Nudging the corpse, he sighed and motioned at a comms officer who had been standing to the side with the rest of the command staff as they waited to see the outcome of the dispute. "Tightbeam broadcast to Adjudicator Akyrios. Apologize for the delay, tell him that we'll be moving to support. Message to the Legion carriers, order them into low orbit to begin deployment in support of Bomani. Send a few thousand drones from the Aerolass for air support. Have the cruisers pull about and open fire on the leading Ingen elements, missile platforms to follow." The officer nodded, and began to send the dictated messages while acceleration alarms started to sound. Settling back into his chair, Ateras smiled. Back to the grindstone. --- The Jaros fleet had originally been deployed to the rear of the Justicar fleet, which now put the Legion carriers they'd brought in easy reinforcement range. Of the two Apollo-class battleships, one of them peeled off along with a missile platform to take up defensive positions in high orbit. The remaining ships, one battleship, four Akhillus cruisers, and two missile platforms, accelerated to link up with the Abnegation, transmitting comms codes and calculating firing solutions.
—--
The fleet exchange was certainly reaching a fever pitch at this point, with engagement ranges closing as they were. Hostile munitions closed and were engaged by screening frigates as imperial shells were thrown out with voracious intensity, luminal signatures of weapons almost reminiscent of a ground battle in terms of chaos. Of the greatest focus were the decadizing rounds; even at the cost of letting other munitions through the defensive screen, the headsman's primary weapon was deemed enough of a threat to justify the focus. Torpedoes and more conventional rounds penetrated the terminal range at an increasing pace, scoring hits along the capital ships of the fleet; scars were dug into monolithic armor, primary turrets were torn from their mounts. Engines were scoured from the hulls of destroyers. A spinal was cored. The timing of the hit was legendarily unfortunate, with a round being forced out of the breach only to be sent into a tumble that eviscerated the entire interior of the three "mandibles" of the trifid-class ship. the gout of superheated, molten composite stretched for hundreds of kilometers in front of the cruiser, visible to the naked eye of anyone observing, though the hazard field in front of the craft was more than obvious to anyone monitoring the battlespace digitally. Malkorvic reacted only with a strained purse of the lip. Damage control stations were already deploying their assets, manned or otherwise, to prevent any proliferation of its effects. Most of the cruiser's sensor/scanner suite had been torn off of the prow by the blast, but its twin - much less the rest of the allied fleet - made up for this deficiency. Its loss in armament was significant in the form of its primary weapon, though its secondaries hadn't been so unfortunate. "Fire scalar."
—--
Another, much more spectacular display of flame spread through the void between the Carnaithian element and the defending occupiers. The wall of energy was slammed into by a significant window of enemy fire, with weapons detonating on instant reaction or burning out, leaving fiery trails in their newtonian wake. The use of the batteries had bought the Imperial ships some time. Malkorvic watched as the fighter group re-engaged. "Enemy point defenses occupied. Deploy a missile wave to support forward element." The Carnaithian force erupted in the launch of hundreds of missiles in a mass action even as the stragglers of the scalar barrier came in. The calm ejection followed by violent surge of thrust was always a spectacle to some, especially in mass assaults; especially when supported by the supertorpedoes of Carnaithian destroyers. Kilometer-long munitions launched from the kneecapped ships, permitting them a better bid in keeping up with the formation at large. The weapons, ship-like in themselves, accelerated forward, escorted by their own guns and the swarm of smaller weapons alike.
—--
ABNEGATION, BRIDGE The moments following the transmission from the Jaros vessels saw the bridge of the Abnegation working as a well-oiled machine; the interactions were less stressed and instead made with confident vigor. Everyone present knew with the initial odds that the outcome of their battle was a matter of inevitability rather than tactics, but the grim attitude changed as new information flowed in. Their live feeds of the battle and operational displays showed them scoring several mission-kills and total destructions in key enemy formations, and their decadizing rounds were doing well to disorient and stall the coalition of enemies for the moment. “Maneuver Group Let combat ineffective, withdrawing from zone eleven to maintain high orbit,” The Communications Enforcer relayed, helmet still tethered via multiple cables to the console before him. “Continue focus on their flagship.” Akyrios was incredulous, unmoved by their sudden reprieve, arms crossed and eyes to the front. He continued, “It is the key. Have Judge Sudi pull the vanguard back.“ The momentum was short-lived before circumstance put him on the rear foot once again. “New signal: hundreds of contacts closing! Light seconds out.” -
Akyrios and his tactical officer watched updates as hundreds of traces materialized in their battlespace, practically close enough to feel their breath. They continued to watch in bewildered silence as the majority of the formation, centered around sacking his long-range guns, began their immediate attack run. As the hundreds of dots raced to the quartet of Headsman batteries on the floating feed in front of him, the image began to rupture before fading away altogether. His bridge crew was frantic as consoles and monitors began to shut down, automated systems beginning to stagnate or fail, and even the lights dimmed to their emergency reserved. “Prime Adjudicator…” A voice rang out from below; his acting executive officer, “Impact from a nonstandard- we just lost the main ventral plating and core stability from compartment seventeen through thirty. Repair crew is active, reactor is stable but will need minutes to boot.” ---
HEADSMAN FORMATION With barely an opportunity to transmit their distress, the waves of strike craft and drones were upon the vulnerable batteries. The Headsman that was already undergoing repair received its coup de grace in the form of a missile to its already malfunctioning reactor. The subsequent meltdown and sympathetic detonation was a sphere of white light that split the struts of the battery open wide with great force, sending either half of the vessel drifting in opposite directions.
With their escorts tied up trying to fend off waves of missiles and ramming drones, the remaining batteries were entirely exposed. The defensive countermeasures of a Headsman were not impressive, but the automated systems still attempted their best by slinging concussive warheads at the incoming craft and projectiles as fast as the machines allowed. Still, the wide shockwaves were ineffective, each massive vessel taking many critical blows while flat-footed. One battery took a direct hit to the command module, its death rattle being an unclimactic loss of power as it drifted lifelessly below the formation. The next ship received a volley in its loading bay at the base of the cannon, shattering the rear stabilizing ring of the gun and detonating one of their own sinister decadizing warheads. In conjunction with the luminous fireball of the Jade munition, there was a chain of blinding bursts of light that sundered the ship into dozens of colossal splinters. The final battery bore most of the brunt along its main gun; the long struts and stabilizing rings were cracked of harshly from the base of the vessel, and its captain was quick to issue orders to power down their weapons and abandon ship.
- The battery escorts were completely overwhelmed, but better equipped for dealing with strike craft. The best they could do, however, was only survive by means of overwhelming firepower at the incoming munitions. They managed to maintain some standoff, the worst hits being received were gradual glancing hits whittling at their point-defense arrays.
ABNEGATION, BRIDGE It was a short minute before their power was stabilized and main systems were alive and kicking once more, which was also enough time for Akyrios to realize that his primary firepower had been knocked out entirely. To say he was frustrated was an understatement; his iron grip continued to leave larger dents in the sturdy railing in front of him. He was stuck brainstorming while he had lost around twenty-percent of his force already. Why is a thousand-vessel force trying to conduct a lightning attack? What are they trying to force me to do? It appeared when the power was cut, his foe had done a bit of cleaning up. The maneuver groups engaged with the Pordish contingent had seem to score decent effects on a cruiser, at the cost of an entire maneuver group on its own. The distant and unsupported groups didn’t have enough time and freedom to act properly against an unfamiliar opponent. The Carnaithians had deployed scalar weapons; a tool that had not even crossed his mind for decades. This in tandem with a textbook Carnaithian volley had rendered a pair of battleships momentarily disabled by the scalar blast, and shortly after summarily executed by hundreds of missiles. Deceivers. `
“Pordish formation engaged is losing momentum. Carnaithian force looking to capitalize on its good hits in zone three.” “Pull them. Pordish skirmishers to low orbit, Carnaithian group give a chase. Inform Judge Raza to organize a delaying force. Have the remainder on standby to retrograde,” Akyrios growled out. A distant thud could be felt and heard, causing the rattling of mettle and cautious glances of the crew. “My leros… we failed to intercept an incoming run in time.” A short pause followed, giving time for his executive officer to review and report, “We have lost a primary sublight drive.” The Jade gambit had certainly paid off; the Justicar fleet was only able to attempt a regroup, while suffering moderate losses in all front and the entirety of the long-range batteries. Their strike craft had even managed to gain the initiative on his point-defenses, at least to deliver an annoying strike that would hamper his ability to maneuver. His ability to maneuver, as well as his ability to conduct a retrograde in his flagship. Akyrios grunted. “Very well. Inform Raza to prepare the delaying action. Every other vessel will retreat to the beacons and depart under our cover. Tell Ateras Jaros that I will be making planetfall shortly; they may do as they must.” The two largest guns at his disposal were now on his own vessel; two aft turrets situated atop his ship in clear view of the bridge, the massive structures a dozen kilometers down the hull. He watched intently as the twin cannons traversed and silently spat their munitions into the void; their primary intent, to bloody his enemy’s pride and crush the Sun Wukong.
—--
"Good effects on targets," marked the complete processing of combat data within the last sub-engagement, even as the massive signature of nuclear flares only just met the optical sensors of the fleet, and the radar returns of the Justicar battleships's shattered particulate clouded the battlespace where they once stood. In the face of this success, and its observed effects, the communications of the Imperial element exploded into activity - all across laserline. "Two hostile capital ships ravaged. Our foe's formation falters. Redirecting focus to next wave of enemy fire; extended duration of threat is twenty minutes." "Begin final preparations for planetary assault. Preparatory attack patterns authorized, partitioning AI attention." "Damage report for CIVA-5055 CINS Little Green is as follows: Primary combat capability neutralized. Sensor and communications support neutralized. Guide and track capabilities compromised. Missile armament intact. Primary turrets intact. Tertiary armament intact. Recommend reassignment to arsenal ship role." "CINS Pluck motility substandard. Unable to perform standard maneuvers. Request escort duty for Little Green." Felecia Malkorvic, being CIGO, was no stranger to high communications density. She had pulled work as handler before. A 'request approved' here, a 'reassign to et cetera' there. It came back to her naturally. Unfortunately, a modicum more than the positive parts of what she remembered reared its head.
"Priority. CIVA-3152 CINS Carbide observed breaking from formation without communication. Trajectory puts it as chasing retreating hostiles. Advisory requested." "Priority. Broadcasting. Reporting fire from hostile flagship incoming, targeting Ingenious flagship." Between the two, the former was less concerning but more actionable; the latter was a simple order and a lot of hope. "Redirect picket forces to screening for the Sun Wukong. All else, engage hostile flagship as primary target."
With the combat matters deploying, all that was left for the latter issue was to see the effects. But the former may be more complex. "Get me visual analysis of Carbide." "Already processing. Its hull is scorched; Close-range intercept of concussive warhead has destroyed the nose. All external instruments seem to be destroyed, including lasers, laserline, sensors, and turrets. A single missile seems to be escorting the ship, and all missile bays are intact." "Laserline the missile, get them to get that vessel back into formation. Compromised imperial property is imperial property regardless." "Affirmed."
—--
PARK AND BRIGANTUM The moments after the initial strike had been wildly confusing. The dense flurry of drones, missiles, explosions and debris had made it nearly impossible to understand the battlespace, but things were slowly starting to make sense again. Their attack had wreaked havoc amongst the enemy artillery ships, and it looked like all of them were out of commission, but that left the fighter pilots at close range among the enemy ships with a thinning screen of drones to protect them. The main fleet were closing the distance rapidly, but that still left the fighters with the critical decision to either stay and fight, or regroup with the main fleet and expose themselves as they fell back. Ciri knew instinctively which to do, before she even made the conscious decision. Diving towards the Abnegation, she and Park wove through the point-defense crossfire, their hardlight profile modifiers flaring as they intercepted smaller rounds and helped the fighters jink through sharp maneuvers as they slipped inside the enemy field of fire, the bulk of the ship masking them from its escorts, before angling to make an attack run on the Abnegation's turrets. Having already expended their missiles, they used conservative bursts of q-cyl ammunition, aiming to harass and blind since they most likely lacked the firepower to penetrate the armour plated hull. Some of their comrades were not so lucky, and amongst the carnage of the drones, status indicators on the real fighters began to flicker, some turning yellow with damage, others flaring into red as mission kills... _
IJN Mako The strike had been more successful than Nighthorse could have hoped for. The enemy artillery battery was effectively out of commission, whilst their allies had inflicted brutal losses on its escorts. The House Jaros reserve was moving into position, but it was too little too late, suspected Nighthorse. She watched as the display inched closer towards effective combat range, the Jade contingent accelerating at maximum speed towards the engagement, 'foam' spraying from their bows. She had already issued the orders of the day and more specific orders as they advanced, and so needed to say nothing as various status lights began to wink green. Alert chimes began to wink on her console as the fleet finally opened fire. Out of her viewport, she could see the vast Micomitl missiles roaring forth from the bellies of their two Cornewaille-class cruisers, each as tall as an office block and armed with its own point-defense, electronic warfare and countermeasure systems. Even as these brutes began their blazing assault on the enemy, the main guns of the rest of the fleet opened up. Huge looped coilguns thundered titanic quartz shells filled with explosive supercritical fluid towards the enemy, whilst their short-range guns waited silently for the chaos of close quarters. Smaller missiles and craft boiled around the fleet, even as the Goldstar drones began to fade. Incoming fire from the defenders finally toppled the foremast of the Sun Wukong, a collapse that seemed to take an age, flames and debris trailing from the huge structure as it fell overboard to port. Bereft of updates, many of the drones simply continued their last known instructions, 'firing' at vessels that had since moved or simulating damage from shots that had been fired minutes prior. Others, running low on power, simulated their own destruction and went dark, awaiting collection, but rapidly the illusion was falling apart. --
Watching Nighthorse take her ships against the battered enemy core formation, Chase mused on the efficacy of this new superweapon. It had certainly allowed them to achieve their tactical goals. The Justicars had been kept scattered and separate, their core formation badly wounded by the Jade lightning attack and the enemy caught flat-footed as their powerful force had been split into discrete units, but it had its flaws too. He would prepare a brief after the naval action was completed and the marine officers got down to work, but for now there were still enemy ships to be sunk. He sent a private communication to Nighthorse, and whilst she did not reply, moments later he saw she had received it. At his suggestion, the IJN Sea Room turned its attention to the House Jaros ships. The closing distance between the Justicars and the IJN had masked it, but the mercenary force was still in clear sight of the huge artillery ship. Roaring past the flank of the IJN came more of the iridescent pulses of gravitons, lashing out at the House Jaros battleship even as it rushed to catch up to the Justicars.
—--
House Jaros The battleship shuddered under the graviton pulses and damage alerts howled in a deafening chorus. Ateras snarled, flicking through displays and snapping orders. The shields had done enough to prevent the ship being crippled, but they'd lost two of five hull spars, and the reactor was bleeding plasma across ten decks. A status update to his left only made the situation worse. One of the missile platforms had been trailing the battleship, and a stray shot from the Sea Room had carved into it along the starboard side, and had detonated the missile magazines, blowing the ship in half. Down one ship, with critical damage, and they hadn't even had a chance to fire yet. Although something could definitely be done about that. Acting on the previously laid in orders, the ship groaned and shook again, this time as the particle lances fired at the Sun Wukong, shortly followed by a sheet of missile fire from both the battleship and the surviving platform. Further orders were snapped out and onboard drone swarms deployed to assist with point defense. From the rear of the relief column, the cruisers pushed forwards, opening up with their own missile batteries and fusion cannons. Looking over the data streams, Ateras frowned. The readouts from that Ingen flagship seemed...off. Not to mention, the supporting fleet was acting odd. He tagged the data and sent it as a transmission to the Abnegation. Time enough to worry about that after they survived. ---
[12:32 AM]
Over the planet, the Legion carriers began spewing out hundreds of transports. The House had brought five full-strength Legions to fight, with auxiliary detachments supporting, and the skies above Bomani's defenses darkened as the ships came in to land, only to take off again. On the ground, a man stomped out of a transport and puffed on a cigar, before pulling out a comm and sending a message to the Justicar commander. The attacking forces wouldn't risk a bombardment with civilian lives on the line. That meant a siege. As he finished his cigar, Tribune Parthan reflected grimly that this siege at least, was likely doomed. Unfortunate, but the Star called everyone home in the end, even crusty old men like him. Might as well go out with a bang, then. Grinning, he glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers debarking from the transport. "Come on, bruisers! Those engines won't unload themselves! Move, you lazy bastards!"
—--
WHITEWHARF SYSTEM VRZ Battalion Commander, Tryna Pokyshak The cruisers impend in the wake of the Jade strike craft thrust, their own lesser but still considerable speed paced to allow them arrival just as the enemy comes-to from the initial lightning strike; they bring their attention to the remaining escorts of the shattered Headsman Formation and seek to draw fire away from the Jade craft; their overall vectors lead to the orbitals beyond. We are nearing close-quarters battle, Pokyshak considers, and these Imperium ships are now forming up in the line. Damn! We aren't in position to focus them. Her decision to eschew, for the most part, defensive point-defense coverage to instead use those same weapons offensively yet again conjures detriment to the cruiser's well-being: rounds known to be decadizing are given priority avoidance by the AIs; their chosen vectors ultimately lead them directly into other incoming volleys. Her lead cruiser suffers a strike near an entropic lance battery just as the tactical officer speaks up: Chonaq is abandoning ship, he says. They are falling out of formation. Pokyshak nods. The VRZ Y-6065 grows dim on the primary displays. It is soon replaced by an assortment of far smaller indicators - the various launches, shuttles, strike craft, and other diminutive machines from the hangars and escape craft bays - to which Pokyshak more directly addresses: We don't have time to pick them up now. We'll come around for them after securing the orbitals - she pauses for a moment - send out skirmishers to escort them. Very well, the tactical officer says. Deploying skirmishers. A few wings of nam-Künaan type strike craft flow into the void to join the survivors from Chonaq's ship. Colourless entropic lances and darkened charcoal-tinted Array beams shimmer out from them as they power towards their charges while two of their number fall to longer-ranged salvoes from Justicar point defense suites. ...and in that moment, a dour expression surfaces on the tactical officer. Sun Wukong being focused, he says. Illusion integrity degrading.
—--